first of all i apologize for the late update, i lost track of time and got lazy and basically everything that happens to an author ahaha... but alas, i am here! with a 12, 112 word update! (THAT IS SCARY WHEN I LOOK BACK AT IT)
please enjoy! :9
"I refuse." He shakes his head. His answer is definite. No. He does not want to join that program. So what if he has experience teaching children how an LBX battle works? It doesn't mean he wants to become an actual LBX teacher, moreover at Kamui Daimon.
Sure, it sounds appealing, but again… no.
He's happy here. He's happy with Arata, and he doesn't want to let that go for a job that's not even his dream job. He still hasn't retrieved Arata's memories yet either.
Mr. Ashikawa nods his head, a slight frown on his face. "I see. But I'll leave the offer open in case you change your mind. I wish you good luck in the tournament next week. My assistant will take care of the details for you." He then leaves them to themselves.
"Why did you turn that down?" Sakuya stares at him like he's grown a second head. "That was a great offer! That's what Jin-san did, right? Become a teacher? You might get your own virtual country too if you prove yourself worthy."
"Assistant teacher," he corrects him. With a shrug he says, "I'm not interested in all that. I like living here. And besides, there's…" he trails off, looking away.
"…That guy here, am I right?" Sakuya smiles softly. "Haruki told me. I'm not surprised neither of us has seen him before you came along. This city's huge."
He nods in response.
Sakuya doesn't pry any further. He stretches out his hand. "Come on, give me your LBX. You can tell me what you want to see in Val Spirit. The sooner we begin the better, right?"
He leaves the building, his mind filled with the suggestion from the president earlier. There's no way he's changing his mind about staying here, not for a very long time. The offer took him by surprise, yes, because he did not expect or even thought about something like this ever coming up.
Him? A teacher? The idea of it doesn't seem so strange to him. He's held a few LBX classes before in some of the more rural and small towns. The kids liked him. And that's the thing. They were kids, children just learning the basic steps of LBX battles.
He doesn't want to handle an entire classroom of annoying, growing, and bratty teens. It will be a nightmare.
He shakes his head. There's no use if he continues to think about it, he already refused. Feeling hungry, he decides to get some lunch for himself. Who knows when Arata will be home anyways?
He checks his wallet and sighs in relief when he sees that he has enough money for a meal. He's sure there's a restaurant somewhere across the street of Cyber Lance's HQ and he makes his way towards it, pondering on what he wants to have.
He is about to walk past the 7-11 when the door to the premises opens. A puff of red hair pops out, accompanied by a taller male with pitch black hair. The taller one is pushing the redhead's shoulder, laughing. The both of them are carrying bags heavy with drinks.
He stops walking. "Arata?"
Arata turns around, widens his eyes, and grins. "Hikaru!" the redhead exclaims and jogs towards the blond. "Hey, what're you doing here?"
"I just left Cyber Lance. You?"
"I'm doing errands for the ban—"
"Ooooh, now who's this little fella?" the tall black-haired man from earlier comes around and puts his elbow on Arata's shoulder, using him as a stand support. The blond has to look up to see his face and notices the other has electric blue eyes. "A friend of yours, Arata?" the stranger says.
Said redhead looks like he wants to scream. He bats the elbow off his shoulder and makes a face at the taller one. "Urgh… Hikaru, this is the band leader, Sakezawa Ren. And Ren… this is my flatmate, Hoshihara Hikaru."
He wants to laugh at the way Arata's treating his leader, but he refrains himself. He nods towards Ren, acknowledging him. "It's nice to meet you," he says. But then he also notices one other thing.
Ren's eyes are sparkling. And there's a devious smirk on his face.
"Eeh?~ So this is the famous flatmate you wouldn't let us mee—" Ren couldn't finish his sentence before Arata punches him in the gut.
"Leave." Arata snarls, glaring at the keeling captain. "You're being annoying."
"But you love me all the same!" Ren laughs, winking at the blond who looks surprised. "Don't worry about me. He does that a lot and I feel nothing each time. Even babies can punch harder than him!"
Arata raises his fist again threateningly and Ren yelps, hiding behind the blond. Inwardly he wonders how ridiculous this must look, when this giant of a person hides behind someone shorter than him. He must be at least almost two heads taller than the average person.
"A-Anyways, it's nice to meet you too!" Ren says quickly. "But it seems we have to cut this meeting short, as Arata might kill me with a poison dart when I'm not looking. Don't have too much fun; do you hear me, Arata? See ya!" and he darts off away from them –the bottles of water jumping up and down in his plastic bag as he expertly dodges the city crowd.
"Ah—! Oi, Ren!" Arata shouts after him.
He turns around to look at the redhead and the first thing he notices is the blush on his cheeks. He feels something bloom in his chest at the sight. That is the cutest thing he's ever seen.
Arata groans, scratching the back of his head as the blush slowly fades away. "Man, that guy…"
He chuckles. "I can see why you don't want to introduce me to them."
"Right?!" Arata exclaims. "They're all… so lively. They'd be doing nothing but tease us the entire time!"
"What? Why?"
The blush is there again, deeper than before, and he feels another thump in his chest, stronger. "B-Because they're just like that…?" Arata says, sounding unsure.
He raises his eyebrows but he decides to not question it anymore. There are other matters at hand. "Well, if you've got nothing else to do right now, do you want to have lunch with me?"
Arata beams at the offer. "Sure! The guys can wait for their drinks."
He starts walking and Arata follows him. They're walking the opposite direction of where Ren disappeared into. "You guys have been really busy. What are you up to?" he asks the question that's been bothering him for months. He hopes he can get an answer, unlike the older and bigger question of 'Will Arata remember?'
Arata shifts the plastic bag he's holding to his other hand and hums. "I can tell you…" then he smirks. "But I can also not tell you."
He thinks about punching Arata's shoulder.
He does just that.
"Ow!" Arata laughs, holding where his arm hurts from the hit. "I wish you'd do that to Ren instead of me."
"He did nothing to me, I just met the guy."
"Oh, he will one day. Trust me."
He looks at Arata suspiciously before he sighs. "Whatever…"
They walk into the restaurant he wanted to go to earlier and as they sit he remembers to ask Arata something. "Are you free this weekend?"
The redhead looks at him and for a second he wonders if he's going to get a joke answer again. He's about to say he's serious but Arata's faster than him. "It depends on why you're asking."
"I have a tournament on Saturday. I was wondering if you'd… like to come and watch me."
His cheeks and neck slowly begins to grow hot and he realizes how stupid that sounds. Embarrassed? Yeah he is. Arata already watched him in battle before; there should be no reason for the redhead to be interested again.
But this is a tournament.
He recalls all the tourneys he's been in before, where his dad was too busy to attend and where his mom stopped coming when the wins came too often. The tournaments after that became boring when there was no one to impress, when there was no support.
He'd like to feel it again, just one more time. That sense of accomplishment and fulfilment he remembers feeling when he won his first trophy.
And maybe he feels like showing off to Arata. Just a little bit.
A waitress comes and hands them their menus. They both flip their own open. "Saturday, huh?" Arata says absentmindedly. "It's just the day right?"
"Yeah."
Arata grins, looking up from the menu. "I'm definitely going."
The week flies past in a blur. He went to Cyber Lance a lot, spending time in Sakuya's lab and helping with the manufacturing of Val Spirit almost as much as Arata spent his time with his band. They couldn't see each other even more, despite living in the same apartment.
The LBX was completed, it was tested, and it was wonderful. He and Sakuya were both proud of how it came to be. Now all that's left is to see it in action on stage in the tournament.
He'll be honest. He's nervous. Why wouldn't he be? For starters, he hasn't been in a tourney in ages. The last one was like, what, a year and a half ago? And second, Arata is out there. Waiting.
He saw the redhead earlier—Arata had come to the waiting area for LBX players to meet him. He does not want to know how he got through security. That man is a wonder on his own. Arata had wished him good luck, and told him he can't wait to see him in action and that he better bring back the grand prize.
He regulates his breathing, controls himself, checking his LBX's and CCM's synchronization one last time.
With his skills and experience, and this upgraded Val Spirit? Winning sounds like a piece of cake.
He hears his name called out by the emcee and some people in the crowd actually cheer things like, 'It's him! It's really him!' He feels overwhelmed by the attention but walks on with pride in his steps. He smiles and waves as the camera zoom in on him and he can see his face on the video board hanging from the ceiling.
It's nostalgic.
From the corner of his eye, he catches sight of Arata, who looks as overwhelmed as he feels. Arata locks eyes with him and the surprised look changes into a grin and a thumbs-up. He nods in turn.
The emcee continues calling out the names of the contestants, some of them he knows because they are regulars and some he's never heard or seen of. Those must be the newbies, the rookies of the business. He wonders if any of them would be good.
"And now, let's begin the 20th annual Aptitude Games!"
He'll just have to find out.
The tournament goes by in a daze. He beats the clumsy newbies easily, and the regulars take his bait because they haven't seen him battle in public in months. Val Spirit is beautiful and graceful, every movement sharper and important, every spin and step bringing out the best. The tweaks Sakuya had done for him in design and abilities are certainly paying off.
He comes out at the top and for the first time in forever he feels genuinely satisfied with himself. He's handed the trophy and the check to the prize money—a modest amount, but a lot all the same. He can live off of it for six weeks or so.
He sees Arata in the crowd again and the redhead looks as excited as he feels, waving his arms around and looking like he wants to jump down to the battle stage to meet with him already.
This was definitely worth it.
They manage to meet eventually because Arata sends him a text telling him he's waiting outside.
He walks out of the stadium after formalities, a number of fans following him to ask for autographs and some of them ask about his LBX, how they've never seen anything like it before and if it's custom made. He answers that it's from Cyber Lance, and that he only helped the scientist there customize it and give ideas, so really all the credit goes to that of Hosono Sakuya.
When the group clears out, he sees the redhead standing by the water fountain. But he's not alone. A group larger than the group he had earlier surrounds the redhead, most of them being young girls and boys.
He raises his eyebrows because he sees Arata signing autographs on various objects with a marker, and he's smiling and entertaining the group. His indigo eyes catch his blue ones and the smile grows wider. Arata dismisses himself from the group, who seem disappointed, and hastily makes his way to the blond.
"Congratulations on winning, Hikaru! I couldn't believe how cool that was, it's like you just blew past all the competition!" is the first thing Arata says and the feeling of satisfaction from earlier comes back. But he's also still feeling the confusion from the sight of the scene earlier, so he nods in response. He doesn't know if he should ask, but he does want to know what was up with that.
"So, you don't have anything on tonight, right?" Arata asks.
"No, I don't…"
Arata beams. "Great! Follow me then, I've got something to show you."
He doesn't question it. He knows Arata loves to surprise him, so he probably won't give a straight answer anyway. As they walk, the sun slowly begins to hide itself to the other side of the world, disappearing behind the horizon. He watches as the sun's glow highlights the purple clothes on Arata's back and tints his hair.
He finds that orange is his new favourite colour.
He pays attention to the route they're taking because it's not one he frequents. It's in a part of the city he goes to once in a while, he thinks, because he does remember buying something from that shop they just passed.
They walk into an alley and Arata brings him to the backdoor of a building that leads to a basement. At least, he thinks it's a backdoor. It looks heavy.
"Arata? What is this place?" he asks as the redhead pushes the door open with effort.
Arata looks over his shoulder, smiling almost mysteriously at him. He brings a finger to his lips before stretching the same hand out. "Come on. It'll be fun, I promise."
…It's not like he can refuse. He sighs and takes his hand, jolting at the electricity he first gets and then relishing the warmth that comes after. He grips just a little bit tighter.
Arata pulls him in and closes the door behind them. It's dark, the walls are red, and he can't really see anything, but Arata seems to know his way well in this space that lacks lighting. He feels a little uneasy, but just like Arata's hand the atmosphere in this dark place isn't cold. It's quite warm—friendly even, despite the appearances.
He just wishes he can see more.
He keeps his eyes on the back of Arata's head as he leads him on. They stop in front of another door, pitch black in colour. He sees white light from underneath the door and there's a sense of relief in the back of his mind.
Arata looks at him and there's a hint of nervousness in his eyes and smile. Before either of them can say anything, Arata knocks.
The door opens and Ren looms over them.
"Oh my God. You actually brought him."
Arata swings his not-occupied hand. It doesn't connect with Ren's jaw.
He looks at Ren, who's clad in a blue shirt and grinning, then at Arata, who looks embarrassed, and raises his eyebrows. Arata sheepishly scratches the back of his head.
"The band… really wants to meet you. Especially after Leader Man here met you the other day. If I didn't bring you today, they said they were going to sabotage the lights to drop on me and make it look like an accident onstage."
He wants to laugh. So that's it? "You could've just told me." He chuckles, just a little.
Arata whines. Ren laughs, pats the both of them on their shoulders and ushers them into the room. The black-haired man takes note of their joint hands and whistles. The two of them let go hastily, faces red. Ren laughs harder.
The room is wider, larger than he expected. It appears to be a kind of dressing room, or a lounging room. The walls are cream, the lights are white on a charcoal ceiling and the floor is made up of a dark grey carpet. There's a white sofa set in the middle, some mirrors and dressing tables here and there. He notices a mini fridge in the corner and a large set of instruments in another corner. Some paintings are on the wall and a number of potted plants are set about as decorations.
There are three other men in the room, two of them lounging on the sofas and another one with long sky blue hair is at the mini fridge, choosing something to drink.
"Hey, guys!" Ren calls out. "Arata actually did it!"
One of them on the sofa, who has caramel coloured hair and wearing a red chequered shirt, rises to his feet so fast he looked like he was going to fly into the ceiling. His eyes are caramel too, and they're widened in surprise. "Holy shit. You're pulling our legs, right, Leader?"
"See for yourself." Ren says and jabs a thumb at the blond, who stands a little bit closer to Arata.
"Hoooly shit. Arata wasn't lying. You are hot." The brunet says, whistling. The other one on the sofa slaps him upside the head. He has forest green hair and a set of sharp yellow eyes that look particularly predator-ish right now. He's not wearing anything flashy either, just a simple rainbow-like hippie shirt.
His cheeks turn pink at the… compliment? He turns to face Arata, but Arata is covering his face with his hands and he can hear the redhead mumbling to himself, 'I should've just let them kill me.'
Ren laughs. "Alright Arata, you can wallow in regret later. The deed is done. Now, introduce him to us. Or introduce us to him. Whichever."
Arata groans, pulling his face with his hands. He shoots a glare at Ren, who he guesses is the real perpetrator, before placing a hand on his shoulder. "Guys, this is Hoshihara Hikaru. Hikaru, these are the idiots in my band."
His lip twitches. He tries to thinks of everything else except laughing.
"You know our dumbass leader, Sakezawa Ren. He's also the drummer. The brunet pervert over there—" 'Hey!' "—is Kurehashi Ayato. He's lead guitar. The guy next to him is the keyboardist, Tsukuda Futori. He's the only non-idiot in the band, excluding me. The one drinking Pepsi is Shizuka Aoi. He's on bass and also the weirdo who literally lives up to his name. And last but not least," the redhead jabs a thumb at himself, "is me, Sena Arata. Lead vocals and guitar. We're called Plats." He finishes off with a grin and a wink.
"My cat sings better than him though." Ayato says, possibly a comeback for the pervert remark earlier. It just earns him another slap from Futori. "Would you stop that?!" he exclaims, rubbing the back of his sore head.
Futori just sighs, crossing his arms. "It's built in my system to hit you every time you say or do anything stupid."
The blond is amused. Arata's band members are a wild bunch—that he is sure of. But they don't seem too bad. Then again, he's probably only scratched the surface.
He bows his head a little. "It's nice to meet all of you," he says, out of habit to be polite.
Ren nods his head before he comes around and grabs Arata in a neck lock. Arata yelps and Ren grins deviously; the blond wonders if it's a skill needed to become a part of the band. He's pretty sure the other three in the band can smirk like little devils too. "You still need to tune your guitar smarty-pants, the rest of us are already prepared." Ren squint his eyes at Arata.
Arata frowns, trying to free himself from the grip. "But I don't see it!"
Ayato devil smirks. (The blond called it.) "It's upstairs."
The redhead groans. "You guys are doing this on purpose!"
"Don't complain. Just do it already." Futori says.
"But—!"
"Arata. Go." This time, it's Aoi. He throws the empty can of Pepsi into the trash.
Arata purses his lips, looks at the blond, mouths an apology, and sprints for the door when Ren lets him go.
He gulps.
"So…" Ren starts when the door is fully closed and the footsteps are far away. He stands in front of him, crossing his arms and the smirk from earlier gone. "Did Arata tell you why he brought you here tonight?"
He raises his eyebrows. "Isn't it to meet you guys?"
"Nah, that's just an excuse." Ayato says, walking closer to them. "If it weren't for the thing tonight, he'd never bring you to see us. We're the worst friends a guy could ever have." He's grinning though, and the blond knows from experience he means the opposite.
"What thing?" he asks. Is this thing, whatever it is, the reason why Arata has been so busy for months?
"Our band, Plats, signed a contract with a company a few months back." Ren explains with a childish grin appearing on his face. "We've held gigs here and there since high school, sang at people's weddings and sold some CDs. But we only made our debut at this TV show produced by the same company a month or so ago and tonight is our first concert," he holds his chin. "Arata's been working hard for this night. We all have."
He takes a few moments to process this.
Whoa, what?
The crowd that surrounded Arata earlier in front of the LBX stadium suddenly made sense. He didn't realize how serious Arata is about the band, about his music. He thought it was just a hobby, something to fill his free time with. It's obvious now that he thought wrong.
"And because he's worked so hard for this day, he wants you to be there to see the fruits of his hard work, I suppose." Futori says. He closes his sharp eyes, as if in deep thought. "You must be pretty important to him."
The statement causes a blush to creep up his cheeks. Him? Important to Arata? Maybe back when they were in Kamui Daimon and in the same platoon, yes. But now? When Arata doesn't remember who he was? He's not so sure anymore. He's just a flatmate, a friend. How could he be important to him?
He opens his mouth but closes it soon after. He doesn't know what to say. What is appropriate to say in a situation like this? He doesn't know. He doesn't know anything anymore.
A sudden heavy weight settles in his chest. This is not good.
He's sure they had good intentions when they told him all this. It's good that Arata is working hard for something he's passionate for, he thinks, because Arata is just that kind of person. But now, because of that, the blond faces a new problem in its wake.
He can't take this all away by making Arata remember.
Nobody says anything else, they can't, because the door to the room swings open and a puffed out Arata stumbles in with a guitar case behind him.
"I swear if you guys said anything bad about me—!"
Ayato laughs heartily and so does Ren. Futori shakes his head and shares an amused look with Aoi.
He can't help a small smile as Arata looks at him pleadingly, despite the heavy guilt in his chest.
"Oh my god. They didn't."
"Relax Arata, chill!" Ayato laughs, clutching his gut. "We couldn't even start anything; you came back way too fast!"
Arata doesn't seem to buy it. He looks at the blond again. He's using his kicked-puppy face. "Please tell me it's true."
There's a moment of silence as everyone focuses on him. He decides to play a little by shrugging. "Maybe."
Arata pales. Ayato and Ren laugh harder. This time Futori is snickering too and Aoi's lips are twitching.
"You guys are horrible!" Arata shouts at them. He grabs the blond by his shoulders and stares into his blue eyes intensely. That takes him by surprise. The close proximity causes him to blush. "Whatever they told you, whatever it is at all, I can explain."
One second passes, then another, and then he finds that his shoulders are shaking and his hand is covering his mouth to hide his smile as he suppresses his laughter. He slowly bends over, almost leaning against Arata's chest, no sound coming out of him but the curbed laughs.
"T-They r-really…" he tries to breathe, pulling back. "Said n-nothing…"
Arata's face becomes a mixture of relief and disbelief.
"Then that means you just played me!" the redhead exclaims, pointing a finger at him.
He bites his lip, still trying to stop laughing. He raises his hands and shrugs. Arata just jaw drops at him.
"Oh man," Ren starts, leftovers from his laughing fit earlier slowly disappearing. He coughs into his hand, the other one resting on his hip. "He's a keeper, Arata. He's a keeper."
Arata's face goes bright red almost immediately and he closes his mouth quickly. The blond half-expects Arata to throw another punch at the taller male, but he doesn't. His face is still red and he's pressing his lips together in a quivering line.
Realization comes to him only a little while later.
Oh.
Now his face is deep red too. "W-What?" he stutters.
Arata blinks and he breaks out of his stupor. He glares at Ren, though the menacing effect decreases drastically because his face is still red. That doesn't mean the intention to kill isn't there. Ren just grins back at him.
"Okay, okay," Futori claps his hands together, catching their attention. "Cut it out, Ren, you're killing him with embarrassment. And Arata, did you even tune your guitar?"
Arata pouts. "…Not yet I haven't."
Futori sighs. He pulls Arata by the ear, despite the redhead's protests, and continues to scold him.
"H-Hikaru, save me!" he calls out.
He just shakes his head, chuckling. "You're on your own for this one, Arata."
"But—!"
Arata is dragged away to the furthest corner with all the instruments, where Futori continues to scold him for his immatureness. Ayato and Ren snicker with each other, taking joy in the misery of the redhead. Then, there's a knock on the room's door.
Ren cups his mouth and says, "Come in!"
It opens and a woman, more or less his age, walks in. She's wearing a black shirt with fake gems littered on the front. "Hello gentlemen," she says with a glint in her green eyes. She blows a stray strand of brown hair away from her face. "We're ready for a last sound check. And after that, it's good to go."
Ayato whoops. "Nice!"
"Thanks for telling us, Arisa-san." Ren smiles sheepishly at her, a bit of pink on his cheeks. "And before you go, can I ask for a favour?"
Arisa tilts her head but nods. "Sure, anything for you!" she smiles, giving a thumbs-up.
Ren's blush deepens but the woman doesn't seem to notice. "W-We need, uh, I mean, can you show him to the audience?" Ren refers to the blond
Arisa takes a look at him and smiles. "Sure thing!"
Ren turns around and says to him, "Y-You can leave your bag here. It's going to be a long and exciting night."
He complies, placing his bag on an empty table and taking the important things to shove in his pockets like his CCM, wallet, and his LBX-in-a-cube. "I guess I'll see you guys later then?"
Ren nods at him.
He nods back. "Break a leg."
He's about to follow the woman out when someone taps him on the shoulder.
He turns around and it's Aoi. The blue-haired man holds out what appears to be a red pass towards him. He takes it, eyebrows raised. "What is this?" he asks.
"A backstage pass. Each band member gets two for either friends or family. Arata hasn't given his passes to anyone yet, but I figure you're going to need it."
"Oh." He looks at the pass in his hand, a mild feeling washing over him in his chest. "Thank you." He says as he hangs the pass around his neck and notices how it has Arata's signature at the bottom corner. He smiles.
When he's brought to the spectators' area, there are already many people waiting. The lights are still on and Arisa helps find a place for him on the second level, where there were chairs and a little less people.
She doesn't initiate small talk nor does she pry for information about him. To him, she seems like a professional, and she almost intimidates him with her aura.
She points to one area that's close to the stage but not too close, giving him a clear and comfortable view. "Is this okay?" she asks, still smiling.
He nods gratefully at her. "It is. Thank you."
She smiles at him. "You're welcome. It's my job, after all. I'll be in the sidelines, in the backgrounds, so just look for me back there if you come around trouble during the show, okay?"
He nods again.
"Good. Enjoy the concert!" she calls out before disappearing down the stairs.
He settles into a chair, feeling like he's in a cinema with the soft cushion seats and the cup holders on each armrest. He's not the only one on this level; there are a lot of other people around him but it appears that the most people prefer it down there, on even flooring and far closer to the stage where they could enjoy themselves better.
It takes a while more of waiting before the curtains are pulled up, and some time before that happens, he gets a bottle of water from Arisa. She says Arata told her to give it to him. He thanks her, hoping there isn't any pink on his cheeks.
The lights turn off abruptly and the crowd below hushes.
He hears them before he sees them.
The strums of a bass and a guitar fill the hall; he leans forward a little in his seat to see clearer. Spotlights from behind the stage light up and wisps of smoke fill the air, from a fog machine he guesses. He can see the silhouettes of two people onstage with their string instruments and the crowd cheers so loud he thinks his eardrums are going to burst.
Then he can hear the drums, the keyboard, and another guitar joining the parade of strings. The smoke clears and he sees Arata standing in the centre with an electric guitar, wearing a white button-up shirt with large black polka dots, a yellow tie around his neck and maroon pants. He stops strumming and grins into the microphone.
He sings.
Most of the crowd throws their hands up, cheering. A number of them appear to know the song, because they're singing along, and the energy in the modest hall increases tenfold.
He sits there frozen, entranced by the excitement. Most of the people on the second level are standing now, leaning on the railings to get a closer look. He's heard Arata sing before, when he's practicing, when he's writing songs and when he sings along to the songs on his iPod.
But this is different.
Seeing Arata onstage, all donned up and playing his electric guitar like a seasoned pro, it all gives him a different feeling. He can't quite name it, because he's never really felt this way before.
So he continues to watch, eyes focused solely on the redhead in centre stage as he plays. He feels something pull in his chest, something he doesn't recognize, and something he can't explain. He doesn't know what it is. All he knows is that he's in a magic spell, and the caster is Sena Arata.
The first song ends and Arata greets the audience. "Heeeey!" he holds onto the microphone and grins. "How's everyone tonight?!"
The crowd cheers in reply.
"What's that? You want another song?"
They cheer louder.
The strings and beats start again, this time into a different melody.
He doesn't have the appropriate words to describe the event. The songs keep coming and it feels like the band doesn't get tired of playing. So this is a concert, he thinks. He's never been to one and… he's glad somehow that this is his first. It's a whole new experience for him.
The band takes a break and the lights are turned off. Nothing happens for a while and the crowd grows restless. He begins to wonder if anything happened backstage and whether or not he should go to check.
But then an electric guitar breaks the silence with its strumming. The sudden music takes him and most others by surprise.
The lights turn on, blinding them, and he squints. It takes a few moments for his eyes to adjust and when they do the first thing he sees is Ayato playing his guitar. The brunet is performing alone and the lightshow fills the hall with red and blue flashes. The crowd is in an uproar again at the spectacle.
He feels his jaw drop. Is this what they call a guitar solo?
Then another sound takes him off guard. From what he hears, it's an electric guitar too. The new set of strings compliments the ones Ayato is playing and soon enough the second player joins the brunet onstage.
Arata walks in casually, his fingers quick and nimble on his white and red guitar. There's a lollipop in his mouth as he and Ayato grin at each other.
They're wearing different clothes than before. Just normal t-shirts you'd find any teen wear when they're out. The song continues and soon it seems like the two guitarists are in a battle. They're facing each other more than the audience and it seems as if they're trying to prove who between them is a better guitar player. They even take turns playing, showing off their skills one by one.
It's not long before the rest of the band joins them. A second curtain unveils to reveal Ren and his drums, Aoi walks in with his bass slung over his shoulder while Futori makes an appearance with his keyboard soon after. The voiceless songs continue and it becomes a showdown on who can play their instrument with the same song better. It feels like an explosion of sound. The crowd loves it—anybody could tell from the way they're reacting.
He can feel the energy electrify him. He wants to go closer, to see them closer. The second-level doesn't provide much of an experience. It's definitely far more comfortable with the seats and the space to breathe unlike below. But he doesn't think it's enough. So he stands up and finds the stairs to go to the lower level.
He's met by a wall of people jumping slightly on their feet. He can hear the band in front and see the lights lighting the ceiling, the walls, and the dark silhouettes of the crowd blocking his way. He clenches his fists and snakes himself forward.
People jab at him, cuss at him, but he doesn't care. He wants to go closer. He lets the momentum of the crowd push him forward and soon he's at where he wants. He can see Arata and the rest clearer here. The music is louder too and he can feel it in his chest. It's different here. It's far different.
He has his eyes on Arata when their eyes lock. Arata looks surprised but he quickly grins, finishing off the note he was playing with more flair than previously. Show off, the blond thinks.
He loses track of time, watching Plats play and sometimes making eye contact with Arata. Not that the time particularly matters. It feels like hours or maybe half an hour later, he doesn't know, he can't tell, he doesn't care, when the band takes another break and the stage is dark.
A very dim light illuminates the stage from the top. Nobody is seen on the stage until a shadow walks onto it. He's pulling a chair with him and one can see the silhouette of a guitar too. Not an electric guitar, but an acoustic guitar. The figure sits with the guitar on his lap in front of a microphone stand and a spotlight is turned on. It's aimed towards the figure.
Arata waves.
More figures follow his lead. The rest of the band members are carrying chairs too and each holds a different instrument from the usual. Ren is holding a box, he thinks, which is peculiar. Futori is holding a tambourine; Ayato and Aoi are not carrying anything but microphones. Ayato and Ren sets themselves on Arata's right and Futori and Aoi settle on Arata's left.
Aoi taps his microphone. "Is everyone enjoying the show so far?" he smiles.
The crowd cheers.
"We've riled you up good, huh?" Ayato smirks into his mike.
"Let's wind down for a bit." Arata strums a familiar tune, one that makes the blond think of a star studded night sky and a night in their living room scattered with the redhead's notes and pencil shavings. Arata sings and the blond feels himself brighten.
WHISTLE ya CHIME ni sekasare sugiteku hibi
furikaereba waraeru no kana mugamuchuu mo
Ayato continues the song after him, followed by Aoi. Futori plays his tambourine and Ren taps a beat using the box.
He feels a smile tug at his lips. Hearing Arata sing this song when they were home was nice, but this? This is better. And knowing that he helped, even with just a little part of the song, makes this all the more worthwhile.
Arata looks at him again as he sings and winks. He shakes his head in return fondly, not realizing his smile is still there.
It goes on like this for a while, the band singing slow and sentimental songs. The crowd calms down and they begin to rock themselves sideways to the music. He didn't expect this to happen. He expected Plats to perform only upbeat and energetic songs. He was proven wrong.
Another thing he doesn't expect to happen is most of the band leaving the stage after a song is over. And by most, he means everyone but Arata. They all take their chairs and instruments with them, and Ren claps the redhead on the back before he leaves. All four of them are smiling like they're holding the biggest secret in the world.
Arata clears his throat. "So, uh…" a blush creeps up his cheeks. "I can't believe I'm doing this but… this next song is one I wrote for a special someone here today."
The crowd makes a noise. He feels his heart skip a beat.
Because when Arata said that, he was looking right at him.
Arata tests a few strings before he plays. He takes a breath.
What would I do without your smart mouth?
Drawing me in, and you kicking me out
You've got my head spinning, no kidding, I can't pin you down
It's a slow song, with nothing but the strums of the guitar and Arata's voice to complete it. And even though it's a slow song, it's a powerful one. It's filled with emotion. It takes him a few moments later to realize why the song is leaving such an impact in its wake.
Arata's singing it from the heart.
'Cause all of me
Loves all of you
Love your curves and all your edges
All your perfect imperfections
When Arata sings those lines, those indigo eyes flutter to where he is and their eyes lock again. Arata's cheeks turn a little pink but a grin forms on his face. His singing goes on, still strong.
Give your all to me
I'll give my all to you
You're my end and my beginning
Even when I lose I'm winning
The blond clutches the backstage pass around his neck. Even though Arata isn't looking at him anymore, he can still feel the shock of the moment through him. He lowers his head, suddenly finding that looking at Arata is an impossible task. What… what is going on?
He rakes his mind for possible conclusions but he keeps on focusing on one idea he thinks is ridiculous. It's so ridiculous he doesn't want to believe it.
No way… the blond can feel his cheeks burn at the idea of it. No way… right?
He looks back up and Arata's eyes are on him again.
The world is beating you down, I'm around through every mood
You're my downfall, you're my muse
My worst distraction, my rhythm and blues
I can't stop singing, it's ringing, in my head for you
Arata's eyes turn back to the general crowd.
He releases the gasp he was holding. His hand reaches up, covering his mouth. He feels like his heart is trying to jump out of his body. It stings… And yet, he feels like he's… he's flying.
He doesn't want to believe this. He can't believe this. He knows he can't, he really can't and he really shouldn't, but still… but still…!
The tears come to his eyes. He's that special someone…? It's him? It's really… him?
He thinks about it and there's really, really, really no other possibility. It's just as Futori said—Arata wanted him to see him in his glory. Why? Because he is special to Arata. So the redhead brought him here, to this concert he worked so hard for, and Arata decided to confess his feelings right here, onstage, in what is potentially the cheesiest way the blond thinks is available.
Is it counted as another sin for him to feel happy?
He wants to laugh. He wants to laugh from the giddy and warm feeling he gets but there's another emotion that's just as strong as the sappy warmness binding itself in his chest and causing him to frown—guilt.
That heavy weight pulls him back down to earth and he flinches. He can't. This can't happen. They can't happen. Even though he wants them to, so badly, he absolutely can't.
He can't break the bubble that is Arata's perfect world.
"—And to that person, I hope you understand how I feel for you." Arata says. It's a wonder that he's not stammering yet, his ears are bright red.
Has the song ended already? He didn't notice. But he can't find it in himself to look back up. He can feel Arata's gaze on him. The spectators around him all whisper and chatter excitedly, curiously, all of them wondering who this 'mystery person' is. Some people in the crowd laugh and catcall, the excited cheers from some of them growing louder.
Arata leaves the stage, the light dies down and the curtain falls.
Is it over? Maybe it is now. Some people are leaving. But he doesn't find it in him the ability to move to the backstage, to that dressing room or whatever, and come face to face with Arata. He fiddles with the backstage pass he got, wondering how things became like this.
He stands there motionless before he realizes the crowd is chanting something. They're repeating the band name, Plats, over and over again. He raises his eyebrows, a little confused. Nobody is leaving the hall anymore and the crowd is beginning to shake their fists too.
The lights turn back on and he understands now that they were asking for an encore.
All the band members are onstage again and the crowd goes wild. They're all wearing simple white shirts this time. The music fills the hall once more as they play another upbeat song, a remix of one that they already played earlier.
They play one more song after that, join hands when it's done and take a bow together. They wave their hands to the crowd and the crowd waves back enthusiastically. Arata looks for him and blushes when he sees him.
He blushes too and looks away.
Plats leave the stage for real that night.
He wanders around, watching as the staff backstage moves about to wrap things up. He's doesn't know what to do right now. He doesn't want to go to the band's dressing room immediately. He's not ready. He's not sure he can face Arata so soon.
He turns a corner, feeling out of place as people in black t-shirts run about with an air of importance to them, getting tasks done and communicating commands to one another. He hides himself close to the wall, watching the orderly chaos in silence as he thinks about what he should do now and hoping nobody would think much of his presence and continue on with their work.
If he goes back—when he goes back—he'll need to answer Arata. He can't leave the man hanging.
The predicament is… what is his answer?
He didn't mean to make Arata like him that much, to the point of writing a song for him. He didn't mean for any of this to happen. He just wanted to be closer to Arata, to have him remember his teenage days again. To remember him, remember Haruki, Sakuya, Muraku and the others and everything he accomplished with them in Jenock. But all of that is proved to be harder than he anticipated. Now things will be harder because Arata has feelings for him. And it's not only that…
He didn't mean to grow feelings for Arata either.
The blond closes his eyes. His chest stings and his eyes do too. He's happy. He's far too happy. How couldn't he? Finding out that the person you like likes you back… It makes him feel like he's on cloud nine. He wants to go there right now, to tell Arata that his feelings are reciprocated, but what then?
What would happen to them then?
He doesn't know.
Someone taps him on the shoulder and he jumps, quite possibly five feet into the air.
"Whoa!" Arisa looks just as surprised as he is, with her hands up in defence. "Easy there, I'm not here to kill you. What're you doing here? Are you lost?"
He sighs of relief. The woman surprised him, that much is obvious, but he's relieved it's just her. If it had been one of the Plats members, let alone Arata, he won't know what to do. Or more accurately, he won't know what he'd do. If it had been any other member but Arata, maybe he'd be able to confront them.
If it had been Arata, maybe he'd run out of embarrassment.
Slowly he nods his head to answer Arisa. It's not like he's lying. He really doesn't know where he is. "Yes, I couldn't find my way back."
Okay, that might be a little lie.
Arisa smiles, looking amused. "Didn't I tell you to look for me if you needed anything? Come on, I'll show you where the dressing room is." The brunette turns on her heels, beckoning for him to follow her with her finger.
He walks behind her. Unlike earlier, she seems a bit tired because her voice isn't as energetic as before but her steps are still strong and fast. She must have done a lot behind the stage, he thinks. Everyone did so well they all deserved a break.
She looks over her shoulder and eyes the backstage pass resting against his chest. She tilts her head, a curious look on her face. "Are you Arata-kun's special person?"
He sputters, the blush creeping up his neck and ears. "W-What?"
A slimmer of a grin reaches her lips. "I think it's pretty obvious. I noticed he kept eyeing the same spot in the crowd and I also saw how you weren't on the second floor anymore. Plus, you're the only one with Arata's pass," she turns her head back to the front. "He sure took us by surprise with his little speech. The staffs were curious when he asked if he could perform the last song a solo," she laughs, hearty. "Now we know why."
He crosses his arms, hugging himself and wishing he could curl into a ball and maybe disappear into nothingness. This is the most embarrassing thing he has to go through…! He didn't think she'd decide to talk about this of all matters. Is Arata's confession really the talk of the staff and the people who came to watch the concert now? He hopes not, though that might be futile.
They arrive at the door and Arisa knocks and the first thought that crosses his mind is Oh no this is too soon this is way too soon I'm not ready I can't do this.
The door opens to Ren.
He doesn't know if he's relieved or disappointed.
Ren makes a face between surprise, discomfort, a smile and a blush. "O-Oh, hey, Arisa-san! I see you brought—"
Ayato barges in between Ren's arms and screams. "There you are!" he shouts and pulls the blond into the room by the arm. In the process, the brunet manages to push Ren out towards Arisa and close the door behind him. "Arata's going crazy with the jitters! What happened? Did you get lost? Arisa was with you so that must be it. You got lost, didn't you? Phew, I was right. I told the guy not to worry so much!"
It's amazing how a few years back the term 'lost' had such a different meaning for him compared to now.
The bullet train of questions bewilder him and he's not sure if he should even answer any of them. But he nods anyway, because that's better than nothing. Did Ayato even see him nod? Who knows.
But Arata is worried? Uh-oh.
Ayato pushes him towards the sofas, where he sees Aoi and Futori hovering over the three-seat sofa from the back with concerned looks on their faces. When he's close enough he can see that the third person on the sofa is Arata. The other two look up when they notice them approaching and he gulps.
Futori stretches a hand out to the redhead lying down on the sofa and says, "Don't look now but your sweetheart's back."
He feels himself blushing harder.
"Hikaru?!" Arata nearly shouts. He sits up so fast he almost rockets off the sofa. The redhead blinks a few times before he blushes too, realizing the term that Futori used. He turns to the said man and slaps his hand away. "Leave me alone!"
Futori just snickers. "As you wish."
The sharp-eyed man turns away from the sofa. Aoi follows him and together they both pull Ayato from the blond, the brunet struggling for freedom. "H-Hey what're you guys doing I want to watch—!"
"Shut up, Ayato." Aoi says.
"Where are you guys going?! Futori! Aoi! That's not what I meant!" Arata shouts from the sofa, looking flabbergasted. His jaw drops when the door to the room closes behind the trio.
Silence falls between the two of them. The blond rubs his arms, unsure of what to do or say. They're awkward again, after so long of being comfortable and warm around each other. He realizes he doesn't like this awkwardness. He realizes he doesn't like the idea of being distant from Arata even more.
"Hikaru, about earlier, I'm sor—"
He walks forward and holds Arata's cheeks.
And then they're kissing.
He doesn't recall who started it, maybe it was him, maybe it was Arata, maybe it was both of them, but it didn't matter. It doesn't matter. An explosion occurs in his chest, in his head and on his lips. He feels his hands that are on Arata shake. Arata's own hands circle around him, settling on his neck and in his hair, and he's pulling him closer and closer till he's on the sofa, straddling Arata.
He pulls back, only to have Arata chase after him and they're kissing again and he feels like he's losing his mind in a show of fireworks. He pulls Arata closer, pushes himself forward, not feeling satisfied, wanting more of this, wanting more of Arata, wanting and wanting…
When they break the kiss, both of them are gasping for air and their faces are flushed with heat. He rests his forehead on Arata's, their noses almost touching. He still has his arms around Arata's neck, and Arata has his around his waist, fingers holding him tightly.
Their eyes lock and Arata exhales. "Wow."
He kisses the redhead again, gentler this time, but the explosion he feels is just the same as the first kiss. "Don't ever tell me you're sorry for what you did onstage, idiot."
Arata grins. "Maybe if I get another kiss like earlier—"
He pinches Arata's neck.
"Ow! Ow ow ow! Hikaru!"
He buries his face in Arata's shoulder, breathing in the redhead's scent. He mumbles quietly, "You're a sap."
Arata plays with his ponytail, curling strands around his finger. They are silent again but it's a different silence compared to earlier. It is soundless warmth, a mutual understanding, and a breeze of emotion going back and forth between them.
Or maybe that breeze was just the air conditioning.
His hands are shaking still and Arata pulls them back to hold them, kiss them. "Are you… scared?" Arata asks with his voice low and hesitant.
Is he scared?
What they've had up until now had been good, wonderful even. He doesn't want to lose that. If they… if they take another step forward, another step closer, and crossing the borders that lie between them… would all of that be lost or… will they become something even more? Would things be the same or will they be different? So different, that he'd rather take that step back into the comforting safety of his cocoon where everything is familiar and Arata is just a friend?
Maybe he is scared.
He doesn't know what will happen in the future, he doesn't know what will happen to them, and he doesn't know what will happen when Arata finally cures his amnesia.
But when he sees Arata's indigo eyes looking at him, with a certainty so sure and hard, he decides those are questions that can be answered at a later time.
So he kisses him once more.
Maybe he isn't scared, because Arata is here with him too.
When they leave the room together, hand-in-hand like the first time they walked in, the band members are lingering outside with cheeky grins on their faces. Arisa is with them too and she looks equally amused.
Arata turns red. "Don't you—"
"Having his first concert and getting his first boyfriend in one night? Arata's on a roll. I'm almost jealous. Almost." Ayato snickers, covering his smirk with a hand. Futori is smirking too and he fist bumps Ayato.
The blond blushes a little but he keeps his cool.
Wait. First boyfriend?
"I'm your first?" he turns, looking at Arata.
Arata's blushing so hard his ears are pink too. He looks down and scratches his head. "Well, you're the first one I'm emotionally invested in…" the redhead grips his hand tighter and smiles at him. "And I'm glad that's a fact."
He feels like punching that smile off his face. Does he think he looks cute saying that?!
Well, he's absolutely right. But it's not like he'll say it out loud.
So the blond settles on hiding his face in his free hand instead, wishing he could just disappear. At this rate they're going, he might need an ambulance before the night ends. His heart is beating way too fast.
"Haha, alright, let's get the party started!" Ayato cheers, throwing his arm up, and the other arm snaking itself around Futori's shoulders.
"Party?" he asks Arata.
"Yeah, the after party… It might take a while longer before we get to go home."
"Oh…"
He grips Arata's hand tighter. Arata returns the gesture. They're looking at each other from the corner of their eyes and he feels warmer, fonder.
The group starts to move deeper into the building and he's about to follow them, but Arata pulls him back. He raises his eyebrows at the redhead. "Arata…?"
"Do you… really want to go there?"
"…Huh?"
"I mean, do you really… want to go to the party?"
He ponders on it for a second before the realization hits him.
Oh.
The blond fidgets before he shakes his head. "Not… really…"
Arata grins.
They run. The night air is cold on their arms and cheeks. He doesn't know how far they've run. After Arata asked him that, the next thing they did was escaping the premises. The city streets are empty and most of the shops are closed as they run the few blocks they are able.
He takes deep breaths with his hands on his knees when they stop, each intake of air a sharp jab in his lungs from the low temperature. Arata does the same next to him, except he's standing and he's panting less. He wonders whether he's more out of shape than Arata is. Maybe he should take up kendo again. He can't even remember the last time he ran that much.
Arata laughs. "They're going to kill me when they realize we're gone."
He chuckles. "You'll live, somehow."
"Are you telling me you won't come to save my ass?"
"I don't own a shiny armour to go with my non-existent white horse, princess."
They look at each other after that and laugh.
"The trains aren't in commission at this hour…" Arata says
"And it's a long walk home."
"I'll call a taxi then."
"Are you sure?"
Arata grins, slyly. He takes a step closer to him and then their faces are close to each other their noses are almost touching. "What? Are you telling me you want to spend the night at a love hotel?"
He blushes twenty shades of red. He splutters, caught by surprise. He tries to move away but he loses his balance instead and wobbles. Arata catches him by the waist, steadying him, and the shit-eating grin is still on the redhead's face.
He wants to punch that grin. He also wants to kiss it.
He does the latter.
Arata pulls away to say, "I'm still holding on to the love hotel offer," and he kisses him again harder to shut him up.
Afterwards he whispers into Arata's ear, "Pervert."
The ride home in the taxi was anxious, impatient. He wanted the car to go faster; he wanted to reach their home earlier.
He and Arata held hands the entire way. At first it was Arata who traced circles on his hand with his thumb, and when Arata stopped he started doing it to his hand. Although they weren't looking at each other—trying to not look at each other—he could easily tell that Arata was anxious too.
When he closed the door behind him, locked it and turned around, Arata's lips were on his almost immediately.
His eyes shut tight and his hands found way into red hair, pulling and pulling Arata closer to him. Arata pushes himself against the wall; he can feel the rough texture on his back. He can feel Arata's hand on his neck too, moving from there to his chin and to behind his head. Arata's other hand snakes under his shirt, touching his abdomen and going up his chest and he gasps because he's getting warmer, hotter, and Arata's hands feel so good.
"Arata…" he breathes the name, savours it. Arata responds by kissing his neck and he moans.
He raises his trembling hand, pulling Arata's head up so he can look into those beautiful eyes. There is a gleam in them, one he's never seen in them before. It isn't mischief nor is it melancholy. It is something deeper, stronger, something that makes his heart throb.
He gulps.
"The… bedroom… please…"
His eyes glint before he smiles. Arata picks him up like a princess and staggers a little as he laughs. The blond yelps before throwing his arms around Arata's neck. "W-What are you doing?!" he gasps.
Arata doesn't answer him. He carries him deeper into their apartment, kissing him again and again, not letting him rest. His head is swirling in the heat and he can feel himself slipping his grip but he tries to stay focused on being alert, and not melting in Arata's arms.
He doesn't know how Arata unlocked the door, or if it was even locked in the first place, or whose room it is because he can't see anything in the dark but Arata's violet eyes. He feels Arata's calloused fingers from the years of playing the guitar, tracing the outline of his body like a music sheet, and he tastes Arata as the redhead slips his tongue into his mouth.
When Arata pulls away, he's lying down, his hair a mess and his shirt halfway up and he can hardly breathe. This is worse than when he ran earlier. Arata is over him, hands on the sides of his head and trapping him on the bed with no openings to escape.
Yet, he lingers.
The blond lifts a hand up, cupping the other's cheek with raised eyebrows. "Arata…?"
Arata purses his lips. He places his hand over his. For the first time in a long while, he actually looks nervous. And it tickles the blond's heart.
"Are you… sure about this?" Arata gulps.
He blinks, eyes clearing. He doesn't catch on to what Arata's talking about for a few seconds, and when he does he smiles fondly. He leans up and gently kisses Arata, just a brush of the lips—far unlike the other kisses they've had until now.
"Yes, I am."
That is all that's needed to be said.
The first thing that comes to mind is how his back hurts.
The second are the warm arms that surround him.
He opens his eyes slowly, the ache in his back and body a dull pain. He wonders why it hurts so much, when the events of last night strike him like a lightning bolt. He presses his lips together and blushes.
They just got together and they went that far.
He admits it, it's not like he didn't want it to happen in the first place. He just didn't expect it so soon.
He snuggles in closer, breathing in Arata's scent, and wondering why this didn't happen sooner. Why he thought that just being friends was enough for him. Why he didn't think of taking the next step himself. Being this close to Arata feels like a dream, even though he just woke up from a deep sleep.
…But as it is, all dreams end.
He sits up, pushing Arata's arms away gently, careful not to rouse him. The blanket hangs loosely around him. It's not the blanket he always uses at night. So, he was carried into Arata's room last night, huh?
The sunlight streaming in from behind the white coloured curtains helps him see. He looks around, taking noteof the posters of bands, posters about music and concerts, and a shelf of books, a study desk, and another guitar he doesn't see often in Arata's hands on its stand in one corner. The walls are a deep kind of red, like the colour of wine. It almost feels romantic.
He turns his head to watch Arata sleep, noting how the redhead's bare chest rises and falls slowly. It seems like he won't be waking anytime soon. From everything that happened yesterday, the redhead must be really tired.
He caresses a stray hair away from Arata's forehead, watching. The warm and fuzzy feeling he had earlier is now overpowered by another emotion that he dislikes the most.
Guilt.
He sighs.
He can't do this to Arata. He can't be this selfish. The reason why he did nothing about his feelings up until now was because he was too focused on Arata's amnesia. He thought it would be selfish of him, so very selfish to date Arata when the redhead does not know of the past they shared together.
He thought maybe if after Arata remembered and forgave him, maybe only then would he act on his feelings… But even then, who can guarantee that would have happened? Even everything that happened yesterday, he didn't see any of them coming.
His life is just a wild turn of events.
The blond holds his head. "What am I going to do now…?" he whispers to himself, the pain of the guilt eating at him like an uninvited parasite. He… He can't go on like this, with this heavy secret inside of him that he wants to get rid of so badly. But he can't tell Arata either. Not when things have escalated this far. He should have told him long ago, back when they first met each other once more.
So… what is there for him to do?
He looks at Arata. The swell of warmth in his heart grows, but so does the prickling guilt.
There's one thing I can do.
He pushes himself off the bed, slowly, carefully. He doesn't want to wake Arata up. Not now. This is his chance. He gathers up his clothes, face slightly red as the memories of last night flash through his mind. He shuts them out immediately.
He shuts the door behind him gently and takes light steps towards his own room. Throwing his clothes on his own bed, he decides to risk a quick shower. It takes a little bit longer than he had intended because of the mess Arata made of him.
As he dries his hair with a towel and dresses himself, he hastily takes out all the clothes in his closet—piling all of them on his bed. He begins collecting his belongings on the bed too, from the small decorations to the novels he actually enjoys rereading over and over again. He grabs everything in his sight, managing to not dwell on them for long.
He makes for his CCM and dials a number. It takes a moment for the other end to pick up.
"Hello?"
"Hello. Haruki, it's me."
"Oh, hey, what's up?"
"Can you come over with your car?"
"Right now?" Haruki sounds incredulous.
"Yes, right now."
"What's wrong? Did something happen?" now he sounds worried.
"Call me again when you're here, I'll tell you then. Do not honk."
And he hangs up.
He doesn't realize his breathing is erratic.
The blond continues with his cleaning, keeping his CCM in the pocket of his pants on vibrate. He manages to find unused boxes they were planning on throwing away in the kitchenette and moves all his items into them. He works quickly but quietly, occasionally checking his watch to look at the time. It's almost noon.
He leaves the door to his room open as he carries two boxes to the front door and leaves them outside. He does the same with another three larger boxes and lastly two bags of his clothes. He notices how much his belongings have accumulated since last year. It's probably because he haphazardly packed everything instead of organizing them so it's taking up more space. He wonders if he should just throw some away.
Before he can ponder on that thought any longer, his CCM vibrates and he jumps. He answers the call without looking at the ID. "Just wait there, I'll come down."
He takes the two small boxes with him first, closing the door to the apartment slowly. With quick steps he somehow manages to climb down the stairs without much trouble. He sees Haruki, his car parked on the side of the road and he's leaning against the hood with crossed arms. When he notices the blond and the boxes he raises his eyebrows quizzically.
He's not going to let Haruki ask anything.
"I still have some more upstairs, come on." He places the boxes in the backseat of the car.
Haruki grabs his shoulder. "What are you doing?" he asks with his voice stern.
He purses his lips. He doesn't look into Haruki's eyes as he pushes the hand away and walks past the other. "Questions come later."
He can hear Haruki sighing and following behind him.
Haruki takes two of the big boxes and he's left with his two bags of clothes and the last box. He ushers for Haruki to go first, he wants to see if there's anything left in his room or anything of his in the living room. He walks into his room and isn't surprised at how empty it looks. The only thing out of place is how messy the bed sheets are. He thinks about fixing it but he doesn't want to waste anymore time.
He closes the door as he walks out and he looks at the door to Arata's room. It's still shut, so he thinks the redhead is still asleep. He almost makes way towards it. He wants to open it, to look at Arata's sleeping face again. To climb back into that bed where it will most definitely be warm because of Arata, compared to his surroundings where it's cold.
He takes a deep breath, pulls away his shaking hands, and leaves the apartment.
He manages, somewhat, to carry all his belongings down—albeit he took slow steps. When he drops off his luggage in Haruki's car, he makes way for Baa-chan's door. He knocks and when she opens he apologizes for disturbing her.
He tells her how he has to leave, and he apologizes again because it's so sudden, and that he'll still be in town for a few days to sign the papers. He says that he already has his things. He also tells her not to tell Arata that if he ever asks. She asks him what's wrong and he tells her something came up, an emergency.
She doesn't look like she buys it.
"Did you have a fight with Arata-kun?"
"W-What? N-No, of course not."
She stares at him from behind her glasses, the cup of tea in her hand forgotten. She's staring for so long he's beginning to sweat and it feels like forever before she sighs and nods her head. "Okay, I'll expect to see you to sign the papers tomorrow."
He nods at her gratefully.
"Take care of yourself." She says.
He nods again in response. "Take care of yourself too."
Hastily he walks towards Haruki's car, with the man waiting in the driver's seat. He gets in and tells the other it's okay to drive now. Haruki obeys.
They turn a corner when Haruki speaks. "Now will you tell me what's going on?"
The blond, looking out the window, feels the prickle of tears in his eyes.
Even he doesn't know what's going on.