maybe it was all just yesterday
Somehow, in one single morning, Nijimura manages to survive a nasty fall in the shower, realizes that he has lost his hundred-dollar monthly transit pass, trips down a busy stairwell - giving minor injuries to three people, four if he includes himself, in the process of doing so - and realizes that he had forgotten to print out his assignment when he finally sits down in class. It's an especially bad start to a Monday, and although he should probably be glad that he was at least alive to be able to feel the anger constraining his chest, he doesn't.
In any case, he is in a very pissed off stage of the day by the time Akashi comes around, however early it may be according to the drowsy students sluggishly lugging their deadweight backpacks around, almost unrecognizable out of his Teikou uniform if his existence in general hadn't been so unforgettable.
He is sitting at one of the benches by the old oak trees, textbook on his lap, and Nijimura had initially planned to avoid him if not for the fact that Akashi looks up just as he walks by as if it had been part of some kind of intricate scheme for them to meet all along, and says, "Nijimura-san?", like they'd only seen each other yesterday and not five years ago.
"Akashi," he says. He thinks of something to say, and remembers vaguely the discussions his schoolmates used have occasionally about the talented Akashi Seijuurou and his ascertained bright future. He thinks to simply say hey, maybe keeping up the small talk for just a little while before making the excuse, my next class is starting soon, see you around, maybe. Instead, his mouth betrays him. "Thought you'd be in Harvard or Yale something."
The words tumble out before he can think to stop it, like he's been holding it in for too long and a fissure in his reservations had sent it spiralling out of control.
Akashi gives him a mild look. Nijimura mildly feels like he's being judged. He didn't really mean what he'd said, though. "The school you attend does not dictate your level of intelligence."
"Sorry, yeah, I get that," Nijimura says, kind of annoyed with himself and maybe with Akashi. This is where he walks off nonchalantly, but he can't really bring himself to. He sits down beside him, instead. "What're you reading about there?"
"Statistics," he answers. "I'm majoring in business."
"Ah," Nijimura says. He doesn't know one thing about anything beyond his own major. "You liking it?"
Akashi seems to consider this. It's very subtle, obscure in the way that he only blinks unnessarily fast before answering. Nijimura feels a bit of unjustified worry that Akashi has to consider a question like this at all. It's not like he's Nijimura's responsibility, but still. "I suppose," Akashi says, sounding kind of subdued.
"That's…good," he tells Akashi even as he thinks, what kind of answer is that. "I suppose."
There's a lull in the conversation and Akashi turns his attention back to the book, a cue for Nijimura to leave, but because Akashi was the one to call him over in the first place and should theoretically be trying to maybe catch up instead of studying when Nijimura is sitting right there after like half a decade, he clears his throat. He should probably be going to class, but he can't bring himself to leave yet. "So where did you go for high school, huh?"
"Rakuzan," Akashi says. He looks up from the textbook, to Nijimura. "In Kyoto."
"Rakuzan," Nijimura echoes, rolls the word around on his tongue, tastes its familiarity. "You played basketball there?"
It's a needless question, because he knows Rakuzan - the defending champions, the emperors. But there's a part of him that doubts, wonders what had become of Teikou's regulars, of their team, of their players. (Their, he laments. Even after all these years of time wearing away memories like water on rock, that camaraderie still exists in its remnants. But then, so does the counterpart astringency, of having to give it all up.)
"I did," Akashi says.
"Impressive," Nijimura says, limiting himself to this one word. As always, he thinks, but knows better to say it. Not after the whole slip-up about Harvard and Yale.
"It was quite fun," Akashi admits. He's even smiling a bit. Nijimura suddenly doesn't know what to think, doesn't think he knows this boy well enough to know what to think, except that five years brings about quite a few changes, waves upon waves of them, altering and reshaping everything with the flow of time. He studies Akashi as he lowers his gaze to his textbook once more, sunlight catching in his hair, and it's not very apparent in the way he holds himself, but fundamentally, something is different.
Nijimura stands up. "I'd better get going," he says.
Akashi offers him another smile, the faintest kind, the kind that lingers from thinking of sweet memories, and nods. "Let's meet up properly some other time."
"Phone number?" Nijimura asks him, without missing a beat. When he has Akashi's contact information saved, he pockets his phone and grabs his backpack. "See you, then."
"Nijimura-san," Akashi calls, when Nijimura has taken about half a step. Nijimura pauses and turns around, but Akashi only says, "see you."
Nijimura opens his mouth only to find himself deprived of words, so he reaches out, hand hesitating in the air before ruffling Akashi's hair, chest awash with the oddest kind of relief at the sight of these strands of sunlight between his fingers.
"You take care of yourself, Akashi," he tells him, even though he thinks that he doesn't need to be telling him this, after all this time.
"I will," Akashi answers, and Nijimura believes him. "You too, Nijimura-san."
A/N: forgive me (these chapters are unrelated btw)
