Chapter Text
Gentaro doesn’t lend Dice money.
In the beginning, Dice assumes it’s because Gentaro doesn’t like him, and while that’s been proven false, Gentaro still doesn’t lend him money.
“I’m broke,” Gentaro says, excuse as flimsy as the sleeve that hides his smile. “Unfortunately, I’ve spent all my money on antique cuckoo clocks.”
Gentaro doesn’t lend Dice money, but he always bails him out.
When Dice’s luck run dries and he loses the even the clothes off his back, Gentaro will appear with his belongings in hand.
Gentaro never asks Dice to repay him.
Dice tries to, once. The stack of bills he offers Gentaro is surely only a fraction of what he owes, but it’s a start.
Instead of accepting it, Gentaro just stares at the stack and laughs.
“Look, I know it’s not enough, but—“
“You owe me nothing,” Gentaro says, cutting him off. “Friends don’t lend each other money. Everything I’ve bought back for you was because I wanted to. Though, if you really want to thank me for my troubles, you can treat me to dinner.”
Dice blows the entire stack at the nicest restaurant in Shibuya.
+
Gentaro never asks Dice to repay him, but he’s also a smug bastard.
“I bought it, so I’m wearing it,” he says, curled up on the futon with Dice’s coat.
And, well, Dice can’t really argue with that logic.
When Dice entertains the idea of just buying another coat to Ramuda, Ramuda looks at him like he’s an idiot.
“It’s sooooo not about the coat,” he says. “Do you really think Gentaro likes that ratty old thing?”
Dice ignores the last part, because his coat’s seen better days, but it’s not as gross as Ramuda’s implying it is. “I mean, yeah? He wears it all the time.”
“It’s totes just your version of the boyfriend hoodie.”
“Boyfriend hoodie?”
Ramuda sighs, like Dice is causing him physical pain. “You’re hopeless! Hopeless! Gentaro wears it because it’s yours, which I don’t really get ‘cause you smell like nicotine and sweat most of the time, but love does weird things, I guess. Anyway! If you buy another coat, he’ll just be taking that one instead, dummy.”
Dice doesn’t buy a new coat.
+
Gentaro and Ramuda often tease Dice about being Fling Posse’s stray cat, but being in a relationship with Gentaro has revealed that if anyone has catlike tendencies, it’s definitely not Dice.
Dice’s picky, attention-seeking, sometimes clingy, sometimes prickly boyfriend who will drape himself across Dice’s back or wriggle into his lap with no regard for things like if there’s enough space. If Gentaro decides he wants to cuddle, Dice is suddenly free real estate.
It’s strange because Gentaro doesn’t come across as a cuddler. Everything about him screams that he’d rather be left alone—hidden under layers of clothing and protected by a wall of lies. Dice is willing the bet that the most physical contact he’s had since becoming an adult is a handshake. So, maybe it’s not strange that Gentaro’s a little touch-starved.
Dice himself is a pretty touchy-feely person, and Gentaro’s so damn light that the extra weight is more comforting than annoying, so it mostly works out. The annoying part comes in the form of the ice cubes Gentaro calls hands and feet.
“Poor circulation,” Gentaro explains.
Dice doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the sensation of Gentaro’s hands sneaking under his shirt for warmth, but he’ll live with it.
+
It occurs to Dice one day as he sits on the couch, mindlessly watching some dinosaur documentary because the remote’s just out of reach with Gentaro dozing on his lap, that he knows what Gentaro’s favorite dinosaur is. He knows all of his usual takeout orders. He knows the exact number of freckles on his back (47 total, 38 if you don’t count the more faded ones). He knows so many small, inconsequential things about Gentaro, and he wants to learn more.
His hand stills where it had been rubbing Gentaro’s back, and he only half hears the disgruntled, mumbly sort of noise that Gentaro makes in protest.
Dice should be freaking out. He’s spent his whole life running away, chasing thrills, never staying in one place for too long. No commitments, no attachments. It’s the sort of life he always envisioned for himself as a kid.
But lately, that’s not the sort of life he’s been living. Not when he chooses to spend evenings in with Gentaro, eating delivery and playing footsies underneath the table. Not when he’s running errands and picking up Gentaro’s preferred brands of everything without a second thought. And definitely not when he lies awake at night, fingers mapping the freckles on Gentaro’s back.
Dice still gambles, but now when the games are over, he has a home to return to.
Maybe Dice never envisioned himself living such a domestic life, but he’s always thought that the best things in life are unexpected.