Chapter Text
Daichi had barely caught the last train. Saved only by the conductor sticking his head out and reopening the doors after they’d closed already. Daichi dipped a short bow to him in gratitude stumbling into the car, his head a fog of exhaustion. The car was nearly empty as he slumped into a seat and reached to finally loosen his tie, his whole body feeling like a sack of bricks. It took him two whole stops before he looked up to find the man was there in the car with him, which was weird because he usually only saw him on the commute home after work. At a regular hour.
Of all the trains that ran the direction they were riding it always baffled Daichi how he could continue to end up on it with the same person. He was probably Daichi’s age, ash blonde hair, a mole under his left eye, always dressed like he knew who he was and where he was headed. Sometimes he had headphones on, or a book open, eyes lost someplace. He was cute, and that was probably why Daichi had started noticing him in the first place. It wasn’t like they were always on the same train. But it seemed to happen at least once a week.
Daichi’s stop was before the man’s, he didn’t know how much further he rode, where he was coming from, where he was going. Sometimes Daichi imagined they were friends and that this man had noticed him too, when he saw Daichi get on maybe he smiled to himself. ‘Ah here’s Daichi. Hope work wasn’t too awful today.’ Daichi smiled ruefully to himself, he could use all the positive wishes he could get even if they were made up thoughts from a man he’d never spoken to. They’d made eye contact once, and Daichi could’ve sworn the man smiled at him.
Tonight the man was halfway up the car from him, across from the only other passenger, a little old lady who looked like she had no business being out this late. Daichi sighed heavily wishing he was home already, showered, dinner eaten, in bed under the comforter, maybe that tomorrow was Sunday so he could sleep in, make coffee leisurely when he got up. Wouldn’t that be the life? Tomorrow was Friday, he’d be back on the train heading the opposite direction six hours from now. The ride to his stop wasn’t long, but it was long enough and Daichi fell asleep.
He woke to a hand on his shoulder.
“Hey this is your stop,” the voice was urgent and he peeled open his heavy eyes to find the face of the man, his hazel eyes wide and serious.
“Oh shit,” Daichi mumbled pushing to his feet, the man had a hold of his arm, pulling him off the train just as the doors hissed shut. On the platform Daichi’s heart jumped.
“My bag!”
“I’ve got it, no worries,” the man said with a soft smile offering it to him. Daichi exhaled in relief and then was startled because here he was, standing on the platform with the man.
“This isn’t your stop,” he choked out, and then felt immediate embarrassment for having owned to the fact that he knew that.
“Its fine,” the man was still smiling, “I’m sure it’s not a long walk. I didn’t want you to get stuck on there.”
“Thanks,” Daichi said flushing.
“No problem,” the man answered and giving him a little wave started walking for the exit. Except there was only one exit so then Daichi was following along behind him, feeling deeply awkward. They pushed through the turnstiles and up the stairs into the dark October chill of the Tokyo night. It had started to rain, pelting down ice cold. It hadn’t been raining when he’d been outside before, the cold a shock after the warmth and hum and rattle of the trains underground. It took Daichi’s breath for a moment.
He shuddered beneath the overhang, not eager for the walk from here to his apartment building. The other man has also come to a stop trying to get his bearings. Daichi stood beside him and it was clear that he wasn’t sure which way he was supposed to go, and on top of that it was going to be a soggy walk. Daichi’s heart gripped in remorse for putting him in this situation.
“Where do you live?” Daichi asked him, “I mean, uh, I can point you in the right direction. I didn’t mean like I want to know where you live,” he stumbled over his words, all of it coming out wrong and not cool. He didn't even feel groggy anymore, face heating up in the cold night. The man laughed, eyes crinkling.
“Its fine,” he said and then explained. It turned out he needed to go the same direction as Daichi. He popped open an umbrella from his backpack and offered to share it with Daichi.
“I’m Sugawara Koushi, by the way. Suga if you like,” the man said as they turned off the side street onto a better lit main street. Here there were more cars, taxis, street lights casting everything in watery orange, painting gleaming shapes on the wet sidewalk. Daichi could feel the water seeping in through his dress shoes.
“Sawamura Daichi,” Daichi answered him with a grin.
“I’ve seen you on the train before,” Sugawara admitted looking bashful for a minute. “Isn’t that weird that we’d end up on the same train so often?”
“Of all the trains in Tokyo,” Daichi laughed. Sugawara’s eyes crinkled again. There’s no way this is real life. Daichi felt like he was in a dream, and then just as suddenly he was at his fork in the road, turning to head for his apartment.
“I’m this way,” he said, not eager to step out from under the umbrella, pulling the collar of his jacket up.
“Here, take it, I don’t mind getting wet,” Sugawara said offering the handle of the umbrella to Daichi. He hesitated.
“You’ve got further to go.”
“I don’t mind, the rain is nice,” Sugawara assured him, pushing the handle into Daichi’s hand. He stepped back, out from under the shelter.
“Wait.”
Sugawara had his hands in the pockets of his jacket but he took one out to wave. He had long slender fingers, and Daichi noticed then what looked like a big smudge of dried blue paint on Sugawara’s palm.
“See ya later, Sawamura.”
Daichi waved back and Sugawara was gone, the air in Daichi’s lungs suddenly cold again, hand gripping the umbrella that wasn’t his. Kicking himself for all the questions he had not asked. What was the man doing out so late? Why had he felt the need to get Daichi off the train? Why was he so attractive and charming? In what world did Daichi think he had a chance with a guy like that?
“Stupid,” Daichi mumbled to himself, letting his feet take him home. Then he was unlocking his door, dropping his bag, barely managing to shed his clothes before he crawled into his futon and let sleep claim his weary body.
“You’re out late,” Asahi’s head appeared over the back of the couch when Suga ducked into their apartment kicking off his shoes. “And you’re soaked! When did it start raining?” The lights were all off except the light over the sink, Asahi’s face light up with the blue light from his laptop screen, open in his lap. Suga peeled off his soaked jacket, wiping the water from his face. It’d felt good to cool off for all of five minutes, until he’d lost sight of the dark haired stranger from the train. Now his fingers were ice cold and all he could think about was a hot shower.
“Just a little bit ago. I told you I’d be late,” Suga grumbled, “I thought you were my roommate, not my mom.”
“Sorry, Suga, I just started to worry,” Asahi said with a wince.
“Its fine, I’m just tired,” Suga said letting out a heavy sigh. He peeled off more wet clothes, soaked socks, damp t-shirt, wiping his face again and then leaving them in a dripping pile in the entryway.
“Something happen? How was the show?” Asahi asked. Suga shrugged padding toward the kitchen considering putting the kettle on for something hot to drink or if it’d be better to just call it a night. He shivered and then suppressed a yawn. Forget the tea.
“Nothing happened. The show was fine, parents wheedling me to tell them their kids are protégés. Couple of important people there too. You know Oikawa from University?” he said, the other words in his mouth, the name he kept turning over. Sawamura Daichi.
“Ugh, that guy,” grumbled Asahi about Oikawa.
“You’re just mad because they beat us in that one game. He’s not totally awful,” Suga said.
“But isn’t he? You complain about him all the time,” Asahi reminded him.
“But I actually know him, I get to complain about him,” Suga laughed coming closer to the couch to seize one of their throw blankets to wrap around his shoulders. His hair was still dripping. Asahi gave him a disapproving look.
“Anyway, Oikawa was there, told me that he’s putting on a show of work from local teachers. Offered me a spot, we went and got drinks after, that’s why I’m so late.”
“That’s great,” Asahi said turning back to look at Suga again eyes wide, “Just what you wanted.”
“Yeah,” Suga said but the enthusiasm wasn’t in his voice.
“You’ll get out of your funk,” Asahi said reading what was on Suga’s face. Suga shrugged.
“Easy for you to say. I haven’t painted anything good in months, not since...” he trailed off, face screwing up in disgust. Asahi sighed. “You don’t have to say it,” Suga told him sighing as well. “Anyway, I’m going to take a hot shower and then I’m going to bed. Don’t stay up too late,” he said running a hand through his wild hair, and then he saw the big smudge of blue on his palm. He felt a flinch of embarrassment with the thought of all the people who had seen it all day and said nothing. Asahi was giving him a funny look.
“Okay, Mom.”
“I deserved that,” Suga said smiling a little.
“Goodnight, Suga,” Asahi with a grin, turning back to his laptop.
Suga dreamt of color fields, a gradient of blues, greens and oranges cutting through like metro lines across the city grid. He felt them in the curve of his spine eating breakfast and in his fingertips during class, helping his high schoolers adjust perspectives and deepen contrast. Over his lunch break instead of walking to the park, he cleared his desk and started marking them down like a map. But as soon as they were down, the humming in his body, like a hardworking refrigerator, stopped. Frustrated he slid the sketches into a drawer, resisting the urge to crumple them up. Instead he wondered if he’d see Sawamura again on the train and just as easily he crumpled that idea up as well.
He didn’t see Sawamura on the train on his way home after school. The volleyball coach had asked him again to come help with practice but all Suga could think was if he stayed then he might miss Sawamura. When the doors opened at the stop where he usually got on and more people packed in to the already crowded train he was disappointed to not see the familiar man with dark hair and soft brown eyes. Heart sinking like a stone, he felt stupid.
“You ever see Metro Guy anymore?” Asahi asked that night by some painful coincidence. Suga shook his head at their table, mouth full of food.
“That’s too bad,” Asahi said, taking off his coat and hanging it up. He toed off his shoes in a neat set by the door. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
“How was work?” Suga asked.
“If I see one more PDF today I will die,” Asahi said half smiling.
“That isn’t the voice of a broken man,” Suga said.
“Yeah well,” Asahi laughed a little and Suga was smiling now too. Leaning eagerly across the table, resting his chin in his palms.
“You’re going out with him again tonight?”
“I know Fridays are usually our hang out time, but he’s in town this weekend so…”
“Go, go, I wouldn’t stop you,” Suga said. “Don’t worry about your loser best friend at home in his pajamas. Go out with your hot world traveler boyfriend.” Asahi was red and Suga laid his case to rest, satisfied.
“You’re not allowed to watch any sad movies,” Asahi warned Suga as he slipped his shoes back on fifteen minutes later, hair loose, in fresh clothes that Suga had reassured him four times looked good, and wrapped his scarf around his neck, looking twenty five and successful. Suga was lying on the couch, rumpled shirt and baggy sweatpants, sketch book open but the page empty. He sat up to stick his tongue out at Asahi.
“Try to stop me.”
“I’m serious, Suga,” Asahi said pausing, his hand on the door knob. “Maybe you should try going out with some of those teacher friends of yours. You know, get back out there.”
Suga scowled at him and Asahi raised his hands in surrender.
“I’m just saying. You can’t stay locked up at home like a recluse forever.”
“You’re going to be late,” Suga threatened him. Asahi looked at his watch and yelped and was out the door with a hurried ‘this conversation isn’t over.’
Suga exhaled when he was finally gone and sprawled back on the couch.
“I am not a recluse,” he grumbled to himself picking up his pen and staring at the blank sheet of paper. Then growling he leapt up, throwing down the sketch pad. It did seem a waste to stay home, but he wasn’t ready to go out. And honestly he wasn’t sure when he ever would be. Asahi had only recently started pestering him about it.
“I let you sulk, but Suga, it’s been six months—“
Even though he was already in what Asahi would kindly call pajamas, Suga shrugged on a hoodie on over the top and stuffed his feet into his shoes. Grabbing his keys he locked the door behind him and descended the four flights of stairs and out onto the street. He sucked in a deep breath of the night air.
“Not a recluse,” he grumbled again. But now he that he was outside, he knew there wasn’t anywhere he really wanted to go. He started walking.
Daichi took the umbrella with him to work tucked in his work bag, and then on his desk. He intended to get it back to Sugawara even though it seemed incredibly unlikely that would be anytime soon.
“Expecting rain Sawamura?” Michimiya Yui poked him in the shoulder at lunch time. He shrugged her off, face hot.
“I borrowed it from someone yesterday, I’m going to give it back after work.” Michimiya smiled at him. She had a round face and soft brown eyes. She reminded Daichi a lot of his sister, which never failed to make him feel like shit. He hadn’t seen her in four years, she wouldn’t answer his phone calls, he only heard about her from his dad, like an alley cat picking up scraps outside a restaurant. She had a husband, was expecting, had a job running the family shop, she and her husband had a house with lilacs in the front yard. Daichi had to push the thought away, the heavy hurt, the loss, it opened in his chest.
Ennoshita from accounting had told him Michimiya had a crush on him but Daichi could not think about her in that way at all, even if he had wanted to.
“Such a gentleman,” she prodded him in the shoulder. “Wanna come to lunch with me and Ennoshita? We’re going to that ramen place down the street. The one you like.”
“Packed a lunch today, sorry,” Daichi said giving her an honestly apologetic smile. He had too much work to get done, going out for lunch only meant he would be here later and for all his appearances, staying later was not an end goal.
“Raincheck then?”
“Yeah, next time for sure.”
She ducked away, face flushed with disappointment and Daichi felt bad again. Rubbing his eyes he turned back to the computer in front of him.
Daichi got off the late train glad only that the work week was over. He hadn’t really expected to see Sugawara again, and in fact he decided he would not be surprised if he never saw the man again. That would be just his luck. It was warmer tonight but not by much, and there were more people out. His stomach growled, and on a whim, he entered the 7/11 down the street from his apartment. He gravitated toward the onigiri, bumping into someone who was crouched down looking at the breads.
“Sorry,” Daichi apologized and the man looked up at him, hazel eyes brightening.
“Sawamura-san!”
“Sugawara,” Daichi felt a flush of heat in his face. Sugawara was in a pair of sweats and he looked so soft. He must think Daichi was lame, still in his suit, tie loose, the perpetually dark smudges beneath his eyes.
“Call me Suga,” Sugawara said smiling at him, then he looked embarrassed. “Don’t judge me, out for a late night snack.”
“No judgment,” Daichi promised.
“Working late again tonight?” Suga asked him, picking up a bread at random.
“Uh, yeah,” Daichi admitted, “Lame I know.”
“Nothing wrong with dedication,” Suga told him.
“I suppose,” Daichi said, looking back to the onigiri. The one he wanted was all gone, he picked another.
“Good choice,” Suga said, they were nearly shoulder to shoulder now. They were almost the same height Daichi thought. “This your dinner? Nice well rounded conbini three course?” Daichi blushed. “Can I help you? I’m a pro at the conbini three course. Hold this a second,” he said handing Daichi his bread and going to get a basket. He came back with not only the basket but a box of hot fried chicken and chips, he grabbed a tea off the shelf and offered the basket for Daichi to put his onigiri in.
“The theme is comfort food,” Suga told him. “I think we need a flan to go with this, you like flan?” Daichi took the basket and let Suga lead him on a short culinary tour. Then they were at the counter, the cashier giving him a strange look as they unloaded it all. Suga added his bread and offered the girl his card.
“What? It’s my dinner,” Daichi reached to stop Suga. Suga waved him off.
“My treat,” he said. Suga laughed when the girl handed Daichi the heavy plastic bag.
“I don’t think I can eat this all at once,” Daichi said when they were outside. He’d taken a bite of a melon pan, Suga had talked him into. It had started to rain lightly. Suga’s expression had sobered outside of the bright fluorescent lit convenience store.
“You need a little more ambition, Sawamura,” Suga said, he opened his own bread and took a bite. “I guess this is goodbye. I’ve got to go back to being a recluse and you need to eat dinner.” Daichi’s heart dropped. “Actually,” Suga paused giving Daichi a small look. “Here,” he said offering Daichi his phone a new message pulled up, “Can I have your number?”
Daichi choked on the melon pan. Suga slapped him on the back.
“You okay?”
“’m good,” Daichi said accepting Suga’s phone, still warm from his touch. He typed in his phone number and handed it back. Suga took it, typed for a second and hit send. Daichi’s phone buzzed in his pocket.
“There, now I have no more regrets about last night,” Suga said with a grin. Daichi was in a daze. Suga pulled up his hood against the drizzle. “See you around, Sawamura,” he said moving to leave.
“Wait!” Daichi choked fumbling with his work bag and pulling out the umbrella he’d been carrying all day. He offered it to Suga. Suga took it with reverential hands.
“Thanks Sawamura.”
“Just Daichi is fine,” Daichi sputtered. Suga’s eyes lit up.
“Ok, Just Daichi,” he said with a grin and a wave, “Later. Enjoy your dinner.”
Daichi walked home in a bubble of happiness. He almost didn’t even feel tired when he kicked off his shoes and spread out his feast on the counter. Then he remembered Suga’s text and pulled out his phone.
It was just an emoji: :)