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It’s a breezy, unbothered spring afternoon, one that passes by like the drowsy walk from the bedroom to the kitchen on a Sunday after you’ve slept in — And Gentaro revels in it, simple as he always was, a good novel he was quite invested in cradled in his hand, casually cuddled close to Hifumi on his couch. Peaceful.
It’s this idyllic quiet day before the blond stirs up trouble, because Hifumi isn’t himself if he’s not doing that, and so he asks, “Hey, Gen-chan, would you, like, let me try on your clothes someday?”
And Gentaro stills, the portrait of the current scenario going colorless in his head.
It shouldn’t be a loaded question, but a lot of things about Gentaro were like that, too heavy for him to bear, let alone toss around casually, when they really shouldn’t be the case. And Hifumi, first and foremost, never meant to harm him.
Maybe he did, all those months ago, when they jabbed at each other in some alleyway somewhere, but it never was that bad. They just didn’t like each other until they did. So now he had Hifumi’s good side to himself, and that meant dealing with the well-intentioned prying, that sort of youthful curiosity, the bluntness.
This question that he hopes he didn’t really mean, because at the present moment he’s not sure how to approach it, especially how to bring up all the subjects tied to it that he is yet to tell Hifumi.
“Mm, how curious it is that the number one host of Shinjuku is coming to me of all people for fashion advice.” He jokes to save face, and Hifumi just giggles, that sweet, sunny sound. “Have you never tried traditional clothing before?”
“Not really?” He can’t tell if Hifumi notices his unease or not. “I mean, I went to festivals with Doppochin a couple times and all, and I think I tried on a yukata once or twice, but never the stuff you wear.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, yeah. My family’s always been more into western stuff, I guess? And then I just never had the opportunity to check out traditional clothes, really.” Hifumi looks at the ceiling, seemingly invested in his own talking. Gentaro hides his sigh behind the novel a little.
Hifumi’s chatter goes on and he just feels bad.
At some point it’ll all come up again is a thought he had gotten used to since his involvement with Fling Posse. There was no use denying this sort of bleak future, he knew Dice and Ramuda wouldn’t pry into his business — Not too much, at least — but the attention that came with them, dragging him out of his shy cult following as a novelist to the blinding spotlights of the DRB meant that eventually, whether sooner or later, somebody would figure out just what sort of person he is.
What sort of things he’s done.
“At the moment my usual outfit is unavailable,” He explains to Hifumi, maybe too serious. “But if you wish, I could have you try on something else in my closet. I’m assuming you want to try the hakama as well?”
“Yeah!” Hifumi vibrates, golden eyes sparkling, like that champagne he pours for all these girls Gentaro swears he isn’t jealous of. “It’s such a signature Gen-chan look.”
“Very well. I’ll get them for you now, then.”
It’s possibly a dangerous thought, but if Hifumi has to find out, Gentaro wants to be the one to tell him.
It’s been a while since he’s gotten to even consider doing something like this, the thought itself is chilling, in a way. But Hifumi may be worth it.
It scares him, but he wants him to be worth it, more than anything — Even if that’s a thought he can’t quite voice yet.
It’s a short walk from the living room to the bedroom, he returns with something akin to his usual ensemble, but not exactly like it, one of his signature undershirts, a kimono and a hakama in his arms. Hifumi’s face lights up.
And Gentaro feels himself blush, agrees that he’s worth this strange testing of waters, at least, at the very least, so cornered as he may be, he walks towards Hifumi.
“You have to strip, obviously.”
“Okie-dokie!” He chimes, and follows the command.
Hifumi’s shirt and jeans slip away easily, Gentaro places the clothes on the coffee table. The kimono is white, the hakama is black, he doesn’t deviate much from that usual color palette.
“The shirt comes first, but usually, there’s a specific undergarment for when you wear a kimono. It looks a lot like them, but they’re lighter.” He explains, and Hifumi raises his arms as necessary for him to slide the shirt onto him, without even being asked. He breathes in. “They’re buttoned, nothing too complex. Even you could figure it out by yourself, I’m sure.”
“Mean.” Hifumi points out, but he laughs, and Gentaro does too, even as he looks down to close up the buttons of the undershirt over Hifumi’s chest, counting them as they go, steadily covering up skin. “Don’t you get hot when it’s summer?”
“As much as you do, probably. My clothing is all in natural fibers, so it doesn’t trap as much heat down as most casualwear made out of synthetics.” He speaks. “Now, you put the kimono on, and then tie it.”
“Show me!”
“You have no business ordering me around.” He says, playful, as if he wasn’t already planning on doing that. The kimono goes over Hifumi’s body, who still stands with a mannequin’s grace. “You cross it like this, pull a little… and then, you tie the sash.”
Gentaro leans in closer to tie it together. Hifumi watches his hands.
“That actually doesn’t look so hard.” He points out, and they’ve been this physically close before, sure, but it takes on a different meaning now. He feels like he’s dialed a couple months back when having Hifumi step towards him made his face feel hot.
“It may be a bit tricky if you try to do it by yourself, but it’s easy to get used to.” The sash is tied, Hifumi looks around, taking a break from his model position to move around, feeling the difference of the fabric on his body. “The hakama, now.”
“I like this.” Hifumi comments with the glee of novelty, half spinning around, delighted with the looseness of the sleeves. “It’s kinda comfy. I might steal your clothes later.”
Gentaro doesn’t know how to deal with the last statement so he doesn’t. “Yes, dear, and this is also a rather short kimono, so if you go outside with it you may get some well-deserved stares.”
“Is Gen-chan implying my legs look good?” He grins, Gentaro, holding the hakama in front of him, rolls his eyes.
“I’m saying people will be weirded out. Your legs are the worst to have ever cursed my eyes, so would you step into this now?”
“That’s a lie, though.” Hifumi accuses, and steps carefully into the two circles traced on the floor by the hakama legs.
“You always manage to catch me, don’t you.” A smile sprawls out of him, only intensifying Hifumi’s elation. “First, you tie the front…”
He can forget the discomfort a little, like this. He pulls the front side of the hakama up to Hifumi’s hips, taking the straps so they’re wrapped around tightly. Following almost the exact same ritual that he goes through when getting dressed in the morning.
Sometimes he has to look away, just for a bit. It’s too intimate and vulnerable even if it isn’t, he wonders if Hifumi has any idea of what’s going through his head right now.
“Then you tie the back.” Hifumi guesses, and he does so correctly.
“Would you like to try it yourself?”
“Nah, I like you dressing me up.” He says, shrugging. Still smiley. It’s hard to believe this man is 29.
“You like everything too much.”
“I like you too much.”
He does.
“It pains me to admit that I do, as well.” Gentaro speaks, it comes out a little quiet, because it’s not a lie, just not in the way Hifumi would think. A lot of statements of his end up being like that.
A path half-walked. One day maybe he’d arrive at the truth.
It takes some fumbling to get Hifumi to move, but with a final pull, the hakama is in place, fitted quite nicely around Hifumi’s body, and they both seem to agree silently to take a moment to look at it, admire the contrasts between Hifumi’s usual style and Gentaro’s.
When Hifumi is turning around, once again toying with the movement of the fabrics, whistling in this wide-eyed sort of satisfaction, Gentaro withdraws a little, but he feels a little proud for taking this step. And he feels a little proud for seeing him like this, too. It’s a mark he’s left on Hifumi, who lived this image of a perfect, spotless trophy.
Even though he has no right feeling this way.
“There it is. Have I sated your curiosity, now?” It’s Gentaro who breaks the silence. His mood is lifted a bit. Not enough to call it a high, but it’s up too tall to call it a low.
“Yeah! You’re a good teacher, Gen-chan.” Hifumi praises, and he’s the one who closes the gap between him, kissing him tenderly, happily on the lips. “Maybe I’ll get myself some traditional stuff so we can match.”
“Do allow me to help choosing. I can’t help but feel as if you’ll bring home the gaudiest prints you find in the store.” His hands meet Hifumi’s cheeks, they kiss again, still soft.
“I’ll call you, promise!”
It pushes him towards both sides, to tell Hifumi the truth, to keep telling himself and others this is the way things are until it blows up and kills him. They kiss and he just wishes things weren’t the way they are a million times. So he closes his eyes and pretends they’re different.
Gentaro doesn’t know if that could happen. Maybe it’d be worth it to take that step forward, maybe not.