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They’re sitting on the grass in the football field outside the school’s “multipurpose hall” (really just a fancy term for a gym) on a sweltering hot afternoon when Shinobu asks Midori a ridiculous question.
His voice is tiny. “Do you want to be my boyfriend?”
Midori’s obviously taken aback, Shinobu thinks, because his face doesn’t look like it’s sure what expression to make. One eyebrow raised. Lip bitten. Eye twitching. “Uh, sure. Yeah.” A beat. Shinobu stares back at him directly. Now he isn’t sure how to react to that.
Midori waves his hand and smiles awkwardly, baring his teeth. He’s red in the face. “No, no, I don’t want to make it look like I’m unwilling or anything. I’m just surprised you asked.”
“Okay.” Shinobu grins, pumping his fists. The school’s thick, cottony PE uniform is getting scratchy against his small back. His leg jerks out and scrapes grass, green blades fluttering in the wind. “Also, do you want to go to prom with me?”
Midori’s voice rises an entire octave. It becomes even tinier than Shinobu’s. He stretches his arms out. “Ah, I’d...actually really love to.”
Shinobu isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do again. It isn’t like he’s ever done this before. Sweat gathers around his chin. Hands flat on the grass, inching toward Midori’s hands—he moves in for a kiss, shutting his eyes and parting his lips slightly.
And he feels Midori’s upper body jerk back. He yelps and quickly barks a laugh. Shinobu’s eyes screech open. Midori’s smile is even more awkward than before, eyes crinkling in their corners. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. At least let me take you out first.”
Shinobu laughs. “Maybe prom can be our first date, de gozaru. ”
“In three days?” Midori says. He lifts a finger to his chin and stares up at the blue sky with the flaring sun. “I think I can wait that long. I’ll admit, I’m pretty excited.”
The other boy extends his arms out and hugs Midori tightly, rocking Midori’s body with his and smiling into his warm, sunlit neck. “Me too, de gozaru !”
The gym’s light is a dim, cool purple. Soft, slow music blares on the speakers. Couples dance in a vaguely similar rhythm—a few off-beat, a few tripping over their shoes, and a few who, to put it politely, were simply never blessed with dancing skills.
Shinobu and Midori are the final of the three. Swaying to the music, Midori steps his large black leather shoe on Shinobu’s small one. “Oops. Sorry.”
Shinobu’s face lights up. He grips onto Midori’s waist tighter with his left hand, fingers catching on the fabric of his green tweed jacket. “It’s okay, de gozaru. ” He makes an attempt to dip Midori back, tipping his body over his partner’s. Midori bounces back, having hit the plastic table next to them. Shinobu hears a large squeaking sound right before a thud.
Midori’s body rises flexibly. He lifts his right hand off Shinobu’s shoulder and rubs the top of his head. “Ow. That was my head.”
Shinobu blushes, sheepish. He can’t believe he accidentally hurt Midori. Is he supposed to apologise? Is he supposed to get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness? No. Don’t be silly. Then what is he supposed to do? He—he realises he’s frozen on the dance floor, his right hand interlocked with Midori’s left. He bobs his feet, roughly to the beat of the music. Trying his best to, at least.
“I’m so sorry, Midori-ku—” Shinobu’s right arm jerks backward, pulling Midori over, pushing them in the exact opposite of their first unfortunate position. Midori catches his waist with his right hand so he doesn’t fall further. Thank goodness there isn’t a table behind Shinobu.
But it’s the first time he’s shown Midori his other eye. His purple hair is pulled back and flipped behind his head. Midori stares back at him with both of his big, bright blue eyes, smiling tenderly. The space between them closes in heat. The heat. It’s running through Shinobu’s body. He can feel it rising to his face. He doesn’t think his cheeks have ever been this warm.
“I’m sorry, de gozaru. I am a disaster.”
Midori laughs and pushes Shinobu up gently. He uses his right hand to fix Shinobu’s smooth, thick hair, brushing it out of the way and putting it over his eye again (in true chuunibyou style, Shinobu knows.)
Shinobu’s entire body screams at the touch. He didn’t think his body could get any hotter, actually. But the heat is frying his insides. Tears form in his eyes and leak out, flowing down his face in salty drops. The music is getting too loud and the lights are flashing different colours too quickly. There are too many people around, with hardly any distance between them and other couples.
“It’s okay,” Midori says, gently wiping a tear off Shinobu’s eye with a nimble finger. “I understand. Can I ask you a question, though?”
“Yes,” Shinobu answers, sucking back tears. Somebody bumps into him. Suddenly, his dark purple jacket feels overwhelming on his back. Not scratchy. But heavy and oppressive. There are too many colours around him. He can’t even see Midori’s face anymore. It’s just a blob of colour mixed in with the light flashing rainbows and the colour of the crowd of other people around them. He wants to cry even more. He wants to simply burst into tears and sit in a ball on the floor. He’s shaking, his form shrinking second by second.
“Are you actually enjoying prom?”
“No.” Shinobu shakes his head, bowing. His face and neck are wet with tears and sweat. “I want to go out, de gozaru. ”
“Then let’s go out. Come on.” He pats Shinobu on the shoulder. “Let’s ditch prom and go make out on the field.”
Ties loosened, jackets unbuttoned, Shinobu and Midori run out of the gym hand-in-hand, slipping past people (and teachers!) and pushing the door open to the cool, windy field.
There’s nobody else, but the clusters of the stars in the sky make Shinobu feel a lot less alone. Midori lets go and rushes to the edge of the field near the plastic goalposts. He kicks off his shoes, showing off his green patterned socks. He pats the grass, motioning for Shinobu to sit down. Shinobu stops in his tracks, eyes still watery. He takes careful steps to the edge of the field, arms outstretched, and sits down next to Midori, removing his shoes and leaning his head on his shoulder.
Midori smells like a mix of sports cologne and baby powder. And the field smells like fresh rain—it must have rained recently, Shinobu supposes. He wraps his arms around Midori again like that afternoon on the same field, rocking his body with his to the music of the crickets. The crickets sound a lot better than the music playing inside; he can still hear it faintly, but it’s a lot less overwhelming now.
Turning around ninety degrees so they’re face-to-face, Midori drapes his arms around Shinobu’s small frame so their arms are both around the other.“Are we going to have the best night of our lives here or what?”
“I think it’ll be the best if you kiss me long and hard, de gozaru ,” Shinobu rolls off his tongue smoothly. “I tried my hardest to be flirty. Please don’t bully me for that.”
“Ugh...I’d never bully you. Okay, let’s make this a good night.” He laughs. He takes a hand off Shinobu’s back and uses it to tip Shinobu’s chin up.
Shinobu’s ready. He slams his hands on his knees, holding onto them for dear life. The stars are shining so brightly, and he’d hate to miss a moment of their twinkling, but they don’t matter right now. He closes his eyes and parts his lips.
And time stops.
He crunches his toes. There’s. A. Tongue. In. His. Mouth. And he’s never actually done this before either, so he’s at a total loss of how to react. His stomach turns inside out, his core weakening.
Shinobu pulls away and takes a breath. His hands are on his knees, their grip tight and unforgiving. They squeeze his knees. “I’m sorry, I-I-I’ve just never done this before, and—”
Midori’s eyes flutter open. He giggles. “If you haven’t done this before, then maybe I’ll just teach you how.”
Shinobu’s heart slows down. “Sure. Teach me how, de gozaru. ”
Their lips merge again, Shinobu’s body melting. He lifts his hands up to Midori’s face, cupping his softly-contoured cheeks. They’re dotted with youthful peach fuzz. Shinobu pulls his face closer, demanding more. Their fingers explore each other with minds of their own, Midori’s hands snaking down to Shinobu’s hips, and Shinobu’s hands firmly holding on to Midori’s face.
Oh, but Shinobu is hyperventilating. His body is tingling, and he’s sure Midori can sense it too. He’s still not sure how to react to the tongue inside his mouth, so he shoves his tongue in Midori’s mouth, and it feels...nice. It’s just nice. The inside of his mouth tastes like mouth. He’s not sure if he can describe its taste any better than flesh. He does taste like the fondue from the buffet, though.
There’s heat in Midori’s mouth, and Shinobu’s tongue scrapes against the roof, eliciting a groan from Midori. Midori pulls away, his hands under Shinobu’s jacket. Shinobu pinches Midori’s cheeks and lowers his hands to Midori’s waist, lazily hanging his limp arms around. Their bodies are practically glued together.
Shinobu can see Midori so clearly, sprayed by kind moonlight. His face is sweet, his lips slick, his eyebrows curled up, and his cheeks a light pink. He’s grinning too, like he’s just won the lottery.
“How’d I do?” Shinobu asks anxiously.
“You did just fine,” Midori says, chuckling. “Especially for a first-timer.”
“Good, good . ” He presses a strange, wet kiss to Midori’s cheek, hoping this one is good too. “What are we going to do until the party dies down? We cannot go back, de gozaru .”
Midori shoves a hand into his pocket and fishes out a pack of Uno cards. “Want to play?”
Shinobu shakes his head. “We love each other very much right now, but I fear we’ll hate each other once the game is over, de gozaru. ”
Midori rolls his eyes. “Ugh. Are you game or not?”
“Game!”
Shinobu pushes a last excited kiss to Midori’s lips. Midori takes a stack of cards out and deals two sets of cards on the grass.
He hands Shinobu his set of cards. Shinobu’s hand grabs onto the cards, and Midori’s hand inches toward it, covering it with his own. Their hands fit together so correctly, and Shinobu’s hand feels like it’s been taken by a comfortable velvet glove. Midori lets go and allows Shinobu to take his cards.
“This is the best night of my life, Shinobu-kun.”
Shinobu stares down at his stack: two draw fours, two draw twos, and three ordinary cards.
“No, it isn’t, de gozaru. ” He looks up and thanks his lucky stars. “It’s the best night of mine.”