Chapter Text
Amami was almost absolutely certain that, no, graduation gowns are not something you just get to keep, but Ouma felt otherwise. And when Ouma felt otherwise, Amami usually felt otherwise too, even if he was lying about it. Ouma had taught him that lying can be a beautiful thing. It’s like opening Pandora’s box and finding just a shit ton of money. So, even if Amami didn’t necessarily agree with Ouma purloining school property, that didn’t mean he was against seeing where a little thievery would take them.
They sat in their silken gowns inside of the dinky, red car that still wasn’t technically theirs. High school was full of formalities, technicalities, and general impracticalities, so why sweat the small stuff now that they’ve graduated? The small stuff being: the red car that they’ve used as a party bus far too many times.
Months had passed since spring break. Months full of sleepovers and awkwardness and dates and misunderstandings. Yet, they were months full of each other, which was more than either of them could have ever asked for.
Ouma and Amami both looked out the windows of the car, not saying anything. What should’ve been this joyous time for them felt painfully bittersweet. It reminded Ouma of the weird candies you get on Halloween, all wrapped up to look like fruit.
“What’s on your mind?” Amami asked. Ah, leave it to Amami-chan to figure me out, Ouma fondly thought.
Thinking back to their impromptu therapy sessions in which Amami would patiently wait for Ouma to open up to him, Ouma turned to Amami and said, “We’re fucked.”
“Why do you say that?” Amami’s voice had that pained tone to it that Ouma couldn’t stand. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, Ouma wondered. Maybe I should’ve not seemed so down all day.
Ouma rubbed his eyes, knowing he was messing up the mascara Amami had insisted on putting on him. He was too exhausted to care.
“No one else is taking a gap year,” Ouma reminded. The reality of their situation stung them both, but Amami reached for Ouma’s hand and smiled softly.
“Well, that’s cause no one else is us. It’s okay to not be doing what everyone else is.”
Their decision to take a gap year was primarily influenced by the realization that neither of them had any clue what they wanted to do with their lives. They both decided that a little time off from school was a lot better than barreling into a major or trade they knew virtually nothing about. Still, this didn’t soothe Ouma in the slightest. It felt like there was a big, red stamp, plastered across Ouma’s body that screamed failure.
Amami knew this just as well as he knew he would have to tell Ouma otherwise for many months. Because when Amami begins to feel otherwise, sometimes Ouma begins to feel otherwise too.
Ouma played with the rings on Amami’s fingers as he said, “You’ve grown up a lot.”
Amami chuckled. “You have, too. So don’t beat yourself up over the little things. You’ve come a long way.” At that, Ouma smiled for what may have been the first time all day.
The two sat in silence for a few more moments, basking in one another’s affection. Withdrawing his hand from Ouma’s, Amami excitedly started, “I know what’ll cheer you up. Let’s get Chick-fil-A. My treat.”
Ouma laughed, jumping back into his ordinary self slowly but surely. “It’s a Sunday! They’re closed on Sundays.”
“I’m well aware. But that hasn’t stopped us before, has it?” Amami started the car, placing his right hand on the back of the passenger’s seat as he looked through the car’s rear window and began backing out of their parking spot.
“You’re crazy,” Ouma remarked.
“I have you to blame for that.”
No matter where the world would take them, whether it be by a plane, by a boat, or by a rusted, red car, they both knew that everything was going to be alright because they had each other. It was always alright when they had each other.