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Gentaro lolled in his chair, rolling his thumb over the top of his pen as he waited for inspiration to strike. It wasn't rare that he found himself in these circumstances, but it was irregular enough that he never found himself prepared for it. He set down his pen and stretched back in his chair, a lengthy groan escaping him as he slumped halfway through and glowered at the ceiling. Each second of this dull imagination felt like torture, the countless minutes spent tracing over his paper attempting to imagine what could be.
His seemingly perpetual languish shattered into pieces as his phone began to buzz loudly beside his pen, it lit up and showed the "accept or decline" screen of a call. He regained his composure swiftly and swiped his phone from the table, reading the number displayed upon the screen. "xyz-zyx-xxxy" It read. Not a number that he was familiar with, but for the sake of opportunity he responded anyways. "Hello, who is th–" "GENTAROOOOOOO!" the other line howled, and unfortunately he could recognize it immediately.
He paused and sighed, "Dice, what is the reason behind this. Who's phone are you calling from? Do I even want to know the answers?" Dice scowled audibly through the phone. "Listen man, I lost my phone and shit so i'm calling from this diner place. Your number was the only one I remembered, I just wanted to ask if–"
Gentaro hung up.
Not even half a moment later his phone was ringing again, almost seeming more aggressive this time as if Dice himself was yelling at him through the ringer. He picked up and this time let the other start the conversation. "Gentaroooo," he complained in the same whiny tone as always, "I promise it won't happen again, I just need you to pick me up this one time!" The author could nearly feel Dice pleading at his feet.
"That's what you said the last time, and the time before that, and the other countless amount of times. What reason do I have to keep trusting your word?" A rightful inquiry. There was a brief moment of silence and thought from the other end, and without resolving Gentaro's concern, the gambler replied, "Look man, i'll do anything. And it wasn't from gamblin' this time, at least. Can you jus' pick me up?" That sparked Gentaro's interest. "'Not from gambling..?' I suppose i'll have to make an acception this one last time. Perhaps your story could spark some inspiration in me. I'll send a taxi." There was a sigh of relief from Dice and the call ended shortly after he listed out the address.
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Gentaro slipped over to the stove, finishing brewing some tea for when Dice arrived. The flames under the kettle dispersed as he turned the heat off and grabbed two old-fashioned teacups from his cupboard. He didn't bother to search for any modern dishes or appliances– he was comfortable with what he had, and didn't see the point in purchasing more expensive equipment when the older inexpensive stuff did the trick anyways. Also worth noting that they matched his preferred aesthetic, and that was something he could appreciate.
He set the steaming cups on the table, and just as he aimed to sit on the couch there was a loud rhythm of knocks on the door that quite frankly made him jump a foot or two. "Gennn-taroooooo!" Dice called in a cheeky voice. The author glided over and opened the door, taking a moment to look the gambler up and down. "What.., how, where, when, why?" Gentaro stuttered in disbelief. The younger man was dressed in everything but clothes, instead he showcased a fashionable garbage bag barely clinging to his chest.
Before he could finish his assessment, Dice hurdled into the house, inviting himself in and nearly making Gentaro topple over the back of his couch. He slammed the door shut behind him and sighed with heavy relief. "There was a fatass raccoon chasin' me from the sidewalk!" He squawked, "guess I shouldn't have threw a can at 'em, but man those things are fuckin' freaky when it's you they're after." Gentaro regained his posture and gave him the most cruel 'what is wrong with you' kind of stare. Before Dice could retaliate, Gentaro interrupted and said, "The restroom is the last door on the left side of the hallway. I don't want to hear any more about it until you wash yourself and dispose of that god-forsaken trash bag you are wearing, however that even managed to make its way onto your body, I do not wish to know."
Dice blinked for a second at the sudden commands and then nodded, dashing off to the bathroom. Gentaro flopped onto the couch when he was out of sight and exhaled, exhasperated. 'How does he even manage to create those situations for himself' he thought, 'there's got to be some lesson he's learned but it doesn't appear that way at all..' The brunette flipped his hair from his face and glanced at the clock. "8:12 P.M." it read. He could have been finished with a chapter or two had this not invaded his time.
Then again, he forgot the writers block he has at the moment, so he most likely wouldn't have gotten any of that done anyways. Plus, though it may not be evident, Gentaro does appreciate spending time with Dice. He just has this energy to him that attracts Gentaro, the spontaneousness of his decisions, how he manages to be so naive yet so skillfull and confident is beyond him. Being around Dice makes him feel so.. alive. Gentaro honestly admires him and he isn't afraid to admit it.
How he can be so airheaded, and the way he listens intently to all of Gentaro's stories, whether they be lies to sabotage him or not, he seems almost too good to be true.— Gentaro paused and shook his head. Why does he have these kinds of thoughts, why does he think about how admirable Dice is to him. He's adorable, he thinks. The brunette shuttered again and stares. Adorable? Dice adorable? Admirable was far enough. He adjusted himself in his seat and checked his phone for notifications– none, of course there were none, it hadn't rang or dinged. If he was trying to distract himself from thinking about his teammate, it was a humiliating attempt.
Gentaro peered down and tried to ignore the slight heat gathering in his face. The bathroom door clicked down the hallway and creaks open. "Uhh- Gen, do ya have any clothes for me to borrow?" Gentaro's eyes flashed up and he saw Dice peeking out from the doorway, dripping into a puddle on the floor. He paused to think for a moment and just stared at him. "a-uh– Gen?" Dice called again and he snapped out of it, loosening his posture and sitting back, "There are robes folded underneath the sink in the drawers, you may use one of those." He eyes as Dice nods and closes the door once again. Why he was feeling so apprehensive right now was beyond him. He leans and scoops up his cup of tea, stealing a small sip and peering into the cup. He keeps getting lost back in his thoughts, no matter what he does he falls right back down the rabbit hole, it's all just Dice this, Dice that.
Though he hates to admit it even to himself, it's been like this for a while. Is this how friendship is supposed to be? How did Dice even define their relationship – teammates? Friends? More than that..? He's always had issues with attachment that aren't the easiest to decipher; between being abandoned by his birth parents, having only one friend throughout his childhood, and above all, masquerading around with an entire fake persona– he doesn't know who he is or what he is to anyone else. Dice didn't seem to dislike him, that much was obvious, but did he feel as much of a connection as Gentaro did, even after all this time? Was he supposed to, or was Gentaro expecting too much? It didn't feel like it to him, but then again he never was one to be relatable, so how should he know?
He sat in silence, staring into his cup of tea for what felt like eternity, completely lost in himself until a certain voice snapped him out of it. "Uh, oi- gentaro?" Dice was standing in the doorway, one of Gentaro's silky robes hugging his shoulders. "You feelin' okay?" Gentaro set down his cup of tea and rubbed his forehead with a small sigh, "Yes, i'm alright, just stuck in a phase of creativity drought. It's quite exhausting." Dice nodded like he understood, though Gentaro wasn't sure if he really did. "I've made tea, come sit and you can tell me about your little venture today." Dice blinked and was still a bit skeptical if that's what the author was really conflicted over, but he decided it was best not to pry. He plodded over to the couch and flopped on the opposite end of Gentaro, sighing with satisfaction at the comfortable feeling of soft furniture that he rarely experiences aside from Ramuda and Gentaro's hospitality. Adjusting his position to sit more relaxed, he grabbed his cup of tea and leaned for a sip only to recoil at the unexpectedly cold temperature. "Isn't tea supposed to be– ya'know, hot?" He questioned, wiping the cold, bitter taste from his lips.
Gentaro waved his hand dismissively and said with a sardonic tone, "I don't suppose the tea was going to wait for you while you were out and about being chased by raccoons, no?" Dice made a face at him and leaned in to try another sip. "And may I ask, how did you manage to lose your clothes and get chased by raccoons just within the length of my sidewalk? Or was that prior to the taxi.. i didn't believe they'd lend you a ride in that condition, though.." Gentaro gave a small glance over to the repurposed trashbag (trash-tunic?) still left on his floor. Dice set down his cup and ignored Gentaro's ridiculing statement. "They only took me to the park square down there, said they wouldn't take me farther than that. Guess they didn't want me to dirty up their car too much or somethin." He fidgeted with the beads dangling from his hair, "after that was when the raccoons chased me. I was tryna clean off that garbage to use to cover myself but they seemed to think I was some kinda buffet or some shit so I got chased all the way back to your house. Worked out i guess." He said with a snort.
"That's quite the story." Gentaro murmured in the midst of a sip, but he didn't seem to be focusing on that anymore. Dice stared awkwardly for a minute and rubbed the back of his neck. Gentaro was studying him now and it felt like he was being observed under a microscope. "Erh, can I help ya with somethin?"
"Tell me first how you got that swelling in your wrist." Dice realized now that that was what he was looking at, "And the rest of your night, you said your problem 'wasn't from gambling' this time? What happened?" Dice looked up and formed an embarassed half-grin, stretching to grasp the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yeah, about that–" He shifted uncomfortably on the couch, "I was just in an alleyway after winning a bunch'a cash at a den- and this group of like 5 dudes appeared outta nowhere." Gentaro listened intently, pausing to take little sips of his tea here and there, his thought process hidden well behind his usual tranquil mask.
"You can guess what happened. They saw money, took out their mics and I got my ass beat. My winnings, phone, everythin' besides the clothes on my back got taken and I somehow still managed to lose those later too." Dice avoided Gentaro's eye contact, feeling waves of genuine shame seeping into him as he seemed to study him yet again. He normally wouldn't have been so ashamed had it been his usual activities like betting insane amounts or trusting too much in lady luck, because that was just his own stupidity- but Fling Posse's Dice being defeated so easily in an alley way, especially in competition with something he was supposed to be a pro at? Could he not have done better for the name of his group– for Gentaro and Ramuda?
He let them down constantly, and this was only adding gas to the fire. No matter what Dice did, he always felt like a fuck-up. Screwing everything up for everyone left and right, he may have came off as a shameless dude but he was far from it. He knew how much of a burden he was to others, he knew it would be more convenient for everyone if he didn't exist, and it hurt. A lot. You didn't have to put much thought into it to realize that next to no one wanted him around, if anyone at all. Dice had given up on trying to improve his situation years ago, and though he loved the free lifestyle he lived, sometimes he couldn't help but wish he never existed.
Those thoughts stung constantly, nipping away at his mind and comfort and tormenting him little by little, until that little feeling grew into a big feeling, and he couldn't bottle it anymore. Dice was still facing the floor when Gentaro spoke up, observing him closely. "Dice." Did he notice the smitten expression he wore, or the fidgeting of his hands? "..Dice." his mind raced, reality seeming to falter in and out from his reach. Between the injury, the thoughts, Gentaro's unreadable expression prying at his patience, in the moment it all felt like too much weighing down on him, he could feel himself tensing and sweating, beginning to shiver a bit and clutch his cup harshly, his body pulsed and his head was spinning, drowning in the pool of his thoughts until an arm stretched out to rescue him from that fate.
"Dice, are you feeling alright?" Gentaro abandoned the original topic and reached his hand around Dice's forearm, the gambler freezing at the touch and tensing up more than he already was. The author paused for a moment, then stood up and as delicately as he could and unwrapped Dice's hand from the cup with slender fingers. "You're going to drop this. Sit back for a second and try to settle and focus on anything else, i'll fetch a glass of cold water." He stood and watched him for another moment before dissappearing into the kitchen. Dice stared at the floor and reclined into the couch a bit, maintaining the blank yet disturbed look plastered onto his features. Though it wasn't a new experience, it never failed to shake him to his core and leave him stunned. He never liked to think too deeply into things, especially when it came to himself, his unfortunate existence, and when he did this wasn't a rare outcome, happening more often than not.
Gentaro returned, carrying with him an ice pack along with a clear cup of water. He sat the aids down on the table near Dice and pondered if it was okay to sit next to him. Dice's gaze was still fixated on the floor, but he was just a bit less tense than before. The older man took his chances and lowered himself quietly beside the other, sitting and raising his hand to his forehead and feeling his temperature. Dice could feel that Gentaro's hands had a slight tremble as he tried to help, something unnatural for the liar to display, and even weirder for Dice to experience. He took his hand back after a moment and sighed, sitting back. "Have some of the water and use the ice pack to your comfort. I'm worried about you, Dice." speaking truthfully in that sensitive moment. There was a couple minutes of silence that felt like it could've been years as Dice unballed his fists on his knees slowly and let out a quiet, lengthy sigh.
"Sorry.. i dunno where that came from." He finally managed to put together some words, at least to form a mutter of a sentence. "'n thanks. For the stuff, i mean, and for.. worrying." It was an oddly tender moment between the two, in contrast from their usual chaos and antics. Almost refreshing to experience, Gentaro thought. "You don't need to apologize for that, Dice. Why don't we talk for a while, about what you're struggling with?" Gentaro spoke with an undertone of honest, genuine concern– something that was rarely ever expressed openly by the author, and Dice savored that a bit. Another few moments of silence passed as Dice dwelled on the matter. He hesitated for a second and looked conflicted, meanwhile Gentaro waiting as patiently as he could.
"G-Gen," finally, he broke the silence and locked eye contact for a mere second before glancing back to the floor. "Why the hell do you guys keep me around." His voice was now small. It all seemed so out of character for the usually enthusiastic and zippy young gambler. There was yet another long moment of quiet thought. "Whatever do you mean by that, Dice?" Gentaro finally decided on. Dice tensed up again. He was in too far now, no going back. "I mean like- fuckin- I know you understand it Gen. I just leech off of you guys, so what's the fuckin point, you could do so much better, someone who actually contrib-"
"What?"
Silence.
"..what." Dice repeated Gentaro, anxiety rising by the second as the other peered deeply at him from the side. "Dice, do you really believe that you don't contribute anything? Is that the truth..?" He breathed steadily but lies couldn't mask the vexed redness forming in his contradictingly mild face. Dice was dumbfounded, almost upset at the authors disagreement against such an obvious fact, "Are you serious dude? Al-"
"It's absurd enough to be a lie."
And more silence. Dice is lost. Lost in his own swirling thoughts, lost in Gentaro's words that were woven so strongly with his own belief, and lost in everything. "What the hell does that even mean, man.." He leaned forward and plopped his face into his hands with a subtle groan. The younger mans voice was faltering, not sure whether to snap, cry, or just give up and crumble altogether. Gentaro took notice and felt his chest tighten a bit, heart aching to relieve the other of all his troubles, anything and everything from the past, present, and future that could've hurt him like this. "Dice.." Gentaro tried his best to hide the shakiness in his own voice, "Have you not realized just how much you've aided both Ramuda and I in our troubles? ..I suppose it may not be as evident to you, but just by being you, you've truly done so much for us, something incomparable to just a dent in our wallets."
That was as completely honest as Gentaro had been with someone in ... some time.. he doesn't even know how long it's been. "You've helped me feel more alive than I have in several years, a decade even." The pure, untainted truth spilled from his lips. He watched as Dice leered at the floor, his face scrunched up while he processed everything his teammate just admitted. Neither of them were used to such raw emotion exposed like that, and it was obvious.
"Gentaro.." he sat up and faced him, nose red and eyes welling up tears that he doesn't care enough to hide. Just the sight of this makes Gentaro's heart squeeze tighter than ever before, feeling his own face heating up. "Can I please jus' have a hug." He chokes on his words a bit as the tears start streaming down his face. He couldn't hold it in anymore, beginning to sob on the spot, loudly and wetly into his sleeves as he makes an ineffective attempt to contain the mess. Gentaro's chest started pounding nearly loud enough for him to hear as he watched this go down, listening to the "hic-hic.. shhng..aahg," feeling a tear edging down the corner of his eye as well, he'd never felt so much for someone.
He hesitated at first, not sure what to do, never having been in this sort of situation before with anyone but himself; remembering the nights he spent as a child, churning out the most fanciful, whimsical of stories from his pen until it was no longer enough to unchain him from reality, and he cried himself to sleep. The air in the room was hot and still with apprehension. Watching as Dice crumbled into himself and unraveled, he finally was reminded of his request: just a hug, and Gentaro would give him just that, the most he could do for him right now.
He leaned in and lifted up Dice's front, wrapping his own arms around the mess that was his friend. He sat and hugged the crying one tightly and securely, feeling a wave of protectiveness wash over his senses as he embraced Dice closer, tears soaking his yukata. He'd never known Dice had felt this way, and he hated himself for not noticing sooner. Was he being too harsh with his teasing, then, too? The thought that he could've made Dice truly feel even more useless made him want to completely collapse in on himself. His heart was racing, twisting around in his chest and beating against his ribs as he longed to hold Dice for a million more years, and even more after that. He wondered if he should say more, tell Dice just how much he meant to him, how he felt about him, but he wasn't even sure if he could put it all into words. He didn't even know Dice meant this much to him, but seeing him like this and sharing this painful moment with him made him realize truly how much they all needed each other.
Gentaro shuffled a bit and tried to hug him the best he could, although it probably wasn't amazing as he'd had a scarce amount intimate experiences with someone like this throughout his life. Dice didn't notice or mind. He just burrowed into the other's shoulder and wept more and more, draining his worries and feelings that'd been trapped and unspoken for years. Though he didn't get far into it with Gentaro before the sudden tears, the reassurance that Gentaro gave him was something he'd never could've imagined hearing.
After a couple more minutes of comforting, Dice pulled away and sat back, wiping his nose and eyes with his sleeve (which normally would irritate Gentaro, but he got a free pass this time). Gentaro sat back and folded his arms in the now empty space where Dice fit perfectly.. by coincidence, of course.
The wetness on his clothes from the tears was dry now too, he noticed. "Sorry for.. breaking down and all. I didn't really see it comin.." Dice tucked his arms into his robe and leaned on the back of the couch, staring at nothing while reflecting on what just happened. "It's quite alright. I'm sorry for not recognizing your feelings sooner." Gentaro dwelled on the regret. "You've never been worthless to us, if anything I felt that I wasn't worthy of being your friend, and i'm still not even sure myself that you consider me one." Dice frowned and looked up with clouded violet eyes. "You're way more than my friend, Gen. I mean, hell, I don't know where i'd be without you." He looked back up at the ceiling again, avoiding Gentaro's piercing gaze.
This sudden influx of honesty and raw feeling between the two was a bit unnerving yet at the same time it was like a weight lifted off his shoulders, maybe he really wasn't the biggest fuck-up in the world, or in Gentaro's world at least. That was a win in Dice's book. "..I'm glad to hear it." Gentaro's eyes fleeted away, his invisible mask replacing itself once again and walls rebuilding themself. Dice knew that wasn't all Gentaro had to say, and far from all he had to question. Breaking through to Gentaro's insecurities and personal conflicts was about as easy as breaking through a cement wall with a toothpick; but sure as hell, Dice decided for himself that he'd take his chances at that and pry away at those layers of emotion for as long as it would take.
Hell, if it meant he could truly help Gentaro feel better about himself, about everything that he had locked away in his mind only for him to ponder, he'd do anything. For today though, he wouldn't pry more, just one more time and that's it. "I mean it, ya'know, you mean way more to me than you think Gen. I dunno what you got going on up in your head but I hope you know i'll try my best to help ya out, even if it takes forever." He finally glanced back from the ceiling and swore for a moment he caught a look of genuine heartache in the depths of those green eyes, and oh how he wished he could spill each and every one of his feelings just to see that expression turn to joy.
Gentaro turned his view to the floor, unsure at all how to even reply to that. It was okay, however. Dice knew he was thankful and that's all that mattered. This was going to be a long journey with the two of them, chipping away at eachothers shells.
For either of them the time didn't matter, if it meant they could see truly into eachother's eyes one day it would surely be worth more than any other casino prize or literary award.