Chapter Four

Makoto had always been an optimistic kinda guy. A "look on the brightside" kinda guy. The kinda guy who tried to see everyone's good points rather than their negative ones. His ex had told him it was a bad habit but it was part of who Makoto was and he didn't think he could change that. At least not easily.

But despite his usual abundance of optimism, after five days of the "crush" being posted, Makoto had still had nothing back from Mr. Tall, Dark and Tattooed. The first few days he'd checked the website on his phone and looked at the physical copy – making sure, just in case – and seen a few more crushes and a few crushes answered. After he'd confirmed that there was nothing in the issues of Tracks¸ Makoto tended to find his shoulders slump and his mood tumble until he would get on the train and remind himself that it could still happen. Maybe he'd seen it and not known how to respond. Makoto could understand that. As it was a difficult thing putting feelings into print and it was embarrassing. He thought back to his own attempts with Haru in the bathtub and knew the pain. He knew it all too well – he was surprised he'd not ended up with a splinter from chewing his pencil so much.

But after five days, Makoto had lost hope. It had been a dumb hope anyway. As after all – Mr. Tall, Dark and Tattooed was cool and sexy, those droopy sexy eyes, the ink that spanned his arms, the pectoral muscles hidden underneath clothing…

"Makoto?"

Blinking, Makoto looked up to see Haru's face swim into vision realising he'd been staring at his bowl of broth rather than eating anything. There was concern on Haru's face and he gave him a small smile that was meant to be reassuring.

"Just thinking."

"Ahh," Haru replied and he picked up a small portion of fish from his broth, popping it into his mouth and returning to read the textbook in front of him on the table.

It was mid-afternoon and both of them had studying to do so they were both perched on the floor, their books scattered around them and on the coffee table, their food, made by Haru, in steaming bowls. Makoto had thought Haru odd and abrupt at first but he did find his companionable silence a comfort and had come to enjoy the friendship he offered. It wasn't full on like Nagisa – there was no conversation needed, only simply being in the same room and Makoto felt like he needed that right now as he dealt with his disappointment regarding his crush.

Nagisa had spent the last evening at the karaoke bar telling him all the potential reasons that he had not replied – including various illnesses, misfortunes and family incidents but Makoto was already facing it. There was going to be no answer. And that was okay. As Makoto would move on and he had too much work to do for university to worry about some guy. About some guy who he'd barely met. So he pushed up his glasses further on his nose and focused on his book, occasionally taking bites of the fish broth Haru had made, savouring the strong salty taste.

After some studying, Makoto sighed and closed the book. He had a shift at the club and should get ready but he felt like he wanted to something else – break some rules, be free. His ex had also said that about him – that he never took risks, did what he was supposed to and had to rather than what he wanted to.

Haru looked up sensing Makoto's mood. "You're thinking about him," he stated.

Makoto gave a shrug. "He's not going to answer now."

With a nod, Haru got to his feet and picked up the two dirtied bowls, walking through to the kitchen area to wash them, stirring the remains of the food in the pot that would do for tomorrow's meal.

"My grandmother used to say that things happened for a reason."

"Huh?" Makoto asked, unfurling his long limbs and getting to his feet to join Haru in the kitchen.

Haru looked up at him as he washed the dishes, his eyes clear and blue and piercing. "Things happen for a reason. Things are connected."

"So…your grandmother would say that we were destined to meet?"

"Yeah," Haru said with a shrug, "something like that."

Not adding anything more to the conversation, Haru concentrated on the dishes and Makoto watched him for a moment at his precise, analytical actions and then smiled. Haru was a weird guy but he made a lot of sense. In his own way.

"I'm going to get ready for work."

Once in his room, Makoto checked his phone one more time, knowing that he had already checked it numerous times and the Rush Hour Crushpage did not change until the following early morning, and then got ready in his work clothes, ready for a night of being harassed by Nagisa.

As he travelled to work, Makoto had stopped staring around the carriages and stations, as now he was sure his "crush" was not coming back into his life so instead he read articles on his phone, trying to catch up on his reading for his classes. Reading that had been distracted by one hot guy.

When he got to work, Makoto focused as best as he could and ignored Nagisa as best as he could even though that was harder. Much harder as the small blond seemed to be behind him at every turn, his head popping up where it shouldn't, his arms clasping around Makoto as though he was his own human teddy bear. He felt cranky and when a customer was downright rude, complaining loudly about how the mixed drink they ordered did not have enough alcohol in, it only made it worse. It was turning into an awful shift and the fact there was a very bad singer on the stage in the main area did not help. After the same customer came back and complained once again, Makoto making another drink while being watched carefully, he gave up and slammed a fist down on the bar before he went outside to take a moment before he came back into the club.

He was so rarely hot-headed or angry that Makoto barely recognised the emotions coursing through his veins, the heat in his face and the sweat on his skin. Nagisa had looked thoroughly shocked when his fist had nearly knocked over a drink and tried to stop him storming off but Makoto needed the moment. The moment to breathe before he went back into the club and did his job.

He wondered what was up with him. The "crush" thing didn't matter but still… Makoto felt a little broken by the fact his whole plan hadn't worked. He had wanted to see him again and he had hoped it would work and finding out it had not was… hard. Makoto took a deep breath, ran a hand through his hair, made sure his glasses were in place and walked back into the club, determined to have a better ending to his shift and not get so emotional.

"Are you okay?" Nagisa asked, his eyes concerned and wide, worry in his little frown.

"I'm fine," Makoto said as he got back to work, trying to focus on his orders and ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach.

Nagisa tried to ask more but Makoto gave a glare he so rarely did and the piercing stare was enough to shut up anymore enquiries from the blond for the rest of the night. It was getting near to the end of the night when Makoto was clearing glasses from the tables that he heard someone singing that was actually good.

The Penguin Club had some regulars who actually loved to sing and perform who tended to appear near the end of the night when it wasn't too crowded. Makoto liked to listen to them – those regulars who were good enough singers to have music videos and downloads and stuff but obviously had given up on that dream due to some reason. And they came to the Penguin Club because, simply, they loved to sing.

Looking up briefly, Makoto didn't recognise the person nor the voice. It was some guy singing some rock style ballad, his voice deep and gruff and also… kinda sexy. Makoto knew the song so he hummed along under his breath as he collected glasses and wiped down tables. It was as he got closer to the stage, that Makoto looked up to the stage, his breath leaving his lungs as he saw…

Of course, he looked different, he was wearing a tight black t-shirt with a v-neck that showed those tattoos more than Makoto had seen that first time, the flowing black lines interlinked with blue waves and subtle pink flowers. And he had no sunglasses but despite that, his eyes were mostly closed as though he was really into the song, feeling the words as he sang them.

Makoto had seen plenty people do that and he'd mocked them with Nagisa but with him – it seemed so damn genuine and Makoto wanted to know what feelings and memories he was channelling into his song.

Paused, stalled, Makoto could only watch him sing, his heart thumping too hard in his chest, the rag in his hand forgotten as the song drew to a close, the tattooed guy's voice wavering, cracking as he finished the last few lines. When it finished, the bright light that illuminated his spot on the stage was gone and while there was a smattering of applause – mainly from the waiters and bar staff than patrons – the guy didn't say anything, only stepped away from the mic and left the stage.

The applause stopped but there was still a rhythmic hammering noise and it took a moment for Makoto to realise that it was his heartbeat in his ears and he figured he should move, goddamnit, as he was just stood staring but he had no time to move. As the guy had walked off the stage and was grabbing his hoodie at a table that Makoto had been clearing only moments before – a glass that had previously had a strong spirit in it – and Makoto was just stood. And for some reason, now he was here and in front of him, Makoto didn't know what to do or say to the tattooed guy who'd haunted his dream. He had his opportunity and he had… nothing.

But he then turned. The guy was always going to turn, always going to walk out of the club now his song was done, after he'd had his one drink for courage. And he was always going to see Makoto – as Makoto was tall and stood there with his mouth open a little and looking like a dumbass.

Yeah, he was going to turn but Makoto didn't expect their eyes to meet, for those unusually bright blue eyes to stare at him for a moment and then recognition to flood his face. He didn't expect for their gazes to be locked, the rest of the karaoke bar blurring around the edges as Makoto noted a few more details – some tattoo on his neck, the large gauge tunnels in his ears that he could see through, the slight stubble on his jaw…

He didn't expect for the guy to walk towards him, Makoto feeling breathless and uneasy as he approached, the guy having a small smile on his face – the smallest of smiles that was more of a smirk but it was sexy and Makoto suddenly felt a hand on his wrist, confused and looking up at that gorgeous face.

"Mr. Green Eyes and Glasses, I'm Sousuke," he said, his voice deep, as Makoto looked down to see what he was doing with his a hand, the tickling feel of a marker pen on his flesh as numbers were written on his skin. He finished with a flourish, Makoto meeting his eyes again as he put the marker in his pocket and grabbed for completely unnecessary sunglasses, putting them on his face.

Makoto watched, dumbfounded, as the guy walked out of the club, looking between the disappearing figure and the pen marks that had been left on his hand. Shaking his head to come back to his senses, Makoto thought about what Haru had said. That things happened for reasons. That everything was connected. As it had to be as Makoto had found out who his Rush Hour Crush was and he wasn't called Mr. Tall, Dark and Tattooed.

He was called Sousuke.