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Banri Settsu had never had cause to complain of a lack of attention and admiration. That didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy discovering new sources of it.
Since entering university, he’d been dragged by Kazunari to all manner of goukon, even ones he really had no business being at, like the one between the girls soccer team and the boys soccer team (which, it went without saying, he was not a part of), and he’d quickly grown bored of them. Some were okay - as AmaBi students, most of the participants were talented and interesting, and he’d enjoyed having an intense debate about method acting with another girl from his course that one time, but he had no interest in dating her. On the whole though, the parties reminded him too much of high school - girls falling over themselves to compete for his attention, apparently unaware how much they were embarrassing themselves, and boys shooting him jealous, resentful glances that were equally embarrassing.
And yet, here he was. It wasn’t goukon exactly, he was just wingman-ing. A guy he’d met while modelling at the school festival had asked him to come with him to this bar. There was someone he was hoping to accidentally-on-purpose run into, so he needed a couple of friends to come with him to make the “accidental” part convincing. The only catch? It was a gay bar.
Always keen to try something new to distract from his boredom, Banri had had his dick sucked by boys a handful of times in high school, and had even tried fucking one, and while it wasn’t as unpleasant as he’d expected, it was no more or less exciting than with girls.
Still, a friend in need and all that. Besides, it only seemed like a matter of time until Tsuzuru wrote a full on gay romance for their next show, so the experience was bound to come in handy.
He wasn’t sure exactly what he had been expecting - something like the clubs you saw in foreign movies, with flashing lights and people jumping wildly to loud dance music? Instead he found a place a bit smaller than the second rehearsal room, with dim lighting and young men scattered around the tables lining the edges of the space - at least he’d been right about the music genre, even if it was at a more reasonable volume than he had expected.
The three of them - his friend had insisted on an odd number, to make sure there was no chance of his crush mistaking him for taken - claimed a table with a good view of the bar, and his friend went to get drinks. He’d only returned to their table for a few minutes when he spotted his target. He downed his drink quickly and went back to order another, unconvincingly expressing his surprise at seeing you here. Banri rolled his eyes. Even Hyodo was a better actor, come on.
But it seemed like his crush was just as pleased to have run into him and soon they were both going for the Olympic gold in flirting, leaving Banri alone with this other guy he barely knew. They talked about classes and coursework, and of course it turned out the guy knew Kazunari (was there anyone in the entire student population of AmaBi who didn’t know Kazunari?) and had come to see a couple of Mankai shows, and Banri was in the middle of trying to sell him a couple more tickets to their next show when an apparent friend of his came and joined them, cutting Banri out of their conversation. He sat back and sipped his drink, taking in the atmosphere of the place. He was an actor, and before that, a fighter, he knew when he was being watched and - he was definitely being watched. He smirked to himself, feeling the weight of a dozen curious gazes on him. He didn’t need the attention, the way, say, Taichi did, but he couldn’t say that being universally desired was entirely unpleasant, by any means.
He still had about a third of his drink left when another arrived, courtesy of a young gentleman in a suit at the counter, the waiter said. The young gentleman in question must have been about Itaru’s age, another second or third year company employee, but with none of Itaru’s confidence - which was a waste, because he wasn’t bad looking at all. He was shyly and resolutely staring at his own drink on the counter, but when he glanced over to Banri nervously, Banri caught his eye and smiled at him with the full force of his charm, tipping the drink towards him in thanks. The man blushed furiously and looked down again, but not quickly enough to hide his delighted smile.
Oh, thought Banri, this is fun. This is very fun.
The drinks, and the glances, kept coming, with a couple of callers even bold enough to come and join their table. One, who had admitted from the start to being a fan, was telling Banri how much he liked Picaresque and seemed to be on the verge of insinuating something completely ridiculous about Luciano and Lansky’s relationship when Banri caught a familiar figure in the corner of his eye.
He excused himself and followed the figure to a table in a dark corner, sliding down into the seat opposite the large man.
“Tasuku-san?”
The man looked up in surprise.
“Settsu? What are you -?”
Banri leaned back in the chair, smirking.
“I could ask you the same question. I’m just here with some friends. Moral support, you know. Besides - close to uni, cheap drinks - it’s not a bad joint.”
Tasuku huffed a laugh.
“Right, and I’m sure you’ve had to pay for so many of your drinks tonight.”
“No need to be jealous. If you ask real nice, I’ll let you buy me one, too” Banri replied, voice like honey.
“You’re not my type.”
“Oh, yeah?” Banri leaned forward on the table, “And what is your type?”
“Ah,” said Tasuku, looking over Banri’s shoulder and raising his eyebrows.
“Banri-kun?”
Banri turned around at the familiar voice to find Tsumugi holding two large beers and blushing slightly. He tried to contain his laughter, he really did.
“I fucking knew it - Taichi owes me five thousand yen.”
Tasuku’s eyes narrowed.
“What?”
Ignoring him, Banri reached for one of the beers as Tsumugi set them on the table, but the older man swatted his hand away.
“You’re eighteen.”
Tasuku caught Banri’s eye and smirked - not even Banri would be brave enough to try defying Tsumugi, or letting him know how much he had already had to drink.
“Anyway,” Tsumugi continued, sitting down. “Where’s Juza-kun?”
“Hyodo? Why would I know where he was?” Banri ignored Tasuku’s sudden coughing fit as he tried to decipher this unexpected turn in the conversation.
“What?” Tsumugi seemed just as confused as Banri.
“What?” echoed Banri.
“You mean you’re not -?”
“Settsu -” Tasuku took a deep breath, trying, and mostly failing, to hide his amusement, “Settsu’s here with friends. Wingman, or something.”
“Oh. Oh! Oh.” Tsumugi seemed to be hit by a series of revelations, then laughed nervously. “Sorry, I guess I misunderstood.”
Banri looked at him suspiciously. Misunderstood what? What the hell kind of misunderstanding could lead to an assumption that if Banri was in a gay bar he must be there with Hyod - oh.
“Tsumugi-san…” Banri’s expression turned dark and Tsumugi laughed again.
“Banri-kun, Tasuku said you’re here with friends, right? I’m sure they must be missing you.”
“Tsumugi-san…”
“What?” Tasuku said, taking a long draught of beer, “You can see where he’s coming from.”
Banri turned his glare on Tasuku.
“I really, really can’t.”
“Okay then,” Tasuku shrugged. “At any rate. Like Tsumugi said. Your friends must be missing you. And if they’re not, I’m sure there are plenty of others who are.”
Banri was seething. What the hell! What the hell! They couldn’t just - insinuate - that - that - he was - that he and Hyodo - Hyodo! were - and then - and then! dismiss him from the grown-up’s table like he was a little kid!
It was obvious they weren’t going to engage with him on this topic any further so he pushed back his chair and stood up, not noticing the glance that the older men exchanged.
“Ah, by the way,” Tsumugi said casually, “Are you really going to collect that money from Taichi-kun?”
Banri scowled. He should, it was only fair - if they were going to go around speculating like that, then why shouldn’t he? Especially when he was actually right, and they were very, very wrong.
“Not if you don’t want me to,” he said, sulkily refusing to meet Tsumugi’s eyes.
“It hardly seems fair,” said Tasuku. “The kid’s was complaining yesterday about how broke he was. Why don’t you get him to take your cleaning duties for a week or something instead?”
Banri looked up at them in surprise and Tsumugi smiled.
“We were never hiding anything, you know.”
Was that a slight emphasis on we or was Banri imagining things? He narrowed his eyes but Tsumugi’s placid smile was unwavering.
“‘Kay,” he said and turned away. To what, exactly, he was agreeing, he didn’t know. He suddenly felt very strange about the thought of telling Taichi how his suspicions had been confirmed. Did anyone else in the dorms think that he and Hyodo were - were - he searched for a term he could accept, even hypothetically - the kind of people who, if they were at a gay bar, could be expected to be there together? If he told them that he had been at a gay bar, even if it was just to wingman for a friend, would they think that he was there for any purpose other than to wingman for a friend? He thought back to earlier in the evening, when he’d been soaking up the attention and free drinks, half imagining tomorrow morning at the dorms, coming down to breakfast, announcing that what do you know, it turns out the gays love him as much as the rest of the world and advising the director to start including that part of town on their flyer runs, at least when he was on the poster.
He’d enjoyed the attention, sure, but he always enjoyed attention - you kind of had to if you wanted to be an actor, right? It didn’t mean that he enjoyed attention from men in particular, and even supposing it did, which it didn’t, but in some alternate universe where it did, it certainly didn’t mean that he would have any desire whatsoever for that kind of - for any kind of! attention from Hyodo!
When he got back to his table, he gathered up his jacket and made some excuses about suddenly remembering early rehearsal the next day. He’d been gone long enough that the visitor to their table must have given up. A shame, since he was suddenly burning with curiosity regarding what he’d been about to say about Lansky and Luciano and what exactly led him to that opinion. But it was probably for the best, since at that moment, Banri was pretty sure he would have punched him in the face if the answer had been anything other than “professional business partners who learn to respect each other in an absolutely platonic manner”.
He breathed in the cool night air, trying to clear his head. All the free drinks must have gotten to him, though he didn’t normally get drunk this easily. He’d lost track of time while working on an assignment and hadn’t eaten since lunch, that must be why. He should eat something, Oily. Go get ramen. There was a place near here that was good, according to Kumon’s map. Go get ramen. But the thought of food made his stomach churn - he must have been even drunker than he realised. He’d just go straight home and sleep it off. He’d be fine in the morning. Tsumugi-san and Tasuku-san didn’t know what they were talking about. Gay guys seemed to assume everyone was gay. Like when he was out for coffee with his friend and he’d look around the cafe and point out which of the other customers he thought were gay, which always turned out to be most of them, and on the most flimsy evidence, while Banri laughingly tried to defend these poor strangers’ heterosexuality. (“Look at that watch, no straight man would wear that watch.” “It’s a perfectly normal watch!”)
Wait, he didn’t think that Banri -?
Banri tapped at his phone, his thumb hovering over the send button. It was a weird and uncool thing to say, but he could blame it on the alcohol.
“You didn’t invite me along tonight because you think I’m gay, right?”
He didn’t expect a reply any time soon, so he exited Lime and opened his train timetable app. It was still only ten o’clock, and he was about half an hour from the dorms. Hyodo would definitely still be awake when he got home. Maybe he’d just go and play games with Itaru-san until it was late enough that he’d be asleep.
He texted Itaru to invite himself over, claiming that he hadn’t been feeling it when Itaru asked what had happened to drinks with friends.
He opened a game on his phone to pass the time on the train when to his surprise, his friend texted back.
“No?”
Banri felt relieved for a brief second, before feeling annoyed at himself for even feeling relieved. It was the obvious answer, after all. His phone vibrated again and he looked down.
“You’re bi, right?”
Banri wanted to hurl his phone out of the train window.
---
“Banri,” Itaru said, neatly blasting away the goblin that had been about to tackle Banri, “You do realise you’re not playing a tank character, right?”
Banri grunted in response as he satisfyingly sliced a werewolf right in half, spraying the screen with blood.
“Then get the fuck out of the middle of the battlefield. This is the third time I’ve had to save your sorry ass.”
He was absolutely right, but Banri was not in the mood to play with proper strategy and forethought. He just wanted to smash his way through enough monsters that he stopped wanting to smash his hand through a wall.
Itaru paused the game.
“Did you have a fight with Juza?”
Banri wanted to scream. Why! The fuck! Did everyone think his entire fucking world revolved around Hyodo! He tried to snatch Itaru’s controller to unpause the game, but Itaru held it out of reach.
“What do you mean? I don’t do anything but fight with Hyodo.”
Itaru rolled his eyes.
“You know what I mean. Not like normal. Like, a lovers’ tiff or whatever. You didn’t want to go out with your friends, then you came straight here, not even dropping off your bag in your own room, and now you’re playing Sword Dance like a fucking noob. Something is obviously wrong, and you’re obviously avoiding Juza.”
Banri blanched. Not Itaru-san, too.
“A - a - what? Itaru-san, I don’t know if you know this, but you can’t have a lovers’ tiff if you aren’t lovers .”
Itaru blinked at him, then burst into laughter.
“Shit,” he said, doubling over, “Sorry, sorry. I honestly - swear to god, honestly just straight up forgot that you’re still trying to keep it a secret. Heads up, you’re both doing a terrible job.”
Banri felt what was becoming an awfully familiar anger rising in him again.
“‘Taru-san,” he said, eyes narrowing, “Listen to me carefully. There is no secret to kee - wait. Both?”
This was it, clearly, this was the cause, clearly Hyodo had done something stupid, maybe he’d been looking at Banri while he was thinking about cake with that dumb dreamy look on his face and Tsumugi-san had seen, or Itaru-san had seen him smiling at his phone with that infuriatingly fond smile he got when he was texting Kumon or Muku and thought he was texting Banri, or he’d said something to Tasuku-san about the sweets he was going to eat in his room that night but he’d mumbled and and it sounded like - well, not sweets, at any rate. Of course this was Hyodo’s fault.
“What’s Hyodo done to make you think we’re - you’re wrong by the way, but -”
Itaru smirked.
“Oh, well, if I’m wrong, I guess it doesn’t matter.”
“Tell me what he did.”
“No, you’re right, it was clearly just my imagination.” He smiled his most charming and fakest daytime smile, picking up his controller. “Shall we keep playing?”
Banri ignored him, but Itaru pressed the pause button anyway. Banri dove for his controller, but not in time to stop a large troll from bringing his mace down on him.
“Whoops. You died.” Itaru said flatly. “And I can’t finish this dungeon with just a mage, so I guess that’s it. Banri, if you’re not going to be any help, you might as well leave.”
Banri clicked his tongue.
“Fine, fine, I’ll do better next round.” He tried to focus his attention on the game, but - “Just give me a hint, was it something he said?”
Itaru put his controller on the table.
“Banri. You’re annoying me. Leave.”
---
Banri slammed the door to 104 harder than he intended and winced, hoping it wouldn’t bring down Sakyo-san’s fury upon him. Juza looked up from where he was sitting at their low table, betraying no emotion.
“You’re back early.”
Banri froze. Suddenly, it seemed, he had entirely forgotten how to act like a human being. How did he normally act around Hyodo? No - however he normally acted around Hyodo was what led people to think strange and deeply mistaken things, so he wasn’t going to act that way any more. So then how was he going to act? How did you act around someone in way that didn’t make it seem like you were secret lovers? And how was the answer to that not by always fighting like cats and dogs?
Juza’s eyes narrowed as Banri kept staring at him in silence.
“What?” he grunted.
Banri shook his head - he thought he had sobered up, but maybe not.
“Nothing.”
“You’re acting weird.”
“I’m not acting weird. I only stepped in this room two seconds ago. I haven’t even had time to act weird yet. You’re acting weird by saying I’m acting weird.”
Juza’s eyes narrowed even further.
“Did you eat something bad?”
“No, because I’m not a sweets monster who’s ruined his tongue with so much sugar that I can’t -”
Shit, he was acting the way he always did. What about this made people think they were carrying on some kind of illicit romance he couldn’t begin to imagine, but - oh. Right. This was Hyodo’s fault.
“You’re the one acting weird because Itaru-san said you’ve been acting weird.”
“Huh?”
Banri smirked in triumphant satisfaction - he’d caught him off guard there.
“Yeah, I don’t know what weird things you’ve been doing, but Itaru-san seems to think you’re in love with me.”
Okay, maybe that wasn’t technically exactly what Itaru-san had said, but the general gist was the same - Hyodo had done something that made Itaru-san think their relationship was more than platonic, instead of rarely platonic, which was the truth.
“What?!” Hyodo was visibly startled, as well he should be. Finally! Someone sane! Banri never thought he would find himself thinking Hyodo was more sensible than Tsumugi-san, but that just proved how upside down the world had turned.
“Did he say why?”
“No. So just… be more careful,” Banri scolded. “I don’t want anyone else thinking we’re dating.”
“Itaru-san thinks we’re dating?”
“I already said that.”
“No,” Juza said carefully. Banri could almost hear the wheels of his mind slowly, slowly turning. “You said that he thought I was in love with you. If he thinks we’re dating, that means he thinks that you - you’re - that it’s mutual. If I’ve been acting weird, you must be too.”
Damn. Why did that idiot brain of his have to switch on at the most inconvenient times?
“Please. Name one thing I’ve done that would make someone think I’m,” he grimaced, “in love with you.”
Juza considered this.
“Well. You brought me back that limited seasonal pudding from the convenience store the other day, even though I didn’t ask you to.”
Banri - Banri did not blush, Banri flushed red with anger at the ingratitude of this oaf.
“That wasn’t! I just - I saw it and I thought - there was a lottery! There was a lottery, but you needed to spend more than 700 yen to draw a ticket! And my stuff was less than 700 yen, and, of course, I pulled a winning ticket, I got two energy drinks, so really, I saved money by getting that pudding, so it was all for my own benefit, not yours, and besides, no one saw me with it so that can’t be the reason why.”
Banri took a deep breath. Okay, maybe that wasn’t technically true, either. There was a lottery for customers who spent more than 700 yen and he had won two energy drinks, but he hadn’t actually noticed the lottery until he got to the counter. He’d seen the pudding, with the little marker saying it had just gone on sale today, and he’d imagined the look on Hyodo’s face when he gave it to him, how it would go from suspicion at anything Banri handed to him, to rapturous delight when he realised, and how he would look at Banri with awe and wonder, which was the way someone like Hyodo should look at someone like him and the fact that he so rarely did was so frustrating, especially when he looked at Omi-san that way whenever he appeared with a fresh plate of scones, which, come on, scones weren’t even hard to make. Banri could easily make scones as well as Omi-san if he wanted to, except that, obviously, he didn’t, because why on earth would he want to make scones for Hyodo? At any rate, just imagining the gratitude he would receive had been fun, and though, in the end, it hadn’t quite been awe and wonder - more like a grunted thanks while looking at the floor, with a small smile once he thought Banri wasn’t looking, even that had been fun, kind of like how getting a bunch of free drinks was fun - wait.
“Actually,” Juza said guiltily, avoiding Banri’s eyes, “I told Tsumugi-san. When we went to the convenience store together last night.”
Banri slumped down at the table opposite Juza and put his face in his hands.
“That must be why Tsumugi-san thinks we’re dating.”
“I thought it was Itaru-san?”
“It is,” Banri said despondently, “It’s both of them. Tasuku-san, too, if you want the full list. At least they’re the ones I know about. Maybe we should take a fucking survey around the company, ‘Do you think Settsu and Hyodo are secretly fucking? Please tick yes or no’.”
“Ah…” said Juza, in the same guilty tone of voice. Banri snapped his head up from the table.
“What? Who else?”
“Maybe Muku. I didn’t understand what he was talking about at the time, but. Maybe that’s what…”
“What did he say?”
“He lent me this manga about a girl who’s always making fun of the boy she’s in love with because she didn’t want to admit her feelings. He said it was just like “you two”. I didn’t know who he meant, but… Now that I think about it, I guess the way you bother me is kind of similar to her...” Juza’s eyebrows creased as he tried to process this new realisation.
“What? Fuck you, I am not a fucking shoujo manga heroine.”
“I mean, she gets all sulky when he’s not paying enough attention to her, you do that.”
“Fuck you,” he repeated, “I do not.”
“Okay,” Juza said and picked up the script he had been reading when Banri came into the room.
No, okay, he could see what Hyodo was trying to do here and it wasn’t going to work, it wasn’t, it -
“It’s rude to suddenly ignore someone in the middle of a conversation!” Banri yelled, “Don’t you have any manners?”
Juza smirked at him. Banri felt a familiar frustration rise. He’d sooner die than let Hyodo think he’d won - it took every ounce of his self control not to punch the smirk off of his face. Stupid fucking Hyodo, looking at him like that, like he saw right through him, like he was so fucking pleased with himself, like Banri was nothing but a source of amusement for him.
“No! Don’t act like this proves your point! There’s a difference between not paying attention to someone and ignoring them!”
Juza’s doubtful expression and raised eyebrow only incensed Banri further. “There is! They just don’t teach you things like nuance at O High!”
Juza shrugged and turned his attention back to his script.
“Either way, it’s not really a big deal. Just tell them we’re not dating and that’ll be the end of it.”
Not a big -!
“Obviously I told them we’re not dating! But that’s not the point! The point is that they even think it in the first place! There must be a reason they think it! And it’s certainly not because of me!”
“It must be at least a bit because of you,” Juza responded evenly, “or they wouldn’t think we were dating. Otherwise they’d just think that I, you know, that it was just me.”
“Well, then -” Banri was struck with inspiration. “It must be just as much your fault! Or they’d think it was just me ! What have you been doing that makes people think you’re in love with me or some bullshit?”
Juza narrowed his eyes in thought.
“I… stayed back with you after rehearsal a lot last week?”
“That was because you couldn’t get that scene right, it was my responsibility as leader to make sure you got the hang of it -”
“Yeah, but…” Juza scowled and his cheeks reddened.
“What?”
“Muku was asking about it, and…” he flicked at the pages of his script, glaring at it “I… I said… some, thing. About you.”
“What, did you say you wanted to suck my dick or something?” Banri sat down on the floor next to Juza. This was obviously going to take some time.
“I wouldn’t say that kind of shit around Muku!” Juza snapped back.
So it’s the listener and not the content that’s the problem? Banri resisted taking the opening to mock Juza - he was finally getting somewhere towards solving this mystery and didn’t want to risk derailing the idiot’s train of thought.
“What did you say then, how did you make the kid’s imagination run away with him in this particularly ridiculous way?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It clearly does. I have a right to know just how your stupidity is leading to rumours about my love life.”
“I said, something, that I guess he took in a way that wasn’t what I meant.”
Oh no. Ohhh no, there was no way Banri was letting him get off that easily. This must be it, this was the root of the problem - because he was an idiot, Hyodo must have phrased something in a weird way and Muku’s brain, which had obviously been rotted by too much manga, had taken the implication and run a mile, then somehow passed the crazy idea on to Itaru-san, whose brain had obviously been rotted by too many video games, and they both started seeing things that were absolutely not there. He had to know exactly what Hyodo had said, so he could explain to everyone what a ridiculous misunderstanding this was.
Juza was resolutely not looking up from his script and Banri knew he was stubborn enough that he’d never persuade him to spit it out with logic. Desperate times called for desperate measures, so with a silent apology to the director, he lunged for Juza, knocking him over and wrestling him until he had him pinned him to the floor. He locked his knees against the other boy’s sides and grabbed his wrists, leaning over him and using his elbows to hold his face in place, not letting him look away.
“What. Did. You. Say?”
He was close enough to feel the warmth of Juza’s breath against his face when he huffed in response, but Banri ignored him, pressing down all of his weight, as though trying to squeeze the answer out of him.
Banri registered Juza’s muscles tightening a split second before he surged up and smacked his head against Banri’s. When Banri instinctively recoiled and released Juza’s wrists to press his hands against his head, Juza grabbed him and tackled him to the floor, reversing their positions.
Juza pushed himself up onto all fours, looming over Banri and glaring down.
“I said I was glad that I met you, but I fucking want to take it back now.”
It took Banri a second to process what Juza had said, being otherwise occupied with trying to escape his hold, but after that second, the words hit him like a fist to the face and he stopped moving.
“What?”
Glad I met you… Glad… In what way? What, specifically, about Banri’s presence in his life brought Juza feelings of… gladness? But he wanted to take it back - he was no longer glad he met Banri - he was un-glad that he met Banri, he would have preferred to have not met Banri - the thought sent a strange and unfamiliar panic bubbling up his throat, and suddenly he was painfully aware of every inch of contact between them, of Juza’s hands tight around his wrists, calloused skin pressing against his pulse, of hard legs firm against his sides, of the hem of Juza’s loose t-shirt just barely brushing the patch of skin he had exposed above his jeans while trying to get free.
He looked up and met Juza’s golden eyes, staring down at him, hard. He felt trapped in a way that had nothing to do with the grip on his wrists. He swallowed, and winced at the way it echoed through the room. The sound seemed to snap Juza out of whatever reverie he’d been in and apparently realising what he’d said, Juza practically leapt off of him, standing up and shaking the tightness out of his fingers.
“You’re being stupid. I’m going to the living room.” His voice sounded strangled, and he didn’t look at Banri as he collected his fallen script off the floor.
Banri stared at the ceiling, listening to Juza’s footsteps echo down the hall, just as he had stared at a blue sky, bruised and bloody, listening to those same footsteps walk away a little over a year ago.
I said I was glad that I met you…
Who even says a thing like that in conversation? How does a conversation even take that turn?
Banri tried to imagine the scene - Hyodo and Muku eating pastel coloured cakes in the brightly lit 202, with the pinks and yellows of Muku’s manga collection behind them, Hyodo clutching one of his cousin’s soft, fluffy cushions, gaze averted, a soft blush on his cheeks, smiling fondly to himself, confessing how Banri coming into his life changed it for the better…
“I’m glad that I met Settsu…”
Gross! Gross! Gross! What on earth was he doing, why was he torturing himself imagining something so utterly disgusting? He felt like he was going to throw up.
I’m glad that I met you…
Honestly, what the fuck. Just because Hyodo went around saying unnecessary things like that, suddenly the whole fucking dorm thinks they’re in the throes of a secret romance. Unbelievable. Still. He’d just explain, in the morning, he’d take Muku aside - he didn’t want Hyodo trying to explain, he’d surely make it worse, he’d take Muku aside and explain, explain to him that, look, when Hyodo said, when he said…
“He’s glad he met me.”
Saying it out loud sent his pulse racing and fire coursing through his veins. Just like in the two weeks he’d spent imagining his rematch with Hyodo while he waited for his wounds to heal, just like when he’d watched Hyodo’s portrait.
Banri wanted to shake this feeling off, wanted to forget the whole thing, especially the feeling of Hyodo’s hands around his wrists. He felt like he was on the edge of a very steep cliff and the only way not to fall was not to look down.
He needed something to distract himself. He grabbed his phone and tapped open a new game Itaru-san had recommended, but threw the phone down in frustration before it had even loaded. His eyes fell on the remaining pile of scripts on the table. He picked one up from the top of the pile and snorted when he saw all the words above which Juza had scribbled the pronunciation. How did he even get into university if he couldn’t read that kanji?
He could just see it - Hyodo hunched over the script, slowly looking up the words on his phone, entering the character stroke by stroke and copying out the reading. How incredibly lame.
Banri is familiar with the play - they’d done a couple of scenes in a workshop at uni. It was a mix of older and younger students, so he’d been relegated to a relatively minor role - a cruel playboy of a servant, flaunting affectations picked up in Paris. It seemed like Hyodo had landed a much larger role, the wealthy merchant of humble beginnings who buys up the aristocratic estate. Even without any idea of the context, Banri couldn’t help the pang of annoyance at the idea of Hyodo getting a better role than him. It seemed, from his notes in the margins, that he was going for quite a different interpretation to Banri’s senior. Where the older student had played him as sleazy and vindictive, Hyodo was taking a much more sympathetic route - a mixture of insecurity and pride, resentful of the way the aristocrats treated him as a child, but longing for their acceptance and approval. This must have been direction he’d received, there was no way Hyodo was smart enough to think up this much nuance on his own, right?
His annoyance only increased when he realised could imagine Hyodo in the role, and knew how arresting he would be - he could use his size and roughness to emphasise the character’s lowborn origin, and he was bound to look slightly unused to and uncomfortable in a fine suit… and then the cruel and drunken rage of his climatic monologue - Banri hated to admit it, but Hyodo had the potential to be brilliant in this role, difficult as it was. He wondered if he was actually pulling it off. Of course, there was no way Banri would just ask Hyodo to show him - maybe if he offered to deign to provide some tips on how to improve Hyodo’s surely terrible performance… After all, as leader, he had a responsibility to ensure he wasn’t out there being an embarrassment to Akigumi...
Banri distractedly flipped through a few more pages, until his eyes fell on a note written in a different ink in the corner of a page. A different ink and a smaller, neater, decidedly feminine hand.
What time do we finish today?
5:30
Are you free after?
Do you want to work on that final scene some more?
What? What was this note passing? Was he still in fucking high school? “Do you want to work on that final scene some more?” In Banri’s head, the anonymous female note writer had an exaggeratedly high pitched, bimbo-ish tone.
And did he accept? He must have responded with a gesture - he’d written the time on his own page, so he wasn’t writing his replies on her script - he must have indicated an affirmative answer to the second question, there seemed to be a break between her second and third lines - there was that night, a few weeks ago, where he’d come home much later than usual - Banri hadn’t asked, because why the fuck would he care what time Hyodo came home, it wasn’t like Hyodo ever asked what he’d been doing, and it would be weird if he did - but was this why? Was he staying back at uni “working on that final scene”? What time had it been when he got home? Banri couldn’t remember, but it had definitely been late - long enough after 5:30 that it was unlikely that they’d only worked on the final scene - what else had they done? Other scenes? Dinner? Drinks?
It was then that he noticed another note, further down the page, with a cute little loopy arrow pointing to one of Hyodo’s lines.
“I loved your delivery here!”
Gross. Gross! How completely gross, how completely embarrassingly desperate this girl was - and for Hyodo? Pathetic. That was probably her ploy all along, keep him back late rehearsing, then, “Oh, Juza-kun! Look at the time! I’m starving!” or “Wow, Juza-kun, I think we really nailed it! Why don’t we grab a drink to celebrate on the way home?”
And of course Hyodo would be too dumb to even pick up on it, of course Hyodo would go with her out of politeness - or what if it was more than politeness? What if he was just as transparently interested in her? Banri slammed the script shut. The very idea turned his stomach - of course it did, what other possible response was there to the thought of Hyodo having a - he shuddered - love life?
Why was he even thinking about Hyodo’s love life? The stupid things the others had said must have still been messing with him. Or the alcohol. It was strange, normally alcohol went through his system a lot faster than this.
He still hadn’t eaten. That was the problem. He’d go to the convenience store down the road. The fresh air would help too. He caught himself half-wondering if Juza wanted anything and scowled. If he did, he could damn well go and get it himself.
---
Juza paused in the doorway when he saw Omi sitting at the dining table, he hadn’t expected anyone to be there this late at night, and he wasn’t really in the mood for company. He could go and try the balcony, but it was highly likely that Tsuzuru would be out there working on the next script...
“Don’t mind me,” Omi said, looking up with a smile, “I shouldn’t be too much longer. Making the marinade for tomorrow’s pork took a little longer than expected, so Taichi was already asleep and I didn’t want to wake him.”
Juza nodded in acknowledgement, but didn’t offer his own explanation of what had brought him to the living room, so Omi tried again.
“But it’s nice to work out here sometimes, isn’t it? The change of scenery makes it easier to focus.”
Juza muttered some vague agreement and sat down on the sofa with his script and a pen, hoping Omi didn’t think he was being rude. He flipped open the book but instead of the words in front of him, all he could see was the look on Settsu’s face when he’d pinned him to the floor. He’d never seen that expression on him before, and he had no idea what it meant. He’d looked… almost frightened? Which in and of itself was weird enough, but along with the fear, there was a kind of ...anticipation? Excitement? There nearest thing Juza could compare it to was the time he’d gone to a theme park with Kumon, who had insisted on going on the roller coaster even though he barely met the height requirement. When they reached the highest point, just before the big drop, with nothing but clear blue skies on all sides, Juza had forgone the view to look over and check Kumon was all right.
When he saw the terror on his brother’s face, he was ready to pull his safety bar off and climb down the the control box and stop the ride himself. He only had a second to contemplate the implausibility of this plan before they were shooting down the other side of the peak and Kumon was screaming with delight, hair blown back, so full of life and joy that he was almost too bright for Juza to look at directly. Would Banri have looked like that, had he gone over whatever peak he was sitting on?
Juza shook his head. What was he thinking? Banri hadn’t been on a roller coaster, he’d been lying on the floor after Juza had headbutted him - he’d probably just been dazed. Hopefully he didn’t have a concussion. Juza didn’t really want the lecture from Sakyo-san.
He clicked his pen and tried to focus. But it was a historical play, with a lot of words he didn’t know, and he’d left his phone back in his room. He clicked his pen again in frustration.
Omi glanced up from his laptop. Juza had been staring at the same page for five minutes and now he was fiddling with his pen. Omi knew he should leave it, since it was clear the younger boy didn’t want to talk about it. But he’d left Taichi alone even though he could tell he was worried, and it had led to his roommate committing acts that over a year later, he still hadn’t entirely forgiven himself for. Omi would never let that happen on his watch again.
“Is everything okay? Are you fighting with Banri again?”
Juza turned around, but didn’t meet Omi’s eyes.
“Not fighting... I think. Settsu’s just being annoying.”
“What’s he doing now?”
Juza’s eyes flicked around the room. Was he looking for a suitable cover story? It wasn’t like Juza to be anything less than truthful. If Juza was this hesitant to talk, it must be something serious… or seriously embarrassing. The slight tinge to his cheeks indicated it was probably the latter. Omi hid his smile - well, two healthy teen boys in the same room… he was fairly sure he had only managed to avoid similar awkwardness with Taichi through his own vigilance. Like the way he vigilantly waited until after he and Taichi had watched that Tuesday drama starring a certain young actress to go for a nice, long bath and have tea with Azuma-san, leaving Taichi alone in their room for at least an hour.
“Itaru-san and Tsumugi-san and Tasuku-san think Settsu and I are dating and he blames me.”
Okay, he thought, trying not to laugh, that wasn’t quite what he’d been expecting, but it was hardly surprising. Although he thought at least Tsumugi-san would have realised - if they had gotten their acts together and actually started dating, Banri would be more secure in Juza’s affection and wouldn’t needle him so constantly, always looking for attention.
“Why does he blame you?”
“I don’t know,” Juza said. “He just says that it’s not his fault so it must be mine.”
Omi smiled fondly. Although their leader was getting better at picking up and seeing through the troupe members’ struggles and insecurities, sometimes he still displayed a truly awe-inspiring lack of self-awareness.
“Anyway,” Juza continued, “I don’t see why he’s going on about it. It’s not true, so he just has to tell them they’re wrong. I guess that’s just how much he hates the idea of anyone thinking he’d be interested in someone like me…”
“Or it hits too close to home…” Omi muttered to himself, then smiled brightly when Juza looked at him in confusion.
“Juza, anyone - including Banri - would be lucky to date a good man like you.”
He was sure it sounded cliched, but he meant it. Juza may not be able to escort someone as charmingly as Banri or Itaru-san, but he would surely bring the same fierce devotion to a partner that he brought to the stage, the same passion that Nachi had had when - but Omi wasn’t going to go down that particular memory lane tonight. He was afraid he’d embarrassed Juza when the other boy fell silent, but instead of the blush Omi had expected to see, he looked panicked and slightly unwell.
“I didn’t - I don’t want him to date me, or anything.”
Omi laughed as he shut down his computer - his essay was close enough to done that he could finish it up in the morning before class. He closed his laptop and stood up. He was about to offer to make some hot chocolate when Banri walked in. Omi met his scowl with amusement and raised his eyebrows. Maybe the three of them could have hot chocolate together.
“I left my jacket here,” Banri explained, answering Omi’s unvoiced question.
“I see.”
Banri’s scowl deepened - now he looked stupid for offering the information unprompted. But Omi was still staring at him with laughter in his eyes, obviously waiting for more information. What the fuck had Hyodo been telling him?
Who fucking knew, because the second Banri had entered the room, he’d whipped his head around and was now sitting hunched over, eyes boring holes into the script in his lap.
“I’m going to the convenience store.” He paused. “Do you need anything?”
He didn’t really want to be running errands, because that would mean he had to see Omi when he got home again, but it seemed ridiculous to just announce his plans to the silent room. He grabbed the article of clothing in question from the back of the sofa. Juza didn’t move a muscle.
“I’m fine,” said Omi, “but take Juza with you. It’s late, and there’s been reports of a strange guy hanging around lately.”
“You think I couldn’t take him?” said Banri, clearly insulted.
“I think if the two of you go together, you won’t have to,” Omi explained patiently. “No one would be stupid enough to try to take on both of you.”
It was obvious that if Banri tried to leave without Juza it would be considered A Scene and word would get back to Sakyo and there would be a lecture and, in a worst case scenario, possibly handcuffs. It wasn’t worth the trouble.
“Fine. Come on, you dumbass daikon,” said Banri, shrugging on his jacket as he walked out of the living room.
“It’s not like I want to go with you, you fucking fox,” Juza called back, standing up and putting his script on the table. He shot Omi a questioning look as he walked by, and received an encouraging nod in return, which only confused him further.
---
They walked in silence, and if it wasn’t entirely comfortable, it wasn’t as awkward as it could have been.
“What are you getting?” asked Juza as Banri picked up a basket, his voice too loud for the unnatural silence of the late night convenience store.
What a pointless fucking question - what did it matter to him what Banri was getting? And if he was that keen to know, he could find out in a few minutes by looking in his basket.
“Dinner.” Banri replied.
“There’s leftovers in the -”
“Dinner that isn’t curry.”
“Why haven’t you had dinner?”
“Was working on a uni assignment.”
“This late?”
Why the fuck was Juza so curious all of a sudden? Had his idiot brain gotten things mixed up and now he thought they were dating, too?
“No. Went out with friends.”
“Where?”
Was this the information he was trying to get out of him? Had Tasuku-san said something to Omi who said something to Hyodo? Was he trying to get him to admit to being at a gay bar? Was he going to use that to make it sound like it was Banri’s fault people thought they were dating? Just because he was at a gay bar didn’t mean he was gay, and even if he was, it wouldn’t mean that he wanted to date fucking Hyodo.
“Bar near uni.”
“You should eat before going drinking.”
“Wow, thanks for that new and fascinating piece of advice, figures that’s the one fucking thing they teach you at O High.”
Juza fell silent for a moment and Banri thought he might have finally shut him up.
“You never give Taichi or Tenma shit about O High.”
Banri shrugged. He’d never really thought about it, but it was true. After all, why would he? Mocking the younger boys would be cruel. Besides, it wasn’t like he felt the need to make sure they were painfully aware of every single way in which Banri was superior to them. Only Hyodo.
He walked over to the refrigerated cabinet to survey the tragically slim pickings of the 2am convenience store. He was trying to weigh up his options - sadly wilted salad that was ninety percent cabbage, topped with half a cherry tomato and four pieces of corn, or pasta with one tablespoon of tomato sauce and an entire shrivelled sausage unceremoniously sat on top - when Juza wordlessly placed a carton of strawberry milk in his basket.
Banri looked from the aggressively pink packaging to Juza and back again.
“What the fuck is this?”
“I’m thirsty.”
“Why is it in my basket?”
“I didn’t bring my wallet.”
“Then that’s too bad for you, isn’t it?”
Juza fixed him with an expressionless stare. Banri tried to hold it, but looking into the same eyes that had pinned him to the floor even more firmly than the strong hands around his wrists was too much. He clicked his tongue and turned away so Juza wouldn’t see the way his face was turning red.
“Fine, fine, if I buy it for you, will you shut up?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face did. Your face was loud.”
On the way back to the dorms, Banri veered off into a park and Juza followed silently. Well, silently but for the sound of him loudly trying to suck up the last drops of his strawberry milk.
Banri sat on a bench and opened the paper bag of lukewarm karage he’d settled for. He told himself it was because he didn’t want to make their room smell of fried chicken, and Sakyo-san would murder him if he caught him with the living room lights on at this hour, because he couldn’t think of any other reason why he’d willingly spend a moment more with Hyodo than he absolutely had to.
Juza stopped to throw his empty carton in a trash bin before sitting down next to him. It was a small bench for two large guys and in the cool of night, Banri was hyper-conscious of Juza’s warmth beside him.
Juza sighed and leaned back against the bench.
“Why does it bother you so much?”
“It doesn’t bother you?”
“Not so much,” said Juza. “I guess I’m used to people having the wrong idea about me.”
Banri always got a strange, shooting pain in his chest when Hyodo went on one of his self-pity streaks. Annoyance, he figured, at how pathetic Hyodo was being. Especially when he said it so matter-of-factly. Like it was normal to just accept being misunderstood like that, like there was no point in even trying to fight back, like it - like he - wasn’t worth the effort. Banri rolled his eyes.
“Well, I guess it would be a step up for you, dating someone like me.”
“For you, you mean,” Juza shot back instantly and Banri laughed derisively.
“What? Have you even ever dated anyone? I’m an amazing boyfriend,” he paused to consider this for a second. “Well, I can be when I feel like it. And if I felt like it with you, I’d take you out to fancy cafes every weekend, and I’d research the menu in advance and check the reviews so that when you’re stuck between the strawberry tart and the chocolate gateaux, I can tell you which you’d prefer and why, I’d bring you home sweets to see your dumb smile, I’d wake up before you every morning, even when you’re getting up at asscrack of dawn to go running so that every day you’re woken up by a kiss from me instead of your alarm - not to mention the obvious, which is that whenever we fucked I’d make sure you saw fucking heaven.”
“It doesn’t sound too bad,” Juza replied, raising one eyebrow. He didn’t mention that Banri did a good portion of those things already, including telling him that he would like the berry mousse more than the caramel cupcake, with that insufferably smug look on his face. Juza had gotten the cupcake just to spite him, but went back for the mousse a couple of days later and sure enough, as good as the cupcake had been, the mousse was even better. If that’s what made someone an amazing boyfriend, he was beginning to see why the others thought Banri was his. He was starting to wonder himself if Banri hadn’t actually been his boyfriend for a while now. Apart from the kissing and the fucking, he supposed.
Banri glowered and hoped the dark of the night hid his blush. He really hadn’t meant to go on that much. He certainly hadn’t meant to start imagining it.
“Of course it doesn’t,” he said, trying to brush it off. “I’d make you happier than anyone else in the world.”
He waited for Juza to fire back at him, to mutter something about not being able to imagine a more miserable future, but the other boy just sat silently, looking at Banri thoughtfully.
“Okay then,” Juza shrugged.
“What?” Banri narrowed his eyes, trying to work what the hell Hyodo’s play here was.
“I accept,” Juza looked amused, but there was a hint of challenge in his eyes. He wasn’t sure when, exactly, he had realised how easy it was to get Settsu riled up, not to mention how highly entertaining. He used to just want him to leave him alone, but now he actually kind of enjoyed their back and forth. Sure, Settsu was still annoying as fuck - like when he was making a big deal out of Itaru-san saying they were dating (in Juza’s opinion, Itaru-san probably didn’t even really think so, he was most likely just trying to get an entertaining reaction of Settsu, and Settsu fell for it, because for all his smarts, he was still an idiot) - but Juza had never had a person he could have a back and forth with that didn’t involve bloodshed and bruises, and it was… well, what he’d said to Muku was true, after all.
“Accept what?”
“That was you asking to date me, wasn’t it? It sure sounded like it.” Juza leaned back, smirking with an easy confidence that he sure as hell hadn’t had a year ago, and was, or should be, very much against the rules (the rules of what, exactly, Banri couldn’t say, but definitely some rules). Banri was beginning to feel like he was playing one of those video games where a wrong turn in a cave set you up against an impossible boss, which would fucking figure, because Hyodo sure was impossible.
“What?” he shot back, looking for a way out of - whatever he’d gotten himself into here that was making Hyodo look so goddamn self-satisfied. “Who would want to date a daikon like y- what do you mean you accept?”
“I wanna see if you’re as good as you say you are. Or are you just all talk?”
That was the last fucking straw.
“You fucking - I’ll fucking show you who’s all talk -” Banri grabbed Juza by his t-shirt and pulled him in, kissing him with everything he had, every trick and technique he’d picked up in his eighteen years and his sheer determination to finally win, once and for all. When he felt Juza start to melt under his hands, the satisfaction was quickly followed by the realisation that this was Hyodo - Hyodo - he was kissing, but instead of the disgust he expected to feel, there was a warmth blooming in his chest and in the back of his mind, the frustrating realisation that Tsumugi-san and the others weren’t entirely wrong after all, but then Juza was pushing back against him, kissing back with just as much force, though significantly less finesse, burying one hand in Banri’s hair and when he pulled a little, Banri undeniably shivered in response and that was not something he needed to know about himself - he tried to pull back before he could embarrass himself further, but Juza’s lips followed him.
Banri pushed him to arm’s length and smirked, trying to regain that upper hand he was sure he’d had just a few moments ago.
“What, you want more?”
“Yeah,” Juza breathed, and there was a fierce, almost feral, glint in his eyes that felt like a kick to the stomach on a cloudless autumn day. Heart pounding, Banri stood up and pulled Juza by the wrist.
“Come on then, boyfriend.”