As much as Monta like the idea of rushing right into Taka's dorm again, cornering him where he couldn't escape, Monta also knew that it might not work again. The guy at the desk had been a total jerk, plus Taka might not even be home. It was midmorning on a Saturday, and knowing Hiruma as he did, the Saikyoudai players were probably doing some exhausting practice regime all day. Maybe since dawn. He had to play this smart.
Monta tugged at his bottom lip, then scrubbed his hands through his messy hair roughly with a groan. He could totally play it smart. Just… give it a second… He blinked quickly and grinned. Of course. Monta dug in his pocket and pulled out his phone. If anyone could help, he knew exactly who would do it best. With the speedy agreement and plan put into action, Monta headed quickly to the right place to wait. His earlier impetuousness had already taken him onto the subway and most of the way to the Saikyoudai campus, so he hurried the rest of the way to Taka's dormitory. Outside the building- because Saikyou was a disgustingly rich campus with an award-winning campus of fucking course- was a decent-sized quad. A few trees for shade around a wide lawn where a few students were already laid out or sitting, just enjoying the sunshine while chatting or outright napping on the grass. In the height of the semester, Monta knew frisbee and football games (both touch amefuto and soccer varieties) met out on the quad to relieve stress. He'd played in a few himself. Under the trees along the sidewalks were a few benches. The sidewalks themselves were heavy with foot traffic as students moved back into the dorms the last week of the summer holiday.
Monta ducked around a couple of familiar-looking dudes hauling up some boxes. One or two students even waved and shouted his name. (When did I get to know these people so well? Do I really come here that often?) He waved them off with a helpless shrug, darting into the shade of the trees to find the specific bench he was thinking of. It was off to the side, near the smaller entrance Taka normally used since it was closer to his room wing. He dropped to the bench with a groan and slumped back, hands over his face as his head reeled. There weren't even really words in his brain. Or there were too many and he couldn't separate them out into actual understandable thoughts. He had no idea how he was going to go into this already played-out situation and come out with a different answer. There was a reason Monta was never put forward to be a captain. Why he rarely come up with plans or strategies and, no, it's not because he's stupid. That's just not the way he thought. He wasn't good at persuading people to believe in something different, hell, he found it hard to persuade himself to think something different. What words could possibly explain the mishmash of emotions and feelings in his head, that knotted up his stomach until he could barely breathe? He'd already screwed it up before, he was going to mess it up again… but…
He had to do something.
Quick, but light footsteps approached. Footsteps so familiar and well-known from all the years he'd spent chasing them, barely keeping up and somehow still overcoming- The knotted tension in his stomach had bile rising in his throat, sticking like a rock behind his Adam's apple. He got to his feet, hands shoved in his jeans' pockets, grinning crooked and lopsided as Taka caught sight of him and slowed. His phone was still in his hand and the confused irritation seeped away as resignation took its place. He made his way to Monta and stopped with an exasperated sigh.
"You're behind this, aren't you?" Taka asked, holding up his phone. Monta had to squint a bit, but made out,
Father I'll see you outside your dorm ;)
"Yup," Monta agreed, rocking onto his heels. "He said you still haven't called him up to apologize. Max not cool, bro."
With an unconcerned shrug, Taka clicked the screen black and shoved it in his pocket. "What did I say about 'bro'?"
"That's not why I'm here," Monta continued while totally ignoring Taka. The exasperation completely disappeared. Fortunately, pity didn't take its place, just a still, blank mask that was completely unreadable. It wasn't angry, just carefully, completely neutral. Monta swallowed hard and scuffed at the sidewalk. "I...I bailed out real fast last time and I didn't get a chance to say what I wanted. It not completely."
"Raimon," Taka said softly, the mask breaking slightly with a concerned frown on his face. "I haven't changed-"
"No! No, you actually have to listen, okay? You have to hear it!" Monta interrupted harshly, hands balled in fists in his pockets, shoulders drawn up around his ears. But when he looked up, his eyes were blazing- affront and bravado speeding up his heart rate and driving him towards a more bearable anger. "I can't get it outta my head! I can't get the picture of you and me out!" He blurted, frustrated and desperate. "I think about it all the time! I'm going crazy! And I have to know. Because if this-" he broke off and a hand flailed between them. The break from holding himself together had his whole posture cracking, hands flailing or tugging at his hair, feet pacing a short path back and forth. "If this could be half as… as intense as this feels right now, then it could be… awesome. It could be the best thing that's ever happened to me. I can't give up the idea that I'm gonna lose something great- and I… I don't even get a chance," Monta exclaimed, breath bursting out of his chest as he panted. A ruddy flush crawled up his neck and ears as he all but glared at Taka. Surprise had light brown eyes widening and his mouth parting. And Monta could see two different Takas in front of him at the same time.
-His friend and rival. A fellow receiver and athlete who respected Monta and enjoyed his company just as Monta enjoyed his.
-And the new Taka. The one who was suddenly pretty and touchable and had Monta's stupidly squishy heart beating too fast, too hard.
It made Monta dizzy, drunk on two opposing images he was trying to fit into the same place. But it was the silence that had the bile rising again and his stomach twisting sickeningly.
"Taka, man, c'mon. I know you could get anyone you want, but going on one date with me can't be that shitty an idea, right?" Monta muttered, scratching at his cheek.
That had Taka moving, a strange aborted movement forward as annoyance broke through his speechlessness. "That is not what I'm thinking, Raimon," he snapped brusquely. Monta stared at him in shock. Taka shook his head slightly and rubbed his mouth before clarifying with more control, "I should make it clear that I never thought you were unworthy of me or some nonsense like that. If there were a question of worth, then anyone you have feelings for would be a lucky recipient."
Monta scowled in confusion, pointing his finger right in middle of Taka's chest. "I don't get it, what are you saying?"
"I'm saying," he grabbed Monta's hand from the air and continued in complete sincerity, "I admire you, respect you, even hold certain affection for you, but I may not give you everything you want from me. As your friend, I do not want to promise what I cannot give." He dropped Monta's hand and shrugged a shoulder awkwardly. Taka. Awkward.
Monta dragged a hair through his hair, exhaling bull-like though his nose. "All I want is a chance, Tak. I don't know if I'm gay, or whatever, and you don't know if you can like me like that at all. So why not just… figure it out together?" Monta groaned and scrubbed the same hand over his face. "Jeez, that was cheesy. I spend way too much time around Shin. Just… I don't want to give up before trying!"
Taka looked as though the rueful smile that curved up his mouth was despite himself, eyes rolling just barely. "You are quite good at not throwing in the towel. It's impossible to stop you once you have a goal in your sights."
Monta's eyes narrowed even as hope burgeoned in his chest. "That sounds like a yes."
"I suppose ... it is a yes," Taka said warily.
"H-Holy shit. This is gonna be a max shitfest. I have no idea how to be a boyfriend, or be gay," Monta wheezed in a rush of exhilarated panic. "I'm a total mess."
Taka sighed roughly. "I'm regretting this."
"Already!?" Taka shook his head, mouth twitching up on one side, gloriously pretty hair sliding over his shoulder. It was hard to tear his eyes away now that it was okay to look and want. "You're not so great at messy, bro," Monta pointed out, mouth dry, feet shuffling closer. An apple pulled by gravity to fall.
That all too familiar sigh and eye roll. "Rule number one, don't call your prospective boyfriend bro."
"Holy shit. I have a boyfriend." And then he laughed out loud, one hand covering his red, incredulous face. Taka hesitated and gently placed his hand on Monta's shoulder, thumb brushing over the curve of it. It sent shivers down Monta's spine, shock and that blinding want surging at the touch.
"One date, Raimon. We'll discuss labels after that."
"Right, date. I'll come up with something great," Monta vowed, hands in fists in front of him. Wariness returned to Taka's eyes.
"Maybe I should-"
Monta held up a hand in Taka's face and tched loudly. "No way, man. I got this. I'll text info once I got a solid idea. It'll be the best date you ever had."
"Really, just a coffee somewhere-"
"I don't even like coffee."
A pained resignation crossed Taka's face at the reminder. He was always trying to get Monta to keep drinking it and appreciate it. Yeah, right, like that'd ever happen. He held up his fist for Taka to bump. With a bemused look, Taka bumped it.
"Boom! It's on me! See ya soon, future boyfriend!"
"Raimon, please, don't-" But Monta was already running out of sight, mind bent on just what he needed to do to blow Taka's mind and convince him that they were gonna be perfect together.
Learning the DevilBackfire was easier than this was gonna be…
...
"You sure he's gonna like this?" Riku asked from his bunk, novel open on his lap.
Monta scoffed loudly. "Of course he's gonna like it. It's a great idea," he retorted very firmly, even though his voice was muffled from where his head was lodged in the depths of his closet. He was still shirtless and trying to fix that; and Riku had to go and try and get him nervous. Max uncool.
"I guess I wouldn't hate it," Riku allowed with a tilt of his head. He turned the page and didn't even bother offering to help when Monta started cursing fluently in irritation.
Monta wasn't a fashionable guy. He liked comfy clothes that could match with anything and tended to wear the same 5 or 6 outfits in various mixes every week. A lot of his shirts had funny slogans or anime and videogame characters. Thinking that wearing his favorite Gundam shirt- with the hole along the seam of the collar and the red long faded to pink- wouldn't be appreciated on a first date with a very fashion-observant Taka Honjou, he was currently trying to find his newest (re: cleanest) shirt. With a triumphant shout, he snagged the dark blue sleeve and yanked free the baseball tee from the large pile on the bottom of his closet. The torso part was an off-white to the three-quarters-sleeves' and collar's navy blue. Printed across the chest was a shaggy, yellow-furred teddy bear with a weird, lion-like ruff around its neck marching over a large mushroom. A cool-sounding English phrase was typed in big, bold letters along the top and bottom of the graphic. Monta pulled it on over his head with a grunt.
"All right, I'm not forgetting my pants again, am I?" Monta joked.
Riku glanced up with a sardonic lift of an eyebrow and a lazy half-smirk. Monta held up his arms half-heartedly, not really expecting much in the way of help from Riku (he really only went out of his way for Sena if it wasn't amefuto related). So, when Riku's went wide and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline, Monta as just as startled as Riku looked.
"What? It's new! No way it's got a stain!?" he cried incredulously, clutching it to tug this way and that to look it over more carefully.
"No, it's not a stain- wait, that's new? Do you actually hang your clothes, fold them? Use an iron, ever?" Monta blinked at him cluelessly. Riku rolled his eyes and took a deep, bracing breath. "That's not important right now. That… mess on the front is," he drawled, making a sweeping gesture at Monta's torso.
Again, Monta blinked cluelessly and held his shirt out away from his chest to re-read (well, kinda read) the front. English was definitely his worst subject (who's he kidding, they're all his worst subjects), but he couldn't see anything wrong with the slogan.
"What? It's cool! And it's… inspirational!" At least, that translate app gave him that impression when he'd bought it.
Riku burst into gut-punching laughter. His book actually fell from his hands and tears gathered in his eyes. "It's what?" Riku wheezed desperately.
Monta crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. "Shut up, man. Who cares what it says. It looks cool and I like it! I'm going before you act like an asshole anymore."
Riku was too busy laughing again to retort. Monta snatched his phone and wallet, stuffed them in his back pocket, then grabbed a discarded pair of jeans. He threw them as hard as possible towards Riku's stupid, gasping, red face. … He ended up knocking the lamp off the nightstand rather violently, but Riku was yelling angrily at him instead of laughing, so, eh, it all worked out. He really did wish Sena wasn't on a shift at work right now, though. He could've used a bit more pep talk like what he got the night before.
Just be yourself and have a good time. It'll work out, Monta. Text me if you need anything.
Less than an hour later, Monta was hopping off the subway. In his pocket, his phone buzzed a few times in quick succession. He took a second to wipe his sweaty palms on his jean-clad thighs, the fabric rasping loud and rough on his skin, before he attempted to wrest his phone free of his pocket. His pants weren't even tight. Suzuna had advised him years ago not to go with the skinny jean trend, - despite the "surprisingly nice rear view"- because the style emphasized his bowlegged stride. Since skinny jeans were hella uncomfortable with boxers, anyway, he'd never worn anything that could considered 'tight'.
And yet, now, it felt like he was wearing a pair of pants dug out from his high school junk.
Barely keeping his slippery as a fish mobile in his hands, he got it around to unlock the screen and find the messages waiting. A couple from Riku, telling him to buy a new lightbulb and a coffin on the way home, one from Taka stating he was on his way (Monta felt his face get red and hot for no reason, holy shit, calm down?!), and the last few from Sena.
The BFF whatever happens today u gave it a try and ur really great
The BFF ur gonna hav a blast and we'll celebrate w beer and pizza for a midnite snack (dont tell seijuuro!)
The BFF ganbatte!
Monta grinned and rubbed his nose bashfully at the encouraging texts. Even while running around the cafe during the afternoon rush, Sena made time to send him something cool. Monta typed a quick reply to each (ASSHOLE fucc u bro get ur own; Taka almost there!; The BFF thnx man ur buying the beer), then shoved the phone away to pick up the pace towards his date. No way was he gonna let Taka get there first.
He did, in fact, manage to get there before Taka. Knowing it would probably never happen again, Monta congratulated himself while getting in the entry ticket line. Right as he got to the front and handed over the cash, he heard Taka call out his name- just barely louder than normal talking pitch. No attention attracting shouting for Class Act Honjou Taka ™.
Grinning, Monta half-turned to wave in Taka's direction. The early afternoon sun glinted off his pale hair, and he was freakishly tall, so it was easy enough to pick him out of the crowd. The grey slacks and light turquoise polo that brought out the pretty silver of his fluffy hair made him look like he belonged on a magazine cover, not at a half-assed putt-putt course waving back at Monta with a slight smile.
Monta propped himself on the counter, rocking up a bit on his toes and leaning forward on his elbows, just so he could whisper conspiratorially and none-too-little incredulously, "Can you believe I'm here with that?" to the cashier- a bored college girl around his own age.
She glanced up, popping her gum and disinterestedly looking in the direction he gestured. Her eyes widened, and the hand holding the bright orange wrist bands he'd just bought drooped. The look she turned on him was beyond incredulous, it was downright disbelieving.
That's just rude.
"No way you're here with that guy, especially not dressed like that," she replied with an unfairly judgmental and disparaging glance down his baseball tee and cuffed up jeans.
"Hey, c'mon. It's a cool shirt!" Monta fumed, ears burning as he flipped her the bird. Her very unimpressed eyeroll had him huffing and stomping towards Taka.
Taka's eyes snapped up to Monta's face. There was that strange frown on his face Monta had seen a few times before- normally after Monta had convinced him to do something unbelievably stupid and best described as somewhere between perplexed and steamrolled. Monta was too busy being aggravated as shit about the cashier chick to care if there were something wrong with his pants, too.
After a subtle clearing up his throat, though his brows were still a little low, Taka greeted calmly, "Why were you yelling at-" he interrupted himself mid-sentence, his eyes riveted on Monta's chest. Actual pain flitted through his eyes and he scrubbed a hand over his face. "What the hell is on your shirt, Raimon?"
"It's a fuckin' teddy bear! What's wrong with it?" Monta exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air in exasperation.
"I don't care about the ridiculous picture. I'm talking about the abomination of that nonsensical English," Taka clarified in utter disgust.
Monta blinked and stared down at his shirt. EVERYTIME THE LIGHT KEEPS SHINING ON ME was written across the top, and below the marching bear, OTHERWISE YOU CAN BEARLY SEE. "What? I thought it was inspirational?" Monta demanded, baffled and annoyed.
"No, it means absolutely nothing. Why-" Taka pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of all the shirts- Raimon, there's a pun for fuck's sake."
Monta nodded with an eye roll. "Well, yeah, that's the part I liked! I mean, I had to use the app to translate 'cuz I didn't get it at first, but that's the main reason I bought it, bro. Puns are the best."
"No, Raimon, puns are the lowest form of humor."
A shit-eating grin spread over Monta's face. "Really? I thought fart jokes were?" he retorted cheekily. Taka actually facepalmed before holding up a warning finger.
"Do not start with me, Tarou Raimon," Taka warned very seriously.
Monta burst into laughter, a hand over his stomach and his head tilted back. The irritation of before finally dissipated into the more easy humor he usually had around Taka. He stepped closer holding up a band, still chortling. Taka held up his hand to take it, but… With a grin that felt max lame and kinda goofy, and a heartbeat that was probably way too fast for something so innocent, Monta easily wrapped the neon, plastic-y paper band around Taka's proffered wrist himself. His thumbs brushed casually over sun-warmed skin and his pulse ratcheted up to over 9000. He'd probably touched Taka a million times, in a lot more compromising situations (amefuto games and locker rooms and public bathhouses and beach trips all came startling to mind and wow so many opportunities wasted on past him, for reals), but he'd never got to enjoy it (obviously). Now he felt the smoothness of Taka's fair skin, and the softness of Taka's inner wrist as he stroked the tape into place; it was knocking him off his axis in the best kind of way. It was bitch to let go, too. He'd never noticed before how his hands were bigger than Taka's- even though Taka was so much taller and his presence so much larger. It was a startling contrast and Monta was already picturing in his mind just what his hands would look like on all those clothes-hidden places he knew too well. Not well enough.
"How much do I owe you?" Taka asked, his voice low. It broke the spell nonetheless and Monta dropped his hands away as if they burnt.
"Huh, wha- No, man, I got this," Monta croaked out, clearing his throat and shaking his head as he stepped back. He fumbled with his own band and hoped the heat crawling up the back of his neck wasn't noticeable.
With that done, Monta led the way. Just past the entrance booth were rows of towering cages shining in the early afternoon sun. An attendant sitting in a small three-walled equipment shed handed over a couple of faded-out orange helmets (that looked like orange-tinted brown they were so old and faded) and then a basket full of baseballs each. There was a row of about hip-high containers full of bats. Bats were quickly chosen (not like these were good quality bats to choose from after all) and both young men snagged the first two cages side-by-side to shut themselves in. Monta was already grinning expectantly over at Taka through the mesh fencing when Taka set down his armload and looked over.
"So? It's great, right? I figured it's been awhile since either of us enjoyed a good battin' sesh," Monta said, slapping his helmet on and bouncing on his heels.
"I believe you have the advantage on me. It's been since middle school on my part," Taka conceded, a private, small smile on his face.
"What?! Middle school?! But your- you still play catch with your dad sometimes?" Monta pointed out, gaping and bewildered.
Taka shrugged a shoulder and reached in his pocket for a hairtie. "I'm still a receiver in amefuto. I haven't batted since I dropped out of my middle school's league in my second year." He gathered his long mane of hair into a low, loose tail and began the complicated (to Monta) process of tying it.
There would've been some kind of reply… to something. Really. But. Monta was very glad- somewhere in the back of his head- that he hadn't loaded the machine yet. Because Taka's bare neck, tilted to the side and framed by his carefully folded collar, had Monta's throat drying inexplicably and his focus completely shot to hell. All he could think, like a claxon bell going off in his brain, was this is a date, thisisadate, a date a date. The idea that he could, possibly, maybe, in the future, put his mouth right there at some point was playing out in 3D motion picture behind his retinas. He could, in that same hazy maybe-land, bury his hands in all that silky, floofy mass and find out just what it took to feel cool-blooded Taka's pulse to race too fast, too hard, too hot.
"C-Cool story, bro," Monta forced out at last. Taka raised an eyebrow at him as he set his helmet over his head.
"Are you feeling well?"
"Whut? Yeah, def. So, batting. Let's go! I'll beat your ass at this like I do at catching," Monta taunted, snagging his bat and swinging it up onto his shoulder.
"We'll see," Taka said noncommittally with a bland smirk tipping up a side of his mouth.
It took a few swings for Monta to get the rhythm of it back. He hadn't been as awful at this as he had been (is) at throwing when he'd played as a kid and he was able to get back into it fairly easily. He was no Babe Ruth, but he managed to nick the ball on every swing, and got solid hits one outta three times. Muscles burning pleasantly and sweat trickling down his temples, Monta set aside his bat and looked Taka's way. He tipped up his helmet by the brim with his thumb and stared wide-eyed. He wasn't surprised-surprised. He so should've seen it coming.
But he totally didn't see it coming.
The kneejerk, gutpunch reaction to watching the fluid, minimalist, perfection of Taka's form and swing. The careless way he twisted that somehow looked slow and effortless, just for aluminum to hit the incoming ball with a resounding thwunk that rang in the air. The ball hit the farthest corner with a wild jangle of fencing; an obvious and sure home-run by the height of it. The next ball hit what looked like the exact same spot just seconds later, and another. Again, and again, a homerun or triple done with Taka's face blank and unaffected. He wasn't even concentrating.
There was nothing about Taka right now that burned Monta's blood or sent his pulse careening. There was no drive, none of the fire that Monta saw on the field during a game. This was the Taka of their first meeting. Bored. Unchallenged. Uncaring. He looked so damn good in that helmet and with his hair tied back, and, for a baseball nut like Monta still was, watching that perfect form in motion was like some art douche gushing over a Duh Bichi or whatever that old French dude's name was. He could easily picture Taka in a baseball uniform and, yeah, the image was really hot.
But it was hot in the same way the obviously posed models in nudie mags were.
The real Taka, the one Monta had seen come alive over and over again on the gridiron, that Taka was so much better than this one. Disappointed but still amazed, Monta made his way over to the fence. Crossing his arms against the fence, the wide receiver leaned forward and groaned theatrically.
"You're killin' me, man. You knew all along you were a freak with a bat, didn't you? If you're just as good at pitching, I'm gonna get a complex," Monta complained with a goodnatured laugh.
Taka stepped away from the machine and dropped his bat to the ground. When he turned to Monta, he was smirking faintly. "You're already a contradicting mess of different complexes. You'll survive."
"Oi! Max uncool," Monta protested, the fence shaking under his weight as he guffawed outright. His eyes opened to see Taka right on the other side the fence. He set his hands on the fence and huffed his own amusement.
"You forget I was an outfielder, Raimon. I actually can't pitch as well as I bat or catch. I didn't train for it," Taka told him. Monta grunted, unimpressed.
"I bet you woulda been ace at that, too, though. If you'd wanted. You're great at everything you do, you freak genius," he replied with a disparaging scowl directed towards himself. Taka's features softened momentarily before he pulled on a smug, condescending expression that always managed to rile Monta up.
"You're not that bad. You're just too tense and overthinking it. I didn't think that was possible for you, but you always managed to surprise me," Taka taunted as Monta sputtered indignantly.
Monta snagged Taka's hand through the fence and ignored the heat blooming over his face as his fingers curled over Taka's. The other man's startled light-eyed gaze flickered to their entwined hands, separated only by the fence links pressing into their palms. "Not thinking is better than overthinking, anyway. Don't be a dick, Tak."
The moment spun out a little too long and sweat crawled down Monta's neck. As his bravado failed, and the utter embarrassment of holding someone's hand like a lame-o in a drama started to become too much to take, Monta tried to pull away. Taka's hand squeezed, fleeting and quick, but definitely with a pressure that had Monta's pupils dilating and his mouth dropping open.
"Perhaps," Taka allowed, voice soft and pensive, as his hand fell away.
"Huh? What?" Monta blurted in confusion. He'd already completely lost track of the conversation while that moment of affection replayed over and over in his head. He hadn't- he hadn't imagined it, had he?
Taka scoffed under his breath and shook his head. "How about I come over and help you out? It's not often I get a chance."
"What, to help me?" Monta asked, bewildered and backpedalling towards his batting cage's door. To the side, Taka was already exiting his cage, leaving his basket and bat behind, but keeping his helmet.
"Yes, to help you. You've helped me more than I've ever helped you in the past. In some ways, in the matter of amefuto, you've mentored me more than the other way around. I'll finally live up to being your senior," Taka joked mildly. Monta actually barked out a laugh at that and let Taka in.
"Dude, I never woulda made it through last term's finals without you! … or Riku. That shithead actually helped, too. But mostly you!" Monta pointed out grinning. They gathered up the larger than average, but not quite soft, baseballs and reloaded Monta's pitching machine.
"I'd prefer helping in sports. You're a terrible academic," Taka retorted at last, handing over Monta's bat. Monta snickered and scratched his cheek.
"You could say that again. I liked that one book you gave me. It was interesting! Studying is always boring, though."
Taka shook his head slightly and then stepped back. "All right. Go ahead. Let me get a better look at you."
"All ya hadta do was ask," Monta shot back automatically with a leer. He froze and spluttered. "Uh, I mean-"
"Seeing as this is a date, that wasn't actually inappropriate, and yet, now you get embarrassed for using an innuendo," Taka sighed, eyes rolling upwards.
"Shuddup," Monta mumbled, turning back to the machine. For about three pitches, Monta batted and ignored Taka's presence just out the corner of his eye. Which proved fatal when hands fell on his shoulders and had him shrieking and almost braining Taka with his helmet. "Holy cow, man!"
"Would you just calm down? You knew I was here!" Taka replied, roughly shoving Monta back around. A ball pitched by and Monta flinched back into Taka's chest.
Shit, he's tall. The image of trying to kiss someone taller than himself flashed in his head and he had to fight down the urge to blush like a friggin' dweeb again.
"Your stance is good, but too tense. You keep twitching and shifting. I'm guessing you keep thinking of your old coach's advice about how to stand?" Taka observed, hands smoothing down Monta's arms clinically and pulling up one elbow even higher. Which actually felt more right- Monta knew something had felt off…
"Yeah, that's- uh, exactly it," Monta agreed, clearing his choked up throat mid-word. Keep it together, dude. You and Sena have been more space invade-y than this during training! This is not that exciting, dick, calm down. A strange, eeping noise escaped him against his will when Taka's knee pressed against his inner thigh to spread his stance wider. They weren't huge adjustments, but it felt better, more natural, while at the same time pushing his blood pressure up to ridiculously dangerous levels. If his stance hadn't been so solid, he would've tipped over when Taka stepped away.
Had Taka's hands… lingered on Monta's arms? Another ball whizzed by and Monta barely flinched.
"The next one's yours. Think about where you want the ball to fly, and aim there with your swing," Taka advised, arms crossed over his chest and voice sounding… weird. Taka didn't have a deep voice, Monta's tended to crack deeper than Taka's. But his voice now sounded rougher and low. When the ball hurtled out of the machine, Monta swung automatically, his mouth dry and heart hammering against his ribs. It took the jangle of the fencing to snap him out of it.
"Whoa," Monta gasped, staring at where the ball had struck.
"Congratulations, Raimon. You made your first triple. Maybe a homerun if the outfielders are incompetent," Taka said with something like pride in his tone.
"Holy shit, dude. I've never hit that well. It's a hella shame you dropped out of baseball. You would've been amazing," Monta breathed out, dropping his bat to the ground.
"You still have a few pitches left. Let's see if it's a fluke."
"Oh, fuck you, Taka!" Monta shouted, making Taka laugh out loud.
The rest of the pitches were finished with a remarkably high average for Monta. He grinned, breathless, pits and back sweaty and face flushed, as he set his bat against his foot. He hadn't gotten a homerun, but he'd hit towards the same corner almost every single time with only a few fouls. His muscles felt pulled too tight in a few places, but it also felt kinda great.
"Jeez, I've really missed this," Monta chuckled, rubbing at his nose. "I forgot how much I loved it, yanno? I was so focused on all the ways I failed in baseball, that all the fun stuff just… got buried over."
"I'm glad you could remember a little today," Taka said with a hand on Monta's shoulder.
"Hey! Dude! The monkey-looking dude!" hollered an unfamiliar, young voice.
"I am NOT a monkey!" Monta snapped, fuming and steaming, as he turning. A few kids in baseball tees, actual baseball tees with team logos, and hats turned backwards under their helmets, stood outside Monta's cage with excited grins on their faces.
"Can you teach us how to do that?" the first voice asked, belonging to a short, stocky kid.
One of the taller ones with three teeth missing piped up, "Yeah, we totally suck!"
"Shut up! We don't suck!" the others all yelled at their hapless friend, their faces red.
"I dunno, I think maybe-" Monta glanced up towards Taka. Taka rolled his eyes and stepped back.
"Go have fun."
"Yeah, yeah! Let's go!"
Monta laughed clapped Taka's back. "I'll be just a minute. These twerps are probably lost causes anyway."
"HEY!"
...
Taka sat at a picnic table, one leg crossed over the other, and his thumbs tapping methodically over the screen. Raimon hadn't been gone long- and he could still hear the raucous bellowing coming from further down the cage lane. His and Raimon's batting things were sitting by his feet so their cages could be filled with other occupants. Even though he was sitting alone and his date was off playing with children, the alone part wasn't the troubling issue. The troubling issue was his reaction to this entire outing. He'd been worried for weeks, ever since Raimon had revealed his deeper feelings. Even though he told Raimon he wasn't sure he could have those kinds of feelings for him, he'd agreed to the date in the first place because Raimon had been right. He'd deserved a chance, and Taka cared enough to grant that chance.
But, as he had confided in Karin just the next day, he'd known he was bi since he as a teenager. He'd dated both men and women- none seriously, none past the third date, and mostly for the sexual experience. His feelings for Raimon had always been platonic. He had noticed that Raimon had grown into himself, that he was attractive in his easily overlooked way (it didn't help they were surrounded by beautiful people and Raimon was 'average'). Taka had noticed how important his relationship to Raimon had always been to him. How Raimon's successes and triumphs and pains had always been personal to him. How his father's camaraderie and genuine respect for Raimon had always filled Taka with relief and gratitude- not that he'd ever admit it to them. The idea of losing Raimon, of losing his exuberance and humor and frank sincerity, had been the driving reason he'd agreed to the date; an effort to stave off that possibility. A simple date that endedin awkward disaster they could recover from had been his expectation.
He hadn't expected that going on what could have been a normal outing and stapling the word 'date' on it would be having this effect on him.
The first instance, when he'd come to the park and seen Raimon leaning over the counter, in a shirt that actually fit him enough to showcase his arms and narrow waist and a pair of pants that had been worn so often they fit to him perfectly- that shouldn't have been a shock to the system. Surely, Raimon looked exactly the same. And he wasn't leaning that far over, so if his ass looked especially good in that moment, it was definitely just a combination of lighting and nice pants. Obviously. The ridiculous shirt should have been better than a bucket of ice water; Taka hated nothing more than he hated bad English on shirts. Just buy Japanese slogans! Why ruin perfectly good clothing with nonsense that made you look like an uneducated moron? Just seconds later, though, Raimon had managed to break past the disgust and send his heartbeat racing with just a simple touch of his hands to Taka's wrist. That was- that was absurd. He wasn't the virgin here. It took more than a Victorian-era-scandalous amount of contact to effect him! Taka had also never been in a relationship with hand holding because, for fuck's sake, he wasn't a primary student. Handholding was for children.
But that simple, innocuous contact through the fence had Taka itching for more. Prompting him into an unnecessary offer and a reason for as much physical contact he could get away with in public.
His phone dinged again.
Karin That just means it's going well! You're seeing him the same way he sees you, right?
Taka sighed and glanced upwards. Me I'm not certain. He's not acting any different other than that bit of hand touching. We're not children, Karin. The one time he made a sexual overture, it was a joke like he'd done a thousand times, and then immediately regressed into embarrassment. I don't think he honestly knows what he wants.
Me What if I start seeing him this way and he realizes he really doesn't want this?
Me Could I, hypothetically, unsee him?
Taka looked up, eyes going to where Raimon was currently being tackled by almost a half-dozen boys in baseball helmets. Even covered in gross, smelly boys whose bony knees and elbows were most likely leaving behind bruises, Raimon only laughed and joked. Never losing his patience or becoming violent, even if he huffed and bellowed at their teasing. He looked like he was having the time of his life.
A fond smile pulled up the corners of his mouth as affection swelled in his chest.
Karin Oh, Taka-san. You idiot.
He blinked down at the screen incredulously. Karin almost never spoke to anyone like that.
Karin You aren't his superior in any way! Don't act like you're this wise old man looking out for poor, stupid Tarou-san's interests FOR him. He's an adult, just like you!
Taka frowned, thumbs smashing against the screen. Me Raimon is not stupid, Karin-chan. That doesn't mean he's not confused. His friendship means too much to me to lose it.
Karin From what I understood, he feels the same! He's not doing this on a whim, Taka-san. Give his feelings the benefit of the doubt. Even if he IS less experienced than you, it doesn't mean he can't tell reality from fantasy.
Karin Besides, he deserves the attention. Suzupin tells me he doesn't think he's very attractive. Whether or not this works out, letting him know he's appreciated in that way is an ego boost. ;p
Me What have I said about the faces.
Karin Go look at your date's butt and stop being a wet blanket.
Me Did Taki-san steal your phone?
Karin … yes. NOW GO CHECK OUT MONTA'S BUTT AND GET HIM LAID. DO YOU KNOW HOWWWQQQQ….
Karin I got it back. Please, just go have a good time and stop overthinking everything.
"Hey, Taka!" He glanced up to see Raimon racing towards him, hollering and waving needlessly. "Sorry, I got caught up, bro!"
Taka exited the text conversation and stuffed his phone in his pocket to get to his feet. Raimon skidded to a stop just in front of him, then doubled over to pant rapidly. He was sweaty, mussy, and the hem on his shirt had, for some reason, started unravelling. There looked to be a bruise forming on his arm, bared by his shirtsleeves having been pushed up over his elbows. Trying to hide the concern, Taka reached down to tug at the wayward thread hanging from the ruined hem. Raimon groaned and slapped a hand over his face.
"Don't worry, it's an improvement," Taka assured him quickly, mouth twitching up. "Next time, go for the rest of it, too. And don't call me bro."
Raimon choked on a laugh, but his heavy brows were still drawn tight and low over his nose. "I actually like this shirt, asshole. But… I shouldna bailed you… and I got totally wrecked, jeez. I guess I ruined date day pretty fast, huh?" Raimon noted, tone a forced light and mocking, but the anxiety written too obviously over his face even as he tried to awkwardly laugh it off.
His hand was settled on the back of Raimon's neck, thumb lying over the swiftly beating pulse, before he'd consciously thought it. Taka could feel the jump in Raimon's heart rate as he gawked up at Taka. "No, it's not ruined."
The moment dragged too long to be natural, their eyes not looking away from the other's. Raimon swallowed hard, the action rolling under Taka's hand. Then, he broke the tension by glancing away, mouth pouting slightly before he covered it with his hand.
"Right, okay, good," Raimon mumbled. Worry seeped out of him like water through a sieve and he was grinning again, bright and wide. "Good, 'cuz we haven't even played putt-putt or eaten yet!"
Amused, Taka let himself be dragged back towards the main building. Inside was the typical arcade, with plenty of small karaoke booth games, rows of fighting games, and dozens upon dozens of claw-machine lining the walls. Not to mention a whole room devoted to photobooths. True relief flooded Taka when Raimon completely ignored the photobooth rooms and karaoke games, instead dragging him down the lines of claw machine games, excitingly gushing over the different prizes (mostly plushies) inside. Inevitably, Raimon insisted on trying to get one, snagging a ridiculous poop emoji plushie that had made Raimon laugh till he cried and push it into Taka's protesting arms.
He would've preferred wearing the damn 'Engrish' shirt over carting around the atrocity Raimon insisted he'd won for him.
Raimon had also insisted Taka not repay the favor, or lend him any money for the multiple tries it had taken to win. He also paid for their putt-putt course. He even held open doors for Taka to walk through without even noticing it. Suspicions were forming in Taka's head and they weren't pleasant ones. By the time they turned in their golf cues and headed out for an actual dinner (not just fried meat or dough from the concession stand that, of course, Raimon had bought for them and then spilled half onto himself), Taka was starting to feel aggravated. They sat down at a restaurant Mamori had recommended (Raimon had admitted), and Raimon pulled out his wallet again.
"You do not have to pay for this as well," Taka muttered the moment the waiter left their table with their menus and orders. Raimon blinked over at him.
"Yeah, I do?" Raimon replied, baffled. "It's a date-"
"If you say something about being 'the man', I'll lose a great deal of respect for you," Taka cut in sharply. Raimon stared in shock and hurt until actual anger crossed his features.
"What the hell? No, I invited you. It makes sense I'd pay, Taka," Raimon retorted, just as bitingly.
"It's not just about the paying. The entire time you've been treating me like the 'girlfriend'," Raimon's face flooded beet-red in color as he scowled, but Taka continued on regardly. "I'm not the stand-in for a woman and I don't appreciate being treated like it. The paying, the doors, the… toy," he gestured towards the absurd, smiling, emoji-plushie with a grimace.
"Right, thanks, Tak. Throw it in my face how max unsophiscated I am," Raimon snapped, eyes rolling hard enough it looked painful. "I've never had a boyfriend, I don't know know what the fuck I'm doing, so I'm doing what I'm used to. I like claw machines, it wasn't about trying to make you a girl. And the doors thing is just something I do! I didn't realize I needed to be an asshole to have a date with a man! How 'bout how you're actin', huh? I get it, we're buds and have been since high school, but this is supposed to be a date. I'm tryin' here, okay?"
Taka reeled back. Raimon steamrolled on, hands cutting wildly through the air and voice steadily growing louder.
"If this is some sort of pity date, or, like, 'get the annoying monkey off my back by playing along for a day' kinda crap, I'd lose a 'great deal of respect for you'," he sneered, actually airquoting with his fingers. "If you aren't friggin' attracted to me, and honestly don't want to date me, just fuckin' say it. Instead of being a douche and nitpicking everything I do as wrong."
"Raimon, wait-" Taka tried desperately to interject before he completely lost control of the conversation. But Raimon snorted, loud and noisy.
"Ha, what, am I being too loud now? I'm a mess, I get it. This was probably the worst freakin' date you've ever had. Thanks for playing along, though. I'll just see myself out. You can pay for the check since it matters so much to you, man." Raimon almost shouted, getting to his feet so quickly the table rattled and the condiments almost tipped over. Cursing and limping out from the booth, Raimon stormed out the restaurant door and left Taka sitting dumbfounded. The waiter returned with a confused frown.
"Is it… to go?"
"No, just- never mind. Cancel it," Taka said with a wave of his hand. "Excuse us." He was already sliding out of the booth when the waiter stammered out a reply.
...
Sidewalk pounded under his shoes. His thighs still stung from the stupid table and his whole body was still shaking with fury over that even stupider fight. He'd been trying so hard all day. Sure, he'd let those kids distract him, but he'd been making up for it, hadn't he? They'd had fun? Taka had laughed, damn it. Okay, so he'd smeared takoyaki sauce all over his face and dropped almost half of them on his shirt, but Taka had laughed. Monta shoved his tightly clenched fists in his pockets and stomped harder, grumbling at each jarring thud. To be totally truthful, though, it wasn't just fury that had him marching blindly down the sidewalk. Shoulders knocked hard into him, a few people muttered or outright snapped at his inattention, but he couldn't be bothered to even lift his eyes. He clutched at the anger with both hands, fed it with his annoyance and desperately ignored the disappointment that weighed down his stomach like he'd swallowed.
If he'd learned anything today, it was that it wasn't just a fluke. It wasn't simple friendship getting mixed up with frustrated libido. This was an honest to God crush. He was crazy about Taka. Crazy about his smiles and his laughter. Crazy about his uppity judgey faces and sneering over puns and bad English; how had he missed that all these years? Which led him to going over all the new things he'd learned that day. The way Taka swung a bat, the pressure of his fingers around Monta's through the fence, his hands smoothing down his arms, and his breath curling over Monta's ears, the proud look he got when Monta succeeded- though, to be fair, he'd seen that a few times before. He just really really liked it, okay? Taka's utter indifference to putt-putt until Monta started winning, and the hilarious competitive streak that had Taka getting way too serious, judging wind and calculating geometry or physics or something to get a hole-in-one for the rest of the course. The horror on his face at the plushie Monta had won, but he'd kept it, held it obviously under his arm the entire time for Monta's sake.
Fuck, Monta was in deep.
And Taka wasn't even in the wading pool.
Monta gritted his teeth and rubbed his hand over his face. He'd needed this wake up call. This is what he'd asked for. A chance to know, and, if needed, move on. He could. He could get over it, he could look at Taka and see FRIEND again. Sooner or later.
Right now, though, if he saw Taka, Monta would probably punch his stupid beautiful face.
"Raimon, slow down!"
"Oh, come on! Really?" Monta shouted at the air. He scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest, but stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk. A hand clasped his shoulder from behind, tugging him around to meet Taka's gaze. Without thinking, Monta smacked the hand away. The startled hurt in Taka's already concerned expression should've had Monta feeling vindicated, not like shit. … speaking of shit…
Monta squinted down at the smiling poop plushie in Taka's hand. "You don't need to fake it, man. I get it. Just throw it away!"
"It's ridiculous, but I'm not going to throw it away. I also don't know what you think you 'get', Raimon-" Taka began roughly.
"It was just a joke! I just like playing the stupid machine. Why not?!" Monta demanded, railroading over whatever placating crap Taka was gonna try and spew to make him 'feel better'.
"Because I'm taking it seriously!" Taka snapped. He had to visibly calm himself with a glance at the sidewalk traffic passing on both sides of them, and staring as they did. "Could we please take this somewhere more private?"
"Ha, no. All these people are the only thing keeping me from max punching you right now, so- hey, wait, what!" Monta squawked as Taka 'tch'ed and snagged Monta's wrist.
"Stop with the dramatics, Raimon," he replied, yanking him along.
"Oi! I said no!" Monta exclaimed furiously. He stumbled into a narrow alley right behind Taka, stopping next to a pile of overstuffed garbage bags and boxes.
Taka released him, his one newly empty hand rising in the air defensively. "At least let me apologize without a hundred strangers gawking."
That pulled Monta up short, his gaping mouth clacking shut. "What?"
"I'm sorry. You were right to be mad about what I said in the restaurant," Taka said clearly.
"Well, yeah- but… look," Monta dragged a hand through his hair with a loud, gusty exhale, "what do you want? I have no idea and you're mixing up your signals pretty bad, bro. I know, Tak, I know exactly what I want. And a pity date is not it."
"This wasn't-" Taka tried to protest, eyes fierce.
"Yeah, right, you sure about that?" Monta burst in impatiently. "All day, all day, I just wanted to look at you. I kept wanting to touch you and found any excuse I could. I want you like frickin' crazy, and you touched me, like, two times. I can't… I can't want you this bad and know you just don't. Damn it, if you don't even think I'm attractive, if you never thought I had a real chance, you shoulda just told me. It's… you're just jerking me around!" Monta shouted, hands in fists at his sides and his face twisted up in anger and hurt. His loud, hoarse breaths echoed between them as the backlash of his outburst settled.
"Raimon, that is not the problem," Taka said quietly. His hand moved towards Monta, then dropped back to his side. "Of course I think you're attractive. Ridiculous, impetuous, and impulsive, yes, but also attractive. However, you're my friend." The plushie rolled between Taka's hands and he explained in his calm, measured way, even as he hesitated and paused between each sentence. "Those thoughts and feelings… that way of thinking about you, I learned years ago to put those away, in a box. I've never wanted to make my relationship with you complicated and that's what sex does. Our friendship meant- means too much to me to ruin it over something trivial."
Monta ducked his head, torn down the middle from a shocked kind of flattery and just plain exasperation, leaving him tongue-tied and rather bashful. Exasperation asserted itself in the end and Monta looked Taka in eye. "So open the stupid box. You said this was a chance. But it's not a real chance if you're keeping all that locked down. You're…" Monta broke off, scrunching his nose and frowning thunderously in thought. The thunder cleared as his mouth twitched and his index finger jabbed in Taka's direction. "You're totally friend-zoning me."
Taka grimaced beautifully, his expression incredulous and disdainful. There was no holding back the laughter that cackled out of Monta.
"Please, never use that phrase again. There's no such thing."
Monta scooted just a little closer, feet not quite lifting into actual steps in a subtle attempt at closing the distance. "I dunno, bro, that sounded like textbook definition. Okay, friend box. Is that better?" Monta mocked with a crooked smirk.
"No, it is not. Don't call me bro," Taka ordered waspishly. He apparently didn't notice the slowly closing in Monta, too busy scowling pensively. "I just don't want to-" he broke off again, shifting guiltily under Monta's gaze.
"What? You gotta give me something here. What don't you want?" Monta prompted.
"I don't want to invest in this if it's not serious. I can't be an experiment, not with you." Taka's bangs covered his eyes, only his tightly-drawn mouth revealed.
Monta's jaw dropped, gobsmacked. "The- The fuck, dude?" he yelled, throwing out his hands wildly. "Have you even been listening? Yeah, I'm confused and turned around, but mostly because I feel the same friggin' way! I wouldn't be risking screwing up our friendship for- for what? An experimental buttfuck? C'mon, are you serious?"
Taka groaned and lifted his eyes skyward. But he lowered his gaze back to Monta's enraged one. "I know that. If I'm being honest, I probably knew that this whole time. But I can't just change how I see you, and I don't do spontaneous, Raimon. I can't just blink and open my eyes to see you differently. I can't do that and not have it feel strange, or wrong, when I've spent years keeping the lid on that box!"
"Dude, do you think this has been any easier for me!?" Monta countered with a thumb jabbing into his chest. "At least you're bi. I've had some sort of identity crisis bullshit to deal with. Try asking for help, you moron!"
Taka blinked and then pressed his knuckles to his mouth.
"No, no, don't you laugh! This is serious. I'm serious!" Monta shouted fervently.
"I'm- I'm not. I'm not laughing," Taka denied pointlessly as his shoulders began to shake.
Monta grumbled wordlessly and snagged two handfuls of Taka's polo. With a jerk, Taka was pulled down to Monta's height. He grunted and teetered forward, barely keeping his balance. The stuffed toy fell to the dirty sidewalk when Taka's hands gripped Monta's arms to hold himself up. Mentally praying Taka wouldn't bust his face for this, Monta pressed his mouth to Taka's. Too desperate, too hard, but it had Monta shaking down to his toes with relief, with at last at last screaming in his head. Taka's lips were soft and slack over his, and when Monta peeked, Taka's eyes were wide and shocked.
His grip loosened and Monta pulled back.
"Sorry, I shoulda asked, but-"
"Is this you helping?" Taka asked hoarsely, not moving away or dropping his hands.
Heart leaping and sticking his throat like a rock, Monta nodded.
"I think you should ask for my help for this," Taka retorted with a taunting tilt of his eyebrow.
"Hey, what is that supposed to mean!?" Monta sputtered indignantly, face red and ears steaming.
He yelped when suddenly both of Taka's arms were around his waist, their bodies fitting together with a suddenness that had Monta's head spinning. Then, Taka's mouth was back, slanting over his, hotter and not even close to being slack. A satisfied groan ripped from his chest and Monta flung his arms over Taka's shoulders, hands buried in that fluffy, soft hair. Their lips moved fast and damp, clinging through gasps of ragged breaths. Monta could actually feel the rapid thud of Taka's heart, their chest were pressed so close- though that was probably just his own. The sound of Taka's harsh breaths, and the sucking, smacking sounds of their lips, had Monta's bravado rearing, too heady and lightheaded to slow down. His tongue ran lightly over Taka's bottom lip, and the low, throaty moan that got him had Monta's stomach flipflopping.
A hand slid down the curve of his spine and settled over his ass, squeezing tight and pulling him flush against Taka. A long line of uninterrupted heat from pelvis to sternum that had them both exhaling loud and rough into each other's mouths. Under Monta's thumb, he could feel Taka's pulse beating too fast, too hard. Heady became giddy, because he'd done it. He'd gotten coolheaded, coolblooded Honjou Taka to grope him in an alley and French him like his tongue in Monta's mouth was more important than air. Damp cardboard slipped and slid under his feet, but he got them back against the nearest wall, grunting when his back hit the brick too hard. But their mouths reconnected seconds later, then tongues thrust past wet, slick lips. Silky hair tickled his arms and face, and Taka's other hand on his back hadn't stopped smoothing up and down his back, goosebumps in its wake.
It was probably the single hottest moment of his life.
And Taka was pulling away? Monta hissed a whine through his teeth even as his chest heaved for missing breath. Their foreheads bumped and they wordlessly gulped in fresh air, long moments whittled away until they could raise their eyes to meet again.
"So, uh… box opened?" Monta asked hoarsely.
"Ajar," Taka rasped. A fleeting, startlingly chaste kiss followed the answer, interrupting any retort Monta might've had to what sounded like a joke. Monta cupped Taka's jaw gently and held him there, the kiss lingering far longer than Taka's intention. Monta was just getting to the point where he thought it could evolve into the fun stuff again, when his stomach betrayed him with an emphatic rumble. They blinked in surprise before Monta let out an embarrassed snicker.
"You did run out on dinner," Taka murmured, hands now stroking up and down Monta's back. Monta was not disappointed Taka had stopped groping his butt. Yup, definitely not.
"Yeah… well, you were a dick. You can pay this time and I'll be the woman."
Taka sighed, pained. "I really didn't mean that. Please, let's stop bringing that up."
"Wait till I till Mamo-nee and Suzuna. They'll rip you a new one for me. It'll be max awesome," Monta threatened with a sly smirk.
Actual terror flashed in those light brown eyes. "If I buy dessert, too, will it change your mind?"
"You're bribing me not to tell on you!?" Monta exclaimed, laughing boisterously. Being held so close while laughing that hard was a little weird, but nice at the same time. Maybe being the shorter one wasn't the worst thing ever…
"Let's go before your stomach attracts attention," Taka replied nonchalantly. Monta was still laughing as he let his arms fall away. Taka paused just as he took a step, his eyes on the ground. Monta reached out, hesitated, then wrapped Taka's hand in his.
"Hurry up, bro. What are you lookin' at?"
"I said, don't call me bro. I dropped-" Taka swooped down and stood back up with the slightly dirty poop emoji plushie, "-this. I couldn't leave it."
"Oh my god, dude, just throw it away. You hate it, I hate it. It was a joke!" Monta objected, grabbing for it. Taka held it away and yanked Monta backed by their joined hands.
"Oh, no, this is no joke. This is a gift."
"C'mon, seriously, it's dirty. I wasn't serious."
"I'm very serious. It's my first gift from my boyfriend," Taka deadpanned. Monta threw back his head to groan melodramatically.
They walked towards the nearest ramen shop arguing the whole way. Their hands stayed entwined the whole way, too. The bickering finally ended when Taka leaned down to whisper in Monta's ear, "This is me giving it a real chance." To which Monta spluttered at his back before ducking into the ramen shop with him. Somehow, Taka managed to get that stupid thing all the way back to his dorm and even washed it.
A/N: lol I hope you enjoyed this MAMMOTH update. I'm so sad I can't include the link to the shirt, because it's a work of fucking art. The next chapter will be the LAST CHAPTER. It's technically an E-rating, but becuz we're on ffnet, it will fade to black and stay at M. So if you don't like fluffy, ridiculous epilogue that lead up to sex and then you don't get to read it, you can stop here. Or find my AO3 account and finish it there, eeeyyyyyyyy.