Chapter Text
Hirose woke up the next morning feeling the worst he had ever felt, searing headaches melting into a painful haze alongside stinging bladders and buckets of sweat. His mouth trawled out an undignified sound as the light burned his open eyes and he closed them again.
The sound of early afternoon wormed through his earlobes as he prayed to higher powers that this pain was temporary. The sound of something sizzling infiltrated his senses and it all at once occurred to him that this was not his beautiful apartment and that he had no clue where he was or whose couch this was.
This was a dilemma for Hirose, whose politeness spurred him forth to get up and apologize to whoever was in the kitchen, and whose tiredness and aching body demanded he stay supine on the couch.
Nature beat nurture, and he ended up staying on the couch, inuring his eyes to the midday light with steady and rhythmic blinks. Through the process, he seemed to recover little bits and pieces of last night.
This girl was flirting with him.
Blink.
She spent all night staring at him.
Blink.
She got really close to him on the floor.
Blink.
She asked him if he—
Blink.
If he what?
Hirose could hardly remember anything. He tried harder. He remembered Nakamura, and Nakamura's friends. He remembered thinking they all sounded like lovely people. He remembered… He remembered Nakamura, mainly.
He remembered, or perhaps ascertained, that this suite was Nakamura's. He began to feel even worse. What had he said?
I'm never drinking ever again. I'm never drinking ever again. I'm never drinking ever a—
"You're awake." It was Nakamura's voice, come grating through his ears. Of course it would be Nakamura. "I—um. I made some hangover food."
Hirose groaned. "Uh, what?"
"It's like—post hangover, you know? I… uh… I like burgers. For that, I mean. And in general, too."
Before Hirose could twist to face Nakamura, there was a plate resting on the ground right next to him, easy to scoop up from his perch on the couch. It was a splotch of color to Hirose until he reached down and touched it, resolving itself into a cheeseburger.
"I, uh, made these for my suitemates, and, uh, you."
"Thank you." Hirose extended an arm out and latched onto it, all without moving the rest of his body. "Did… Did I… What happened last night?" Hirose's voice reached a whine.
"Well, you got really drunk…" Nakamura said. "I did too, but… less. I think."
Hirose took a bite of his cheeseburger: it was orgasmic. Through his mastications, he spoke again. "I could figure that out."
Nakamura laughed. It was a real laugh, Hirose could tell. He didn't remember the last time he had heard a real Nakamura laugh. "Um, sorry. I guess you didn't do much else. I walked you here because I kinda… forgot where your apartment was and you weren't responding…"
How completely humiliating. Hirose gave his best smile, but even he knew it wasn't a good one. "I'm so sorry. Thank you so much. I know I can always count on you." He took another bite out of his cheeseburger. "I'll—I'll get up soon," he promised sheepishly.
"Stay as long as you like," Nakamura said, staring down and away from Hirose. His face taking on its signature blush.
"You seem fine," Hirose pointed out.
Nakamura started. "I—huh? I've gotten really, um, quite used to hangovers, if that's what you mean…"
"Yeah." Hirose's head was racing, even as it hurt to think. He's used to hangovers? What sort of life has he been living? Who are you?
"If you want to shower, uh, we have our own bathroom. It's really nice, actually—a lot nicer than I expected. You probably have your own shower, though, in the, uh, your apartment, that you can use…"
"I don't want to impose," Hirose said, finishing up the cheeseburger and slowly, laboriously pulling himself into an upright position, rubbing his eyes awake. "Thank you—so much, though, and I'm really—really embarrassed, to be honest."
"Please, it's… It's what I'd do for a friend." His voice tightened there around the end. Hirose, rapidly learning the art of tact, found that he could discern the existence of a subtext without its meaning. "If you—would like another cheeseburger…?"
"Please?"
Nakamura smiled. "I can definitely finish up the patties. Just give me like… under ten minutes."
"I…" Hirose's voice died in his throat. Thank you felt too weak.
I can see why Nakamura has so many friends. He's really a reliable guy, isn't he?
Hirose looked around the central room of the suite. It was quite a boring room, all thing considered. There was a place for a TV that was currently TV-less. The walls were unadorned, and it seemed as though the only personal affects in the room were found underneath the coffee table in the form of a pile of dusty board games and vodka handles. If this was Hirose's room, he probably would've died a long time ago.
He stood up, feeling the weight resting on his feet as alien. Shifting from foot to foot and almost lost his balance in doing so, Hirose peered all around and decided—against his desire not to impose—that a shower sounded heavenly.
He opened and closed two doors in very quick succession before he found the bathroom. It was nicer than he was expecting, although he wasn't expecting very much. It was a bathtub shower that was fairly narrow, but stocked well with green apple shampoo and soaps.
If Nakamura said I could…
He took the shortest shower of his life and it was enough. Suddenly, life regained it's color and he felt like a human being again. He didn't even need a second cheeseburger, even though it was already in the make.
Getting out of the shower was harder and easier than he thought it'd be, but he found leave enough to stop the water and wrap a towel around his waist while he splashed water from the sink into his face.
By the time it came to putting on his clothes, he realized how disgusting they were, half-warped by sweat. He decided against putting them back on. He opened the door just a smidge. "Na~ka~mura!"
Nakamura raised his head and immediately made a sound halfway between a yelp and a question.
"Do you mind if I borrow some of your clothes? Sorry, mine are all gross…"
"Um—no! Not at all! Not in the slightest, I—uh, my room is—it's—" he pointed a trembling finger toward one of the doors.
"Thank you so much!"
And Hirose was off. Nakamura's response was so funny: it was as if they hadn't been through two years of P.E. together, changing in close quarters constantly. It was a big ask to borrow some clothes, though. Hirose mulled over what he would be buying Nakamura in exchange for it all, and did not land on anything in particular.
Hirose squeezed into a tank top, similar to the one Nakamura was wearing last night. He didn't have as much muscle as Nakamura, so he looked a bit stringy in it, but he figured he wasn't wearing it to look stylish. He found a pair of flannel pajama pants to go along with it. Hirose examined himself in the mirror—one of the few possessions in Nakamura's room—and almost laughed. He looked so American, so much like Jun or Daniel or any of the other Asian guys at this school.
Step one, I guess…
Walking out, he met a roommate: either Jun or Daniel. He couldn't figure it out, but he remembered those were the two names he had to pick from.
"Yo, lookin' sexy as fuck, dude." He didn't even look up from his phone. "You two crack?"
Hirose laughed awkwardly. He didn't know what all that meant. "Huh?"
"I'm not giving you your burger."
"No, c'mon man, please please please please please…"
Nakamura ignored him and instead eyed Hirose. Hirose mouthed what's his name? but Nakamura didn't catch it.
"I'm Daniel."
"Hello," Hirose said, thankful and embarrassed that the interaction was understood. "So sorry for staying over." He resisted the urge to bow. "I really hope I don't inconvenience you any further."
"Nah, man, it's chill. Happens. I would've been staying over tonight at someone else's if not for some bullshit."
"Bullshit?"
"Yo, okay, there was this crazy girl—I'm talking crazy, and she—"
"Shut the fuck up, Daniel." Nakamura's words, pointed as they may have been, hit Hirose harder than Daniel. As the two suitemates bantered, Hirose was combing desperately through his memories to find a time where Nakamura had been that passionate—that casual—about anything.
Daniel palmed a cheeseburger and walked to the door. "Well—see you, uh…"
"Aiki."
"Fire." Hirose had no clue what that meant.
The door was open and shut and Nakamura's face still showed embarrassment like it did in his high school days. "He was… uh… Jun's roommate. He's… I like him, of course, but I'm sorry he's so…"
"He's funny!" Hirose smiled. It was true. "He's very American."
Nakamura laughed. "True."
There was silence between them again. Hirose wanted to talk about Nakamura, wanted to ask about so much. Wanted to ask him about boys—whether or not he was seeing anyone, whether or not he had any crushes: all the juvenile questions Nakamura had skirted around for so long. He wanted to talk to Nakamura now that Nakamura was actually a person. He cleared his throat instead. "Did you finish making the last cheeseburger?"
"Oh! Yeah…" Nakamura gestured for Hirose to come into the kitchen. "I, uh, actually ran out of cheese, so it's just a hamburger…"
Nakamura spoke with a sheepish candor that implied Hirose would be mad at him for such a transgression. As if Hirose could ever be mad at Nakamura for long. Even now, in the face of Nakamura's intense metamorphosis, Hirose's distress was tuned primarily inward at himself for a number of reasons, key among them being that Hirose clearly hadn't been kind enough in high school to see this side of Nakamura.
"I've been trying to learn how to cook more, but… um…"
"Same. I really need to take a class…" Hirose followed Nakamura into the tiny kitchen. "This place is so big for a dorm…"
"Well, it's a suite…"
"I guess." Hirose took a few bites of his hamburger. "I feel so bad about all this."
"Please don't, it was—I invited you, so it—"
"It's not fair!" Hirose whined, playfully while meaning it with all his chest. "What can I do for you?"
"I—please, I'm okay with—"
"Can I treat you to a dinner someplace fancy, or a—"
"It's really fine—"
"C'mon! Where's somewhere you've always wanted to go?"
"I wouldn't—I wouldn't want to make you do anything…"
Hirose huffed, finally letting a trace of his irritation show. "But I want to do this, Nakamura. Give me something."
"Uh—" Nakamura shook his head. "I—I'm sorry, it's—"
"Please, Nakamura!"
"I'll—um, think… of… something?"
"I'll think on it too," Hirose promised. "Just maybe… no alcohol might be best for me."
Nakamura finally turned his face toward Hirose, and all at once Hirose noticed how red it was. "I—it might've been a better experience if it wasn't your first time… I don't know why there were so many people, and—"
"You don't have to apologize, it was…" Hirose took what was hopefully a not-very-telling pause. "It was fun, to talk to your friends! Even if I don't remember a lot of what happened later in the night."
Nakamura coughed. "Yeah."
"Did—did I do anything crazy?"
"No, not at all. Just—"
"Just…?" Hirose suddenly felt trapped in quicksand.
"No, it's really nothing, I just—I don't even remember the night too well myself, but…" It was times like these that made Hirose hate being gullible: he had no insight as to whether Nakamura was lying or not, and he knew there was nothing he could do to figure it out one way or another. Nakamura coughed. "No. Sorry."
Hirose smiled. "C'mon, Nakamura, I just wanna know if I said anything bad."
"I don't think—you could ever say anything bad," came Nakamura's immediate response.
"Really?" Hirose laughed. It was nice to hear that come from Nakamura's mouth, but he still couldn't rid the feeling that something had happened last night that had changed their relationship.
"No, I—No."
The silence between them was deafening and horrific. "Um, do you want me to go? I—" Hirose laughed. "I kinda don't have anything today."
Nakamura took a rubato beat before speaking. "I—uh, I have a few things, um, later—today. But, if you wanted, um…" He looked around the suite, finding that there was absolutely nothing to do in the sparsely decorated room except play a board game or drink. "Um—"
"We could go for a walk?" Hirose ventured, brightening his smile. The weather outside was dismal, but, if it wasn't raining, Hirose felt confident that he could be cheerful in spite of it.
"I—sure! Let me, um, grab a jacket—"
The two of them eventually eked their way out the door and through the lobby until they stood together on the asphalt of a grimy Boston day. The wind didn't really bother Hirose, even as it grazed his bare arms with a sensation he had never felt before; he couldn't say it was unpleasant.
They began idling their way down a street with no clear direction in mind. Hirose, for his part, was following Nakamura, who—after a while—began just walking in a straight line. The part of him less engaged on the conversation wondered how long it would take for Nakamura to notice.
"Um, but yeah, that was pretty much my freshman year." Nakamura said after giving a clean three-sentence summary and omitting the vast majority of what Hirose wanted to hear about, including the whole "being gay" part.
He wanted to know whether that was a college revelation, or if Hirose's company had made him uncomfortable enough to conceal that part of him. The longer the conversation went on without him mentioning it, the more Hirose feared the latter.
Hirose grew frustrated at the fact he couldn't mention it: not at Nakamura, of course, solely at himself, for caring so much about it. It didn't change anything about his life whether or not Nakamura told him—all he wanted was the gratification, to know that Nakamura trusted him enough to tell him. It felt important.
By the time their journey had knitted them to the Charles Riverbank, their mouths were dry from stories and the first signs of rain-clouds began to appear above their heads. Nakamura spent a while talking about the marine life in the river while Hirose stared at its twisting and polluted surface.
"...So yeah, it's kind of boring, but it's often used as a case study for the effects of urbanization on marine activity, just because of how long Boston's been around, and I'm sure Harvard has had a lot to do with—with—I'm sorry, this is really boring."
"No, keep talking," Hirose said, smiling as his eyes watched raindrops accord with the brown water. He was resting a lot of his weight on the wooden railing. He could feel his weight impressing upon it. "It's so cool that you're so smart now." Or, spoke the bitter part of Hirose, that you're finally showing me how smart you've always been.
"Well, um, for one class, I remember, we went down here and we took samples of the water, to measure, um—but…"
Eventually, the rain began to fall too fiercely for either to pretend it wasn't happening, and the two found safety under a nearby tree, still leafless but whose latticing branches provided cover enough to keep them there. Hirose rubbed his hands against his bare shoulders as he and Nakamura both rested their backs upon the trunk.
"Darn," Hirose said, looking out at the world refracted through a thousand raindrops. He could almost see his reflection, small, smiling, and shivering. "If I had known about the rain I wouldn't have suggested this."
"Yeah, that's Boston, I guess…" Nakamura coughed. "Um—if you're cold—I—um—"
"What?"
"No, it's nothing, just—"
"You're doing the weird thing again," Hirose pouted. "If you have something to say, say it." Inwardly, Hirose's anticipation grew and grew, though, for what purpose, he hardly knew. He just wanted Nakamura to say something to him, something that he hadn't told anyone else. He wanted to be special to Nakamura.
"I, um, just—" Nakamura squeaked out his last few words. "If you would like my jacket I would be fine with that."
Hirose laughed. "I've already stolen your clothes. You want me to take your jacket, too?" It was tempting, he wouldn't lie: Nakamura was dressed in long sleeves, with a second collared layer beneath. Hirose, too, was new to Boston—not yet acclimated. It wouldn't be unreasonable. "Would you really be fine with that?"
Nakamura burst out in speech. "More than fine! Please!"
"Well, if you're insisting…"
The exchange happened wordlessly. Hirose fell into Nakamura's puffy black jacket and found himself nestled almost perfectly in its excess fabric. It was quite warm, and it smelled like Nakamura, too: green apple. Hirose smiled, recalling the shampoo in the shower. "Thank you," he said, finally breaking the admittedly brief silence.
"It's nothing, really. Nothing at all."
"You keep saying that and then you keep doing more," Hirose complained, a genuine smile still traced out upon his face. "I'll figure out how to make it up to you, believe me. I'll become super rich, and then I'll buy a building here in your honor."
"What?"
"The Nakamura Building For Marine Studies. Nakamura Hall. Nakamura Dining."
"Hey, I can—if I get rich, I'll do that to you. Hirose Hall."
"I think Nakamura sounds better. It's a lot more common, too. Nobody will mispronounce it."
"I—I think I like Hirose more."
The two of them spent a while like this, the trunk eventually progressing itself from their wall to their backrest as the two of them sat there and observed the goings-on of a truly torrential day. At times, Hirose wanted to inquire about whatever Nakamura had later in the day, but he didn't want to make Nakamura feel uncomfortable, especially when they were having such a nice moment.
Wasn't this a nice moment? Resting on damp dirt, getting to know a boy he had been friends with for four years? It is hard to identify happiness as it was happening, but Hirose was sure that, in this prolonged moment, he was happy. His hope was, above all else, that Nakamura was happy, too.
Eventually, it came to its close. Nakamura checked his phone and spoke brusquely. "I think I have to go soon…"
Hirose smiled. "I was wondering when it'd happen… Just…" Hirose again struggled for words. Was it ever this hard in high school, to find the right thing to say to Nakamura? "Just don't have too much fun without me, okay?"
"Huh?" Nakamura's eyes jumped to Hirose's. "I, that's—"
"It's a joke," Hirose said, suddenly feeling quite foolish. It wasn't a joke, and saying it was further irritated Hirose: as if his vulnerability could be a joke. Would he treat anyone else like that? "Just—maybe, text me sometimes?" The addition did not help. Hirose went from feeling irritated to feeling pathetic.
"Of course!" Nakamura stuttered out, and the moment between them was gone. Hirose had ruined it. "I—I'm sorry, about—"
"Don't—Don't—I, that was just—I'll—"
The pair stuttered over each other until Nakamura edged himself out and away from the tree. Hirose was yet again left behind.
He sat under that tree for quite some time, trying to make out Nakamura through the distortions of rain as he grew further and further away. He pulled the jacket tighter around him. Everything seemed colder.
He stayed that way for some time, his headache and lethargy returning as ample excuses to stay there, staring at the river and the rain. His thoughts kept revolving back to Nakamura.
I want to do something nice for him.
Blink.
I'll do something nice for him.
I want him to feel safe around me. To talk to me about anything.
Blink.
I'll make him feel safe around me. I'll get him to open up.
I want to spend more time with Nakamura.
Blink.
I'll spend more time with Nakamura.
I want…
There was something more. Something just out of view, hidden from sight by the storm inside Hirose's head. Blink.
I want…
What did he want?