Chapter Text
白
Shirahama thinks he can die happily now.
Did he get himself a girlfriend? No. Did he 'graduate' and go up the steps of adulthood? Definitely no. Did he become a young, hot, rich owner of a startup with a YouTube channel (5M) and a morning routine? Big, fat, bombastic no.
But at the tender age of 17, he has a fricking painting named after him, and if that isn't a lifetime achievement, he doesn't know what is. It makes him want to run up to an armed robber just so he can shout, with all his chest, 'I GOT A PAINTING NAMED AFTER ME BITCH, YOU CAN'T KILL ME.'
"What are you smiling about? You look like a dumbass."
"Hm?" Shirahama flickers his eyes up at Niibashi. "No, I'm just thinking about how I've already won in life."
"How?"
"I have a painting named after me. And a damn great painting, at that."
"It's not named after you, you goof." Niibashi's chuckle turns into a cough that rattles his entire body. Shirahama acts fast and grabs him the glass of water on the nightstand.
"Thanks," Niibashi chokes out, taking the glass and bringing it to his mouth with shaking hands. His eyes are red and watery. Once he's done drinking, he says, "It's not named after you. It's the name of the beach."
"I know." Shirahama plucks the glass from Niibashi's hands and returns it to the nightstand. "But I like to think that it's named after me. It's way cooler and I'll have something to brag about."
Niibashi slumps back onto his side, face nearly obscured by the mountain of pillows. "Sure. Have it your way, then. I don't care."
He closes his eyes as if they're heavy, breathing through his mouth in soft, shallow inhales. He looks so vulnerable and small like this, it gives Shirahama the chills.
Even in his weakened state, Shirahama still finds Niibashi cute.
Without much forethought, he reaches a hand out and lightly touches the hair on Niibashi's forehead, brushing it out of his face. The strands feel almost as soft as silk, and Niibashi's skin is warm under Shirahama's fingertips. To his surprise, just as he's about to pull his hand back, Niibashi grabs his wrist and presses the back of Shirahama's hand against his face.
"Don't," Niibashi murmurs, eyes still screwed shut. "Your hand is cold. It feels nice."
Shirahama can't find it in him to resist. He lets Niibashi keep his hand hostage.
"Are you going to sleep?" Shirahama asks.
Niibashi shakes his head. It feels like he's nuzzling Shirahama's hand, and it gives him something close to goosebumps. "I'm just not going to talk."
"Does it hurt to talk?"
Niibashi pauses, until he says, "A little…but if you want to talk, I'll try to listen."
With the TV off, it's just the two of them in the lull of the room; Shirahama feeling Niibashi's breath on his wrist. Niibashi reminds him of when children hold onto their stuffed animals as if their lives depended on those inanimate objects, and it makes Shirahama want to say something, even though he knows he gets weird around Niibashi, in that he keeps saying things he never thought of.
"I realized something today, when I was looking at your painting," Shirahama starts. "People like you and Kagiura…people who've spent so much time getting good at what they do…they make me jealous. I'm unremarkable. I think I've always been that way. When I was a kid, I hated it when adults asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I hated it because I genuinely didn't know what I wanted to be. Even at that age, I couldn't understand how my friends could say, 'I want to be a pilot', or, 'I want to be a chef' so easily. How can you decide that on your own at, like, eight? What if you don't end up being the kind of person you wanted to be? What are you gonna do, then?" Shirahama pauses when Niibashi shifts on his bed. He continues, "Then I grew up, and I guess I sort of feel like I'm wasting so much time. There are days when I'd think, maybe I should've dedicated myself to something instead of just living pointlessly. That way, maybe I wouldn't feel like crap most of the time. Out of the twenty-four hours of the day, I only feel okay for about a couple. I don't even feel good, I just feel okay. But you know what's funny? Despite everything, I still drag myself along. I'd tell myself something like, 'Alright, I don't know why I have to live, or what I have to live for, but I'll try to have a decent life while I'm here'. That's how I've managed to live this long." He looks off to the side. "And I guess that's why I feel lonely a lot. Nobody wants someone who's just trying to get by. Everyone wants someone good, someone special that they can show off to other people. That's how I ended up thinking that to be loved is to be good, and the reason why nobody wants to be with me is because I'm not good enough."
After saying all of that, the room falls silent. Shirahama thinks that Niibashi has been claimed by sleep, until he hears him ask, "Shirahama?"
"Yeah?"
"I already told you that you're not bland."
Shirahama shows Niibashi one-eighth of a smile. "Maybe I need to hear it more than once."
"You're not unremarkable," Niibashi says. "I don't mind worshipping you just as you are. Even if you hit rock bottom, I won't be embarrassed of you. If everyone points their fingers at you, I'll treat you as I always do and just support you."
Shirahama wants to ignore the fact that electricity is prickling just under his skin. "You should save that for someone you like, Niibashi."
"But I do like you." Niibashi opens one eye. "I like that I don't have to measure your affection. All we have to do is worship each other, and I like that."
So now the electric current from before is turning into a different kind of shock, and it's a charged shock, because for one absolutely mad, mind-bogglingly insane moment, Shirahama thinks that he may haveー
"You like me as a friend, right?"
Niibashi clears his throat and closes his eye again. "As a person, yes."
Shirahama feels his gut sinking down like a wrecked ship in a seastorm, which makes him think that a special exhibit in the Museum of Crazy should be opened in his honor because what answer was he expecting other than 'as a person'? What was the other option? Did he want to hear the other option?
"If I choose to do art again, will you really support me?"
"What?"
"Earlier you saidー" Niibashi moves Shirahama's hand and rests it against his cheek. "ーthat you'll support whatever decision I make. So if I decide to try doing art again, will you really cheer me on?"
Niibashi's eyes are big and brilliant in a way that they don't try to hide anything, that they show you everything you need to know, and Shirahama learns the truth: I like him. He's cute and really smart in a slightly pretentious way and just the right amount of bold and a bit unhinged when he wants to be and he's a guy and I like him.
"Do you remember what you said, about how despair is something you sit with and share like you're at a meal?"
Niibashi seems a bit startled that Shirahama remembers that. "Yeah?"
"Well…I want to sit at that dining table with you," Shirahama says softly, his ears feeling cold like they're burning. "I want to take some of your despair."