Monta's last day of work ended and the weekend began with a bang. Almost literally (one of the songs they chose had the word 'bang' in it a lot), because Honjou-sensei had shown up outside the social services offices with Taka in tow and carted them off to a karaoke bar. Somehow they combined their tiny party of three with a huge group of college kids (already half-drunk by eight p.m.) and Honjou paid for the entire evening of raucous karaoke and beer. By the time they stumbled out to search out fried chicken or ramen, Monta had about ten new friends in his contact list. Although... he couldn't actually read their names…
He slithered his way into the dining room just a little over an hour shy of noon, still a little grey-faced and green around the gills. Within a second of oozing into a chair, Taka slid a plate and cup in front of him. Breakfast was Western-style-ish, with fried eggs and meat, and some sort of baked brown beans, topped off with toast slathered with jam. The smell of the tea had him reaching eagerly forward, though. After a week of too-strong office coffee, the familiar taste of oolong had Monta sighing happily before digging into breakfast (brunch?) enthusiastically.
"We were worried you'd sleep straight through the day," Honjou said, breaking the contented silence.
Monta blinked over at the chipper and fresh-faced older man, expression going incredulous. Taka's eyes were a little red around the edges, but otherwise he too looked ready for a 50-yard dash. Both had plates in front of them (though they were empty), and both men looked and smelled recently showered. It wouldn't have been so obvious if Monta wasn't still leaking the smell of cigarette smoke and beer out his pores. A ruddy, splotchy flush climbed up the back of his neck to his ears as he abruptly felt distinctly grimy and gross in comparison. He shook his head ruefully, reminding himself internally that neither of them would look down on him for being a little gross. They were sports' players.
He swallowed a too-large mouthful and grinned. "I'm surprised I slept so long. I never do!"
"It was a long night," Taka acquiesced with a nod, sipping delicately at his own tea.
"So what are you whippersnappers planning for the rest of the weekend?" Honjou joked, eyes glittering down at them.
Monta choked slightly when he tried to laugh while eating, but thumped his chest with his fist to finally reply, "I dunno, play amefuto in the backyard?" He glanced towards Taka expectantly.
"Unacceptable!" Honjou interjected before Taka could answer. The silver-haired young man sighed to himself. "Tak is gonna show you around Osaka, just like we promised. I would go, too, but I've got a meeting for some charity I'm sponsoring or donating to, or whatever." He waved one of his giant bear hands negligently.
"Nah, man, I know you don't wanna go sightseeing. I'm good to stay," Monta told Taka with a commiserating sort of lopsided smile. Taka raised an eyebrow at him.
"If either of you would let me get a word in edgewise," he started dryly, causing Monta and Honjou to grimace apologetically. "I wanted to suggest the same myself. You still haven't been to Umeda or the Gardens. It wouldn't be a problem to go together."
"Sounds great. Take a lot of pictures for me!" Honjou-sensei agreed, getting up and slapping both their backs. Monta grunted painfully.
"We'll try our best," Taka retorted, sounding as if he'd do anything but. He looked over to Monta, expression fond and exasperated at his father's antics, but Monta froze.
Because Taka's hair was drying mussy and fluffy, and his gaze was half-lidded and still a little sleepy. Because he made direct eye contact and he was sharing some sort of moment with Monta. Including Monta in his teasing with his father without a second thought.
Ridiculously, Monta's chest constricted too tight, his heart thudding once and slow against the back of his sternum, and it was hard to breathe. He turned back to his plate, staring at it so desperately his eyes watered with the need to blink. Monta laughed awkwardly at Honjou ruffling his hair, but didn't actually understand the words the man said before leaving the dining room. Leaving him alone with Taka.
Panic had him surging to his feet, his shifty eyes darting around the room, anywhere but at Taka.
"I shower go- should go shower, now- I mean, so we can go, faster, right," Monta stuttered stupidly. Then, immediately booked it out of there.
Taka stared after him, frowning pensively. His eyes darted down to Monta's half-eaten meal and the frown darkened further.
…
The second week of Raimon's stay ended a little less theatrically. Which was better in Taka's opinion. Raimon and his father enjoyed the bedlam of weekend parties, but Taka never had. Give him a good book and some tea, that was by far and large the preferable evening. Rather than crashing some other college students' party, they went to the movies, spent far too much money on popcorn and candy, and then lit off sparklers in the backyard until late at night. Although Raimon had smiled and laughed, and been loud and exuberant and clumsy, Taka been spent far too much time watching. Assessing, as it were.
There was something off about Raimon Taro, but Taka didn't know what. Even worse, he had no idea why.
For the past week, Raimon had dodged even the most cursory of touches, where before he would be the first to hold up a fist to bump, a hand to 'five, and the constant instigator of wrestling and tackling. Whenever he and Raimon were alone- which was a 50/50 scenario, as much as his father enjoyed spending time with them, he was still a very busy man- Raimon would stutter and stumble his way out of the situation; he was tired, or had paperwork to peruse, or just didn't feel like watching that movie, or playing that game. His eyes never seemed to connect with Taka's, even though usually Raimon's railroading, bullheaded personality required eye contact in a way that often made Taka uncomfortable. Raimon bowed too often, said 'sorry' and 'thank you' too much.
And strangest of all, Taka caught him staring. At the table during meals, or during the quiet evening moments. When his father read the paper and Taka read his latest novel, Raimon would have his paperwork spread out over the table, a pen gnawed to flattened stick, but his eyes would flicker over and stop on Taka's profile. Minutes would go by with the pen hanging from his mouth and his gaze distant but fixed on Taka. The moment Taka rose his own eyes to meet Raimon's, those dark eyes would go shifty and restless. Glance every which way but in Taka's direction, until they settled onto his work at last.
Every night, without fail, the pattern would repeat.
Taka woke that Saturday morning after the movies determined to get to the root of it. He had wasted several hours the night before going over and over in his head just when and where this erratic behavior might have stemmed from, and he was sure he had it. Perhaps 80 percent sure. Some of the variables did not quite add up to a sum he was completely satisfied with, but Raimon Taro was a simple soul. No need to make the equation too complicated.
"I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me to Umeda again?" Taka asked Raimon over breakfast. No need to beat around the bush, he thought to himself.
Raimon choked and coughed in shock, thumping his own chest as he wheezed.
"Huh, wha? Again?" he asked, eyes too round and pupils too small.
"Yes, again. Unless you'd prefer another destination? I always enjoy the Gardens," Taka offered magnanimously. The place didn't matter as much as the company- which meant no Masaru.
As if reading Taka's thoughts and deciding on the exact opposite, Raimon turned to Masaru with an edgy kind of smile on his face. "Are you gonna come with us this time, Honjou-sensei?"
Taka barely kept from huffing in irritation. Raimon's enduring admiration for his father continued to be a bane to his existence. His father's reciprocating appreciation for his protégé would likely mean-
"I think I'll stay back for this," Masaru replied, tone carefully blank. Taka looked over at him, mildly surprised and eyebrow rising. His father looked back and- sly and hidden from the Enma player's view- winked. "Sometimes we old dogs need to rest our old bones."
Raimon of course protested and laughed at his father's melodramatics, but somehow Masaru managed to sneak his way out of the expedition without any bruised feelings or raised flags.
Taka couldn't help but wonder just what Masaru perceived, and just what he was expecting to happen. Something like suspicion clawed in his belly and he glanced back at Raimon. Had his father said something? Gone too far with his teasing? Raimon had always ignored or completely missed any of his father's jibes about some kind of more than platonic relationship between them, but perhaps his father had pushed it?
When he and Raimon left for their outing a short time later, he sent a warning glare in his father's direction. Masaru merely grinned unrepentantly and Taka fumed. His latest theory was looking more and more likely, and humiliation and annoyance burned in him.
He always knew his child for a father would be the death of him.
The trip to Umeda was uneventful, but eventful in that fact. Normally, Raimon would chatter away without a care, making a public nuisance of himself and turning a boring subway ride into an experience while dragging Taka along in his high-spirited wake. Instead, Raimon was a cluster of nervous energy and conversation that ground to a halt too fast. Getting to Umeda and taking the elevators up was a relief. (Sadness weighed Taka down at the relief. He'd never felt so uncomfortable in Raimon's presence and he didn't like it one bit.)
They stepped onto the observation deck and awe rippled through Taka as it always did without fail. It gasped out of the man next to him on an exhale and those too-large hands shook on the railing. Raimon's knuckles pulled taut- white and bloodless, but he knew it wasn't fear that caused it. Taka couldn't imagine being afraid, couldn't imagine Raimon being afraid, both just stared, amazed and awestruck, at the tableau spread out beneath them.
"Bro, I know you like the pretty flowers or whatever, but this is my favorite," Raimon breathed out, leaning forward on his elbows and gazing out over the view. For the first time that week, he was relaxed in Taka's company. A private sort of smile hovered in the corners of his wide mouth, and his shoulders were slumped into his usual terrible posture.
Taka couldn't help the smile that tilted up one side of his mouth.
"I thought so. Perhaps the height of the building correlates directly with your own lack of height and your liking of it," Taka replied wryly.
Raimon punched him in the shoulder with a loud, "OI!" Then he burst into laughter. "Ya jerk! You think you're so funny, doncha, with your short jokes. Max not cool, bro."
Taka turned to him, eyes reflecting his mirth and feeling unguarded again at last. Raimon met his eyes guilelessly, somehow frowning and laughing at the same time. An untidy mess of contradictions described Taro Raimon so well, and yet the ever neat and exacting man Taka knew himself to be couldn't help but be swayed into his orbit, smiling despite all sense.
"I think you laughing negates your argument's point, Raimon. And don't call me bro."
Raimon chuckled, thumbing at his nose nonchalantly. "I've never been good at making a point. Except on the gridiron."
"Indeed." Taka turned back to the landscape, closing his eyes to focus entirely on the feel of sunshine and wind skating over his face, tangling through his hair. He really should dig out a band or his hair would be in knots in no time. He dug through his pockets and went over in his mind just how to switch the conversation into a different, more serious topic, without losing this camaraderie he'd finally regained. "Last week, after your field practicum," Taka began slowly. He found a band and rolled it between his fingers. A nervous tic, he noted in some bemusement.
"Oh, uh, yeah. No, dude, I'm good, really. Thanks," Raimon hurriedly stated, hands waving in the air.
Taka scoffed lightly. "Are you really? You've been acting unlike yourself all week." He glanced out the corner of his eye to see something like guilt and fear flash over Raimon's face. Any and all lightness evaded him then. Just what was Raimon hiding? "I'm worried that perhaps the work is still taking its toll on you."
"No, no way, man! I love it, I do. It's still hard, but the paperwork crap is worse. I'd rather be out in the field, spending time with those kids or at the old folks' home or wherever, even if it max sucks after. I meant it when I said it's worth it," Raimon reiterated, firmly. "I actually went to a house visit, and that really sucked, but I believe in the work they do, yanno?"
Taka nodded, casting his gaze away. "Do you still feel helpless afterwards?"
"Yeah…" Raimon sighed gustily and sunk against the railing. "I wish I could do more, but I'm still just a student. And I still wanna go into the NFL. Sometimes I think, maybe I should just give up that dream, 'cuz it's kinda selfish, isn't it? I could go straight into social work, straight into helping as many as I can-"
"That's not on you, Raimon," Taka interrupted. Raimon startled next to him, glancing up at him and then away.
"It is if it's what I wanna do with my life one day, right?" he disagreed quietly.
Taka pulled his hair up into a ponytail, scowling lightly to get his thoughts in order. "You are not a superhero," he finally stated at last. Based on the look Raimon sent his way, it wasn't enough, though. "There's a reason why superheroes are fictional and no one truly expects anyone else to become one. You're allowed your dreams, and one day you'll help others live out their own. Don't force yourself to give up on yours out of some misplaced sense of responsibility."
Raimon frowned and scratched his cheek. "I guess this is kinda like the same thing you said last week. 'Bout making sure there's enough of me left for everyone to care about?"
Taka nodded in agreement.
"It feels different, though."
"Nothing is just one thing or another. Everything connects. Just my advice, and hearing it one time, won't be enough to get through your thick skull, either," Taka told him with a smirk. Raimon's loud, offended 'oi' had the smirk widening.
"I get it. Jeez, I'm hearin' ya."
"I thought my father might adopt. Once," Taka said suddenly, surprising even himself. Raimon stared at him in shock and it took a great deal of effort to shrug nonchalantly. "When I was a child, I remember my father and mother talking about having more kids. He'd always wanted a big family. Then, my mother died." In his peripheral vision, he saw Raimon's hand clench around the railing- empathetic and kind, but lost at how to show it. Taka smiled without humor, but with plenty of gratitude at the wordless gesture. "It was just my father and I, with no way of knowing how to comfort the other. Baseball- no, sports, that was how we connected. Him teaching me, and me learning from him, that was how we dealt with our grief and the hole my mother's death caused. And then one day, too soon, I looked at him and knew I didn't need him anymore. I think he knew it the moment I did, and I knew he still needed me."
"Hey, Tak, whatever you're thinking, your dad is proud of you," Raimon tried, his hand hesitating in the air before settling on Taka's arm. Taka shook his head.
"That's not what I'm driving at. I know he's proud of me. But we both know that I've far surpassed him in skill. No matter how hard he tried, we could never get back to that place where I needed him, my own father. I think he never fostered, or adopted, or even married again, because of that."
"I don't geddit…" Raimon muttered, frowning darkly and his nose scrunched up. Taka huffed a self-deprecating laugh.
"My father could never continue on with his life because it would be too much like replacing me. Replacing me with people and loved ones who needed him. As long as he still needed me, we could still, just barely, feel like family."
Raimon's hand on his arm squeezed too tight. "Bro, Taka, c'mon. Don't think like that."
"I've thought like this for years. Every time I go home to that empty house, and see my father alone and without a family he so desperately wanted..." Taka admitted, somethign bitter and self-loathing in his voice despite himself.
Raimon snorted loudly and yanked Taka around just enough to meet his angry gaze. "You guys are family. Honjou-sensei knows it, and I know it, too." Taka blinked in surprise at the shorter man's vehemence. "Maybe if you stopped hiding behind your stupid genius, you'd realize you still need your dad, too."
Taka blinked quickly and then smiled softly. This was a bit more like the Raimon he knew. "It's an oxymoron to say 'stupid genius'."
"Yeah, well, you're an oxymoron!" Raimon retorted, releasing Taka's arm to cross his arms over his chest and glare up at him.
Taka covered his mouth with his fist and chuckled quietly.
"You geddit, right? What I'm saying?" Raimon pressed irritably.
Taka nodded. "Yes, Raimon. I understand. Thank you. I'll consider your advice."
"Yeah, do more than just consider. None of this pityparty crap."
"Only if you take your own advice. None of this pityparty crap," Taka threw back, looking rather smug. Raimon's jaw dropped and he spluttered as he pulled himself back together.
"Now, wait a second, man, this is not the same situation at all!"
Taka just laughed.
…
Monta scowled up at the laughing Taka, even as his heart felt lighter. He had no idea where this sharing-and-caring moment came from, but it felt nice. Taka almost seemed so aloof and above it all, scraps of his life spilling off the edges that Monta had hoarded like treasures. And then today, for some reason, Taka lifted away some screen and let Monta see a huge glimpse into his past, into his head. He was pretty sure it was to cheer Monta up, to show Monta that he wasn't the only one with burdens, and it was okay to share them.
The shorter receiver watched Taka laugh, his smile hidden behind his hand. His hair was pulled up out of his face and it glinted in the sunlight like real silver. Taka had always been that really beautiful guy that Monta had always been sorta envious of. He'd never be as tall or as handsome, but he was still Taka's friend. Apparently, even his confidante.
But as he stared at Taka laughing- the moment stretching on far too long in his head, but ended too quickly- it wasn't envy squeezing his chest too tight or dewing the palms of his hands with cold sweat or drying his mouth like a desert in the summer.
Eyes too wide and heart beating too fast, Monta thought succinctly,
Oh shit.
…
The last week in Osaka was a blur. Monta spent every hour of every day moving. He never let up his movement for a second. Because stopping meant thinking. And thinking meant thinking.
He was up before Honjou or Taka every morning, rushing through breakfast by the time they made it to the dining room, running off to sort through papers, call his mom, call his part-time job in Tokyo to discuss his schedule, call his current internship to discuss his paperwork and evaluations coming up. He stayed at the office as long as some of the veteran workers, filing and sorting and copying and being more organized than he ever imagined he could be. He even re-ordered the entire system into something easier and faster to search through (he might've called Mamori for tips- no, he wasn't desperate for any excuse to stay as late at work as possible). He got up extra early to run before Taka did, and went to bed almost as soon as he got home- often eating a sandwich or instant cup of noodles at work or on the walk back instead of eating with the Honjous.
Monta knew it was getting bad. That it was obvious and they were getting more and more worried. Not only were they getting worried, the Honjous actually looked downright hurt when Monta turned down yet another movie night, or an offer to play a game.
One evening he came home so late, both were ready to come find him. Only for him to show up and have to explain he'd just been at the train station.
"The train station?" Honjou-sensei repeated, bewildered. Taka was just staring, silent and considering.
"Heh, yeah, I mean, I agreed to take over a shift for one of my coworkers back at the café, so I have to head back to Tokyo a little early," Monta replied, scratching the back of his neck and staring at the wall just past both father and son.
Taka frowned. "Early?"
"Yeah, like, first thing Saturday morning. Gonna hit the ground running, I guess," Monta half-chuckled awkwardly.
The Honjous' expressions fell. Taka's went immediately blank, but Masaru looked heartbroken and confounded.
"I thought the plan was to stay through the last of the weekend?" Honjou exclaimed. Monta dropped his head and scuffed his foot.
"Yeah, but I've been gone for three weeks and Sena and Riku were gonna pick up my slack for rent. If I go back, I might be able to pay 'em back a little sooner."
"I'm sure they won't mind waiting, Raimon. They're your friends," Taka pointed out tonelessly.
"Yeah, but I'm their friend, too. Least I can do try to pay 'em back as fast as I can. I gotta… you know, get some sleep before work. So… um," Monta said regretfully, edging towards the bedrooms.
"Yes, of course. We'll see you for breakfast?" Honjou-sensei said, a little hopefully. Monta grinned lopsidedly.
"Yeah, maybe. I'll see if I can stick around long enough."
He hadn't.
He left for Tokyo by six a.m. on Saturday. He slumped against the window and, even though he tried hard not to, remembered the sleepy, confused looks on the Honjous' faces just a short time ago. Honjou-sensei had been dejected and baffled, giving Monta an extra-long, too-tight hug, ending it with an invitation to come back to visit as soon as possible. Taka had merely nodded, face carefully stoic, and arms crossed over his chest.
They hadn't even shaken hands before Monta turned and trudged to the taxi waiting for him (it was too early for the subway and Honjou-sensei had insisted on the taxi).
He groaned as he thumped his forehead against the window. Maybe he could beat the crushing realization of how much that had hurt out of himself.
…
As if he were punishing himself, he couldn't get the image of him and Taka up on Umeda's observatory deck out of his head. It was on constant repeat, playing and replaying in his brain until each moment and word was seared into his brain matter. All painted over with too many wistful what ifs. What if he hadn't pulled his hand away? What if he'd slid his hand down down Taka's arm, felt each ridge and bulge of muscle and sinew under the thin cloth of his shirt? How different would holding Taka's hand be from holding Suzuna's had been? Would his hand be warm, like Suzuna's had been? No... Taka was always so cool and calm. His hands wouldn't be hot or sweaty, like Monta's, and they wouldn't be soft and small even though they looked elegant and pale, they'd be callused and rough from amefuto. His grip would be tight and comforting, and his hand wouldn't be dwarfed by Monta's. Maybe it'd sit perfectly in the cradle of his palm.
And what if they'd kissed? Monta would have to stand on tiptoe to reach- he snorted at the image. Sure he'd only ever kissed one person, but she had at least been shorter than him. How different would kissing Taka be? Would he feel dainty or girly or something having to be the shorter one? Whenever he used to daydream about Mamori-nee, he'd always imagined himself older and taller. He didn't know how to compute it- until he could. And the flush suffused his face as he pictured Taka leaning down, with his eyes super focused and intense like they could get in the middle of a game and that shouldn't get him hot all over.
But he could see the way Taka's hair fell around them like a curtain and his fingers twitched. Ached to bury into that soft, pale mass and grip tightly.
Monta shouted wordlessly and slapped both hands over his face. What I doing? What am I thinking!? Stop, just stop, Taro Raimon!
Raimon, repeated Taka's voice in his head. No one else, not even his mother (she'd long since picked up his high school nickname), called him Raimon. Only Taka.
He groaned soft and low and, if he could've, he would've sunk even deeper into his bed. Deeper and deeper until he was buried in the damn ground in a hole to wither into a pile of confused, humiliated bones.
A little while later, the bed creaked under him. He dropped his hands onto the bedsheets, but he didn't bother looking over. There was only one person who would be sitting next to him at this point. Plus, Riku was visiting at his parents' for a week before school started up again. The blankets pulled and tugged under him at the movements of the second occupant, until finally, they settled next to him.
Both Sena and Monta laid out on Monta's bed, hands clasped on their stomachs and their eyes on the ceiling.
"You've been back for a couple weeks."
"Yeah," Monta grunted.
"You've been upset for a couple weeks," Sena added, voice soft and probing, but also just hanging out there. The questions left unsaid and easily ignored.
Too bad Monta couldn't ignore them.
"I'm just being stupid. Like usual, right?" he scoffed, throwing his arm over his eyes.
Sena spoke sternly and genuinely, "I've never thought you were stupid. Sometimes you say stupid things, but that's not the same thing," Monta laughed awkwardly, the sound cutting off too quick. "If you don't want to talk about it, it's okay. I'm here, no matter what you need."
The sound that escaped Monta sounded a little too much like a sob. He gritted his teeth to control himself.
"How'd you know you were gay?"
There was a surprised intake of breath, quickly smothered. The bed shifted again and Monta could almost see the serious, no-nonsense look on Sena's face.
"I just… knew. It kinda helped that, well, me and Suzuna kinda almost had something, remember? In high school? And then we didn't and I realized I didn't feel too badly about it. Then, I realized I'd been so busy chasing after Seijuuro, and that it had hurt so much more when I disappointed him or didn't see him for a long time than me and Suzuna just not being a me-and-Suzuna, you know?"
"So are you like gayor was it just Shin?" Monta asked, voice catching and rising at the end.
Sena turned to face him, Monta could hear his face shifting and the sound of his breath get louder and closer to his ear. Then, Sena looked away again and hummed softly. "No, I'm definitely gay. After realizing how I felt about Seijuuro, I started actually looking and noticing just what I liked to look at. I definitely preferred boys over girls, and I still do. Going to America and joining that club really helped, too."
"Going to America to figure me out is kinda not an option," Monta muttered wryly.
This time, Sena turned all the way over, lying on his side and looking directly at Monta's covered profile. "Monta-kun, what happened in Osaka?"
"I looked at Taka. And then realized I was looking at Taka. Like… like that."
Sena settled his chin on his arms and hummed pensively. "Is that such a bad thing?"
"Yes! I mean, no… but yes," Monta exclaimed, throwing up his arms and wriggling around to mirror Sena's position. "I'm not like you, Sena! I'm not gay! I don't look at other guys and think they're hot!"
Sena raised both his eyebrows at Monta. "Is there something wrong with being like me?"
Monta groaned and slapped a hand over his face. "No, you know I don't mean that!"
"If there's nothing wrong with me, then there's nothing wrong with you. Falling in love with your friend, whether they're a boy or a girl, that makes a whole lot of sense, doesn't it?" Sena pointed out with a small, much-too-wise smile. Monta peeked out from behind his fingers, frowning.
"Whatchu talkin' 'bout?" he grumbled, hand falling away.
Sena laughed into the sheets and then met Monta's eyes. "It happens all the time, doesn't it? Sometimes the best love stories are when two people, who know each other better than they know themselves fall in love. It doesn't always happen, but it happens a lot. And love that comes from friendship? Those are the stories that last forever."
Monta's ears and cheeks heated tomato-red and he stared down at the bedsheets. He plucked at the fabric petulantly. "I never said nothing about love."
"Were you ever in love with Suzuna?"
Monta stilled, his restless fingers freezing in place. "I… I dunno. I thought maybe I did. Or I could, anyway."
"So why can't you maybe fall in love with someone who means just as much to you as Suzuna does?"
"Suzuna has tits, Sena," Monta responded crassly. Sena winced at the term. Even when pouting and going through a crisis, Monta enjoyed poking at Sena's politeness.
"Does her or his gender really matter?" Sena retorted, his cheeks red.
Monta frowned. "Yeah, duh. You're straight or you're gay, right? I can't be in love with a dude if I'm not gay."
Sena sighed. "Monta-kun, bisexual exists."
Monta blinked. "Whassat."
"Do you think any other men are attractive?" Sena asked instead of explaining. Monta wrinkled up his nose and thought hard. He'd thought about it a lot of times, so it wasn't difficult to reply,
"No, not really. I can tell, you know, he's a good-looking guy, or a buff dude, whatever. But it doesn't really do anything, yanno? I've never wanted to kiss 'em."
"But you think that way about girls?"
"Uh, yeah."
"So maybe, Taka-san is just… special. Maybe Taka-san means so much to you, that you fell in love because he's Taka-san and you're Monta-kun, and that's just all you needed."
Monta snorted incredulously. "Yeah, right. What is this, some K-drama? A weird manga for girls?"
"Monta-kun, don't be a jerk," Sena reprimanded with a frown. Monta burst out laughing even as he ducked his head shamefully.
"Okay, okay, sorry!" Sena moved to get up and Monta flailed up after him. "Wait, wait, dude, I'm sorry, really."
"I know, I'm not mad," Sena assured him with a smile. Monta deflated in relief, shoulders slumping. "I just think I can't really help you."
"Huh, what? I thought you just did?"
Sena shrugged a shoulder. "Maybe a little. But the only way you're gonna answer any real questions is by talking to Taka-san."
Monta paled drastically and gulped. Sena reached over and patted Monta's shoulder gently.
"I think if you're honest, to him and to yourself, you'll find whatever it is you need, Monta-kun. Maybe just… stop seeing the world in shoulds and should-nots, and do whatever it is to make yourself happy."
Monta gaped at him, thunderstruck by such simple, easy advice.
"Why didn't I think of that?"
"I guess I did end up helping after all," Sena joked lightly. He scooted off the bed. "I'll see you at practice later. And try to call Taka-san soon. Mamori-nee texted saying he just got into town yesterday. Apparently he had a big fight with his dad."
"What?" Monta exclaimed, flailing his way out of bed. Sena flinched when the receiver thudded face first to the ground.
A/N: And chapter two! If y'all wanna know where the chapter titles are coming from, I have a playlist on youtube and I'm mainly using those songs for inspiration! Plus, some help from the person this story was a giftfic to, my friend BB over on tumblr/AO3. :) I would give you the link but... effing . It's so not user friendly. WHY do I still use this site?