Archive of Our Own

Shiraishi has told Sugimoto time and time again to not leave him alone with Ogata. He thinks it a reasonable and easily fulfillable request yet, despite his pleas, he once again finds himself alone with the guy. There’s no reason for him to be upset considering it’s not his apartment. It’s actually his best friend, Sugimoto’s. And Ogata’s, ironically. They own the place and pay the rent while Yoshitake gets to be the incorrigible guest who tends to overstay his welcome.

That being said, there should be no issue with the guy being in his own home. In fact, Yoshitake is the one out of place. While even knowing that, he can’t get himself to relax in his presence.

They are both sitting on Sugimoto’s worn couch, waiting for their mutual acquaintance to return. Only a lap size pillow separates the two, a flattened piece he only wishes was bigger for the love seat. While the couch has never been spacious, he only now realizes how small the piece actually is. When he and Sugimoto sit together, raging over video games, legs flailing until they’ve accidentally knocked over the snacks on table, there has never been an issue. But next to him, the couch has gone from a cozy seat for two to a suffocating sink hole, pitting the pair so close with no space to move even a millimeter at risk of brushing against the other.

To make things worse than his already grueling dilemma, it’s quiet. The only noise interrupting the room is the clicks of the remote as Yoshitake scrolls through the Netflix selections. Every time he passes over a title, he twitches as there’s a second of dialogue. He peeks over occasionally, hoping the noisy previews aren’t bothering him. Worse than a stagnant silence is a brewing storm; he never lingers on one for too long for just that reason.

Ogata still hasn’t said a thing to him, too absorbed with looking through his phone. The soft light passes over his ghostly face in bright intervals as he scrolls. The suspenseful silence only breaks apart only by sporadic clips, acting as a taunting soundtrack to his movie of horror.

Just great.

He knows Ogata isn’t bad guy from what he’s seen. Yoshitake’s known the student for about as long as he has known his best friend. From meeting Sugimoto early on in their university days, they walk arm in arm through the horrors of 8 ams, welcome week, and midterm seasons. Yoshitake was originally worried the first semester would be lonely, but the two find each other and click right away. They may be in different fields with different hopes and dreams, but they have met on a good level with similar humor (read: childish), which other’s have occasionally shamed (read: Ogata whose eyes were made to pass disapproval). Despite everything, it’s made the two tight as glue.

But it’s not just the two of them in this realm of friendship.

Ogata Hyakunosuke has been Sugimoto’s roommate since freshman year, and contrary to all of his complaints, Sugimoto ends up inviting his roommate along to a good majority of their outings. It’s not all of times he accepts. After all, Yoshitake thinks the guy has his own friends - a Russian student with a persistent 5 o’clock shadow and an engineering major with lengthy facial hair and an even longer head of it.

For all of the times Shiraishi has seen the guy over four years, he feels like he barely knows him. He doesn’t think himself a bad friend, but he has unconsciously avoided making small talk with the roommate, and instead focuses solely on Sugimoto even when the opportunity to get to know Ogata presents itself. The wall between them stands thick and firmly planted into the ground - fifty bricks high set with a sturdy, fast-drying cement. He’d like to keep it that way.

So when Sugimoto insists he doesn’t need to tag along just to go collect his clothing from the laundry room, he tells Yoshitake to pick a movie for the two of them to watch when he gets back. He agrees, until a stoic face returns from his classes for the day.

As Sugimoto walks out of the door, his roommate makes his way in. Barely greeting Sugimoto, Ogata slips off his shoes and removes his outer sweater. His music is loud through his headphones, Yoshitake can hear the steady beats ringing through the minuscule speakers. Ogata looks up, meeting Shiraishi’s eyes. He gulps. After offering him a tilt of the head, which Yoshitake returns with a wave, Ogata makes for the kitchen.

He feels his own palms go damp, nervous, and they haven’t been alone a minute. Something about his everything throws him off. His slow blinking eyes that watch one’s every move. He feels like a prey against a wild cat, silent and starving, eager for the kill but patient enough to wait despite the desperation. Even knowing he’s been spotted, feeling bleak eyes singe his face, he’s still frozen in place and incapable of moving. Any second the strike could come. Ogata’s face mirrors a mask. Eyes, mouth, and nose refuse to budge in all situations. Each and every emotion yields the same expression. Stuck in a trap even he can’t weasel his way out of, he’s vulnerable and is left to silently speak his prayers.

If not just his face, it’s that the guy barely talks in the first place. Sugimoto sure has no trouble speaking to him, they have a strange but mutual ability to reproach each other as hateful friends, further solidified by the fact that they’re roommates. But that type of communication is reserved for them.

Sugimoto serves as a bridge for conversations between the rest of them. At those times, he’s able to get in enough words. But with just them two? He feels like he’s making the world’s most pathetic small talk when he actually does brave himself to start a dialogue. And that, does not happen often.

Point is, he doesn’t want to be left alone. So where is Sugimoto?

Distracted by the television, he doesn’t even notice when Ogata plants himself on the cushion to his left. The seat shifts. Yoshitake grabs on to the single pillow before it can fall. He wants to hold the stuffed fabric tightly to shield himself, but thinks it better to place it in the middle. Though exposed, there’s a barrier separating them.

A moment passes before he grabs the remote.

“Anything you want to watch?”

Ogata’s eye flicker from his phone, then back.

“No.”

Alright then. He keeps scrolling. With no new selections, he’s bored. He and Sugimoto have purposely gone through all of the bad movies, nights where they wanted a good laugh, but end up less entertained and more horrified at d-grade acting and visuals.

His eyes slide back to Ogata. He wants to think of something to fill the space instead of continue stretching the silence.

“Have a lot of classes today?”

It’s Friday, and not that Yoshitake has learned the guy’s schedule, but he doesn’t typically see Ogata until later in the evening on the final day of the school week. The man’s got a rather busy schedule as a double major in Biochemistry and Physics. He could never imagine himself with such a work load. He himself’s rather satisfied studying humanities, or lazing around as snobs suggest. But Ogata has some big dreams of dentistry or something, so with that comes the unavoidable work.

Yoshitake silently applauds him for dedicating himself to the craft of saving stranger’s lives through their mouths. Sugimoto once drunkenly asked if the other would provide them with dental services in their time of need, and then was promptly rejected. If not them, then at least someone else. They both agreed to take very good of their teeth from then on.

“Three. The fourth got cancelled because the professor had to go to a meeting.”

“Hey congrats then man, you get a break.”

“I have to go study soon.”

“Oh,” well that makes sense. Busy, busy, busy, even without needing to attend lessons. “Well, at least this is your last year right? Four long hard years of studying, but you’re almost done.”

“Then I’ll start dentistry school.”

Yikes. What a riot he is. Even trying to make conversation he messes up.

I’ll just keep my mouth shut now, he thinks to himself before can make anything worse.

The sound of the front door opening must be what he’ll hear in heaven because the godly noise graces his ears in a rush of reverence. He’s never felt such relief, all of the tension drops from his shoulders. He’d hug Sugimoto if not for the fact he’d create a weird scene.

“Someone put my laundry on the counter? Can you believe that? Everyone in this apartment is so rude.”

“That’s what happens when you leave your clothes for too long,” Ogata points out.

Sugimoto huffs.

“I went down as soon as my alarm rang, just so you know. It’s everyone else who is impatient.”

“If it was done and you weren’t there, then you made them wait.”

“As if you’re ever willingly courteous to anyone,” Sugimoto mutters loud enough for them all to hear.

Satisfied that Ogata chooses not to continue, Sugimoto haphazardly dumps his hamper in his room. His clothes probably all fell out of the container and are wrinkling by the second, but he pays no mind.

“Well anyway, me and Shiraishi are about to watch a movie so scoot if you don’t want to watch.”

Set on antagonizing him further, Ogata asks “are you inviting me to watch?”

The alarms are going off in his head. Here’s where Yoshitake hopes Sugimoto will say no, because no, he is not invited.

“It wasn’t an invitation, but if you’re already here.”

Sadly, his best friend misses the panicked signals he’s attempted to send telepathically. In his mind, Yoshitake has collapsed to the floor. He slithers over to Sugimoto’s feet, wrapping his flexible fingers around the other’s ankles. He’s begging, don’t let Ogata watch. In reality, he sits on the couch, silently letting the roommates figure it out between themselves.

“I’ll stay, but I might do some reading on my phone.”

“You’re not even going to watch?” Sugimoto rolls his eyes. “Fine, but move so we don’t have to see the light.”

Accepting, Ogata picks himself up to sit on on the recliner tangent to the couch. Sugimoto takes over the remote after Yoshitake admits he didn’t pick anything to watch. Just before the movie starts, they turn off the kitchen lights. The low lighting gives a very poor illusion to the movie theaters, but they do it regardless. He tries to put all of his focus into the movie, but every once and awhile he’ll sneak his eyes over just to see if Ogata is enjoying or even watching the film at all. The sound of the film simmers out when he does.

0

“Sugimoto, you bastard.”

The two finally escape the apartment after finishing their movie. Deciding to make the evening trip for dinner across campus, they bid Ogata goodbye while he breaks out a textbook to continue his studies.

Though they’re away now, the unsettling feeling of being with Ogata throughout the entirety of the movie still sits with him. He had thought he was being stealthy, but unfortunately during one of his last glances towards Ogata, the man lifts his eyes from his phone, meeting Yoshitake’s directly. While he turns his head quickly away, he doesn’t miss the curious head tilt, nor the eyes staying to watch him for a minute after in his peripheral vision.

“I told you not to leave me alone with that guy.”

“Ogata?” Sugimoto laughs. “You’re not still scared of him, right? You see him like everyday.”

Yoshitake has mentioned to Sugimoto that Ogata doesn’t seem like the friendliest guy to be around. He tiptoes about the subject at first, thinking maybe he’s overreacting and Sugimoto will resolve his doubts. It works for awhile, until they start spending more time together in their second and third year. It becomes less passing him by before leaving for class to having the guy out with them their entire evening. Anytime he braves himself enough to share his concern after that, Sugimoto laughs him off. So maybe telling him once they have ingested a couple rounds of beer isn’t the greatest idea, but it loosens his lips. He attempts to be more up front, but the slurred speech makes it difficult to take seriously.

“That’s not the point! We’re friends, you and me,” he waves his hands between the two. “Me and him? Not quite.”

Ogata is more of an acquaintance. Or the obligatory friend you make because you’re neighbors. Maybe they could be closer, but Yoshitake doesn’t know how to take the first step, and Ogata doesn’t look ready to start busting out ice breakers either. Yoshitake seldom starts the conversation, and when he does, Ogata answers short and curt. With nothing to follow, he keeps to himself, keeping them both on a distant cycle.

“Does he really bug you that much?”

“Yes, he does bug me! With his presence! I never know what to say to him, and then you go and leave, and we’re left alone and it’s quiet. And awkward!”

It’s not like he wants their non existent relationship to be strained, but he can’t hold a conversation being offered nothing. He’s surprised Ogata hasn’t straight up told him he’s annoying - he’s not afraid to tell Sugitmoto, after all. And they’re two peas in a pod, it would make sense that Yoshitake bothers him.

And wait, did he just realize something? Is that why Ogata hasn’t made any attempts to be his friend?

“He doesn’t hate you.”

Crushed before he could even explore the possibility. Sugimoto couldn’t even give him the time to conjure up imaginative scenarios where Sugimoto’s two closest people stand at odds. So much for that theory, then.

“Why? Did he say something?”

Does Ogata talk to Sugimoto about him? What would he have to say? And are they all negative things? Is he really holding up an entire facade and tolerating Yoshitake for Sugimoto’s sake? The thought brings up an entirely new feeling of distress.

“Well, no, but if he did then he would have just gone to his room. Want me to tell him you want him to leave you alone?”

“No! Have you seen him? He looks like he’ll kill me if he finds out I’ve said something against him. Why are you even roommates, again?”

“We got selected to stay together our first two years, and we just didn’t switch. Plus, no one likes him enough to stay with him. He’s annoying but he keeps the room clean. And he doesn’t completely gripe at me for not keeping it clean.”

Fair point. They may go at each other but they’ve never really fought if that counts for anything. They even have some mutual friends here and there. If there’s anyone Sugimoto dislikes it’s the rich kid, Koito, with a stick up his ass that inconveniently matches the one in Tsukishima’s, who reluctantly follows the former man around all day. And they all still hang out anyway. Why do they do this again?

“Listen, your roommate’s not a bad guy but I have never really sat down with him myself so I don’t wanna be left alone with him.”

“Fine, fine. I won’t leave you alone with Ogata.”

“Thank you.” Maybe, just maybe, he can finally have some peace. He doesn’t hate Ogata, but still, breaking down that wall is a scarier thought than he can handle. “And also you should clean more.”

“Why don’t you start cleaning, huh? That can be your paid rent considering you’re there all the time.”

“So where do you want to go eat, again?”

“Don’t ignore me, Shirashi. Shiraishi!”

-

Sugimoto at the end of the day is a man of his word. Pinky promises to him are no doubt on equal par with a written contract. While he has run ins with Ogata, Sugimoto is always there whether it be hanging out at the apartment or going out for the evening. Ogata is less quiet some days, picking harmless fights with his roommate while Yoshitake watches amusedly on the side. Yoshitake himself doesn’t hold back in a group, but there’s no reason to when Sugimoto’s the one he’s speaking to.

And if he’s not, it’s still difficult to share words. On occasion, their eyes will meet and he forces himself not to look away after offering a pathetic rebuttal. It’s a step in the right direction, even if a small one. But good things don’t last forever, and as much as Sugimoto tries, he can’t be in two places at once.

Like now.

Sugimoto, of course, is making a run downstairs to grab the pizza from the delivery man, leaving Yoshitake to face the cold tundra that is Ogata Hyakunosuke by himself.

It’s not like Sugimoto knew Ogata was going to walk out of the bathroom, freshly clean in a pair of sweatpants and a sweater the minute after his app notifies him their food was downstairs. Fate likes to play tricks on them, having them think all is peaceful, but yanks the table cloth out from under the decor when he least expects it. This time, it takes the dishware with it.

The lock of the shared bathroom clicks, and that’s when Yoshitake realizes the water has stopped. The steam follows him out, warm, spicy body wash traveling through the air and hitting his nose. He stiffens. Ogata’s footsteps pitter to the kitchen, stopping in front of the fridge.

He doesn’t want to look over, fearing he’ll be looking back. Ogata’s allowed to be in his own kitchen no matter how much Yoshitake wishes he would have gone straight to his room instead. There’s better things to do than linger inside the boring, old apartment. He blatantly ignores the fact that Yoshitake is always in their apartment, and is doing nothing remarkable on a Saturday night.

“Did Sugimoto leave?”

“Huh?” He calls, not expecting to be spoken to. Turning back, he finds Ogata has just finished pouring himself a glass of water and takes a sip. Expression sitting still, he waits for an answer. “Oh yeah, just for a second.”

It’s sad really, that he has to remind himself not to be awkward. They’re acquaintances, borderline friends? Members of the same community. Say something else, he tells himself.

“We ordered some pizza if you wanna join us.”

And as soon as the words escape him, Yoshitake wants to slap himself in the face. He’s trying to avoid the guy, not spend more time with him. His only hope now is that he’ll say no and go back to whatever he was already planning.

“Sure, I’m not doing anything tonight.”

Yoshitake’s silent prayer above gets lost among all of the others. He has no time to cry to himself or curse the almighty. There’s no relying on a prayer when he’s accepted, he just needs Sugimoto to come back before he can say anything else foolish.

“You want a beer?” Ogata’s voice cuts through.

“You guys had some? Sugimoto and I completely forgot to stop by the market.”

“I have these leftover from the other day.”

Leaving the kitchen, he slips a bottle into Yoshitake’s hands. Condensation is already forming, slipping down into bigger droplets where his fingers hit the glass. Turning it over, he reads the brand - one he and Sugimoto have never actually tried as it’s too expensive for their poor wallets.

“Hey thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Feel free to grab another.”

“Oh, sweet.” He cracks open the bottle, taking a refreshing swig. The lingering remains of his worries are overtaken by the velvety liquid. “This is good. Me and Sugimoto usually just buy the cheap stuff.”

“I know,” he says as a matter of fact. It’s a little embarrassing, knowing Ogata has seen their alcohol habits. He feels much less refined, not that Ogata exactly fits the formal suit and tie finish. There are levels, and he’s pretty sure he and his best friend are bottom of the barrel, drinking anything they can get their hands on. “He’s cheap, but once and awhile this isn’t bad. So drink up.”

“I’ll pay you back,” he offers, feeling awkward over taking the drink. Sure, it’s just beer, but he was curteous enough to offer it up?

“Don’t worry about it, it’s just a beer.”

While he’d love the opportunity to skip out on a bill, it doesn’t feel right. And he doesn’t quite want to be left in Ogata’s debt either.

“Next time we go out, first round’s on me.”

Though small, it’s still a thoughtful gesture. He can be civilized and friendly, and if this is any indicator, returning the favor would be a good idea for the two of them.

“Alright then,” Yoshitake thinks he hears, but isn’t sure when the door swings open, bouncing back against the wall from the force.

“Pizza delivery,” Sugimoto shouts, holding up the box for emphasis.

Yoshitake hollers the same. While the beer is delicious, he’s starving. Ogata’s staring at the newcomer, lips tight as usual, no reaction to be found. He takes a sip of his drink.

“Oh hey, you finished with your shower,” he points out.

Yoshitake sees Sugimoto’s eyes flick over to his then, apologetic. He must feel bad for leaving Yoshitake with Ogata, but this time around it wasn’t such a bad thing even if it started out feeling like that. It almost makes him feel like all of his past worries were for nothing. Almost, because realistically his fear is still glued to him.

“Yeah. Shiraishi here told me you guys were going to watch a movie.”

“He did?” Sugimoto questions, which makes sense. One second he’s asking to not be left alone, the next he’s inviting him to spend the evening together. There’s a fine bridge standing between the two scenarios, yet he’s teetering the line, falling closer to each other as he takes a new step.

“I did,” he confirms. Maybe he should have asked Sugimoto first, but it’s not like that guy hasn’t joined them before.

“Well sure then, I guess.”

Squeezing by despite his large frame, Sugimoto plants himself in the middle of Yoshitake and Ogata. There is definitely not enough room for him, but he stays anyway, wiggling himself against their hips for good measure like a screw securing itself in the divets. It’s crowded, but he’s been in less comfortable situations than this.

Sugimoto flips open the box and Yoshitake doesn’t wait before diving in.

“Hey,” Sugimoto looks between the two, “can I get a beer, too?”

“Sorry, last two,” Ogata tells him before anyone can say anything.

Sugimoto pouts, sided with a whimper like he’s a kicked puppy. Yoshitake isn’t sure what to say, because hadn’t Ogata offered him another a few seconds ago?

“Bastard,” Sugimoto mutters under his breath after shifting gears when no one pays him any sympathy. He still hands over a slice to his roommate.

Ogata doesn’t thank him, but they’ve done this way too many times to care. Shiriashi watches as Ogata sets the pizza to the arm resting, going for his beer instead. He lifts the glass bottle to his lips, pouring down the amber liquid, adam’s apple bobbing during the gulp. His own throat unintentionally swallows as he watches. Ogata pauses, eyes flickering over. Yoshitake feels caught, but there’s no following accusation.

“Cheers.”

Ogata points his bottle in front of Sugimoto, holding it up, waiting for Yoshitake to partake in the little ritual. Well, he doesn’t want to be rude. He lifts his glass, the bottles clinking together before taking them back to their respective sides of the seat.

“Cheers.” Yoshitake smiles sheepish, feeling bad for showing off his beer to Sugimoto who did not get one. They end up sharing sips between bites either way. Ogata makes no comment.

“Oh wow, this is good.”

The cool beers and piping hot pizza taste well on his palette. Yoshitake plays the movie with subtitles to make up for the lost sound under their chewing. So, maybe Ogata isn’t half bad. Sharing food and drinks is getting easier, and maybe he wouldn’t mind doing it more often. And not just because Ogata offered him a sip of bougie beer that’s going to make him cry next time he buys some cheap piss water at the gas station. He’s putting his best foot forward, something Yoshitake was afraid to do himself.

It’s even better when in the middle of the movie that Ogata gets up and slips that second beer to Yoshitake without Sugimoto noticing, too busy crying at the heartfelt scene where the parents are reunited with their two children. It’s one of the better evenings they’ve had together. He goes home that night feeling a lot better about their path to friendship.

-

Another Friday night comes around. Yoshitake and Sugimoto planning to go for grilled meat after a exhausting school week, somehow end up joined by Ogata and a few others. As they sit down, waiters fly by, other patrons click their glasses in the background, the chaos is familiar and welcomed. The restaurant is filled, sounds of crowd emphasized by some jazzy music coming from the overhead speakers. He’s been waiting for a night out, one better than him and Sugimoto eating packaged noodles.

With the lively atmosphere he thinks the evening will go well, until Ogata sits directly across from him at the long, rectangular table. With them both sitting at the far end, the crowd’s enthusiasm feels as if it’s dimmed. Though he’s not as close with everyone else at the table, them being at the other end suddenly makes them feel far away.

There’s a strange churning in his stomach. Refusing to put his eyes forward, he eyes the menu handed to him.

It should be fine. Sugimoto sits directly to his right, warm, bulky body being all the comfort he needs to make it through the night. The conversation and atmosphere isn’t dead, his wonderful night is still quite within reach. He just needs to not look Ogata’s way or hope the man will not try to strike a conversation just between the two of them.

Sugimoto takes the lead and orders for their half of the table. He lists off an endless variety of beef and sides, and finishes off with a bottle of sake to share. Yoshitake wants nothing to but fill his stomach with piles of short rib and as many shots he can get.

It’s easier than he expects, not looking forward. He starts poking at the sides until he and Sugimoto are fighting over the miniature dishes with their chop sticks. He doesn’t completely shut Ogata out, either. He still turns a head his way when passing a plate or refilling their water glasses, and is sure to ask if there’s anything he can’t reach. He can be a gentleman when is comes down to it.

Ogata sits silently for the most part, only speaking when spoken to in the first place.

As the evening progresses, the table’s conversation makes its way over to Yoshitake. Grateful to share words and drinks, he feels no aggravation, even when he’s made the subject of the hour.

“And so when we to the petting zoo, at least three different animals bite Shiraishi. We couldn’t stop any of them! We had to go get him a tetanus shot after,” Sugimoto retells.

The absurdity of the story lightens the mood, riling up the crowd.

“You’re out here laughing, what about saying what a terrible friend Sugimoto is, huh? He didn’t even help! His little sister is the one who had bandaids and disinfectant ready.”

He complains to them all, but the table refuses to offer a shred of sympathy. He gets to be the laughing stock. But fine, it’s just his luck. The next time, it’ll be someone else.

The day after his misfortunate trip, Asirpa was kind enough to bring him a charm from the local shrine. One to keep him away from danger and safe through his endeavors. At least someone had the nerve to care, after she had throughly scolded him for not acting a proper manner around the animals.

“Har har har, get your laughs out.”

Sugimoto pats his shoulder, knowing he’s not really mad. He can pretend though, feign a broken heart to onlookers. Saddened, he dramatically downs a double shot. The liquid burns his throat, adding distress to his cries.

“Don’t mind me, mending my heart over here!”

The act only stirs up more laughter. He looks up to Ogata, the one he for sure thought would not be laughing, but his guess betrays him. The man looks rather amused, he’s not bellowing in his chair like the rest of them, but the corners of his mouth tilt up. Under the light, he can see the reflection against his eyes, illuminated, instead of their usually dim appearance.

He finds himself swallowing again.

“You’re a funny guy, Yoshitake,” Ogata says in his low voice, throat humming along with his words.

He just complimented Yoshitake? If that is what you could call it. He could be mocking him, but that doesn’t seem right either. The comment sounds peculiar coming from his mouth.

Sure, Yoshitake thinks of himself as a funny guy. Someone here has to keep things lively, and he graciously fills the position. Even then, hearing it from Ogata himself is strange. He doesn’t think he’s ever even seen the guy laugh for Christ’s sake and he’s saying he’s funny? That type of compliment should be accompanied with, he doesn’t know, maybe an actual laugh? A chuckle? The sound of air being pushed out of your nostrils to say you find something funny without actually opening your mouth? Something more than a devilish smile and glint.

Behind the steam rising from the grill, Ogata goes back to sipping sake like he’s said nothing. He’s so honestly surprised. With him, Ogata is always silent, and here now, the expression is something he hasn’t seen. It’s different. And the longer he thinks, he may have expected a bigger reaction from someone normal, but this instead works as a comforting break in his sharpened mask. Ogata can break his character; he’s not a singular facial expression or dull eyes.

Even if he’s laughing at him, he thinks he likes the look.

“Thanks,” he says a moment later, despite the awkward stretch of silence he let linger.

“Don’t mention it.”

Ogata doesn’t speak much more the rest of the evening, which is better for him. The rest of the night, filled with the exuberant sounds of his company, leaves him to process the strange interaction he’s just had. The more he thinks on it, the more worried he gets not being able to figure out why it stands out so much.

-

In spite of living everyday like a weekend, when the actual days come around Shirashi and Sugimoto think of them as a well deserved treat. Getting candy from the market is fun and all, but what kid wouldn’t want to see a complete candy emporium. With buckets, tubes, and towers stacked to the brim with specialty candy, the experiences don’t compare.

And that’s exactly why he can’t sit inside to sink into the couch on a Friday evening. Putting on his shoes and outdoor coat, he slips outside of Sugitmoto’s apartment ready to head downtown. Just as he hears the click from the shutting door, Ogata sneaks up from the stairwell, showing his face.

He hasn’t been back all day, which Yoshitake knows considering he spent the night on the couch and watched the other leave to start his day at 8 am. He’s been pounding away at the books all day while Yoshitake.. woke up. He brushed his teeth before walking out, at least.

“Evening, Shiraishi,” Ogata greets him.

“Sup, Ogata,” he responds more enthusiastically than he would have the year before. For a second, he wonders if he’s being too casual with him. “All done with classes?”

“For today, yeah.”

How the fuel has lasts him this long, he doesn’t understand. Midterms was enough for Yoshitake to want a three week vacation, while Ogata has probably started studying for a new unit the second his last exam had finished.

“Studying tonight?”

“Not tonight actually,” he says surprisingly. Who would have guessed Ogata would break from the typical routine to take the night off. Looking to the door, then back at Yoshitake, he continues. “Are you headed out?”

“Yeah, gonna go get something to eat.”

He hasn’t figured where, but he’s not picky. His previously filling lunch only goes so far.

“There’s a festival going on by the park right now.”

“Oh?”

He should probably be a little more involved in the community. While those sort of events aren’t rare, getting to go to them is special. He hadn’t even known had started.

Ogata peers off the to side, lifting his hand to flatten away the stray hairs on top of his head.

“If you’re already heading out, we could-“

“Sorry, sorry I took a minute. I couldn’t find my wallet.”

The door opens and closes just as fast as his friend arrives. Sugimoto’s hat is tilting over from the draft of the air conditioning, it’s seconds away from falling off of his head.

“Took you long enough.”

“I don’t want to hear that from someone who couldn’t even get out of bed for lunch.”

“You’re heading out with Sugimoto I see.”

“Yeah,” Sugimoto answers for them both, “did you want to come along?”

“Probably no-,” Ogata starts, back to looking at his hands.

“Yeah!” Yoshitake speaks over him. “Ogata was just telling me there a festival happening. Let’s all go check it out.”

At the sound of a festival, Sugimoto perks up. They didn’t have a set plan, so why not check out something local. He can already picture the food stands, perhaps long lines, but the wide variety of dishes absolutely being worth the wait.

“Let’s go?” Yoshitake asks, realizing he hadn’t answered.

“Alright,” Ogata settles after a pregnant pause.

Though he agrees to go along, Ogata’s demeanor is off. His shoulders are squared, never relaxing as they walk through the aisles. He seems to be watching the festival more than engaging the two of them. Ogata, while never a warm, fuzzy person to begin with, is most certainly different. If Yoshitake has to give it a word, he would say he seems dejected.

The thought throws him, because Yoshitake wonders when he would have started to be able to notice that kind of thing.

Sugimoto keeps him close, even though he is a grown man who can take care of himself. They did come together, so he thinks it best they all stay together when Ogata starts to stroll behind. Yoshitake wastes no time at the food stalls, calling out each one he wants to try. They sample and endless variety of noodles, meat, and takoyaki. Reluctantly, Ogata agrees to take photos of the two friends. Some are silly, them making faces at the food or feeding each other.

Sugimoto pulls the phone from Ogata.

“You too, Ogata, say ahhhh,” he mouths.

Ogata, looking less amused than when Sugimoto originally handed him the phone, keeps his mouth shut.

Shiraishi has the fried octopus pathetically hanging on the tooth pick, getting colder by the second. He doesn’t want to poke the beast, but by all means Sugimoto can.

But, then again, he’s already started. They can both play along. For a second, he’s bold. It’s all for fun, he figures. He bats his eyelashes, pursing his lips for good measure.

“Pretty please, Ogata.”

He must look silly, because Suigmoto bursts into laughter, barely being able to hold the phone still. Not wanting to break, he raises the snack closer, threatening to poke it against his lips.

Maybe he’s a fool, because he doesn’t know what reaction to expect, yet he still trudges on. He ignores the heat creeping up his neck, and the worry bubbling in his throat. His mixed emotions are just as confusing as the situation before him. Rather than back down, Ogata leans within a breaths space away from Shiraishi. His lashes flicker down, lingering only for a second. Chomping down, he grabs the takoyaki between his teeth, then quickly pulls himself back.

Yoshitake blinks, mind catching up with the scene and realizing he actually had humored them. Reeling back, he stays with a dim-witted expression on his face. Ogata was close, and he didn’t flinch away. He could barely breathe with the distance, holding his own sealed inside, while Ogata breathe tickled his face.

“Wow, you both look dumb,” Sugimoto unhelpfully comments.

“You told me to do it,” Ogata retorts between chewing.

It’s not like he had to go along with their plan. Sugimoto shrugs, but he’s satisfied with their photos.

Slipping the device away, Sugimoto goes off on a tangent, pointing out the other booths away from the food. He wants the full festival experience, besides just stuffing their faces. Yoshitake and Ogata follow him quiet as he starts to walk away. He leads them both to the prize booths.

Walking through the games he finds a section for senbonbiki. Shaking himself from feeling subdued, he runs over to the booth, trying not to trample any of the children actually attempting to play their luck.

“Just watch, I’m good at getting the prizes.”

Sugimoto laughs doubtful, knowing his luck could go either way.

“Watch your mouth, Sugimoto! I’m going to win that prize.”

He pulls out his string, anticipation filtering as it slides out. With Ogata and Sugimoto’s eyes on him, he wants to win.

He does win. A bag of snacks.

“Well, you weren’t wrong, you did win.”

So it’s not the most exciting prize of the lot, it’s something. He turns the flavorful chips over in his hand, reading the label. Sugimoto’s face scrunches, probably not finding the pick to his taste.

“Ogata likes fish,” he remarks.

“Do you want them?”

Ogata stares down, wary of the offer. Sugimoto doesn’t wait for his answer, instead sliding the bag to his roommate, shaking the contents as if the noise would entice him like a house pet.

“Look, there’s even a cat on the bag that looks just like you!”

Yoshitake looks down, finding the cartoonish black cat with a starchy expression. He tries to hold back the laugh, but Sugimoto reels it out of him.

“I don’t see it,” Ogata insists, voice miffed.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t.”

He reluctantly swipes the bag, even if just to hide the picture away to stop pointing out similarities. It was a very cute cat. And with that thought, Yoshitake wants to forget the bag as much as Ogata.

He continues to follow them, but never joins along to play the game. As an onlooker, he’s seeing the world’s saddest performance as the duo fails more at the simple festival games than win. Figuring it’s the the atmosphere holding them back, Yoshitake and Sugimoto gripe after each failed attempt.

They take any opportunity to point out who played better, even trying to get Ogata to confirm. He does not. So it’s up to them to get an actual win clear enough to raise no questions.

He’s not one to give up when it counts, and neither is Sugimoto. He rubs his hands together, grasping for warmth and further hoping it loosens them from their alleged stiffness as he’s blamed for the lack of luck. He wants to win just once from a game of skill, but they’re nearing the end with few options left. Desperate, he points to he booth right before the bridge.

“How about we play that one?”

Sugimoto whips his head over fervently at being told they still have the opportunity to redeem themselves. Even with the chance, neither of the two feel as though they have been blessed. Sugimoto who wore a determined, frowns at booth that comes into sight. A shateki booth.

“I don’t have the best aim.”

“Me neither.”

The two will just have to go home empty handed.

“But I do,” Ogata speaks up.

“You can shoot the gun? And win?”

Different than Sugimoto’s unconcealed resolve, Ogata squares his shoulders and walks to the stand without a hint of reservations. Though skeptical, they follow him to the counter of the booth giving him the chance to prove his declarations.

Ogata pulls his wallet, handing over the small fee for one round. With one deep breath, all of the tension drops from his shoulders. Yoshitake holds his breath, seeing the striking focus put in motion. It’s nothing more than a children’s game and yet he plays the game as if there was a load hanging on the line.

He resembles a wild animal solely living by instinct. Not just a learned skill, but a motion ingrained deep into his bones. He raises the toy gun, stance firmly planted, making the vibrantly colored plastic appear much more intimidating than it would have held by any one else. He takes one silent breath, which Yoshitake sees only from the rise in his chest.

5 shots to the top row. He doesn’t just make one, he made them all.

Sugimoto and Yoshitake’s eyes are ready to fall out of their sockets. The host of the booth applauds him with how the pellets rang staccato. Neither hesitation or doubt passed through, he aims each shot elegantly, pulsing the trigger with ease.

He has a choice for his prizes, and selects the voucher for a local restaurant.

“I bet I could do that if I tried,” Sugimoto insists, unready to admit he couldn’t. And even more set on not complimenting his roommate for the rather impressive display.

He doesn’t have to say anything though, Ogata’s expression stays smug all the same.

As the hours turn later, and with little left to see other than returning to the food stalls, the group makes their way towards the exits. The night has chilled, bringing out the stars and a black sky with it. A gentle breeze has picked up; it won’t be long until his teeth are chattering.

They take the path through the park, it being the shortest route back to their building. The leaves follow them along, flowing gently in the direction of the wind.

Yoshitake fills the space with his compliments to the many treats he consumed. The trail leaves Sugimoto bitter, igniting instead the passion to surpass Ogata’s revealed shooting skills. Their conversation eventually meets, each in their own world but slowly coming back.

“Next time I’m gonna own that game.”

“And next time around I’ll win that big prize.”

Though he says it earnestly, neither of them should get their hopes up too high.

A melody rings, interrupting their chatter. Looking down to the source, Sugimoto pulls him cell phone from his pocket.

“I gotta take this, it’s Asirpa,” he says after reading the contact.

Sugimoto excuses himself, heading just out of ear shot to avoid being rude.

His younger sister would pick the absolute worst time to call. Alone, again. It’s not that he’s still completely unwilling to be next to Ogata, but the intensity of his gaze has brought back some of the intimidation he’s previously felt.

Ogata may not be a people person, but he’s certainly skilled in a wide variety of areas which is a plus it it’s own way. He excels in so many places, Yoshitake wonders if he’s even enjoying it all.

“Are you having a good night?” Yoshitake asks. He shouldn’t regress, their unlikely friendship deserving to only move forward.

Ogata’s eyes flicker over. Though night, the park is well lit with street lamps.

Rather than respond with words, Ogata tilts his head over to meet a shrugged shoulder. It’s not that he would have expected a definitive answer, but a lack of communication resettles the hurdle they’ve pushed down.

It seems neither of them are good at keeping a steady path.

With he conversations going nowhere, he turns his back, instead looking over the stream running below them. From a disappointing loss at nearly every booth, and the cold creeping over his body, Yoshitake’s night feels as it it’s ending on a bad note. He’s not entirely frustrated, but more stifled at his own inability to keep on.

He sighs, loud enough that Ogata raises his head.

“And what about you, huh?”

“What?”

“Are you having a good night.”

“Ah, you know. Just one those nights.”

“Could it have been better?”

“Well, yeah, I guess.”

“Do you want me to leave?” Ogata asks. The question comes from so far left field, Yoshitake has to reel himself back to make sure he’s heard right.

“What?”

“Did you want me to leave? I figured if you were having a bad night, it’s because I tagged along.”

He almost doesn’t know how to respond because what? Ogata’s not to blame for his own downfalls. And his presence wasn’t the be all to end all either. For as much as he wishes the atmosphere wasn’t so tense surrounding the two, isn’t Yoshitake the only one who thinks so? His own head is the one finding the faults, letting them plague his thoughts and bring unease to their outings.

Ogata looks away from him. Though his hair is already brushed back, his fingers search for stray pieces that have fallen.

“It’s not that at all. I just, no wins, you know? We fooled around enough, but if anything I thought we were bothering you,” he admits. It’s strange, to be honest. Not even he and Sugimoto have serious conversations unless need be.

“Are you annoyed with me?”

“No, no! It’s just. Well, you’ve been so quiet, not sure if you’re having fun. Me and Sugimoto can be a little much, other people’s words - not mine. Didn’t want to force you to be here, ’specially if we’re just bothering you,” Yoshitake finishes awkwardly.

That sounds bad, even if he does mean it that way.

The silence, what he fears more than anything else, rushes back over. An emptiness covers his being like a massive wave, taking anything in its path with it. He can run, enough to shock an intermediate track star, but it’s not enough. The void gets closer and closer ready to overtake him, and the only way he can stop it is by saying something.

“Hey, Ogata, really. We haven’t always been the closest, and I’m probably a little bit awkward about it, but look I’m Sugimoto’s friend and you are too. And you and me, we’ve been trying to be friends, right? Because, I think we are.”

It may have the stupidest speech he’s ever given, ineloquent and choppy, but he wants the guy to know he doesn’t hate him. And he doesn’t need to know that he did either.

“You haven’t been annoying, it’s fun hanging out with you. So you know, don’t be so worried about it.”

He thinks a grade school child could speaks better than he, but he takes what he can and places it out for his audience to see. Even just one person. He’s been overthinking, and those worrying thoughts have leaked over and started to bother someone else. While he should have been honest sooner, he hopes this is enough that the guy won’t completely see him or the thought of being closer in a bad light.

The silence has buckled back, still present but without it’s power. He just has to wait and see what the other will say.

“It’s been a good night,” Ogata settles. Yoshitake stops flailing, his own mental gymnastics pausing mid air. “You aren’t bad company, Shiraishi. Sugimoto maybe,” he adds, deflecting attention from his statement to jab at his roommate.

Each sentence comes in a mile per hour pace, slowly dictated words forming themselves with what the best they can muster up. It eases him, knowing Ogata sees him similarly. Though undoubtedly a nuisance, he knows there’s now two people that don’t see him as such.

“Meh, he’s not so bad. Besides, we’re kinda the same, aren’t we?”

“Sugimoto’s too hot-headed.”

“Funny, I think he’d say the same about you.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“But we all still hang out.”

Thinking back to the strange relationships they’ve built, it’s not so strange to find yourself next to someone you wouldn’t have expected. Or would have never thought to tolerate in their case.

“Maybe I have a reason for always wanting to hang around.”

Continuing the conversation surprises him. He feels like any sentence could be their last, but he wants to see how long they can go.

And,” he smacks his lips together, trying to get the dry feeling to go away, “and what might that be?”

“You’re not bad to hang around with, Shiraishi.”

Ogata’s lips part, bracing themselves for the next sentence. But he doesn’t get it out.

Sugimoto runs back overlong phone call finally shut down and finished. The breeze picks up once more. The expected chill finally runs down his spine.

“Asirpa wants us to take her to a museum tomorrow, Shiraishi.”

The universe, gods, or just Sugimoto, decide for him. He doesn’t hear what would have come next. The thought settles uncomfortably in his stomach.

“You want to come too, Ogata?”

“No thanks.”

“You’re not scared, too are you?”

“Too?”

Shiraishi breaks out in a cold sweat, hoping Sugimoto has enough tact and brain cells to not tell Ogata how he feels about him. Felt. They’ve only just started to be friends, they’ve even just reached an unimaginable milestone just here on the bridge, and another misunderstanding could ruin it all.

“Not too,” Sugimoto coughs, pathetically covering up his word choice. “I meant you’re not scared are you? Of my little sister. From that time with the dumplings,” he snaps his fingers as the light bulb goes on above his head. “She just wants you to say you like her food you know, she’s a kid with hopes and dreams. We have to encourage her talents and you just eat it with a pokerface.”

Averting his eyes without an answer, Sugimoto grumbles and turns back to Yoshitake.

“Should we go then?”

“Actually guys, I think I’m going to head home for tonight.”

“You are?” Sugimoto blanches.

Even Ogata eyes him.

“What? Are you guys going to miss me that much?” Yoshitake laughs, but catches no smiles.

“More like I’m just used to see you planted on the couch. And it’s late, are you sure?”

“Just for tonight, and I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow for the museum. So tell Asirpa to have breakfast for three.”

The roommates don’t argue with him further.

“Okay, well get home safe then.”

He quickly turns himself away, speed walking across the wood.

“Night, Shiraishi,” Ogata says, voice carrying loud enough even with the breeze.

“Night.”

The last of his sanity collapses.

-

That night, Ogata was going to say something to him, he just knows it.

But he didn’t get the chance to.

And now that the moment has passed, there’s no real reason to dwell on it, right? If he still wants to say what he would have, then he simply has to find another time to do so. Unless, he’d rather the words die before they sprout, which he’ll never know unless it happens.

Unspoken conversations held back by the tip of his tongue are no stranger to him or Ogata. Only recently, have both they both met in the middle to converse, when before, a prolonged responses would have been inconceivable. As they’ve slid down, meeting many rocks and craters in between, it’s unthinkable they’ve made it here. Realistically, there should be no reason to have had so many bumps, sending the idea that their affinity is either not meant to be or a lesson to be learned with the effort.

Yoshitake dislikes either scenario. The universe on its high pedestal has decided to make their lives more difficult than necessary all for some measly entertainment. They must be laughing at him from up above. He’s never overthought something like this before.

Sugimoto seems to think it off as well, proving maybe he isn’t just unnecessarily spiraling himself to a pit of worry.

But there’s nothing much to do when staring straight ahead at the contemporary art piece. He can’t solve anything without Ogata, and he most certainly is not ready to cross the threshold. He stares at the foul piece, littered with red and splotchy textures over a black and blue canvas. There should be meaning in it, right? A mind boggling analogy meant to keep him occupied until he finds a probably answer.

Neither him or Sugimoto are the artsy types, he supposes. The two are more set on finding ridiculous shapes in the strokes like you would with clouds. “That looks like a butt.” Asirpa is amused, until they’re caught by an art docent. She shift gears and instead scolds the two for acting so childish in a place of culture. For a 13 year old, she packs a hard hit.

“Has Ogata been acting weird around you?” Sugimoto asks sometime halfway through the exhibit.

The two have decided to take a break while Asirpa moves forward, intent on taking notes for her class assignment.

“Weird? What do you mean weird?”

“Just anything different than normal. I know you weren’t that comfortable around him, but you guys did start talking more. It’s not bad, but I was wondering if it had gotten strange.”

Yoshitake does think things have gotten strange. Last night at the park where the three walked through the festival wasn’t the first occurrence.

They were alone, and Shiraishi thought he had gotten used to it. But, Ogata was about to say something else, and he doesn’t want to jump to conclusions about what because that will spiral him into a new undiscovered dimension, and he’s without cover. He wants to forget it all happened, but he can’t do that.

The memory has been ruthlessly eating at him. The scene replays in his mind over and over. That night, they were surrounded by the trees, distant glow of lanterns in the background. He can remember the wafting smells of street food and joyous shouts near the prize booths. Their entire evening felt like his teenage years, him and his cousins running through the stalls. His coin purse tied inside his pants would jingle each time his legs hit the floor.

For all of the beautiful sounds and colors to be lost and replaced, he can’t leave it.

“I think we’re trying to be friends, but I can’t really tell. He’s so quiet.”

“I figured you guys would kind of be friends really easy, you know? We’re already out all the time. Just by association. But I guess it’s not that easy.”

“Still think he hates me?”

“No, it’s not that. Trust me, that guy doesn’t put up with anything he hates.”

‘What about you, and Koito, and Tsukishima’ rings in his mind, but there’s a heartfelt tolerance under the hateful foreground for them all.

“Then?”

“Well, I don’t know. It’s been kinda different when he’s quiet lately, but maybe he’s just got a lot on his mind.”

“Do you guys ever talk about that kind of thing?”

“Us? No,” he sounds exasperated, but collects his breath a second later. “I guess we could though.”

“Maybe you guys should. You’ve been living together for four years.”

He agrees.

“I should ask if he’s doing alright.”

As the memory resurfaces, the spring atmosphere switches. Nothing grim, but suspenseful. The lights dim, a single spotlight find the path which disappears not long after. Then it’s only him. And Ogata. Yoshitake just waits. He waits for the man to open his mouth and each time Sugimoto comes back and interrupts.

Perhaps, something he shouldn’t hear. Then, a nervous flutter fills his stomach. Even worse, this sort of strange feeling isn’t unfamiliar.

But the strangest thing about it all, is that he wants to hear it.

Sugimoto is close, but not quite not on the money.

Ogata isn’t acting strange, Shiraishi is.

-

Just like any other Friday Yoshitake makes his way over to Sugimoto’s apartment. The place is his second home, and the more he thinks about it he shouldn’t even be paying rent to his studio. Maybe when the lease is up, he can move in with Sugimoto. If Ogata accepts. He wonders if he would. Maybe, if he hasn’t already made things strange or awkward. It’s another question for another day, in the mean time, he’ll make himself comfortable on his favorite spot in the living room. The couch undoubtedly has an imprint from how often he sits and never leaves, but couches can be replaced easily, so why worry?

Arriving at he building, he finds the hidden spare key and unlocks the door. Sugimoto’s class is running late, so he messages Yoshitake to let himself in, something he’s done before and will inevitably do again. Whistling to himself, he goes in.

He closes the door, slips off his shoes. And when he looks up, he’s not alone. Ogata.

They haven’t spoken since the evening by the river. About a week has passed. How they missed each other, is surprising, because the longest they hadn’t seen each other before was maybe two or three days with how often Yoshitake invades their shared apartment.

Yoshitake didn’t entirely avoid the space, but did suggest they eat out more than they would have in a single week. He wasn’t alone in his ideas, he’s assuming. Because each time he did actually brave himself over, Ogata was out studying.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Ogata goes back to his book. Normally, he wouldn’t feel weird about plopping himself on the couch or throwing open the fridge, but today he feels like he can’t.

He thinks about heading over to hide out in Sugimoto’s room.

“How have you been?”

Ogata’s asking.

“Oh you know, not bad. Attending class, sleeping. Just the usual. And you?”

He lifts his book, which speaks for itself. Glancing over the table, he can see stacks of notes, organized and highlighted into sections.

“You’re gonna knock them all out at dental school. Not the teeth, but the teachers.”

He’s ready to turn a tail and hide.

“You can sit down if you’d like. There’s space.”

Not needing to wait for an opportunity, he sits.

It’s just like any other day in the apartment. He looks over at the tv, not sure if he can turn it on. Ogata’s eyes peek over, face still turned to his book. He reaches for the remote, handing it back to Yoshitake.

“Thanks.”

With the volume turned lower, he starts searching for a new selection, finding anything to watch even if he’s already seen it.

He pulls a few snacks from his bag, wordlessly offering a bag to Ogata. With the hand not holding his pencil, he takes it. He realizes, there’s never been any reason to be so awkward around the guy. The two can function differently than he and Sugimoto, silent, but not standing on egg shells.

Ogata makes no complaints when he’s rowdy, letting Yoshitake exist as he pleases. And Yoshitake does his best not to interrupt Ogata, who still has his books out. They wait for Sugimoto together.

He’s not so afraid of the silence anymore. The monster in your closet is only scary if you give it the power to scare you. And what follows, isn’t bad either.

“If you’re ever not hanging out with Sugimoto one of these days,” Ogata suggests when a commercial begins, “then maybe we can.”

He waits for something more, an explanation, a ‘just kidding’, but both of those scenarios don’t quite fit Ogata’s character. He’s a man of few words, a silent observer who only speaks when he needs to. He chooses his words carefully when he has to, otherwise he won’t say anything at all.

Yoshitake hears him, and has to fill the puzzle himself.

Is he asking? Is this what he would have said the other night?

And maybe Yoshitake has average grades. Maybe he doesn’t study as much as he should. Perhaps he (and Sugimoto) spend a little bit more time than they should at the bar when they should be at the library, but despite all those things, the light bulb goes off above his head.

He’s being asked out. By Sugimoto’s weird roommate, of all people. The silent, creepy guy who stares in his direction for too long. The guy who maneuvers through the apartment with a feline like delicacy that let’s him slip past and end up next to Yoshitake before he even realizes it. The guy who offers him food when Sugimoto’s passed out cold and he’s hungry, let’s him pick movies to fill the silence, who subtlety asks him if he needs anything when he’s waiting in their apartment.

Ogata’s been around for awhile. Quiet, but still present. And though he only realizes it now, Ogata’s never been bad company. In fact, he’s considerate (in his own reserved, convoluted way) with Shiraishi, unlike the way he is with Sugimoto. The more he puts it together, he treats the two differently.

“I? You? Want to hang out with me?”

“We do a lot already, don’t we? But I think it’d be nice if it were just the two of us. I wouldn’t want anyone bugging during dinner.”

“A dinner? Just the two of us?”

He feels like he has to ask, because it makes absolutely no sense to him.

“A date, Shiraishi. If you’d like to accompany me.”

The phrase repeats itself, confirming in his own mind. As he originally thought what the sentence could have been, he had passed over the possibility, but ultimately thought it too out there to be true. Now laid before him, the questions isn’t hidden by “if”, instead sat in front of him clear as day.

What would he have said on the evening at the bridge had Sugimoto not interrupted?

“Okay.”

Ogata’s eyes widen, as if he did not expect Yoshitake to say yes?

“Okay?”

“Yeah, you can take me on a date.”

“Alright then, Shiraishi. Tomorrow evening? Should I pick you up or will you be here.”

“You can pick me up. I want the full experience, so you better have that restaurant voucher ready!”

Maybe, just maybe, hanging out with Ogata - just the two of them - isn’t so bad, after all.

-

Sugimoto comes back not too long later, throwing the door back hard enough that it slams to the wall.

“I’m back!”

Shirashi and Ogata are seated on the narrow couch, sitting just a palm’s length away after going back to their respective activities.

The room feels warm. Yoshitake fights back the heat threatening to spread over his face. Ogata’s is barely pink, face still impassive.

Sugimoto should prepare, because little does he know their situation is about to get a little bit stranger.

“Hey, what did I miss?”