Work Text:
☏
The default ringtone of his new smartphone alerts Inupi of a call. And while the merry melody goes on ringing, he sighs at having been interrupted in his task on a client’s bike and gets up from his stool.
He wipes his greasy hands on the pant legs of his work jumpsuit, not caring that it was getting stained by the dark oil he’d been working with. They came off properly anyway, he and Draken had made sure of that when they were selecting the material for their uniform.
Finally reaching the desk resting his phone, he grabs the still-ringing device and looks at its screen lit up with an incoming call.
Unknown Caller.
The two words piques his interest and memory. Calls from unknown numbers weren’t uncommon, but they weren’t exactly common either. Especially not common enough for Inupi to be receiving one consistently the past few months.
It’s happened enough times that Inupi has taken note of when exactly these calls arrive. Usually once or twice every three weeks.
They were weird and frankly, Inupi had thought he was getting creepy scam calls at first.
The first time he answered, he wondered if it was an old friend from school getting ahold of his contact number, but there was only silence on the other line, so he had ended the call.
The second time happened two weeks after that, and Inupi hadn’t remembered the first incident, and likewise, thinking nothing of it, he picked it up. Nothing, again. And the refrain of sound after a refrain of sound was an occurrence too bizarre to be forgotten, and Inupi had realised then that this had happened before. He ended the call again, a bit peeved.
At that point, he’d started worrying, but not enough to go to drastic measures like changing his phone number. He’d blocked the caller if he could, but it was unknown for a reason.
Upon sharing his predicament with his partner, Draken had simply told him to “Just stop answering ‘em calls.”
Yet, the third time it happened, Inupi had answered the call.
“Hello?”
…
The predictable silence that came was confirmation enough for Inupi that this really was becoming a thing. He was getting some kind of series of silent prank calls, and whoever it was on the other side was probably having a kick out of it.
“I don’t know who you are, but this is not funny. It’s bothersome.”
…
Inupi’s brow had creased together in annoyance.
“Hakkai, grow up. I swear if this is your way of trying to convince me to join you again, I’m going to beat you up.”
Hakkai had been bothering him with annoying texts the past few weeks, something about his company wanting to fully sign Inupi after Inupi had kindly filled in a spot for a small shoot Hakkai was doing with some of his other model friends. Inupi wasn’t planning on doing it ever again, but Hakkai seemed to be hell-bent on Inupi being a natural.
Hakkai may have grown a solid spine after Toman’s influence in their younger years, but he was still a scaredy cat after all, and with a face and body that acts as his professional lifeline, he could not risk any harm to it.
And yet, nothing. Not a cower or an apology. Nothing to indicate it was Hakkai.
Just absolutely nothing. And Inupi was starting to get worried and subtly creeped out.
So after almost a minute of mutual silence, Inupi let out a heavy sigh and ended the call.
It became a strange kind of routine after that.
The fourth time he got a call, he only answered it to confirm if it was really happening again. It was. The fifth, he picked it up as a challenge to the universe that seemed intent on bothering him like this. It wasn’t the power move he made it out to be, and he was left just as irritated at the silence as the previous times.
The sixth, he started cursing at his phone. He had been deep in focus on refilling a finished, refurbished motorcycle's engine with oil when the shrill start of his phone’s ringtone had shocked him into a slight jump. The plastic tube connecting the tank and gallon of oil he’d been holding up disjoins, and the oil spills everywhere–from his clothes to the polished surface of the motorcycle.
As carefully as he could in his temper, he throws some cloth over his mess and stomps over to the annoyingly vibrating and ringing phone.
The Unknown Caller on his screen cracks his usually composed demeanour.
“I’m going to kill you if you don’t tell me what you want. I’ve been working on this model for longer than you’ve been bothering me. If you’re not going to scrub the floors and polish the bike again for me. Don’t. Call. Me. Again.”
Inupi should have ended the call there and then. Leave the stranger on the other end shaking from his threat, but he stays on the line for a few seconds–waiting to see if there was going to be a response.
Inupi can’t decide now if his choice to stay then was wise or not.
He had heard a very faint huff, almost like a snort, and the abrupt sound had elicited one faint surprised breath from Inupi too.
That was also the first time the person on the other line ended the call instead of Inupi. Ended it as if he had panicked and needed an out as quickly as possible.
That had been in September. The first call he had received was in June. And now, it’s October.
Inupi isn’t surprised anymore at the customary calls he receives every few weeks or so, nor is he surprised at his still answering them.
What takes him by surprise this time is that it hasn’t been two weeks since the last call. It hasn’t even been one.
So, a little hesitant at the irregularity, he presses the green answer button on his touchscreen and prepares himself for a maybe real scam call.
The stillness he perceives was like a calming balm, and he lets out a quiet breath of relief at the familiar sound of nothing.
Then he blinks at himself in surprise at his own reaction. Despite his theories, he really shouldn’t be reacting so trustingly at a phone call like this. Relief that it’s an unknown stranger that has been oddly, yet innocently, inconveniencing him, and not a just-as-much-a-stranger trying to scam him into a pyramid scheme? They’re both equally bad cases, Inupi shouldn’t delude himself–no matter how much he badly wants so.
He sighs softly in exasperation, at himself and at the caller on the other line.
“Did you mess up your schedule? It’s only been a few days.”
…
Inupi lets a small smile slip onto his lips.
“You’re lucky I wasn’t filling oil this time.”
…
He lets the silence last longer this time, lets his hope bubble in the damp noise.
“I…” he starts, trying to find the right words in his conflicted faith to ask the question he’s been meaning to ask. But then the door to the shop dings in signal of an entrance, and Draken comes strolling in and gives Inupi a questioning look.
Inupi knows Draken hates how he still picks up these mysterious calls, so he turns away from the man and ends his sentence differently instead.
“I got to go. I’ll… talk to you again. Next time… Bye.”
He ends the call and pockets his phone, trying to shield it away from Draken’s privy eyes.
“Who was that?”
Inupi meets his eyes blankly, “Chifuyu-kun.”
Draken raises a brow at him, “Chifuyu? What’d he want? Is it about his bike, cause if it is, he already called me this morning about it.”
Inupi blinks and stares at him, pointedly ignoring his question–knowing he’s been caught.
Draken’s eyes roll back so deep into the back of his eyes it’s comical. He lets out a frustrated groan and walks away from Inupi to his own workstation.
“Fine. Be that way, but you better start bringing your bat around or something. I’m telling ya, if this one of those stalker things again, I’m gonna punch this dude straight to his grave. Gahd, still can’t fucking forget that shithead who left his jizz on our apartment door.”
This time, Inupi is the one who rolls his eyes at the reminder of his disturbing stalker a year prior. A creepy customer of theirs who had been courting Inupi. It was a good thing the police came when they did before the one they had to take away instead was Draken.
“Six months in probation. Fucking bullshit. I swear Inupi, you better be fucking careful. If it’s that fucker again…”
“Stop overreacting. We have a restraining order.”
“A restraining order that doesn’t work if we can’t prove that it's him.”
“Cause it’s not.”
And Inupi turns away briskly and heads for the stairs leading to their apartment above, leaving Draken mid-rant at Inupi’s foolishness.
Inupi knows he’s being stupid. But not for the reasons Draken thinks he is.
Draken’s anger would probably be more cold-blooded at the real reason Inupi’s still entertaining his mysterious caller like this. Cold-blooded at the reminder of how wrong this reality they’ve built really is–how incomplete.
☏
Inupi’s eyes open lazily as his mind tries to wake him up from a deep sleep. He processes his dark room, the soft glow from the moon outside his window seeping into his room through the cracks of his curtain.
It takes him a while to realise why he’s awake. A buzzing sound from his bedside table. He checks the digital clock and frowns at the bright 00:09 glaring at him in green. Glaring back in that direction, he reaches his hand out and starts probing around for the source of his awakening.
With his vibrating phone in hand, he brings it back up to his face.
Unknown Caller.
He pushes himself up sluggishly onto his elbow and stares at the bright screen of his phone in heavy confusion.
His heart thumps rapidly at this epiphanous moment. Emerald eyes, glossing over with moisture, turns towards the digital clock by the bedside again, this time focusing on the date displayed on it.
１０月１８日
He stops breathing, his lungs aching at the lack of air. His trembling thumb reaches out to answer the call.
The beep indicates the connection of the call and he knows he’s not imagining the tension-filled silence gripping both his and his caller’s heart right now. He opens his mouth to say something, but he chokes up and swallows the lump in his throat instead.
How badly he is hoping right now, that the person on the other line was who he was thinking it was. Musing over what could happen if he tried to confirm his suspicions, he lays back down on his bed instead, his phone close to his ear.
The only sounds echoing around are the shuffling of his sheets entangling his cold feet, the long strands of his hair fanning against his soft pillows, his breath evening out and syncing with what he imagines is the breath of the other.
And just like that Inupi falls asleep.
☏
When he woke up, the call had ended. Checking the details of the call, he sees that the call was connected for a good 49 minutes before it was ended by his unknown caller.
Inupi ponders over the situation. If. If this really was him, what exactly does that make Inupi? Happy? Sad? Angry?
It’s not like Inupi hasn’t wondered how things could have gone if they chose to stay and move on together. If they had talked things out more properly instead of beating each other black and blue–consumed by their youthful energy of settling things with hard knock punches, carefully aimed kicks, and carelessly used bats and pipes.
But years ago when Draken told him of the peculiar collaboration of their estranged best friends and their new shady business, he knew their paths couldn’t stray further than they already have.
The moment their new groupie had reached state-wide news coverage with their corrupt affairs, Inupi knew there weren’t even ashes left of the bridges they’ve burned.
What was the meaning behind all of these calls then?
Inupi shakes his head at himself. He doesn’t even really know if things were as he has inferred. It’s all speculation and circumstantial.
Turning his attention back to his phone, he opens all the greeting messages he’s received. A short brief one from his parents and a few acquaintances, even some regular customers he’s managed to build lasting relationships with. He leaves those as it is, and replies to the more sincere ones from Takemichi and the like.
Oddly enough, he’s stayed close to not just Takemichi, but Hakkai and even Chifuyu-kun. The three, along with Mitsuya-kun, would drop by the shop frequently. Occasionally, even Peh-yan and Pah-chin would fit in a visit in their busy schedule handling their real estate business. Chifuyu-kun would also bring along Kazutora-kun some times, although that was a very tense get-together. Inupi doesn’t hold anything against the guy anymore, but no matter what Inupi does, he can’t exactly appease the guy in a space that led to his mental downfall and imprisonment.
Though as Inupi has said, they’re all on good terms now. They’ve held each other close after all they’ve all lost. Inupi can relate with them on that front.
Getting up from the bed, Inupi leaves his room and treks to the bathroom. He could hear Draken in the kitchen, so washing up quickly, he walks out to the kitchen area.
Draken smiles at him and wishes him a happy birthday. The table is set with a hearty breakfast and Draken tells him of the gang planning a get-together dinner in celebration.
How could he ever risk losing such relationships for one that he was cut off from.
Inupi promises himself that he wouldn’t answer the next call he’d get from an unknown caller.
☏
Making good on his promise three weeks later, his phone rings with an Unknown Caller and all he does is watch it ring fruitlessly.
He doesn’t realise he’s holding in his breath until the moment the phone stops ringing and he finally inhales a good gust of air.
He stares at his blank phone, conflicted whether he’s relieved it’s stopped or disappointed and waiting for it to ring again. It doesn’t and he leaves it be.
☏
It’s been almost one and a half months since then and Inupi has almost forgotten about the calls–or convinced himself he has.
Draken also isn’t giving Inupi these suspicious looks every time his phone rings anymore.
But it’s one evening as Inupi is getting ready for bed when his phone rings in the dead of the night.
The melody mocks him along with the name displayed on his screen, Unknown Caller.
And it’s his slight hesitation and consideration to answer that aggravates him. He’s done. He has moved on. He doesn’t need this sick reminder from the man who threw his life away.
In his blind anger, he picks his phone up and answers, “How long are you going to keep this up?”
His tone is clipped and tense, on the verge of crying. He’s moved on. He’s living a good, honest life now. Why is he being dragged back to unholy, toxic thoughts.
The line is dead as usual, the only indication of the call still being connected is the countdown on his phone increasing by the second.
He’s sick of the stifling soundlessness, sick of the silent years, sick of the disappointment.
He whimpers out weakly, “Koko, please…”
The call ends and the empty dial tone beeps continuously in Inupi’s ears. That was all the confirmation he needed.
☏
Inupi tries. Tries to understand why Koko has been calling him like this. Tries to understand why now… After eleven long years with no attempts of reconciliation or communication. Eleven long years with Inupi thinking he let his best friend down by not stopping him from going off into the deep end. Eleven guilty longing years.
Does he feel guilty for his own actions? For the dark world he’s brought into reality? For how both men and women alike walk with apprehension on nights at Tokyo, for how the police can’t even protect the citizens with their mouths full and foaming with hush money, for how Inupi and his friends watch the world around them fall into chaos at the hands of friends they’ve loved.
Does he feel guilty for becoming who he has? Does he feel guilty for still wanting to reach out to Inupi despite all that? So much so that this was all he could do? Drop anonymous calls every few weeks or so.
And maybe Inupi is too blindly trusting and loyal, but his heart hurts and aches for his dear, lost friend.
On those grounds, the next call that came after months of radio silence, Inupi picks his phone up and presses the answer button.
“Hello…” The silence that greets him isn’t a surprise, it just makes him smile sadly before he softly continues, “Let me tell you about my day.”