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4PM.
Akira wondered why he was still in the classroom.
It had been almost half an hour since the end of school and as most people picked up their bags and left - including Ann, whose blonde, wavy hair had looked prettier than ever that day - Akira had barely moved.
He wondered whether it was laziness or simply a lack of motivation, yet the idea of working part-time once again was somewhat displeasing; especially at the Beef Bowl Shop, which completely lacked staff but just happened to reward the highest pay. With a somewhat.. stiff boss - a man that seemed to be busy and uptight all day, there weren't many other redeeming factors about the job at all, really, and the idea of simply spending an hour there was extremely dissatisfying.
"Hey, aren't you gonna leave?"
Morgana's whiskers peeked out of Akira's bag, which lay on his lap - only as the cat began to speak did Akira remember he was there, and that he was probably feeling extreme discomfort in the small tightness of disclosed space. At least that made Akira feel bad enough to fling his bag over his shoulder and pick his ass up.
He looked around the classroom to check the surrounding faces ; no one important. He could secretly talk to his cat in peace.
"I don't feel like going to work today." He admitted, a little afraid he'd be scolded.
"Why don't you work at the flower shop today?" Morgana suggested, Akira's echoing steps following to the classroom door.
The flower shop. Truly, it was his favourite job - yet also the one that required the least help, which.. seemed to reflect Akira's attitude quite a bit.
It was a very small store, placed in Shibuya's underground mall - an exquisite scent of pretty lilacs and roses welcoming him every time, and sweet little Hanasaki-san - just like a flower herself, really.
"Can I do that?" Akira asked, not only Morgana but himself. Did the Beef Bowl shop even have anyone else? "What about the Beef Bowl place?"
"You can't be the only one working there." Akira still had his doubts.
Sliding the door open, he walked out of the classroom and headed out towards the staircase, to which his movements were so slow he wondered if he'd ever even get to Shibuya. Finding himself outside in the sullen weather, an ounce of fresh air gave him the slightest upgrade in energy.
"Hey, man."
Leaning against the walls of the school entrance, Ryuji stood, with his hands in his pockets and usual slouched posture. He seemed to have been there for a long time as he stiffly moved away from the wall, a groan and yawn escaping his mouth at the same time.
"What'er you doing for so freaking long?"
He asked, his eyes tired.
Akira walked down the steps, somewhat like a princess making her way to her prince. Yet the thought made him mentally face-palm, cringing from the comparison he'd imagined, though he felt somewhat guilty that it wasn’t entirely displeasing to him..
He cringed a little more, despite his sudden wishes to see Ryuji dressed up in a ball gown and tiara.
"Ah.. I was just.." Akira trailed off, not necessarily sure what to say. After all, he was just sitting in a classroom for god knows how long due to his lazy ass.
Ryuji seemed to understand, and began talking about his own thing that Akira had so lustly followed with endearment; about the funny enough things that had happened to him that day, whether it was the story of the 'dickheads' that had been 'spouting crap' about the ancient track team, or the humorous side of the day where Yusuke accidentally called him in the middle of class and Ryuji picked up out of surprise to find loud-speaker was on (and the sounds he heard were somewhat.. strange).
"Man.. that guy."
Akira almost asked, 'What about him?' Yet he stopped himself because it would be too.. too invading. And Morgana's presence would have increased the awkwardness, and the stillness of the air that seemed to appear whenever they conveyed their lust.
It wasn't necessarily uncomfortable - at least not for Akira, but rather tense. It was also beginning to become more common - that their desires were becoming more daring and frequent, like it truly was something and not another version of a 'one night stand'. Not that they didactivities involving the night - atleast, not yet - though their little 'incidents' were continuous.
They were not lovers. Yet Akira couldn't bring it in himself to call them 'friends', because they were not friends.
'Friends' was not defined by sweet, delicate brushes of the lips behind trees, or by long, passionate kisses and little moans of yearning by Akira's window. Friends was not defined by the tightness in their chests, shaking hands and beating hearts whenever they touched, more so if intimately. Friends was definitely not defined by Akira's love for Ryuji's pretty laughter, for his caring side which he'd made invisible, for his love and respect for his mother.. for his petty remarks, his cursing, his whining, his moaning and red cheeks.
He could never grasp it, but something about Ryuji was so endearing that he couldn't help but think he wouldn't mind spending each and every day by his side. But he felt it was an extra thing to say - almost too corny, too unnecessary, too embarrassing. Too much like a confession, which he wasn't ready to give.
'Lovers' fit their complex relationship like nothing else, yet it wasn't 'lovers' if it was unrequited. Because for all Akira could know, to Ryuji it could just be 'exploration' of sexuality.
He could never know, and never really be sure of his assumptions.
Because one night Ryuji could pour all his heart into his kisses; into his smile, yet the next day he would enthusiastically show his interest in a woman.
No matter what they did, they would never speak about it the next day; like it didn't mean anything - and the next time it happened, they enjoyed the moment before wiping it out completely. So perhaps, to others it would seem like.. friends with benefits, maybe? Although the term really didn't feel right to Akira.
He wanted to ask him, more than anything, how he truly felt. But it was too hard. He was daring, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to do it. And the fact that Morgana had no idea made it even worse, because he didn't have that encouragement or that push to just do it.
"So, wanna go hang out somewhere?"
Ryuji suddenly questioned as they strolled to the station's escalators, Akira walking onto a step first, and Ryuji behind him.
"Sorry. I have work." Akira responded, quietly. Ouch.
"Aw, man, come on. You're always working after school." Ryuji whined, huffing as his hands hid in his pockets.
Akira wasn't sure how to respond. It wasn't exactly true he always worked after school, just most days.
"We never go out anymore, yaknow? I'm kinda missing you."
Stop. Comments like that made his fingers tingle, and he wasn't sure whether it was the pain of not knowing Ryuji's true intentions or because he wanted to kiss him right then and there.
"Sorry." Akira apologised again. "I can see you on Sunday."
Ryuji began to scratch the back of his head, elbow in the air as he looked to the side with a slight frown. "Sorry, man. I'm going out with my mom.. I promised her already."
So their fate was forsaken. Akira's head began to ache.
"I guess I'll just see you at school, then." Ryuji muttered, his eyes averted elsewhere as they made their way to the train. It almost pained Akira, physically, as the realisation of their departure became clearer. He didn't want their mutual desires to fade away, even if Ryuji's didn't contain true feelings - even if he was only being used for experimentation. There was a side of him that saw Ryuji as trustworthy, enough to believe he wouldn't let him down and cast aside their secret, yet a side of him also believed it would fade if it wasn't constantly recurrent.
Yet most of all, he was saddened that he wouldn't see Ryuji as often as he wished to. Because even if they didn't have a somewhat complex relationship between them - even if it was pure friendship without a single desirable thought - he would still wish to see Ryuji the same.
As a friend, lover, or anything else, he meant more to Akira than he could imagine.
But it mystified his thoughts, that Ryuji genuinely looked downcast from what he had perceived of his own comment.
Had Ryuji felt similarly?
Their journey on the train had remained in silence, Morgana not necessarily being of any help as he couldn't add any words to ease the atmosphere. In fact, Akira assumed he may have been asleep from the rare stillness in his bag.
It had been a while before the doors opened at Shibuya's station, both of them stepping out through the regular crowds of people and stopping in their tracks to stand opposite each other, awkwardly. Ryuji scratched his cheek with his finger, gazing to the side.
"So, I'll see you tomorrow, huh?" He said, his voice somewhat huffy.
Akira nodded. "Yeah, I'll see you."
"Don't work too hard, man." Ryuji responded, before hiding his hands in his pockets once again and slowly walking away to the stairs that led up to the Central Square of Shibuya.
Akira sighed, beginning to make his way towards the underground mall, in which Ann often liked to shop. It wasn't necessarily as busy as always, yet the buzz of noise had seemed the same. He was glad he could easily make his way through without pushing and tons of physical contact, so he didn't complain.
Walking through to the corner of the mall area, he met eyes with pretty, small Hanasaki-san, who had been readying a bouquet of orange roses for an elder lady, perhaps to give to a loved one.
"Have you come to work, Kurusu-kun?" Hanasaki asked, politely, as Akira stood by the flower pots of greenery and variety of pigment; his chest still a little uneasy from his encounter with Ryuji.
Akira nodded and she smiled in response. "Your apron is at the back - would you mind putting together some orders for me?"
He did as he was told, as always, at this little flower shop which had limited customers and an aesthetic environment. With Morgana at the top shelf, laying down with his tail in the air and chin on his paws as he watched Akira work, it would have felt peaceful. And in a sense, it definitely did, yet forgetting the heavy atmosphere he held with Ryuji was somewhat difficult.
He knew things would be okay when he saw Ryuji in the morning the next day, but those few minutes weren't enough to patch up their absence from each other. There was nothing Akira could truly do, because he couldn't get out of work, and Ryuji couldn't give up his family time nor meet up at ridiculous hours before their midterm exams. And it made Akira wonder whether he'd go crazy from it - from not seeing the guy that was neither his friend nor lover, yet someone that held such large importance to him.
He hadn't realised as he held a scarlet rose, that his fingers were aching from the unnoticed prickling of the thorns, to which the slightest signs of burgundy blood dripped down his thumb.
Wiping it with a tissue he'd found in his pocket, he tried to focus his mind on the floral designs he was working on.
And some hours had passed - more than Akira thought. In fact, he had been working way overtime - not that it was necessarily a problem, but more so a surprise. Morgana seemed to be whining a little from boredom and Akira, himself, was exhausted. He figured he'd stop by the diner, or perhaps Big Bang Burger since he was starving.
Yet as he pulled his green apron off his waist and hung it on the wall, a small glimpse at the ravishing plants he loved gave him a second thought.
"You've worked hard today, so I'll give you extra!" Hanasaki exclaimed, an envelope placed in her dirtied hands for Akira to accept.
"Actually, can I.. ask for something else instead?" It sounded a little idiotic - the way he had phrased it - and Hanasaki tilted her head with furrowed eyebrows in confusion. "Can I take these?"
He asked, pointing to a bouquet at the right end of a row, one which he'd prepared himself at the beginning of his shift. The soft pastel pink of the outer petals with an intensified colour in its inner centre - the exotic greens of the small leaves at the sides; it was a gorgeous bouquet of azalea flowers. It was strange, yet they had specifically caught his attention, and Akira was in awe when he realised he was the one to create such a beautiful blossom of flowers.
In fact, they were specified for a delivery - and his fondness of them had almost caused him to forget.
"Oh, they were for a delivery- never mind." He quickly spoke, attempting to get rid of the awkwardness he'd created.
Hanasaki shook her head, "It's okay. You can take them."
Akira raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure? But they were for-"
"Don't worry about it. Take them." She replied, her eyes smiling as she forcefully took his hand and placed the envelope within his grip. "Come to work again, Kurusu-kun."
With a polite nod and slight bow to express his gratitude, Akira placed his bag on his shoulder once again and walked out of the flower shop with a bouquet in his bruised hands - Morgana's constant "What'd you take them for?" ringing in his ears as he left the train station.
He'd headed towards a neighbourhood, one that he'd been to before, though not many times.
It was rather windy and he had one hand to try and hug himself as goosebumps filed the skin underneath his sleeves, each step causing vaster numbness at his cheeks and nose; it wasn't even winter, so he wondered where such a low temperature had come from. Akira heard a voice in his head; "This weather will probably affect Mementos" - as he always heard when it was dull, yet the evening sky and Morgana's silence meant it wasn't the time for it.
Stopping by the house he'd been aiming to find, his feet stood by the gate, his hand reaching into his pocket to find his phone.
Pressing his phone to his ear, he looked up at the window with a light on - it was Ryuji's room.
Within a set of seconds, he heard his voice.
"Eh, Akira? What's up?"
"Can you come out for a sec?" Akira asked, his voice quieter than he expected it to be.
"Wha- Why?"
"Come, please. It's cold."
Hearing several shuffles and a womanly voice that was most likely Ryuji's mother, fast thuds made their way down the stairs before the front door opened. Ryuji.
He was wearing that purple hoodie - the one he wore in the winter when they'd meet up to watch romance movies at the cinema. Akira almost laughed as he recalled; both of them in tears from the emotional angst and happy endings - it was something he could only do with Ryuji.
"Woah, man, what's up? What's with those-"
Before he could ask, Akira stretched his arm out, the flowers by Ryuji's chest. "They're for you."
"H-Huh?" His eyes widened, staring down at the bouquet as his cheeks began to flush a crimson red. "F-For me?!"
He gently grasped the bouquet where Akira had held it, their hands brushing through the process, Ryuji's other hand lightly covering his face to conceal the beauteous marks of cherry on his cheeks and the tip of his nose. It was silent, and Akira could have sworn that time had stopped within the comfortable atmosphere.
The weather was bitter; numbing, yet seeing Ryuji's emotional eyes forced his mind off of the goosebumps and refocused on the warmth within his chest.
"Dude.." Ryuji began again, unusually silently with his brown eyes constantly averting between the bouquet and Akira's face. "You can't just.. do this to me."
Akira raised an eyebrow. "Aren't they pretty?"
"Wha- I-I mean, yeah, I guess so.." He admitted, his nose immersing itself within the leaves, detecting the fragrant scent of the flowers. "Did you just get out of work?"
"Yeah." It was strange that the winds had stopped.
"Oh- Do you wanna come in?" Ryuji asked, his neck straightening and his eyebrows raised.
Akira scratched the back of his head, his hands feeling the softness of his own hair - he looked to the side, slightly anxious. "I.. probably have to go back now."
"Oh yeah, ya don't want Boss getting mad, huh?"
"Yeah, but-"
"Well.."
Ryuji's hand gently finding its way into the warmth of his pockets, his smiling eyes closed and the passionate colour at the apples of his cheeks complimented the pretty grin he flashed; a little chuckle escaped his lips.
"Thanks, man."
Akira, once again, could have absolutely sworn then, that Ryuji, who wasn't his lover nor his friend - resembled the petals of pink azalea, whether it was his endearing nature or the softness of his smile;
unrequited love meant nothing to him if it meant moments like this.