Chapter Text
4.
Fourth Dinner
四度目の晩餐
“A movie?” Mikey asked, blinking slowly.
“Yup,” Takemichi grinned like it was the best idea he had in a long time. He looked at his right before turning the wheel. “I figured since all we ever do is go out for dinner, a little change would be nice.”
They’d agreed to meet at the train station Mikey usually used. At some point, Mikey had decided it was easier to stop questioning how Takemichi always seemed to know where to find him. It wasn’t like the guy was actively stalking him, was he? Though Mikey does want to complain about the times Takemichi decides to pick him up.
“If you’re interested, we can go right now. I’m free,” Takemichi smiled. “The theaters should be empty.”
And it’s nine in the morning, Mikey managed to bite back.
He just stared at the man instead.
Mikey preferred their usual routine — food, talking, leaving whenever he wanted. If someone really wanted to watch something, they could just rent a DVD and stay home, even if it meant showing how bad his room was. Spending money to sit in a dark room packed with strangers sounded exhausting. Even so he tried to smile, like it was a good idea.
“You already got a movie in mind?” Mikey asked.
Takemichi’s face lit up instantly, eyes practically sparkling. If Mikey had been any more awake, he probably would’ve rolled his eyes.
“There’s a new thriller out,” Takemichi said excitedly. “I heard this super famous actor is in it, with other good reviews. And…” He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “We’ve only really been going out to dinner, right? That’s not very couple-ly enough.”
Mikey tapped his fingers against the station window beside him, pretending to think it over. He let the silence drag on just long enough to make Takemichi nervous.
He then shrugged. “Fine. Let’s go.”
The relief on Takemichi’s face was immediate.
He dropped Mikey off at the theater entrance first, muttering something about finding parking. The moment he stepped inside, warm air washed over him. Takemichi had been right — the place was nearly empty. Any sane person would come to the cinema at night.
Mikey unzipped his jacket and leaned against the wall near the entrance.
I should probably wait for him, he thought.
He pulled out his phone, scrolling aimlessly through apps he wasn’t really paying attention to. The lobby was quiet enough that he could hear the distant sound of trailers echoing from one of the theaters. At some point, he started listening close to the escalator’s steps rolling up. But apparently the sight of a short blond man mistaken for a teenager standing around alone looked suspicious enough because the next thing he knew—
“Good morning,” a voice said politely beside him. “Are you here alone?”
Mikey blinked and looked up to find a security guard standing nearby.
“Oh.” he straightened awkwardly, shoving his phone back into his pocket before zipping his jacket halfway. “No, I was waiting-”
“Sorry, did you wait long, Mikey?”
Takemichi suddenly appeared by his side, slightly out of breath. Before Mikey could react, warm hands landed on his shoulders.
Mikey immediately stiffened, feeling sweat trickle down his face.
Why was everyone so close to him today?
“Is anything the matter?” Takemichi asked the guard, concern flickering across his face.
“Ah, no, nothing serious,” the man replied with an embarrassed chuckle. “Just wanted to make sure he was okay.”
Takemichi smiled easily. “Thanks for looking out for him.”
The guard nodded once before heading back toward the front desk.
The second he was gone, Mikey shrugged Takemichi’s hands off his shoulders.
“You attract weird situations,” he muttered.
Takemichi laughed nervously. “I think you attract weird situations.”
Mikey clicked his tongue, but didn’t argue.
“Come on,” Takemichi said, motioning toward the ticket machines. “The movie’s starting soon.”
Mikey followed after him at a lazy pace, hands in his jacket pocket. “So what are we watching again?”
“The thriller.”
“Right.”
“And after that,” Takemichi added casually, “we can probably make it to the tearjerker movie on the second floor.”
Mikey stopped walking. Slowly, he turned his head to see Takemichi typing away at the ticket machine.
“The second floor?” he repeated.
Takemichi blinked but did not once look away from the screen. “Yeah?”
“The tearjerker movie? Or whatever that is.”
“Yeah?” Now Takemichi looked visibly confused.
Mikey narrowed his eyes. “How many movies are we watching?”
Takemichi froze. For one brief moment, Mikey watched genuine panic flash across his face. “...Didn’t I tell you? We’re gonna watch as many movies as we can today.”
A look was the only warning Takemichi got before Mikey sighed loudly through his nose, and whacked him on the head.
“Since when did you like watching movies?” Mikey asked when they were inside, searching for their seats. The cinema was dimly lit, the screen still dark while advertisements played quietly overhead. About three rows of seats below was another person and tucked somewhere away diagonally across them was a couple.
Takemichi led the way up the stairs, balancing the drinks carefully in one hand.
“I’ve always liked them,” Takemichi shrugged. As he slipped off his usual blazer and draped it over one arm, Mikey noticed — again — that Takemichi somehow looked smaller without it.
Softer, maybe.
Less put together.
“Liar,” Mikey said flatly. “You’ve never mentioned it.”
Takemichi laughed under his breath, glancing back at him over his shoulder.
“We’re not the same as we were eleven years ago, Mikey.” His smile turned faint around the edges. “Of course I didn’t.”
Annoyingly enough, Takemichi had a point. For once.
They finally reached their row. Takemichi stepped aside and gestured dramatically toward the seats.
“After you.”
Mikey rolled his eyes but slid past him anyway, dropping into the chair with a muted thud. Immediately, he frowned.
“The seats are terrible.”
“They’re normal seats.”
“They feel like bricks.”
The theater ceiling stretched overhead in complete darkness, disappearing into black. The giant screen cast faint flickering light across the room while previews cycled by. Mikey leaned back farther into the stiff chair. It’d been years since he’d gone somewhere like this with someone else. For a strange moment, the atmosphere felt detached from reality entirely, like he’d stepped into somebody else’s life.
It felt like a different lifetime now. It probably was.
“But why me?” Mikey asked suddenly.
Beside him, Takemichi nearly inhaled his drink. He broke into a violent coughing fit.
Mikey stared while Takemichi bent forward, pounding a fist against his chest.
“You okay?” he asked after a pause.
Takemichi held up a hand weakly, still coughing.
“I suck at watching movies,” Mikey continued anyway, because apparently this conversation was happening now. “I don’t get half of them.”
Another cough.
“I’ll probably fall asleep too.”
Takemichi wheezed harder.
“Honestly, someone else would’ve been better.”
It took nearly half a minute before Takemichi finally stopped choking. He wiped at the corner of his mouth quickly, clearing his throat with whatever dignity he had left.
“That’s okay,” he managed hoarsely. “I’m the one who invited you.” A small laugh escaped him afterward. It felt familiar; as if hearing a song he couldn’t remember the name of.
Takemichi leaned back in his seat afterward, eyes drifting toward the giant blank screen ahead of them. But his expression looked distant, unfocused, like he was staring at something much farther away than the theater wall.
“Someone else probably would be better,” Takemichi admitted softly.
“But I thought about it a lot.” His fingers tightened slightly around his drink cup. “And every time, I still wanted it to be you. It just… feels better when it’s you, Mikey.”
“...”
Mikey doesn’t get it. He really doesn’t.
So instead, he looked away toward the screen and muttered, “That’s a weird reason.”
Seconds later, the music started rolling.
Takemichi laughed again.
“Yeah,” he agreed quietly. “Probably.”
.
.
.
Mikey really was not one to like movies. He didn’t understand half of them, they were always too long, and sitting still in the dark for hours made him sleepy. Plain and simple. Still, he tried. Mostly because it was for Takemichi.
Even then, concentrating harder didn’t magically make the story more interesting. About thirty minutes into the film, Mikey had already shifted positions three separate times. By the one-hour mark, he’d eaten nearly half the popcorn out of pure boredom and was leaning heavily against his hand.
Something dramatic was happening on screen. At least, he assumed it was dramatic.
Someone was yelling. Another person was crying. There were flashing lights and ominous music involved.
This one’s… not really what I was expecting, he thought. Then again, he’d stopped properly paying attention a while ago.
A sudden wave of laughter broke out across the theater. Well, “wave” was generous. There were maybe five other people in the room. Mikey frowned at that, eyebrows scrunching.
Was that supposed to be funny?
Mikey couldn’t tell anymore.
Curious, he glanced sideways. Takemichi’s attention was fixed entirely on the screen, eyes reflecting the flickering light from the movie. But unlike the others, he wasn’t laughing. He was just staring.
Mikey turned back.
For some reason, he felt relieved by that.
Like if Takemichi had laughed too, Mikey would’ve felt even more disconnected from whatever everyone else was seeing.
The movie dragged on for another twenty minutes before the credits finally rolled.
When they finally left and went into the hallway, Mikey immediately declared, “The movie wasn’t really that good.”
Takemichi laughed. “Yeah, the plot was kind of all over the place. And the ending didn’t make any sense. They introduced all those twists for nothing.” He held out his hand. “Here, give me your trash.”
Mikey more than easily handed him the empty popcorn bucket and watered down drinks. Takemichi looked at the movie poster outside of the door. “I did think the makeup was impressive, though,” he added thoughtfully as they walked. “They probably spent most of the budget on effects. It wasn’t so bad if you think about it like that, yeah?”
“Hm.”
Takemichi tossed their trash away before turning back toward Mikey with the same infuriatingly cheerful expression from earlier.
“Come on,” he said. “There’s still more movies left. Who knows. Maybe you’ll find one that you like.”
Mikey doubted it, but followed anyway as they bought the ticket for the next movie.
.
.
.
Again, he found himself seated in another dark theater room.
This time they’d bought popcorn.
The previews rolled by in a blur of color and noise before the actual movie began. Mikey sank lower into his seat, eyes fixed on the glowing screen without really seeing it. He’d read the synopsis earlier when Takemichi shoved the ticket into his hands — two childhood best friends separated by war, searching for each other across years and ruined cities.
Dull black eyes found their way to the screen.
It was a long movie (two hours, he saw later) but he shrugged it off when Takemichi asked if that was fine with him. Now, halfway through the movie, he wondered if he should’ve picked something else.
The film dragged in places. Long shots of snowy train stations. Letters read aloud in trembling voices. Silent montages of empty homes and abandoned streets. Around him, the audience seemed completely absorbed, every emotional scene landing exactly where it was supposed to.
Mikey just felt tired.
When the reunion scene finally came, the atmosphere in the room shifted all at once.
The two characters found each other in the middle of a crowded station. One of them broke down first. Then the other. Music swelled loud enough to vibrate through the seats.
Behind Mikey, someone sniffled loudly. Another person coughed to cover up a sob.
He tilts his head, mostly to himself.
Everyone’s tearing up, he thought distantly.
Takemichi looked mostly the same as always — calm, watchful, eyes reflecting the pale light from the screen. But after a moment, as if sensing Mikey staring, like he always knew, he quietly reached between the armrests as if searching for something. His fingers brushed against Mikey’s hand once, missed, then found it properly.
In the dark room, the only light coming from the screen, Mikey could almost believe they were alone. He turns back to the front. The reunited characters had collapsed into each other’s arms, their silhouettes blending into one shape beneath the snowfall.
The scenes after that blurred together into gray static.
When they stepped back outside into the hallway, Takemichi stretched his arms over his head with a groan.
“I’m not really a fan of tearjerkers,” he admitted. “I think they tried too hard to make the movie sad.”
“Yeah,” Mikey said around a yawn. “Soundtrack was nice though.”
Takemichi looked over his shoulder. He blinked once, like he’s surprised Mikey said anything at all. “I guess it was,” Takemichi says with a smile. They were still holding hands.
Mikey noticed it a little too late.
It’s warm, he realized not long after. His thumb brushed unconsciously against Takemichi’s knuckles before he realized what he was doing.
He immediately looked away.
The next movie started not long after. And needless to say, he couldn’t really get into it.
This one was louder. More explosions. More talking. New characters filled the screen every few minutes, all dramatic expressions and clever dialogue, but Mikey couldn’t bring himself to care. Their mouths moved, but the words barely reached him. He stared ahead until his eyes began to burn. Eventually, he closed them.
The darkness behind his eyelids felt quieter than the movie itself.
.
.
.
“The ending was nice at least,” Takemichi said afterward while eating a hot dog.
Mikey stared at him for a second.
Takemichi looked absurdly out of place holding cheap theater food while dressed so neatly. His sleeves were rolled carefully to his elbows, tie loosened slightly, posture still annoyingly proper even while balancing ketchup packets in one hand.
“I didn’t get most of it though, so I can’t say much,” Takemichi admitted sheepishly.
A hum was all Mikey could say. He pushed around the melting ice in his drink with the straw, watching as they shifted.
Takemichi laughed under his breath. “You really weren’t paying attention.”
Mikey didn’t deny it.
They returned for another showing after that. By the time the lights dimmed again, the ache in Mikey’s shoulders had settled deep into his bones. He doesn’t know how much more he could take.
Takemichi leaned back in his seat beside him. “Is it bad if I liked the first half more?” he whispered later as they walked out again. “The twist kind of ruined it for me.”
Mikey squinted against the harsh lobby lights. “Really?”
“I’m not sure myself. It just… felt gimmicky,” Takemichi continued. “And the ending was rushed.”
“Really now?” Mikey said, disinterested. He was more focused on draining the last of his soda.
Takemichi noticed immediately. Chuckling, he stole a fry from the container and held it toward Mikey’s mouth. Mikey opened it automatically. “You never change, huh?” Takemichi sighs dreamily. He ate a fry on his own. ““Always doing things at your own pace. Guess that’s what I like about you.”
Weirdo, Mikey thinks absentmindedly, chewing the greasy fries. How can you ever like me?
In the next movie, he must’ve drifted off. One moment his eyes were heavy, the next the plot had completely changed — a whole act had passed without him noticing. His body ached from sitting so long, and he tried to stretch discreetly, rolling his shoulders and shifting in his seat.
That was when he noticed he was leaning against Takemichi.
Mikey froze, suddenly hyper-aware of the warmth pressed against his side. He blinked. Before he could pull away, there was a soft hum — almost absentminded — and Takemichi leaned into him, letting his head rest gently on top of Mikey’s head.
Mikey swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.
No, they weren’t going to do this. They weren’t going to act as a couple. They were not going back together.
Even then, he stayed where he was.
By the time the credits rolled, Mikey barely remembered the movie at all. The ending was another letdown — one of those artsy conclusions that left more questions than answers — but he found himself strangely grateful for it. At least it gave him a few more minutes to sit there, unmoving, with Takemichi’s head against him.
When the screen finally faded to black, they finally left the place. The theater had nearly emptied. The sun had already dipped below the horizon outside, leaving the lobby washed in the pale glow of evening. Even Mikey noticed that the guards had changed shifts.
He sighed, gathering up his empty snack wrapper and drink cup. After tossing them into the trash bin, he stretched once more and headed toward the restroom.
Mikey turned on the tap and ran his hand under the water. It was cold enough to sting, little needles prickling his skin. He let it run over his fingers, the sound of it filling the space between his thoughts.
Suddenly he felt arms around his waist.
“Dinner?” Takemichi hummed. He rested his head on Mikey’s shoulder. It was warm where their skin met.
Mikey thought about it. Thought about the days they’ve spent together for the past week. Thought about what he was doing now. He stared at his reflection in the mirror where his hollow eyes were the only thing he still recognised. His hair was grimy, oily from the days he gave up on washing himself and went straight to his bed. He ran a hand through it.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s get dinner.”
.
.
.
“Mikey.”
Mikey felt himself mumble something, furrowing his brows.
“Mikey, get up, it’s almost closing time.”
That did the trick. In the next second, Mikey was awake. He rubbed his eyes, trying to blink the daze away.
“The food must’ve been so good for you to fall asleep,” Takemichi chuckled. He had an arm around Mikey, keeping him from falling over the seat. “Well? How was it?”
Mikey blinked again.
He barely remembered the ride to the restaurant, some kind of melody playing in the car’s radio as they rode along the highway. The city was dead silent as they passed over it, broken by the noises of the car. Waters in the sewers shimmered from the glow of the bright, yellow street lamps, flickering past like they were being shot by camera.
For the first time in a while, the air feels refreshing against Mikey’s face, who had opened the window despite Takemichi telling him not to. His face had become numb at the end of the ride, but Takemichi gently warmed it up with his hands, and suddenly it all felt better.
Dinner was simple.
Mikey’s stomach felt strangely bloated from the popcorn and soft drinks he ate earlier. He had only finished a bowl of soup before closing his eyes just for a moment.
Mikey tried to ignore how heavy his head was. He tilted his head up to see Takemichi who was smiling at him, smiling like he was something more.
“Hm?” Takemichi prodded.
Mikey rubbed his eyes. He was dimly aware that the room they were in was warm. Must’ve been the reason why he fell asleep. He could make out the silhouette of a waiter waiting outside the door. Soft music played in the air, drifting like some kind of lullaby.
“I guess.”
This felt strangely familiar.
Mikey thought about back when they were still teenagers, starry-eyed and full of naivety.
Fights, gangs, and bicycles. Those are what his childhoods are made of. He remembered giggling as they ran, their faces bruised from a fight but hands intertwined like there was no one else in the world. The sun looked golden and so did Takemichi’s hair. They were both laughing — breathless, half-panicked — as they sprinted through alleyways. When they reached the bike, Mikey got on the back and Takemichi immediately started cycling, the wind whipping their faces as adrenaline still buzzed in his veins.
Mikey would close his eyes and lean his head against the warm back of Takemichi. He felt like he was invincible.
And back then, he and Takemichi were close, but never thought to label themselves as anything; never really thought about where they fit in. This was the solace that Mikey had.
Even now—
Mikey watched as Takemichi waved the waiter over for the bill before looking back at him. There was something familiar looking at the back of the boy he used to like. It was the first thing he thought he liked about, as weird as it sounded.
As if he knew, Takemichi glanced over his shoulder.
“What is it?” he hummed.
Mikey doesn’t get it. He never did.
He opened his arms at Takemichi.
For a moment, nothing happened. But Takemichi’s face suddenly flushed into a shade of pink, opening his mouth.
“Mikey,” he started. “I-”
“Carry me.”
Takemichi stopped. He closed his mouth before looking around. The silhouette of the waiter was still posted outside the door. He reached out to close it behind them.
“Mikey,” he started, nervous, eyes flitting, walking a few steps to where Mikey was, “We can’t- I’m sorry, it’s just- but we aren’t kids anymore.”
Mikey stayed still, staring at Takemichi before him. Faster than his own eyes could see, he reached and suddenly pulled the man down by the collar. Wide blue eyes looked at him in surprise with hands holding the table and the chair beneath Mikey for balance.
“Humor me, Takemitchy,” Mikey said, tilting his head. “How long has it been? That we’ve been dating.”
“Eleven years and a hundred seventy three days. Since we were fifteen,” Takemichi replied immediately. “But who’s counting?”
“Right, so eleven years.” Mikey knocked their heads together, bringing Takemichi closer until he could feel a warm breath ghosting over his lips. “Can’t we stop doing this? I mean, these stupid things couples do when they just start dating?”
Here's something that Mikey learned early on in his life.
Falling in love was almost an enigma for him.
Ever since Mikey was a kid, he’s never really quite grasped the idea of romance, the type of stories his sister would talk about often when they sleep under the same night sky together.
He likes strong guys, so he thought that Draken might be the one for him. But that wasn’t it. It wasn’t what he was looking for. Toman had always been a priority for him, but it just felt like he was missing out on something. He learns pretty quickly that what he wanted was something more. Something that’s not quite a thrill, but something more…
Subtle.
That’s right.
Mikey remembers now.
It was during his high school days when he realized what love was.
Mikey was sure it didn’t really happen like this, but when he looked back, as if summer itself had slowed down, it felt like his heart was set on fire the moment he set eyes on his first love.
Bloodied and bruised, Takemitchy had appeared before him. He was taller than Mikey, always had been. His badly bleached blond hair shone in the sun, and for a moment, his silhouette looked exactly just like Shinichiro, his beloved older brother that Mikey lost.
At that moment, Takemichi stepped forward, then broke into a run, until he was almost crashing into the existence of Mikey.
They spent years together afterwards, almost inseparable. Wherever Mikey went, Takemichi followed. And wherever Takemichi was, Mikey was bound to soon appear. Draken said they were almost like twins, with the way they always hang off each other’s shoulders. Mikey almost couldn’t fathom how he’d lived his life before Takemichi came.
They had a special bond, it was undeniable. Anyone with eyes could see it. They get it. They get that they won’t get it.
They loved each other. They still do, at least Mikey thinks.
Now they’re here.
In this dance that’s equally love and amusement.
They shouldn’t have. But his hand slid to the back of Takemichi’s neck. He barely got a sound out before Mikey was already leaning in. It was a soft brush at first, more question than answer; to see if Takemichi would reject him.
But he didn’t.
Takemichi leaned in, closing the distance that fear had carved out between them, and something in Mikey broke open at that. The kiss deepened, losing its restraint, turning messy and desperate in the way only years of swallowed feelings could be.
When they finally pulled apart, Mikey felt himself breathing hard, just as Takemichi was.
There was no taking it back.