Chapter Text
Ryuji called me cute, Daigo thought. His cheeks were glowing red as he read the last line of the letter over and over again. I bet you’re a cutie or whatever.
“Ryuji called me cute,” He then said out loud, “Ryuji called me cute!” Daigo pushed himself far back in his chair, far enough to spin away from his desk. He then began to move his legs from left to right, kicking the base of his chair until he was spinning as much as his thoughts.
He’d never been called cute by anyone other than his mother. In all twelve years Daigo has been on this good green earth, no one his age had ever thought he was cute. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, but something about it put butterflies in his stomach.
Could it be that it was Ryuji? No, of course not. Daigo didn’t like boys. At least, he didn’t think he liked boys. He’s had crushes on a girl or two before, but it had been years since he saw a girl like that. Man, fuck puberty. It does shit to your head.
Daigo rolled his chair back to his desk and laid the letter flat on his desk. He eyed the picture out of his peripheral vision, his picture, and made quick work to grab it. Daigo cleared his throat and got up, staring down at the square image of his Kansai friend before deciding to take it with him. If anything, Ryuji was the cute one. Well, handsome might be a better suited word, but nonetheless, Daigo thought he was attractive. What the fuck was happening.
Daigo shook his head in a weak attempt to clear his mind before walking down the hall, glancing down at the picture in his hand every so often. Maybe one day it’ll be the real Ryuji next to me, and not just some stupid picture, Daigo thought.
He figured he’d check the photo albums in the living room first. His mom kept a shelf next to the far wall full of scrapbooks and framed photographs, as if a family of three would need so many photos taken. Daigo figured that since he was his mother’s only son - her only child - she liked to keep tabs on him as he aged. Finding a picture to send to Ryuji may be easier than Daigo thought.
He went right to work pulling out albums and idly flipping through their pages. He propped the picture up against an empty frame as a constant reminder of what the it looked like, but unfortunately Daigo didn’t have many that matched. Most of the pictures were of him and his parents and he didn’t want to send a family photo away; those were his mother’s favorites.
He’d been flipping through albums for a long while before he finally found a picture he liked. It was his first day of sixth grade, and it was similar to the one Ryuji sent. Backpack in hand, his normal shorts with his shirt tucked in, all of it. He was even smiling in this picture, though it looked forced. Oh yeah, that’s right. Mom said she wouldn’t take the picture unless I smiled.
Fuck it, Daigo shrugged. This’ll do.
Daigo slid the picture out of its clear pocket and held it in both hands. Do all parents take pictures of their kids on the first day of school? Why? This picture would have never seen the light of day again if it wasn’t for Daigo’s pen pal relationship. Friendship.
He moved the picture to one hand and picked up the photo of Ryuji in his other. Now that he thought about it, his was about the same size too.
Would it be weird if he framed this picture? Yes, of course it’d be weird. His mom would ask about it and she might tell his dad. His dad might look into Ryuji’s background and realize he has ties to the Omi. The rest would be history. That would be the end of Daigo’s best friendship.
Yet here Daigo was, carefully positioning the picture in its new home. He’d keep it on his desk and say he took it at school as a project. He would sit at his desk much more if he had a picture of his best friend there waiting for him. He figured Ryuji would keep the picture Daigo planned to send at the bottom of a drawer, but he didn’t care. How would Ryuji even find out that Daigo had framed his present? He’d never knew. Daigo could get away with it.
Butterflies emerged in Daigo’s stomach when he returned to his room. He positioned the frame on the corner of his desk, and turned it so he could have the clearest possible view from his chair. With his Kansai companion staring at him, he took out a pen and paper.
It was his turn.
Ryu-kun,
What took you so long??? I haven’t heard from you in a month, maybe more. Did your letter get lost in the mail? You could’ve died since I sent my last letter and I never would have known. Don’t worry me like that next time.
Daigo huffed as he dotted the period on the last sentence. He didn’t like to think too hard about Ryuji dying; it was just a simple joke. That’s all.
I got your picture. You don’t look anything like I thought you would. I was picturing someone who looked like me or any other student at school, but that’s not what I got at all, is it? I’ve never seen someone who looks like you before, not that that’s a bad thing…
Daigo cleared his throat as a rosy color dusted his cheeks. He read and reread his new lines, and for a moment he considered starting over. Ryuji would probably think it’s something weird to say, especially coming from another boy. Then again, Ryuji blatantly said he was sure Daigo was cute, so what’s wrong with playing along?
Well, I guess I’ve seen people like that in movies. Do you like American films? Is that why your hair is blond? Are you a movie star? You could probably get away with it if you wanted to. I’d watch movies if you were in them. I like video games more, honestly. I’m really good at the UFO Catcher in the arcade I live near. I get all the best prizes without wasting a ton of money.
Sometimes the UFO Catcher gets boring, though. But I guess it’s not all bad, since I picked up on something different and more exciting: Beatmania. It’s a rhythm game where you press fake piano keys and spin a fake turntable while the machine plays music. You have to time your fingers to the beat of the song, and it’s pretty damn hard. I’ll admit that the first time I tried it, I sucked ass. It didn’t help that there was a group of high school boys surrounding me while I ate shit. Whatever. I’m gonna get so damn good at that game, hell, I’ll get good at a ton of rhythm games. I’m also gonna live longer than them, so once they’re dead they’re gonna be turning in their graves over how good I’ll be. I hope you’ll cheer me on.
Daigo couldn’t hide the smirk that arose as he was telling the tale of his developing bass addiction. Did they have a Beatmania machine in Kansai? Daigo hoped they did. He wanted Ryuji to know what he was talking about. If he didn’t, Daigo had just painted himself as a total nerd.
Anyway, I have a picture for you, just as you asked. It’s similar to the one I got from you so if you thought yours was good enough to send, then I guess this one is good enough for me. My mom takes a ton of pictures of me. I don’t know why. Film is expensive and those pictures are just gonna sit on the shelves forever. Adults are confusing.
Daigo took one last look at the picture of himself. This one is good enough for me. I hope it’ll be good enough for you, too, Ryu-kun. He nodded once before pulling open a drawer on his desk, and he went to work flipping through its contents before finally pulling out an envelope. He dropped the photo into the pocket and set it aside, careful not to bend or fold it already. Who knows what would happen in transit.
I think that’s all I have to say for now, my life isn’t nearly as interesting as yours. Oh yeah, quick question: you’re going into the yakuza when you’re older, right? Do you know what you want your ink to be? I haven’t put much thought into my tattoo yet, but it’s something I like thinking about sometimes. Some of my dad’s boys have some really cool ones. I think whatever you pick will suit you really well. That’s how cool you are.
By the way, do any girls like you? If I was a girl, I’d probably like you. I mean, I already like you, but... you know what I mean. Don’t get the wrong idea or anything!!
Smooth. Daigo groaned and dragged his hands down his face. He was awkward even on paper. Oh-fucking-well. He wasn’t going to erase it. He’d grit his teeth and bear the embarrassment that would come with Ryuji’s next letter. Better to just end it here than continue talking like an idiot.
Anyway, maybe since we’ll both be yakuza someday, we’ll get to meet. Be it as friends or as enemies, I’m looking forward to the day I can finally put a voice to this name and face. See you around, Ryu-kun.
Daigo
Daigo leaned back in his chair and grabbed the letter off the desk, folding it clean down the middle before sliding it into the envelope. He didn’t bother proofreading it or making sure his handwriting was legible; he’d written some pretty embarrassing stuff, and he didn’t want to relive the horror of reading his own writing.
For now, Daigo scribbled Ryuji’s address on the center of the envelope and his return address on the top left corner. He’d ask his mom for a stamp and send it out the next morning before school.
Today had been an emotional rollercoaster. He thought he felt something different than just friendly admiration when he thought of his friend in Kansai, and perhaps it was evolving into something more. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what that “something more” was, but whatever it was, Daigo hated it and loved it at the same time.
He hated how his feelings for Ryuji were changing. He was sure Ryuji would always see him as a friend, and only a friend. Isn’t that what he wanted, though? Wasn’t he going to settle down with a girl? His mom said he was too young to be dating anyway.
He loved the butterflies in his stomach when he read Ryuji’s letter, and he loved the blush that colored his cheeks when he saw the boy’s picture for the first time.
“I... I think I like Ryuji... a little too much,” Daigo whispered. “Maybe his picture should go next to my bed.”