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Mao had always hated the airport.
He was just another addition to that infamous bustling airport ambience, thick with anxiety as everyone hurries around from gate to gate and terminal to terminal, countless shoes quick against faintly dirty PVC floors.
He'd squint up at impossibly far away signs, trying to make sense of what they said, but they were all written in a language that definitely wasn't Japanese.
Mao remembered all the times people had told him he doesn't need to know much of a country's native language to travel. He believed them, and so he left on his own to Europe. Big mistake.
Travel alone, they said, It'll be fun, they said.
Mao scoffed. Why did I do this to myself?
It was difficult to stay calm, even for someone like Mao. He found tears of frustration bothering his waterlines more than once trying to navigate the damn place.
Breathe in four seconds, hold four seconds, out four seconds...
Everything's fine, he reminded himself, stay calm.
He figured things out, luckily enough. Now all he had to do was play the waiting game. Which, arguably, was the worst part.
Blue and grey plastic waiting chairs are wildly uncomfortable and never get along with his lower back, annoying unsupervised kids constantly scream and cry for some reason, and bluetooth headphones can only ever do so much to drown out his surroundings.
Mao sweeps strands of red from his eyes, running a hand back through his hair, and he couldn't help sighing outwardly.
His body ached with exhaustion and he still wasn't quite over his jet lag from two days ago. His muscles were sore beyond belief and, jeez, if only the line at Starbucks wasn't so long, because maybe a grande black coffee could fix that.
It also didn't help that the airplane seats he suffered in for 12 hours were way too small for comfort. His legs are long and lanky and could barely fit properly in what little leg room he had, so they were bent uncomfortably for the entire flight, and alighting the plane once it'd landed was a true test of vigilance to his poor knees.
(He swears he'd rather do anything than have pins and needles that bad ever again.)
Out of reflex, Mao reached towards his phone, his subconscious itching for some kind of escape from metropolitan hell. He realizes, withdrawing his hand with slightly pursed lips, that his phone is completely dead. Even worse, it'd been dead for a while.
It's unfortunate, too, how the whole thing went down; he wears away at the skin of his lower lip thinking about it.
For the second, no, third time, Mao inadvertently remembers the story.
It was much earlier, before his flight that was scheduled to return to Japan.
He'd be lying if he said he wasn't having a wonderful time in Europe. Traveling really is fun, which was something he found out after all the trips and tours he was able to experience with Trickstar.
He tried a few exotic foods, went hiking in the nearby national park—luckily, the rain only started to pour after he left—and the view from his hotel room was incredible, like a bird's eye view of the entire town.
But, as he'd come to realize, staring out of a glass window sheened with rain only really made him melancholy.
All by his lonesome, eyes half-lidded, unconsciously following and rooting for the droplet on the left to make it to the edge of the windowpane first.
He wished he had someone to share this moment with. He's a people-person. He really wished he hadn't come alone.
The droplet on the right made it down first, much to his dismay.
His first thought was to grab his phone and call his boyfriend, Ritsu, who loves the rain.
That thought got his mind going.
Despite being recently-established boyfriends, they didn't really talk much. It was weird—almost like they were talking less? Which, frankly, sort of terrified Mao. Probably the people pleaser in him speaking.
It wasn't as much of them not getting along as it was both of them being absolutely swamped with work. Mao gets incredibly busy with all his stuco work, which Ritsu understands. It's hard to make time to be together when Mao is constantly working.
And then, to make matters worse, the world seemed to be working against them, because Ritsu always tended to be busy on the rare occasion Mao was free.
They just wanted a moment alone together, something so seemingly simple that felt so unattainable.
That's why Mao put some time aside to plan a trip for the two of them.
Things obviously did not go as planned.
Ritsu had gushed about the upcoming trip to other Knights members, who frowned in response, informing him about a really important charity live he had to attend.
It felt so last-minute, and Ritsu was beyond angry. Really, it felt like the world was against them.
Ritsu had to cancel his attendance to the trip, and Mao was incredibly upset.
It's not your fault, Ricchan, he tried to reassure, things happen.
But that didn't make Mao any less dismal about it. He tried (and failed) to hide the disappointment lingering in the back of his throat.
Mao had already bought his own plane ticket, and the refund process sounded like it'd be hell on earth, so he made the decision to travel alone.
Anyway, Mao shook his head, letting out a sigh and shifting his train of thought.
Even though talking over the phone never felt the same, he wanted to hear Ritsu's voice. His voice is soft, just like the rain, even if it's filtered and muffled and quiet from his phone's speaker.
They've had to make do with phone calls and text messages for several weeks now anyway, so it wouldn't be much different from the norm.
Heart and cheeks alike warming up at the thought, Mao reached over to his phone, clicked the power button once, and his eyebrow furrowed slightly when nothing happened.
Click, click.
Still nothing.
Okay, no big deal, Mao just needs to plug it in for a little bit. His charger's definitely in his luggage... Somewhere... Surely...
Except, no, no it wasn't.
It definitely was not in his luggage.
Shit.
Mao swore he put it in there. He remembers coiling it up and stuffing it in the front, or was it the side? Did he really pack it? Oh, God. He was starting to second guess himself.
He tore apart the rest of his suitcase, the hotel room, and he even scanned up and down the hallways just in case he might've dropped it or something. It was nowhere to be found.
Damn it...
A round of trips to several nearby grocery stores proved useless as Mao struggled to find the right charging cable. None of the store clerks were familiar with Japanese either, so he couldn't really ask them for help.
It's something you wouldn't really think twice about living in the middle of an urbanized city—technology is everywhere, and with technology comes things like batteries and chargers to power them. Norms aren't the same everywhere, though, and Mao mentally facepalms at his own negligence.
He can't go the rest of the 3 days he had planned for this trip without a phone. People might think he died or something. With a heavy heart, he packed his things.
This trip wasn't worth it, anyway.
Mao frowns.
I wish Ricchan was here.
And so, Mao leans his head back, and all he can think about is how much this airport chair is hurting his tailbone. No amount of readjusting or sitting on top of his jacket could help that.
His headphones are on, but there's no music playing. He just wants to don a 'please no one talk to me' look.
The people are still loud. The headphones aren't doing much.
He sinks down further into his chair, eyes closed softly. The white light overhead looks faintly orange from behind his eyelids.
Tap, tap, tap.
Mao can't hear it when he taps the toes of his shoes together, but he can feel the vibrations it makes, each tap following the tempo of a song that's stuck in his head.
He chews on the skin of his cheek, fingers with their cuticles and nails torn by anxious teeth beginning to fidget. He tears them up further now, actually, since fidgeting made him think about it.
Being alone always makes Mao much more antsy. At first it's kinda nice; ruminating to himself about basically whatever, like his favorite manga characters or fun performance ideas he can relay to Trickstar later.
But, one thing leads to another, and Mao really gets thinking, and subsequently starts worrying.
What work do I have to do today? When are my deadlines? What if I die tomorrow?
He usually clenches his teeth at the intrusive thoughts and scrambles to redirect his train of thinking, but it's surprisingly difficult. That's why he appreciates all the people in his life, all his friends and family and fans, who can effortlessly distract him from his own mind.
That's why, he thinks, it's so hard being alone.
Ricchan...
He feels cold right now. Freezing. He wonders if it'd be warmer if Ritsu had come along.
Ritsu likes to cling onto his arm or wrap his arms around Mao from behind. It's so warm. Mao never considered himself one to be touch starved, but maybe it's because Ritsu had been the one giving him that affection since they were kids.
Mao rubs his arms to alleviate the goosebumps.
"Maa-kun..."
He hears Ritsu's voice in his head, heart heavy and leg restless as it bounces up and down, and God, he wishes his phone would just magically turn on because he's never felt so deprived of human interaction in his life.
Ritsu's voice is a soft coo, a tender and slow rhythm that Mao thinks sounds best when it's paired with a melody from his acoustic guitar.
He's so gentle. That's the best word Mao could use to describe him.
Gentle fingers discarding a hair clip and massaging through strands of muted red.
Gentle arms wrapping around Mao's shoulders.
Gentle lips feathering kisses along Mao's jawline and the crook of his neck.
"Maa-kun..."
It's louder now, and Mao admits to himself that it feels like his own brain is taunting him, evilly reinforcing the solitude weighing down on his shoulders.
His mind wanders to the fun things he did during his mini-vacation, wondering what things would have been like if Ritsu were there too. A solemn thought process, in all honesty.
Mao thinks he would have liked the food stalls, especially the one with cute handheld cakes, but maybe not the one right next to it, since the garlic smell emanating from it was a bit much.
Ritsu probably would have made Mao carry him through the national park. Mao decides he has a love-hate relationship with the idea of that.
But, most of all, Mao knows Ritsu would have liked the rain. The two of them snuggled up beside one another in front of a window chilled by the downpour, breaths fogging up against the glass, and Mao would probably have drawn a smiley face in the condensation with his pointer finger.
He thinks about how it'll probably be awhile before they'd be able to plan something like this again, too. The thought shoots a pang of misery into Mao's heart.
No, no, he can't think like that.
He just needs to work harder to schedule, or something. It's not the end of the world.
But that voice... It's like the forbidden fruit or something; at least, Mao's led himself to believe so. Even in his own head, it sounds clear as day. He just has to ignore it. Or try his best to.
If he just ignores the voice, then maybe—
"Maa-kun! Hello?"
"Huh?"
Before Mao is given the time to realize, two hands steal the headphones from off of his head, thin red eyes staring into a complimentary pair of green.
"R-Ricchan?! What the hell are you doing here?!"
"Well, good morning to you too, Maa-kun..."
Ritsu lets his lips curl up into a sly smile, while Mao's eyes are impossibly wide, and he's grabbing Ritsu's wrists for some reason, cheeks glowing from the sudden adrenaline.
"How did you—! What about the—?!"
"Shhh," Ritsu interrupts, "we're in public, you know. You need to quiet down."
He leans down and wraps his arms around Mao, letting out a pent up sigh into his shoulder.
"The charity performance got moved to a later date... I already texted you about it, and I tried calling, but it went straight to voicemail every time. I was worried..."
Mao can feel Ritsu's arms squeezing him tighter. Blood rushes straight to his cheeks at the feeling, and it persists even when Ritsu exits the embrace and sits down next to him.
"I'm really sorry," Mao apologizes. "My phone's been dead since yesterday. I forgot my charger, and they didn't have the one I need at the store, and... Ugh, I'm just a mess right now."
"Mmm," Ritsu hums, "I see. I didn't know Maa-kun had an irresponsible side."
"S-Stop that..." Mao flushes with embarrassment. "I just forgot. How did you know I was here, anyway?"
"Intuition," Ritsu lies.
"Yeah, right."
"It sounds dumb if I say it out loud..."
"Huh? How so?"
"Well, I flew out here alone because I wanted to show up to the hotel room you rented as a surprise. In hindsight, it was a stupid plan, though... You could've switched hotels after telling me which one you wanted to get, and now you're here, so it would've been a waste of time if I'd left and headed to the hotel... It's pure luck that I happened to catch you out of the corner of my eye..."
"Sorry, but you're right. That is a stupid plan."
"Shut up, Maa-kun! Things would have been perfectly fine if you'd just charged your phone!"
Mao furrows his brow at him, but damn, he's got a point, so he stubbornly crosses his arms. Ritsu clicks his tongue in response, a smile gentle on his lips.
"You're just like a child. So cute."
"No, I'm not! I'm just... jet lagged."
"He's in denial now..."
They share a moment, just sitting there wordlessly, and Ritsu is leaning on Mao's shoulder, and Mao is stroking the back of Ritsu's hand with his thumb. It's so warm, tender, and Ritsu doesn't comment on the way he can feel Mao's heart rate pick up as he presses a quick kiss to his cheek.
Mao wants to tell him to stop, to tell him that PDA is embarrassing, but Ritsu is just so warm, and he really doesn't want to separate. He just wants to sit there for a while.
This is exactly what Mao had wished for. It felt like some kind of Godsend gift, or maybe like a dream. He tightly pinched his thigh. Okay, not a dream.
The only thing Mao found himself wondering was what next? They're both here now, so what's the plan?
Surprisingly, though, or maybe not, Mao's mind was at ease with Ritsu here, so his thoughts were a lot fewer and far-between.
He settled on worrying about the plan later. This was his chance to enjoy the fleeting present while he still could.
"It's nice, right?" Ritsu says softly, breaking the silence.
"What's that?"
"How things worked out. We're both a mess, but we still make it work."
Mao takes a second to think. A smile creeps onto his face.
"Yeah. I guess you're right."
"You're paying for my flight cancellation fee, Ricchan."
"Eh?"