Archive of Our Own ^beta

"We're here," Kaneda calls out from ahead.



He disappears out of sight around the bend. There's the crunch of gravel and the sound of his motor cutting off echoes out. Tetsuo's bike is suddenly the loudest thing for miles and he self-consciously presses it faster down on Kaneda's trail.



Round the corner is a long, flat stretch of broken concrete and rubble. Tetsuo quickly cuts his own engine and wheels to where Kaneda's bike stands. It's quiet. He can hear the tick of the cooling metal, the wind singing through the lattice of broken steel and concrete, his own breathing.



Their regular haunts are never like this. It's so still. Tetsuo deliberately scuffs his boots against the ground, blows on his fingers and looks around for Kaneda.



There's a sudden dropoff and he's standing out on the lip, hands on his hips like he's a king or something, surveying his domain. The closer Tetsuo gets the more he can see, and - motherfucker is that a steep drop.



From here it's like a whole layer of Old Tokyo has been cut away, and they can see everything; the derelict skyscrapers give way to mid-rise subway lines, and the streets are invisible beneath stacks on stacks of ramshackle buildings. Old pachinko parlours and crappy cafes and tiny unstable verandas and balconies cram the uneven lines of city blocks.



For a minute the clouds break and, terrifyingly, the sun catches everything; the stories on stories below them, every windowpane and decaying neon sign and TV aerial. The whole old city is orange, and so are Tetsuo's hands and the whispy parts of Kaneda's hair.



"You plan this or something?" Tetsuo asks.



A beat. "Nah," answers Kaneda easily, "just thought this place looked cool."



He doesn't look at Tetsuo as he steps up closer.



Tetsuo's not scared of heights; the drop below is just unthinkably, unreasonably long. He huffs against the growing cold and shoves his hands in his pockets. Kaneda, enraptured, doesn't seem concerned by it. Tetsuo peers at the horizon, where a new cloud has drifted across the setting sun, and at the few brave birds that make an attempt to live in the irradiated junkyard that is the old city, and then, for lack of anything better to look at, Kaneda.



He's transfixed. The late-afternoon sunlight has moved elsewhere and the wind is beginning to bite but he lets it card through his hair and ruffle his jacket and just watches. There must be something about being up here - and Tetsuo knows there is, but the view makes him uneasy - that keeps Kaneda under this spell. It's - it's kind of beautiful, he thinks, chancing a look back across the scenery. All the little bits of light that catch on the scaffolds, on the signs and the clotheslines and shine through shattered windows and derelict curtains and pool on long-abandoned living-room floors are... a sight. Tetsuo can see all the details from up here. It's so intricate; people used to live here, have jobs and girlfriends and lives.



And now nobody goes here, just scrappy flocks of displaced pigeons, and stray dogs, and Kaneda. Kaneda, who doesn't seem at all afraid of the drop; he's just there, poised a couple steps away from the ledge just for a better view. Like he wouldn't care about falling if only for the vista on the way down. Sounds about right, with the way he rides his bike.



The clouds break again, and the whole place fills up with honey-coloured light, from the shellhole to Kaneda's perch. The view is breathtaking, and Kaneda takes a step forward, and he is going to do something dumb Tetsuo swears to God. His concern wars with his desire to avoid Kaneda inevitably calling him a pussy.

"Get away from there," he calls out.



"Nah," Kaneda calls back, singsong. "It's fine."



This idiot. Tetsuo hisses, and he hates being called on his bluff, but this is making him antsy.



"Kaneda..."



The idiot turns and grins brightly at him. "Come over here! The old city looks so cool."



Tetsuo ignores his beckoning hand. "That's dumb."



"Aww," says Kaneda, mocking, "are you scared?"



Fine. Whatever. "Fine." He doesn't move.



Kaneda stares expectantly at him, hand still outstretched theatrically. Tetsuo looks at his feet. The wind whistles through the silence that stretches between them.

Suddenly Kaneda moves and before Tetsuo can yelp he's grabbing his hand and pulling him out onto that stupid high ledge. Tetsuo freezes. Kaneda jiggles his arm.



"C'mon," he says, "it's all solid.” He points down and Tetsuo closes his eyes instead of looking. Kaneda laughs at him softly.



"Look at the view!"



Tetsuo's all the way out here, so he may as well look now before he dies. "Yeah, okay."

It's mostly the same, except maybe there are less buildings in the way. Kaneda sees something in it, though; lots of things, actually, and he points them out to Tetsuo with broad sweeps of one arm. He doesn't let go with the other, and Tetsuo doesn't either.



They huddle against the wind, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder for warmth or stability or something. He doesn't know. Kaneda gestures excitedly at crumbling buildings and expensive wrecked cars and blast-weathered porn shops and Tetsuo grounds his suppressed panic by picking at his running commentary.



"Look, look, that one was totally a strip club."



"How d'you know it wasn't just a bar? That whole block looks seedy."



"Seedier than Harukiya?"



"...Nah."

Kaneda laughs.



He points out some old apartment block with the side blown out and Tetsuo 'hmm's along to the dumb story he starts dictating about it. He's enjoying himself, at least. Tetsuo just wishes it didn't have to be on a ledge. He squeezes Kaneda's hand, kind of involuntarily, and Kaneda doesn't even stop talking, just squeezes back.

When Tetsuo looks back his ears are red. But also he's laughing, less raucous and showy like he does with the gang, kind of - softer. It's distracting, and when Kaneda's eyes flick to him he looks away.



After a bit the sun dies out and the wind rises nastily, pushing them in. Kaneda yawns theatrically and it catches; Tetsuo's only alerted to when he steps away from the ledge from the sudden sense of loss he gets when Kaneda releases his hand. It's weird, and Tetsuo quashes it and shoves it in his pocket.



They don't race home. Tetsuo rides behind, feeling tired and inexplicably warm. He's only a little bit resentful when Kaneda chides him for giving up when they're back in the garage.

-

As a rule, the Capsules ride together.



But sometimes Kaneda and Tetsuo ride out together, just by themselves. It started as racing - actually, it still is, mostly - but these days they seem to end up out on the road for any reason either of them can invent.  Kaneda tells Tetsuo he'll teach him to ride properly, and Tetsuo'll snarl at him that he knows how to ride just fine, thanks, and sooner or later they're out on the tarmac.



"C'mon," says Kaneda, now. "This is boooring." Tetsuo's surprised Kaneda can be bored by something so new and novel to him; he never goes to class. School is really more of a social occasion. He tells Kaneda this.



"Like you can talk," he says and yeah, that's fair.



"Point."



"So let's skip."



Tetsuo shrugs and gets up to follow Kaneda out of the lecture theatre. The teacher half-heartedly shouts something about leaving halfway through class after them, which Kaneda shuts the door on.



"That's better," he grins, and Tetsuo can't help how he grins back in agreement. They make for the courtyard.



You and Kaneda more and more like Yamagata and Kai recently, someone told Tetsuo the other day. He doesn't know why but it's gotten to him - he doesn't know what they meant. Dogging Kaneda's footsteps down the corridor, he has to wonder.



It doesn't help that Tetsuo doesn't know what Yamagata and Kai's deal is, either. Kai talks loud, and fast, and constantly and Yamagata, with his slow, measured patience, listens? He can kind of see that. Kaneda gleefully bullshits and Tetsuo tolerates him. He doesn't see how that dynamic has changed since day one.



Only, recently, it has.



Somehow, sometimes, when he's around Kaneda Tetsuo has this sense of vertigo. It's something different he feels in his gut, something that he has no idea how to categorise.  Sometimes when he smiles - the bright, real one, not the shitty smirk that he pulls constantly - Tetsuo feels frozen.



There's this feeling he gets around this asshole, something building in his chest that he can't quantify; something like jealousy, or frustration, or a victory rush. He feels off-balance, lost, and he doesn't like it.



"Tetsuo?" He snaps back to attention.



"Dude, you're gonna run into a wall or something if you keep staring at the floor." Kaneda is beckoning him impatiently by the front door.



It's probably best not to think about it.



"Let's get out of here," he says.



"That's more like it!" Kaneda kicks the door open triumphantly and pulls a face at the bang it makes. A teacher yells out somewhere down the hall.

Tetsuo laughs. Kaneda flips him off.

They run for it.





-

There's a huddle in the kitchen. Tetsuo regards them on his way to the fridge; a bunch of guys all crowded around the kitchen table, laughing noisily amongst themselves. Whatever they're looking at is obscured beyond their shoulders. Tetsuo doesn't care enough to look. This crowd is what he gets for getting up at midnight for a drink, he guesses. Potentially it's also what he gets for living in the same dorms as the Capsules.



"Heeey, Tetsuo!" Watanabe calls out. They're drunk, too, apparently. That figures at this hour.



Tetsuo doesn't look up from his hopeless survey of the fridge (box wine, off milk, juice boxes?). "Aren't you guys meant to be out somewhere, doing ...something?" He flaps a hand dismissively at them.



Someone boos at him and they all turn back to jeering at whatever-it-is. Tetsuo's mildly grateful; he's not gonna sleep for ages still but he doesn't wanna get roped into whatever dumb shit they're doing. He grabs his juice and goes to walk out.



Something jostles his shoulder; Tetsuo looks up to see Kaneda skidding to a stop against the doorframe. He's holding a crate of something and there's a telltale flush across his cheeks.



"Guys," he says, "I found the beer." The crate clinks as he holds it up in salute to their cheering. Tetsuo rolls his eyes and goes on his way, but -



"Hey! Wait up!" Kaneda, apparently, has just now noticed Tetsuo. "Tetsuo! Tets!"



Tetsuo glowers. "Don't call me that."



Kaneda doesn't seem like he cares. "C'mere!" he calls, way too loud for the time of night, foisting something in the air. It's - oh, of course, it's a porno mag.



"Tanaka found a hidden stash of girlie mags," Kaneda stage-whispers conspiratorially. He slings an arm around Tetsuo's shoulders. Tetsuo freezes.



He finds himself being pulled into the circle of guys around the table. Somewhere beyond just not being in the mood for this kind of shit, Tetsuo discovers, he doesn't want to be here. Let go, Kaneda, let go, he thinks furiously; Kaneda does not. His rapidly-heating face is forced into a double-page spread of half-naked girls.



"Who do you like?" Kaneda doesn't actually give him a breath to answer. Everyone shouts their responses anyways.



"The chick on the left is hottest!"



"The polka-dot bikini."



"I like the one with the leather jacket-"



"Of course you do, Takeyama!"



"The blonde, obviously," screeches Kaneda from somewhere behind him. Everyone erupts into a chorus of 'yeah's and 'nah's. Kaneda's arm is still tight around Tetsuo's shoulder.



"What, no, c'mon, clearly!" He points her out. The model is... curvy, and American, with long blonde hair and jutting hips. Long legs, thin waist. Her lips are bright candy-apple red.



Something ticks over in Tetsuo's chest.



"Tetsuo," Kaneda is shaking his shoulder, rough, uncoordinated - "man, back me up. Tell me you'd do her. I'd do her!" he raises his voice, and people whoop. The hand on his arm squeezes.



"Ugh," Tetsuo says, mostly under his breath. He moves to get out but Kaneda's arm is tight on his shoulder, trapping him. The model smiles back glassily at him.



"Tetsuooo..."



"Yeah, whatever."



Kaneda raises an accusatory eyebrow at him. "You don't like her, do you? What is wrong with you guys, man," he slumps dramatically against Tetsuo's back, "she is so hot."



He's heavy and warm, and annoying. He's so annoying. Still, Tetsuo doesn't move; half afraid he'll move away and half suffocating in the proximity. Everyone is close, tight-knit around the table and behind him and he fights a squirm of discomfort. He is not in the mood for this.



Oblivious, Kaneda asks, too-loud, "Who do you like, then?"



"I don't."



"Bullshit. Who's better than my model?"



No getting out of it, then. Tetsuo scans the page arbitrarily; the girls are all tall, too-thin, wearing next to nothing and plastic smiles. The same, the same, the same. There's a chick in the corner with short, ruffled brown hair, wearing combat boots and a spiky leather jacket. Something about her silhouette is familiar. She's frowning. Tetsuo points.



"Her."



Kaneda eyes her critically. "Really?"



The guys who were listening cheer and boo like it's sport. Tetsuo feels claustrophobic and off-colour, but he catches snippets of attaboy! and no way and but she's flat as a board.



Watanabe says, "Doesn't she kinda look like -," cut off by a punch to the arm.



Tetsuo suddenly feels sick.



"Like what?" Kaneda asks.



"Who," Takeyama supplies.



"Ooh," he turns to address Tetsuo, "like who?"



Tetsuo stares back into his shit-eating grin like a dear in the headlights. Who, he wonders inbetween the sirens going off in his head; he doesn't know either. But something about this feels - off, wrong, like a stone in the pit of his stomach, like he's about to give up a secret he didn't know he had.



Kaneda's arm, heavy around his shoulder, gives him a little shake and something in Tetsuo just - stops.



"Fuck off." He shoves out of Kaneda's grip, back out of the huddle.



"Huh?"



People stare at Tetsuo as he backs off. Kaneda looks at Tetsuo like Tetsuo's asked him to do mental algebra or something, eyes wide, lips parted. Somehow it just pisses him off more.



"Dude, what?"



But Tetsuo whirls on his heel. He's away down the corridor before he has time to hear anything else. Nobody follows him.



It takes until he's back to his room to realise he's forgotten his drink.





-

Kaneda drops his tray down across from Tetsuo.



"Mornin'.”



Tetsuo squints sceptically at him. He's wearing this massive shit-eating grin, radiating enthusiasm like it's his birthday. Tetsuo's not sure why. They haven't spoken since last night, when Tetsuo stormed off.



He guesses they're not gonna talk about that. That is okay with him.



"What're you so happy about?"



Kaneda beams. "Yamagata bet some of the Carburettor Boys they can't do the length of Route 17 under five minutes - cause he can't -"



Somewhere down the table Yamagata makes a noise of indignation.



"- which means that I getta go down there tonight and beat the record they set. For honour." He leans across the table, hands folded cheekily under his chin. "You wanna come?"



His enthusiasm bleeds across the table.



"Yeah, okay." Somehow Kaneda's smile grows wider. Tetsuo feels warm. Gross. "Maybe you'll stack in front of everyone and I can laugh at you."



Kaneda scowls comically but quickly bounces back. "You're just mad cause you can't do it either. Maybe I'll do it in three and everyone'll cheer for me."



"Keep dreaming."



"Bite me, Tets."



"Don't call me that."



The conversation lapses into a comfortable silence. Tetsuo tunes into the canteen gossip; Kai and Takeyama, next to him, are having an animated conversation about ...spoons? Kaneda picks at his nails.



Then he inspects his fringe, and fiddles with his fork, and stares intensely at the tabletop in that way that means he's trying to remember something.



"Don't think too hard," Tetsuo says, "you'll hurt yourself."



Kaneda pulls a face at him and doesn't respond. Tetsuo waits.



"...That reminds me," Kaneda says eventually, slowly, "about last night."



Tetsuo's head whips up before he can help it. He doesn't know what it was, he doesn't wanna talk about, no, no thanks.



"What was that about?"



Tetsuo isn't sure himself. Something about that feels like a confession, though, like it's giving something away. He ducks his head.



"Nothing."



In the corner of his eye Kaneda stares down at him. His gaze kind of makes Tetsuo want to shrivel up and die, which is an unpleasantly familiar feeling. Why's he the one in charge, Tetsuo thinks, why does he get to ask this.



Defiantly he raises his eyes to meet Kaneda's. "It doesn't matter. It's none of your business anyways."



Kaneda gazes back, level; for once his face, usually wholly absorbed in projecting exactly what he's thinking, is perfectly, unreadably flat. It makes Tetsuo uncomfortable. He suddenly, fervently wishes back their easy conversation from five minutes ago. Pinned under Kaneda's blank gaze Tetsuo feels transparent, see-through and weirdly guilty.



"Are you sure," says Kaneda carefully, "nothing's up?"



Something about his exactness pisses Tetsuo off. "I'm sure." Half under his breath, he mutters, bitter, "- would've been fine if you just didn't bring it up."



The dam breaks and Kaneda, scowling, gestures wildly. "I wanna know what's wrong with you! You're acting weird."



"I'm not," says Tetsuo, bristling, "fuck off."



"What was it, something about chicks?" Kaneda perks up. "You don't like my taste?"



"No, you moron," Tetsuo says, before he can stop himself, because he doesn't want to engage. He doesn't want to talk about this, at all, doesn't even wanna think about it because something churns in his gut when he thinks about Kaneda's stupid, plastic model, about Kaneda, about a few days ago, high places and warm hands, and Tetsuo tells himself it's dumb and he doesn't have time for it but he might be afraid to connect the dots.



"You don't like..." Kaneda trails off, worrying his lip with his thumb. "Wait."



The screech of Tetsuo's chair is loud across the busy canteen. He's not sticking around for this. Anxiety curls in his chest.



"Leave it, Kaneda."



But he doesn't. "Who did she look like? That chick," Kaneda is louder, getting closer, more confident. "That's what it was about, right?"



"Kaneda, leave it alone."



"No - Tetsuo, come on, what is wrong with you today? You've been weird since, like," he counts on his fingers, "since the start of this week. What's going on?"



He's loud and persistent. People are staring. Tetsuo doesn't care.



"Fucking - let it go, Kaneda! Leave me alone," it comes out more pleading than angry, not at all like Tetsuo intended and Kaneda's face falls. Tetsuo doesn't wince. "You don't have to know everything, all the time."



"I don't have to know everything? I just wanted to make sure you're okay," Kaneda's voice falls to a harsh whisper, deep and furious and Tetsuo's chest hurts, "and you won't even tell me what crawled up your ass and died!"



"It has nothing to do with you!"



"Is that so," growls Kaneda, disbelieving and venomous, "or do you think having a secret makes you-"



"It's none of your fucking business!" Tetsuo cuts him off. "I don't need your help with this, you nosy asshole."



Kaneda looks taken aback, just a little. "Tetsuo, I'm just trying to-"



"Fuck off," Tetsuo tells him, before he can finish, and storms out. His shoes scuff violently against the lino floor.





-

For a whole week he doesn't talk to Kaneda. That is - he does, in short, clipped sentences, dodging the conversation that neither one of them seems to want to have. He keeps catches himself staring at the back of Kaneda’s head and, like some kind of freaky esper, the idiot turns to look at him and Tetsuo has to look away.

He doesn't have an explanation for why. He doesn't think he could come up with one if someone asked, and it makes him inexplicably, irrationally angry. It keeps happening, though.

He answers questions yes or no, buys his own drinks and snacks, works steadily away at his private stash of capsules and ends up avoiding everyone. Because he can't bring himself to make conversation with Kaneda, can't even make eye contact. Not for lack of trying on Kaneda’s part; he keeps shooting Tetsuo these weird, undecipherable glances that make Tetsuo wonder whether he's still angry or if he's moved on to concern.

He's not sure what it is, even. Maybe that's the worst part; something's happening here, right under his nose, intangible and stubbornly defying categorisation but it's there , everything is off somehow and he’s sure it's Kaneda's fault. It's something he's said, something he's done.

Tetsuo sits alone in the back of their empty classroom - after hours, like anyone's gonna tell him to move - and pores over every interaction they've had in recent memory.



There must've been something that changed things - a throwaway line, some careless, rude gesture. Something that he forgot but internalised, some cause for this restless, frustrated whatever-Tetsuo-feels - but Tetsuo thinks about all the wrong things. He keeps coming back to that strange warm pain he felt on an old Tokyo rooftop, the nausea, like a punch to the gut, when he saw the gang huddled around the porno mag clutched in Kaneda's hands. There's this empty anger building in him, and he knows - he knows, okay, he's an angry person. He gets enough shit for it. But he just doesn't know what he's meant to do with this. Something is unaccountably wrong with, with - him, his oldest friend, with whatever's in between them.



It feels like freefall. Like plunging his bike over a gap he didn't see coming; always following Kaneda, he thinks idly. He laughs hollowly at that. It bounces off the walls and echoes obnoxiously, and he sits and listens miserably until it stops.



That evening it's not just Kaneda; everyone is giving him weird looks. He scowls at them over the tops of his drinks. What're you looking at , he thinks, catching Watanabe and Takeyama ducking away when he glances over; but he knows. He and Kaneda bicker, but they don't fight - not like this, not for a long time. This new tension between them sets the rest of the Capsules on edge.

Kaneda, apparently, is done pestering him for now. He barely even spares Tetsuo a glance, actually, too busy trading insults with the bartender and trying to goad Kai into matching him drink for drink. Tetsuo feels like he should be relieved but somehow it only sets his teeth on edge.

Despite the stares, everyone else thankfully decides to leave him the hell alone. Tetsuo holes up in a corner and the Capsules lie around talking shit, screw with the jukebox so it plays the same song seven times over, and get yelled at by the bartender. It's their standard affair.

Tetsuo's well on the way to getting quietly shitfaced when Yamagata makes his way over. He looks purposeful, deliberately even-faced, and he makes a steady beeline from his place next to Kaneda and Kai to Tetsuo. Tetsuo senses a lecture incoming; he makes his excuses and pushes past Yamagata, all but bolts outside for his bike. Like this he can probably make it home without wrecking the thing.



Yamagata, for his part, is not deterred. He steps into Tetsuo's mirror as he straddles his bike out in the lot, arms crossed, brow furrowed. Tetsuo really doesn't want to have this conversation. He keeps his gaze lowered.



"Tetsuo," Yamagata calls.



He sounds, what, disappointed? Resigned? Good. Tetsuo doesn't reply; he revs his engine and takes off for home as fast as his bike will take him.

-





The bastard keeps at it, though. He's persistent; when Tetsuo gets up the next day and goes in search of food he finds Yamagata propped against the dorm kitchen doorway, and when he goes to take his bike out Yamagata is, conveniently, already down in the garage.



"Tetsuo," he calls out, half an acknowledgement and half a summons. Tetsuo looks away. He can hear Yamagata snort derisively over the roar of his engine.



In an insane bid to escape him, Kaneda, and everyone else for good measure, Tetsuo goes to school and shows up to every class. As much as he hates the place, it does look like it's working all the way until fifth period, where he's greeted at his desk by the familiar, sorely unwelcome thud of somebody taking the seat beside him.



"Tetsuo," Yamagata says.



Tetsuo doesn't grace him with an answer.



"We've gotta talk about this."



Tetsuo stabs at the desk with his pencil.



"About what."

He's only delaying the conversation that Yamagata seems determined to make happen, but he's ready to put up against that inevitability.



"We both know-," Yamagata sounds forcefully disinterested, "whatever's.. going on with you. And Kaneda."



"Who says this has anything to do with Kaneda?" Tetsuo responds reflexively and realises, a second too late, that he's missed his opportunity to deny that there's actually anything.

Yamagata cocks his head, just barely, and raises his eyebrows. He at least pretends to pause for thought, though.



"Mmmm.." He glances up, then down. "Kaneda, actually."



The snarky rebuttal is still forming on Tetsuo's tongue when Yamagata nails him with a glare.



"Not that the rest of us haven't noticed, either."



Tetsuo avoids his gaze.



"It's none of your business." He sounds venomous to his own ears. Yamagata does a little double-take, as though he didn't quite expect the full force of Tetsuo's bitterness.

"..Tetsuo." He's softer, gentler this time.



"Don't baby me," he snaps, unable to help himself. Yamagata is unmoved.



"You're fighting, right?" It's rhetorical, and Tetsuo grudgingly grunts his assent. "It's something Kaneda did." It's usually something Kaneda's done. Yamagata, thankfully, doesn't usually feel the need to butt in; their spats never seem to run for that long.



Tetsuo doesn't feel like explaining any more; bitterly, he thinks that he might not be able to explain if he tried. But -



"Kaneda's fault," he mumbles, because it is. Even if he doesn't want to - can't - put it into words, Kaneda's done something and now everything seems different, somehow, and if he's honest it makes him want to throw up.



Yamagata just nods lightly, like it's a given that that fucking idiot would be responsible for starting any given argument. Or maybe because that's what he expects Tetsuo to reply in any case. It doesn't quite feel patronising, and Tetsuo knows Yamagata well enough to know that it could have been.

Yamagata gazes levelly at him.



"I don't think," he says, "that Kaneda actually knows what he did." It's impossible to tell whether he's passing judgement on him or Kaneda; he looks so effortlessly neutral it sets Tetsuo's teeth on edge.



"Sounds about right," Tetsuo huffs, like he doesn't care, and Yamagata lets him have it.



"You should tell him," and when Tetsuo recoils, he changes tack - "or find a way for him to make up for it, then. If you're not gonna drop it."



Tetsuo's not sure he can just drop it. He's gone further than anger, now, he thinks; there's something shameful in the root of this argument that he doesn't want to admit to by giving in. This thing, this - whatever, growing between them, it's getting on his nerves.

Maybe half of him wants to drop it. But - Tetsuo keeps noticing things he shouldn't, he doesn't care about; he keeps getting angry at things that make no sense to him, finding reasons to avoid Kaneda, to prolong the fight, keeps feeling hollow and choked and weird all the fucking time for no good reason.



And how can Kaneda make it up, Tetsuo almost wants to ask, when he doesn't even know what he's doing? When neither of them do? How is Tetsuo supposed to explain this to him?



He doesn't put this to Yamagata. He just stares angrily at his desk and hopes that Yamagata, whatever his damage is in this equation, is done now.



"He wants to make up, you know." Yamagata is quieter now. "He's kind of miserable. You should see him moping around the garage." It's phrased like a joke but it's soft and serious, and Tetsuo feels a stab of guilt.



"Great," he chokes out sardonically, and presses his palms against his eyes. This wasn't what he intended, not at all. Fucking Kaneda.



From the corner of his eye Yamagata sends him a concerned glance. Guess he didn't expect it to be this hard, then.



To his credit, though, he claps a hand over Tetsuo's shoulder and doesn't leave.





-

"We're going to Harukiya," Kai tells him. He looks about a second away from clamping down on his arm and frog-marching him there anyway, so Tetsuo agrees. It's as good an idea as any.



The gang has been all antsy this week, tiptoeing around Tetsuo and, he guesses, Kaneda like they'll rip their arms off or something. So far it's been his tipoff he probably shouldn't get hammered like he sorely, desperately wishes he could.

And Yamagata still seems determined to stop Tetsuo from exiling himself out of rage or guilt or whatever, and Tetsuo’s not gonna make himself vulnerable to his interrogation. And he's been a little shit recently - as only Yamagata's brave enough to put it - and the Capsules are probably sick of this weird gulf that's split between them. And, he once watched them lock Kai and Yamagata in a storage closet until they sorted out a two-week-long feud over Kai’s Shonen Jump from last month. Tetsuo doesn't want to share that fate.



And still he fiercely, bitterly needs a way to just escape the entire terrible mess that has been the last week or so.



So -

"Let's go get fucked up," he encourages a subdued-looking Kai, who immediately perks up and grins darkly at him.



"Let's," he agrees.

-

Tetsuo tries to make for his corner of the bar, where he plans to ignore everyone and get moderately shitfaced, but Kai, bouncing on his heels, steers him back around to everyone else. He takes the seat next to Tetsuo. Tetsuo scowls at him, but he pays no mind. Great; now it doesn't work on anyone who matters, anyways. Not even Kai's afraid of him.



He frowns, even if Kai’s not paying attention anymore, and downs the drink that's appeared in front of him. Kai does the same, and Tetsuo weighs the merits of free booze against the price of being sociable.



Kaneda and Yamagata file in with the rest of the stragglers. Tetsuo ducks his head; in the corner of his eye they plop down along the bar. Yamagata shoots him a significant glance; Tetsuo's regular corner suddenly seems shadier, comfier, and forlornly empty.



He can feel the tension rippling through the space between them - the whole gang, not just the four of them - so he stays put, though. He resists the urge to squirm in his seat. Perhaps it's his imagination, but it seems as though the rest of the Capsules are watching them, like they're ready to bolt. Everyone is so edgy tonight.



Things pick up, though. (The booze helps). Kai chatters away more at Tetsuo than to him; Tetsuo grunts yeah and no and that's stupid, and gives up trying to convince himself not to drink everything Kai plies him with. Being around people isn't so bad if it's just gonna be Kai; being around Kai isn't so bad if he's gonna be drunk.  



Kai's overenthusiastically telling Tetsuo about this awesome cinema he got kicked out of last week when Yamagata and, oh god, Kaneda, make their way over.



"No, dude, it was so fancy, you don't understand," Kai's saying. Tetsuo stares blankly at his wild gesticulations. The bar is packed and the doors are blocked; there's no elegant way out of this one.



"It had -" Yamagata claps his hand over Kai's shoulder. Kai seems unperturbed.



"It had heated seats," he swivels to inform Yamagata. "And they reclined, all of them. It was wicked."



Yamagata, who has no idea what Kai's talking about, nods sagely. He shoots Tetsuo some kind of loaded frown - Tetsuo doesn't get it - and takes a seat.



As Kai babbles away happily to his new audience Kaneda quietly takes the seat on Tetsuo's other side. It’s unnerving for a lot of reasons. He feels like he's holding his breath.

And Kaneda, loud, boisterous, asshole Kaneda, doesn't even say anything to him, he just... sits there. It's weird and off and it runs against everything Tetsuo knows of Kaneda, from his irrepressibly loud mouth to his ridiculous red jacket, pulled all the wrong ways across his hunched shoulders, and maybe Tetsuo should have eaten before he started drinking cause there's this pit in his stomach that won't go away.



He ducks his head; Kaneda waves down the bartender. It's - awkward, but Tetsuo doesn't know what to say to him. He's gotten the message about Tetsuo not wanting to talk to him loud and clear, he guesses.

This was a shitty idea, he thinks impulsively, this whole thing, but when he glances back the lines of Kaneda's back, hunched and tense over the bar, tell him they can't just pretend nothing has happened. The thought of talking about whatever-it-is fills him with the same mix of trepidation-anger-dread that hit him back in the dorm kitchen, when they were crowded round that magazine. He kinda wants to throw up.



They must both sit there, pretending the other doesn't exist and listening to Kai and Yamagata go on, for ages. Kaneda gets everyone the next round and Tetsuo stares contemplatively into what's probably vodka and lemonade and quietly gets progressively drunker and more miserable. With some effort he doesn't look up. He assumes Kaneda's doing the same.



The four of them, they're never, ever this quiet. Not at Harukiya or anywhere else. It's meant to be Yamagata who’s the stoic one, playing the straightman for Kai instead of watching him single-handedly struggle to keep the conversation alive. Kaneda being a dick, and Tetsuo ignoring him. And it’s changed because of Kaneda, Tetsuo tells himself, something he did, but-



Tetsuo stares blearily at his reflection on the greasy bar countertop. He stares at Kaneda's.



- he's so weirdly subdued, so quiet that Tetsuo almost kinda wonders if this is his fault after all.



Yamagata snaps him out of it.



"Come on, sadsacks," he jeers, "let's do something fun." Beside him Kaneda perks up, wide-eyed. He shoots Yamagata what probably qualifies as a Significant Look. Tetsuo kind of wonders what that's about but everything's already a little fuzzy, and also, Kai is ordering shots.



He scoots over to where the alcohol promises to be, leaving Kaneda and Yamagata to their important eye-contact-conversation-thing.



"Yamagata thinks he can outdrink all of us," Kai explains when Tetsuo shuffles up beside him. Tetsuo laughs. Yamagata's lightweight-ness has been scientifically proven.



"Right?" says Kai. “He’s gonna -”

"Fine," says Kaneda from a couple seats over, too loud. It kinda makes Tetsuo's head hurt. Yamagata looks uncertain - which figures, he should be - and Kaneda's mouth is an angry line. That doesn't figure. He looks almost pissed, and while Tetsuo gets it, the implication Yamagata could outdrink him is insulting, something doesn't quite add up.



Kaneda plonks down on the stool next to him, though, so whatever. Tetsuo has a competition to win.

-

Yamagata, unsurprisingly, bows out after about two shots and Tetsuo and Kai unsteadily jeer him out all the way to the bathroom. Kaneda's next, kinda weirdly early because if it was a competition, he'd be... the second most competitive person Tetsuo knows. Maybe it's because he's all sad now? Tetsuo doesn't like that, he decides. Who is he gonna compete with?



"Me," says Kai, very loud and a little perplexed. "I think he's okay."



Tetsuo wonders about that but then Kai takes a shot and it's his turn again. Everyone else sucks. He's gonna win this.





-





Tetsuo wins. Everything is too loud and blurry and okay, so, maybe he got drunker than he meant to but it's fine because he won. He proved his point. He did it.



"Y'sure did," slurs Kai, more leaning on Tetsuo's shoulder than supporting it. He kinda sounds like he's laughing at Tetsuo but everything is too loud to tell. The world is fuzzy and warm and his head is really starting to hurt but it's worth it.



"Worth it," he tells Kai. Kai nods solemnly.



They struggle up the narrow staircase and away from all the noise. It's really dark out.



"Did we put our bikes n th' alley," Tetsuo asks, before realising that they might be too drunk to ride and he doesn't wanna crash, he can't afford new parts. Kai doesn't respond anyways. His nose is all scrunched up and he's staring very hard at his feet like walking is taking up all his effort. Tetsuo can relate.



Kai trips, or maybe Tetsuo does - there's a bump and then the ground is very close, swimming up to meet him. He doesn't fall. Weird.



Suddenly he's being hauled upwards and oh, hey. It's Yamagata. Tetsuo kind of thought he left, or maybe he forgot.



"Hey," he mumbles. Yamagata does the eyebrow thing. He's always pissed, whatever. Tetsuo squints at him but it doesn't matter, he's not paying attention anymore.



"Kai," he calls out, "c'mon." Kai groans. "You weren't supposed to get drunk too," he says, quieter, when Kai catches up. He sounds exasperated.



"Eh," declares Kai.



Tetsuo is very confused.



"Wha -" Yamagata pulls on his collar and he stumbles. "Hey!"



They round the corner into the alley, where hey, they did put the bikes, aaand there's Kaneda. Isn't he meant to be gone too?



"Arn' you menna be -" Tetsuo stops. Squints. "You can' ride! You're drunk!"



"I'm not," says Kaneda. He sounds angry. Something about this is wrong. Everything looks kind of wonky though, and Tetsuo's fighting off the urge to throw up, so it's hard to tell.



Yamagata takes Kai further away. Kaneda takes a step closer. "I'm not an idiot," he says. Like that explains anything. Tetsuo can feel his face pulling into a scowl.


"What're you-" Kaneda grabs him by his shoulders and shoves him sideways onto the seat of his bike.



"Talk."



Tetsuo doesn't like any of this. "Wha th'fuck is goin on?"



"You," Kaneda folds his arms against his chest, "won't talk to me. You won't tell me why. You won't even look at me." He punctuates his sentence with a glare and oh, maybe he's right, Tetsuo feels wrong looking him in the eyes. He can't figure why.



"...You were'n talkin to me," Tetsuo mumbles. Something is burning in his chest.



"I fuckin' tried!" Kaneda snaps. "I tried to ask you what was going on with you. I tried asking the others. Nobody," he snarls, voice rising, "knows what the fuck your problem is, and it's been almost two weeks."



Tetsuo can feel the tension curling in the air, something ugly and uneasy. Everything is too loud, the flicker of the streetlights, his heartbeat, Kaneda's foot tapping on the pavement. "Dunno," he says, quietly. It feels like an admission.



"Tetsuo, what - "



"Why w'you sad?" Tetsuo asks. Suddenly it seems urgent.



"I - that has nothing to do with the -" Kaneda takes a deep, angry breath. "I was faking. It's easier to be quiet around Kai and Yamagata." Tetsuo wonders why he would - there's something about this that's not clicking into place, something more. He doesn't get it. Until -



"You, you got me drunk so I'd tell you."



Kaneda almost looks relieved. Or scared, or something. "I needed a way to make you talk to me."



What the fuck.



"Tha- that's dirty! You can't fuckin' do that," Tetsuo is losing control of his voice, "you unbelievable asshole!"



Kaneda looks away.



"You can't do that," Tetsuo repeats. "I can't - wha th' shit am I meant to do?" Suddenly he is fiercely, uncontrollably angry. "Why do you gotta control everything?"



"Tetsuo-"



"Why do you gotta control me?! What, you can't get me to fess up whatever you wanna know, so you're jus' gonna get me drunk?" Tetsuo is yelling, now, breathing hard and fast. "That's just no big deal t'you. Why don't I get to keep one, one fucking secret?"



He breathes in sharply. There's a silence.



"Tetsuo," Kaneda begins.



"Hah."



Suddenly there's a hand on his shoulder, half-pushing, half-pulling. His grip is too tight. Tetsuo goes to shove him off, but he starts talking again, fast and shaky.



"I was sad." It comes out in a rush. "I mean - I wasn't faking. Not a hundred percent."



Tetsuo stares at him. What is that supposed to mean? Some small part of his conscience that says that’s right struggles against the drunker, angrier rest of it.

Kaneda laughs a little, hollow and mirthless, like he does when he's trying to act casual in front of cops. "I got you drunk, because I needed to - talk to you. Find out what was wrong." It comes out in a rush. "Because you weren't talking to me, you, you disappeared and I did something and I don't know what it was! I just wanna know what I did."

He raises his hands like a gesture of surrender. He’s breathing hard, staring at the ground, but slowly, surely, he raises his head to meet Tetsuo’s eyes. Tetsuo
holds his gaze; something unnameable crawls up his throat and fixes him exactly where he is. Kaneda looks desperate.

"- because I did something wrong and I hurt you and I need to know how to fix it!" It all tumbles out at once.



Tetsuo stares. Kaneda stares back, stock-still like he's admitted something terrible. He cups his hands over the bridge of his nose, slumps back. The tips of his ears are red.



The tension draws slack and Tetsuo feels - he's still pissed, but Kaneda's shoulders are drooping and he's almost bowing, drawn back, and he just looks miserable in a way that Tetsuo can relate to more than he'd like after the past little bit. Suddenly, he's very tired.



He sighs.



"Can we just go home?"



Kaneda's shoulders do a little hiccup. Something flips in Tetsuo's stomach. He doesn't look up. "This is important."



"Just let it go."



"Will you, though?"



That - Tetsuo doesn't know. He's starting to get this idea and he really doesn't like it. Maybe - if he just ignores it, if they both just ignore it, it'll be fine.



"...Yeah. Whatever."



Kaneda looks up at him, frowning. "Are you gonna stop avoiding everyone?" His voice pitches down on 'everyone' and Tetsuo knows he means 'me', and feels awful.



"Look, I'll sort it."



Kaneda bites his lip and frowns. He looks like he doesn't believe Tetsuo.



"Drive me home," Tetsuo says. He's tired. He just wants this to end. All of it, the whole thing.



He guesses he's kind of screwed it up beyond that point.



Kaneda doesn't say anything; he just fishes out his keys and gestures at the seat behind him.



Kaneda's jacket is tacky against Tetsuo, and his back is warm, and the bike purrs under them in a way that's always seemed like a challenge and sometimes now, occasionally, like a reassurance. Neo-Tokyo flashes by, in and out of focus. Tetsuo determinedly doesn't hold tighter to Kaneda's waist, and tries not to fall asleep.





-





He lies awake in his bed, covers pooled around his feet. His fan runs at full blast, shuddering back and forth, catching on the edge of the curtains every half-cycle and making them billow in and out, and Tetsuo stares at them and doesn't try to sleep and still, somehow, feels strangely, sickly warm in his chest. His vision blurs in a slurry of insomnia and tipsiness and bone-sinking exhaustion built up over more than just tonight.

In, out, in, out, the curtains blow.

It’s been hours.

The phantom press of heat on his forearms, of a back against his chest, persists. Tetsuo feels like he's been leaning on a radiator.

-

He wakes at twelve to the midday sunlight baking a stripe across his face and the groggy dread that accompanies the realisation he's fallen asleep without realising, and now he has to face the day on something like four hours of sleep. He doesn't even pretend to prepare for school; after last night nobody else'll be going, anyway.



Tetsuo's not surprised, somehow, when he can't find either Kai or Yamagata hanging around. In fact, though, everyone seems to be out. Watanabe, the only person Tetsuo finds in the dorm kitchens, tells him Kaneda's in the garage before he even can ask.



Of course he is. Tetsuo’s bike is still in an alley somewhere behind Harukiya, so he accepts his fate and goes to find him.



He's leaning on his bike, exactly where Watanabe said he would be, lighting a smoke. Tetsuo's boots scuff the concrete as greeting; he looks up and puts it out with his foot. They eye each other wearily.

Kaneda doesn't smile. "C'mon," he says, hiking a thumb at the bike.



They ride back in silence.

-

The Harukiya bar sign is out; a few buildings down Kaneda wheels his bike around a corner and Tetsuo gets off, gropes at his pocket for keys for something to do with his hands. Leaning to start his own bike's engine he suddenly, vividly recalls last night: being pushed back against this same saddle, Kaneda's hands curled too-tight around his shoulders.



Kaneda is not looking his way. He ducks his head.



As his engine roars to life, Tetsuo notices Kaneda fish out his goggles. Suspicion instantly settles in his gut; they shouldn't be going far or fast enough to need them on the way back. Kaneda catches his eye.

"Follow me," he calls.



Tetsuo is so tired of this crap. "Why," he yells back, turning off his engine again.



Kaneda's mouth twists unhappily. "They're meant to be doing dorm checks," he explains without inflection, "everyone's gonna be out until five."



The tension unwinds from Tetsuo's stomach, leaving something dark and heavy. Kaneda looks away and he looks down, turns on his bike again. They don't say anything. Kaneda peals out of the alley and Tetsuo follows close behind.





-





Kaneda leads.



Kaneda always, always leads, and Tetsuo follows him as he jumps barricades and drifts round corners and guns his bike till it starts to shake up the 17 towards the old city. Tetsuo's ride is not his; not yet, anyways, and it shudders over the jumps and groans in protest when he pushes it over 90. Kaneda's had his for a long, long time. It's older than some friends and Tetsuo's is always a new one, a stand-in, an easy job after he'd totalled the last.



Often they'll shout taunts and goad each other on down this long, flat stretch; no obstacles, no distractions.



Kaneda is silent and his bike roars into the open as he speeds further ahead. His hair is buffeted by the wind, the strap of his goggles bounces against the side of his head. Tetsuo can't see the look on his face. He tells himself he doesn't care.



His bike whines and rattles but he pushes it up, further, further, until the rush of the wind stings at his cheeks and drowns out everything else. He pulls even.



There's a flash of - something - on Kaneda's face, but when he looks over at Tetsuo, it blanks back into a sharp, easy grin. Familiar. He nudges his bike up ahead, Tetsuo fills the gap and they race.



He hasn't got anything to prove, but just this once Tetsuo'd like to win.





-





Kaneda swerves onto a sidestreet, slowing, and pulls up under some dilapidated overpass. His motor cuts out with a thunk and Tetsuo, shaken out of his stupor, does the same.

The goggles come off. Tetsuo's legs shake - just slightly - when he steps off the bike and he catches himself before he trips. Kaneda laughs.

"What."

"Nothin'." Tetsuo shoots him a dirty look. "I just totally thought I was gonna lose that time. Seriously."

Like it's unthinkable that Tetsuo'd win anyway. He's won before. He's won plenty of times, leaving Kaneda swearing and biting the dust and buying his rounds and cigarettes. Tetsuo can feel his shitty mood getting worse but he doesn't really care to try improve it. He doesn't say anything.



There's a pile of cinderblocks next to one wall. Kaneda crouches next to them. "Have you been to this place before?"

Tetsuo shakes his head.

"Takeyama n' Yamagata used to use this place as a hideout before they cordoned it off to do something," Kaneda screws up his face, "dunno, surveying for radiation. They took me here once."

"Seems fine now."

Kaneda laughs and kicks at a cinderblock. "I hope so."

Their voices echo in the short tunnel. The old city is quiet around them.



Tetsuo takes a seat on the stack of blocks. "Is anyone else coming?"

"Here? Dunno." Sounds about right. Tetsuo guesses Kaneda figures he's skittish enough to run, right now, if he mentioned the others wouldn't be coming. It pisses him off. He's not a china doll, for fucks' sakes.

But Kaneda's looking at him. "That's fine, right?"

"S'fine."

"We've only got till five, anyways."

Tetsuo looks away.



They sit side-by-side on the cinderblocks for a long time. The silence is heavy but not awkward; the low ambience of the old city settles in the gaps. Tetsuo picks at the seams of his gloves. Kaneda's hands twitch for want of a cigarette but he has none, and neither of them have a lighter. He kicks his legs.

From Tetsuo's side of the overpass he can see the broken towers of two old-Tokyo skyscrapers, off in the distance. This secret place is in the lower part of the city, in the bits off the highway where adventurous middle-schoolers and dumb rich kids come to gawp without fear of the radiation. There's plants here. A couple trees.

Tetsuo doesn't come out here, or not to this part. He feels a little twinge when he thinks: he'll need Kaneda's help riding back out of this place. He doesn't know the way.

He can depend on himself, though. He stares up at the skyscrapers and doesn't think about that first sunrise, about edges or heights or hands clenched in hands. He doesn't think about being afraid of falling. He does not think about his chest.



"Hey, Tetsuo."



Tetsuo kicks the blocks. The sound resounds dully under the bridge.



"D'you ever figure out what was bugging you?"



Everything stops; Tetsuo too.



"Cause Yamagata told me, y'know. Last night." Kaneda sounds bright, unaffected. "After. He told me you probably didn't think you knew yourself."



Tetsuo grips the bricks tighter. There's something heavy and unsettled in his gut, something tight in his chest and he doesn't breathe.



"I didn't really sleep so I kinda thought of a lot of stuff myself. Y'know?"



His tone is too-light, amicable and easy, like he's mocking Tetsuo. It feels wrong. The whole thing feels wrong, and Tetsuo is tired and off-guard and trapped.



He doesn't look up but he thinks Kaneda is looking at him.



"So did you ever figure it out?"



Tetsuo stands. He puts his hand, slowly, deliberately, in the jacket pocket where he keeps his keys. He does not look at Kaneda.



"I know what's up with me, Kaneda."



There's a poof of dust as Kaneda hops back onto his feet, too, and his boots slap one, two against the concrete. Lazy. Casual.

He stands right in front of Tetsuo. Tetsuo looks carefully past him, at the cinderblocks and faded posterboard on the wall beyond. Once-bright primaries and faded neon letters; a couple are the same vibrant red as his jacket. They peel and crumble off the walls. But then-



"What is it, then?"



And there's this look on his face that's carefully made, like it can't be serious and it can't be smug, but like he expects an answer all the same. Tetsuo clenches his jaw and tries to school his grimace and Kaneda fucking smiles at him.

He pushes Tetsuo back to the cinderblocks, back to the wall. Makes as though to make him sit again and Tetsuo remembers pitching back against his bike saddle, watching Kaneda yell and quiet and begin to fall apart through a haze of awful, uncomfortable confusion and he has had enough of this shit .

He stands.



"Cause I figured - maybe you don't wanna be the baby anymore? You think you wanna lead? Or maybe you've just got a problem with me." Kaneda's smile wavers and breaks for one awful second, and then the smirk snaps back in place, fierce and sharp and exactly as maddening as it's probably meant to be. "Or maybe, it's a problem with you. Are you g-"



"Shut up."



Tetsuo takes a step forward. His heart hammers in his chest. He sort of fucking hates it.



He shivers. He's not intimidated. He is not fucking scared.



Kaneda looks down at him. His posture's easy, unfrightened, as though nothing could ever knock the smug off his face. What are you doing, he asks with an eyebrow, the lazy rise of his shoulders still so confident, superior, no matter what Tetsuo tries, no matter what Tetsuo’s seen just hours before - and suddenly all the frustration fizzes in his limbs, stark and featherlight and unstoppable and he just wishes he could wreck the smirk on his stupid, fucking, lips -



He hurls his fist at the wall. Posterboard shatters.



Like they're underwater he can hear Kaneda, -tsuo , tetsuo , what are you doing, particles of grey dust trickle through his fingers and he hooks a hand in Kaneda's dumb fluoro jacket and hauls him up out of his slouch so that they're eye-to-eye, for once, noses almost touching, close enough to feel the ghost of Kaneda's startled breath on his lower lip -



- he just wants to -



Their lips crash together, hot and bitter and violent, his hand in Kaneda's jacket and Kaneda under him, head tilted back, and he's kissing Kaneda. Teeth clack, someone's tongue meet's someone's lips and Tetsuo's still reeling that this wasn't a punch instead. It doesn't click until he feels a hand on his collar, the push, and then -



"-what the fuck?"



Kaneda's voice comes out breathy and small, like it's softer than he meant it to be. He's flushed the same bright red as his jacket, all across his face to the tips of his ears, and panting, just a little bit. Like he's mad. Tetsuo's eyes catch on the hand he draws violently across his mouth and his lips are stained dark, blotchy - no, what.



No.



"Tetsuo?" He catches the note of maybe-panic, maybe-anger on the edge of Kaneda's speech, louder this time. Before he knows it he's taken a step back, and he hates himself for it; Kaneda is bowed and confused, that fucking smirk is gone and for a desperate second he just wishes it back.

This - is not how he imagined this going. This isn't what he wanted, he tells himself.


Kaneda takes a tentative step towards him, like the beginning of a charge or like he's creeping towards an injured animal. Tetsuo doesn't know which is worse. He flinches in spite of himself; gravel turns under his boots, his breath hitches in his chest.



"I-I don't-"



He chokes down on the end of the sentence, damn it, damn his fucking tongue, he doesn't even know what he was going to say. Kaneda's eyes are wide. Something has changed and Tetsuo feels older down to the soles of his feet, and never less in control. He doesn't - Tetsuo doesn't understand, he doesn't get what he's done.

Only maybe he does.



He runs.





-





The motor peters out; Tetsuo lets it. He sits a long time before he pulls out the keys. Anxiety pulls at his chest and his head, this frantic, animal need to escape choking in his throat, echoing keep going, keep going.

But Tetsuo has no idea where he is. The old city is vast and sprawling; often it's the Capsules' playground, but alone it threatens to dwarf and swallow whole all the little people who enter it.

Kaneda's always been at ease in this place. Tetsuo notsomuch.

There's grass here. Tetsuo's not sure he's ever seen wild grass, or any, really, outside of fancy malls and median strips. But - improbably, there it is, growing thick over the rubble, standing bright and lush under the shade of a pair of trees that have somehow taken root here. He’s a little afraid to destroy it, if he's honest with himself.

So he leaves his bike and treads carefully over it. He has time, he tells himself. If he's lost, himself, it won't be easy for other people to find him. For Kaneda.



He's hiding.

It stings to admit. It feels, just a little, like one more concession, one more thing Kaneda has over him. Like another drop in the well of frustration that's been slowly, steadily building in him.



Afraid to ruin it, Tetsuo sits in the shade of one tree and, at a complete loss for what to do, admires the view. The city is low around him, looms and capers in the distance. Concrete and rebar break away from each other, hang suspended. There are empty spaces where there shouldn't be, all around. Light leaks through.



The sun is setting over Old Tokyo.

It has to be well past five.



Tetsuo can see a road twisting through the wreckage. He imagines a red bike, customised to high hell, hurtling back along it, leaning dangerously through the corners and dipping too close to the obstacles. He imagines Kaneda riding home. Riding away.



What the fuck has he done.



Tetsuo can see Kaneda's face like it's right in front of him - that weird uncharacteristic mix of fear and confusion and disgust and shock - flushed cheeks, his mind fills in, ruffled hair, red lips - and his chest fucking aches. Kaneda has never looked like that.

What if he doesn't speak to me ever again, Tetsuo thinks, and weakly, miserably, he has to admit the fact that he wants him to; of course he fucking wants him to.



What if he does, and Tetsuo has to explain himself.



Maybe - Tetsuo's been like this for ages.



He has been losing to Kaneda for a long time.



Something about his shit-eating grin, his stupid victory smile, the sore-loser scowl he makes when he's pissed, something makes little sparks flare in Tetsuo's chest, sparks like irritation, sparks like adrenaline. Sometimes, sometimes, Tetsuo plays reluctant straightman to Kaneda's dumbass comedy routine because he knows how Kaneda'll laugh after, understated and honest. Sometimes Tetsuo lords his victories over Kaneda so he'll get to see his overacted upset turn into something quiet and happy when Tetsuo buys him snacks after anyways. Sometimes, Tetsuo follows because Kaneda leads.

Sometimes Tetsuo steps onto ledges because Kaneda insists he won't fall.



Tetsuo's an idiot.



The wind whistles and the trees bow and creak. The sun leaks through the glassless windows of vacant rooms and seeps through the grass. Tetsuo sits under a tree, in a circle of grass, in a puddle of sunlight, lost in the wreckage of Old Tokyo and he pulls into himself and screws up his eyes and hides his face and doesn't cry. He doesn't.



He's an idiot and he's done it all wrong and he wishes he wasn't. He wishes it wasn't like this. He wishes he hadn't tried to throw a punch. Wishes he hadn't seen what he's sure he saw on Kaneda's face. Wishes he could tell himself it's Kaneda fault, like everything else.

But it's on him.



Far, far in the distance, there is the rumble of an engine. Tetsuo wonders without looking up whether he's out on that long winding road, making his way back home. He hopes - but it's like a hole opens up in his chest, and it hurts. He doesn't hope, not really.



It's closer than he thought. It rumbles steadily closer, gets louder and louder; a sound so stupidly familiar to Tetsuo he could pick it out of a hundred bikes, five lanes of traffic at rush hour. Tetsuo sits and pretends it doesn't wrench a knife through him.



It cuts out; there's silence for a long time. Then the crunch of gravel. A familiar tread.



(It's Tetsuo's fault.)

He sits and waits like a condemned man, and even when the footsteps must not be a hundred meters away, he doesn't look up.



"Tetsuo!"



Shit.



"Tetsuo, dude, you shoulda picked a lower hiding spot," Kaneda pants, "I could see this place half a k away."



Tetsuo wipes secretively at his face. There's a flash of red in his peripheral vision, and then Kaneda is there. He looks - humoured, but it's off-colour, on-edge. Kaneda peers at Tetsuo around his arms, holding his gaze like he's searching for something, and then the shitty attempt at a smile clears off his face.


"Tetsuo?"



Tetsuo doesn't have an answer. Not for any of this. Not one he can say out loud.

Kaneda crouches, and his eyes are wide and his mouth curls down into something Tetsuo doesn't recognise but feels like he's seen before. His lips are still red -



- Tetsuo realises he's staring at his mouth and quickly looks down. Beside him Kaneda makes a concerned noise.



"Tetsuo." He's soft this time, his voice a low rumble that twists the knife in Tetsuo's chest. "Are you okay?"



And what the fuck is he meant to answer to that. Tetsuo doesn't even know himself.

"Fuck off," he says, but now there's just a hand clapped on his shoulder and everything is worse.

"What was that," says Kaneda, and his hand burns a hole in Tetsuo's jacket right down to his skin.

"Leave me the fuck alone."

"Tetsuo."

"Fuck off."

"Tetsuo, tell me what the fuck that was." Kaneda's baritone catches and seizes on fuck and he chokes. Tetsuo glances at him; Kaneda stares back. His throat works under the collar of his stupid red jacket and his gaze doesn't break. He opens his mouth to say something and Tetsuo imagines the word please and -

"- it hurts." It's involuntary. Tetsuo's voice sounds small and thin to his own ears.

"What?"

"...it hurts. When you looked at me, then, and before. When we were on that rooftop in the old city and you made me stand on the ledge," Tetsuo can't look him in the eye, "it hurt. Like it burns when you take a shot."

He's lingering, standing on the edge of something that feels like it's bigger than he can just describe, every word pulling him closer to the fall.

"What does that mean," Kaneda says, weirdly rough, fast; voice cut as though by desperation. Tetsuo doesn't know for what.

The urgency catches something in him and he flails for words, for any words, for something to say that will make Kaneda understand what it is without him saying it. For something to let him say it and not let Kaneda understand. Like a shitty schoolgirl with a shitty crush. His fingers curl into fists.



"The magazine," he says. Kaneda looks at Tetsuo like he's speaking another language, like he's just made off with his bike, like Kaneda's drowning and Tetsuo's holding a liferaft.



"The chick in the magazine. The one I picked. She looked like you."



Tetsuo cannot look up. Silence stretches thin in the space between them. His chest aches.



Then -



"You fucking idiot," and Kaneda is in his face, and Tetsuo's backed against the tree and Kaneda's hands are on his shoulder and on his face, on his lip, and his eyelashes are dark against the splash of red beneath them.



Kaneda kisses him. Tetsuo's stomach flips. His whole world tilts and shifts and condenses down to this one moment, the leather of Kaneda's jacket on his skin and the grass under his hands and the soft of Kaneda's lips on his. He’s too shocked to do anything but stare.


And then Kaneda pulls away, wipes his hand over his mouth. Looks down.

"Sorry."

For a minute Tetsuo can't speak.



" - I - you," he's not making sense, nothing makes sense, " - you wanted to. That."

"Little bit."



"...You asshole, you could've fucking told me two weeks ago. You could've told me," Tetsuo stops, gears turning in his head, and he can feel a blush burning across his cheeks. "Fuck you."

"You would've hit me."

"You'd just cheat and win the fight somehow."

A laugh, breathy and short. "Yeah, probably."

There's a comfortable silence.

"That was what was wrong, right? You," Kaneda makes anxious little turning motions with his hands, and then, apparently giving up, says, "you wanted to make out with me." He ducks his head at the end but Tetsuo can still see him smiling.

He hides his blush under his hands. "Shut up."

"But it was."

Tetsuo shrugs. Kaneda laughs. It's dumb and annoying and it feels warm under Tetsuo's overheated skin.

"..You can do it again, you know. I don't have a problem with it. I have," Kaneda looks up at the city, but Tetsuo's pretty sure he's just trying to hide his face, "the opposite of a problem with it."

"The opposite."

A beat.

"I kinda -," he stares at the ground, "kinda wanted to for a while."

He's blushing. Tetsuo's stupid heart clenches.

He leans over and kisses him again. It feels better, this time; right. Kaneda grabs his jacket and Tetsuo thumbs his neck and they're right beside one another, none of the anxious tension there like when Tetsuo kissed him under the bridge. Kaneda melts into him. Tetsuo feels warm in a way that maybe shouldn't feel familiar.



When they break Tetsuo's breathing embarrassingly hard and Kaneda's hair is rumpled in a way that makes Tetsuo wanna grab at his collar and pull him in again.



The last dregs of afternoon sunlight filter down onto them. Kaneda stands almost-shakily, and offers Tetsuo a hand. As they walk back to the bikes he doesn't let go.



They race back. Tetsuo doesn't know his way, but Kaneda does.

On the home stretch they pull even.