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It rained on the night of Osamu’s first time at Maskipaps.
It was unfortunate, so, so untimely, to have to withstand a downpour on the single most exciting day of his life thus far. He had been looking forward to this event for the longest time, especially since every time he had tried to go before something more important had always come up instead.
The saving graces were the umbrella he had decided to bring–on the advice of his twin brother, no less–and the fact that Akaashi Keiji had abstained from bringing one of his own.
That meant that it left them no choice but to stay huddled together beneath the safety of one umbrella. Osamu tried not to linger on the way his friend had his shoulder pressed against his, and he tried to tell himself that he was only this close because it was a necessity.
Akaashi Keiji wouldn’t bother himself with someone like Miya Osamu. After all, they had a strict “don’t shit where you eat” policy among their little circle.
Not that Keiji would choose Osamu even without that rule in place. Because that rule certainly did not stop his twin brother and Keiji’s best friend from dating. And, by rule of extension, that meant that Keiji could have Osamu too, if he wanted.
“Are you comfortable?” asked Osamu now. Even as it rained all around them, the Manila weather remained humid, and it plastered their shirts against their skin in sticky patches. The ground beneath their feet had turned to mud, soft patches that turned softer the longer they stood upon it.
“I am.” Keiji smiled at him before he checked on his phone again. He had been doing so ever since they arrived at the Sunken Garden. “Koutarou said he and Atsumu are just about to go.”
Osamu scoffed. “I told him. I told ’Tsumu not to leave their dorm too late.”
“You know how they are.” Keiji’s expression twisted into faux disgust, and Osamu laughed. So cute, he thought. Then, immediately after, Stop thinking that, Osamu.
“Hmm,” said Osamu instead, trying to dispel his mess of a thought. “So as long as they’re not sliding their hands all over each other in front of us.”
Keiji laughed again. Then he peered up over the lip of the umbrella over their heads and stretched his hand out. Osamu watched him, transfixed by how the neon lights from the stage melted against the paleness of his skin. When Keiji pulled his arm back and rubbed his fingers together, he declared, “It’s no longer raining.”
“Ah. Good.” Osamu put away his umbrella, shaking it against his side to dry it a little before he slid the strap over his wrist. At the same time, Keiji pulled away from him, and Osamu couldn’t help but mourn the loss of his proximity.
Stupid rain, cursed Osamu inwardly. First it had the audacity to ruin his first Maskipaps, and now it had the audacity to ruin his moment with Keiji.
Or whatever was between them. If there was even anything between them.
“Thank you, by the way.”
Osamu glanced at him, blinking away the haziness of his thoughts. It took him a moment to figure it out, but Keiji was probably thanking him for sharing his umbrella earlier. “Any time.”
Keiji took a deep breath. “For this. For the date.”
This time, Osamu turned. Keiji continued to stare straight ahead as Osamu searched his features. “Is–is that what this is?”
Keiji’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Is it not?” He was clenching and unclenching his fingers. “I mean–it’s just–it’s just you and me. Isn’t–that’s what–dates are two people spending time together right? I think. Friendly or–or otherwise.”
“I mean, I guess.” Osamu winced. He sounded like he didn’t want it to be one. Friendly or otherwise. He plucked at his shirt. “I did wear my best polo for this.”
Keiji laughed. He glanced at Osamu, all the lights of the scene reflected in his eyes. Osamu couldn’t help but smile back at him, all of his heart seeping through one look alone.
They averted their gazes from one another at the same time. Osamu rocked on the balls of his feet, forcing himself to focus on the next band–his personal favorite, December Avenue–tuning their guitars on stage. The lead singer was saying something, introducing their band, going on a monologue speech about how the weather will not stop them from carrying on, but Osamu could hear none of it. His thoughts had snagged against Keiji’s words from earlier, and they were all he could pick apart in his head.
A date. He supposed this was a date, now that it was just the two of them and it seemed like it might take a while before Atsumu and Koutarou arrived.
“It’s your favorite,” whispered Keiji to him, leaning closely to be heard over the rising uproar of the crowd.
Osamu looked at him. “Hmm?”
“Your favorite song,” repeated Keiji, gesturing to the stage. “You play this on repeat on Spotify all the time.”
“Why are you paying so much attention to my Spotify?” asked Osamu. Then, because he was feeling a little daring tonight, he added in a teasing tone, “You like me, don’t you?”
Keiji hurriedly looked away, and Osamu chose to believe that the blush on his cheeks was not from the neon lights at all. “I always pay attention to you.”
It was Osamu’s turn to look away, his own face turning every shade of red.
Thankfully, Keiji had been right: December Avenue was about to play his favorite song, and Osamu used that as a welcome distraction from the boy beside him.
Osamu closed his eyes as soon as the music amplified itself through the speakers. He let himself fall into the rhythm of the tune, the beat of the song, until the lyrics began stitching themselves to the musical notes.
Hindi masabi ang nararamdaman
He let himself fall into the memory of Keiji, first year student, looking up at him shyly as he introduced himself; Keiji, second year classmate, walking with him along the oval circle as they trekked to their next class; Keiji, third year friend, smiling at him sleepily as they crammed for their finals.
Hindi makalapit
He let himself fall into the vision of Keiji, fourth year Maskipaps date, standing beside him just as stock still as he was.
Sadyang nanginginig na lang
Osamu felt something graze against his fingertips, and he flinched at the ice cold tickle that ran from the distal parts of him right to the heat of him.
Mga kamay na sabik sa piling mo
Osamu opened his eyes just as he felt the whispered ghost of a finger trail against his own. He swallowed, staring straight ahead and seeing nothing but feeling everything: the bass of the ground through his sneakers. The sweltering temperature of the afterrain.
Ang iyong matang walang mintis
The feel of Akaashi Keiji’s pinky gently, softly, shyly linking around his own.
Sa pagtigil ng aking mundo
December Avenue continued to play its song, driving right into the chorus. The night continued to wane into grander things. The finger around his slowly inched its way around his hand, until Keiji’s fingers intertwined with Osamu’s entirely.
Ako’y alipin ng pag-ibig mo
Osamu inhaled sharply before letting it all out in one breath. Keiji did the same.
Handang ibigin ang ’sang tulad mo
“Sharing an umbrella with you was nice,” admitted Keiji. “But this is better.”
Hangga’t ang puso mo’y sa akin lang
Osamu laughed, tightening his gentle grip against Keiji’s hand. Keiji did the same just as Osamu replied, “Sure. Because it’s normal for two people to hold hands. Friendly or otherwise.”
Hindi ka na malilinlang
“You sure about wanting to be friends after this?” Keiji looked at him, and his eyes shone with equal parts mirth and trepidation.
Ikaw ang ilaw sa dilim
Osamu lifted their joined hands together and kissed back of Keiji’s hand. “Being friends with you is nice.” He met Keiji’s eyes through the rim of their hands, smiling against his skin. “But this is better. Much, much better.”
At ang liwanag ng mga bituin
Ah, thought Osamu to himself. It’s no wonder this was his favorite song after all.