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The dreams start not long after Ikuya turns sixteen.
He can only describe the way the dreams begin as an arrival. He knows he’s just fallen asleep, and yet here he is, like he’s stepped right out of his sleep and into this new space, which he also recognizes as an old space.
It’s his middle school homeroom. It’s exactly as he left it - desks of an appropriate size to accommodate kids living in that suspended moment between childhood and adolescence, sheer white curtains billowing around half open windows, sliding bamboo doors always left open.
The one glaring difference is the complete absence of any personal effects - no books, no bags, no pencils or paper, no empty bentos littered across desks rearranged to eat lunch with friends.
Ikuya looks down at himself, half expecting to see his old gakuran, but he looks exactly as he had earlier that day, Shionezaki swim team uniform intact and scuffed sneakers on his feet.
About five minutes later, there’s another arrival. He doesn’t know why he knew to expect someone at all, but it’s exactly who he expected, and not at all who he was ready to see.
“Hi.” The total lack of surprise Ikuya feels is expected. The wave of apprehension is also expected, though unwelcome.
“Hey there. Been a while.” He looks and sounds as unsurprised as Ikuya feels, the same apprehension reflected in his posture.
“It has, hasn’t it?” Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it's been all that long since Ikuya last saw him, others it feels like a lifetime.
Though the fundamentals remain the same, his overall appearance is completely different. He’s in a swim team uniform as well, one from a school Ikuya doesn’t recognize, and likely never will. He’s taller, that’s a given, his voice sounds different, also a given, but the rest is very much not a given.
He finally figured the hair out. The color in his face that used to flare up and spread across it in tandem with his moods has retreated into small but distinctive marks at the corners of his eyes and on his nose; a calmer, warmer iteration.
The more adult broadness in his shoulders, back, and arms are all indicators that he’s continued to specialize in butterfly.
He looks good, weird as that is to say about Asahi Shiina.
He appears to be surveying the changes in Ikuya too. Ikuya wonders what he sees.
“We’re dreaming, right?”
“Obviously, baka Asahi.”
The words fall from his mouth unthinkingly, as if it’s still something he says all the time. Maybe it’s worked its way so deep under his skin it’s become muscle memory.
Asahi relaxes a little at the old nickname, the tension in his shoulders visibly easing. The ghost of a small, hopeful smile appears.
“So then whose dream is it, yours or mine?”
Ikuya considers it, and then tells him what he knows to be true.
“It’s both of ours, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it’s definitely both of ours,” Asahi agrees.
Asahi sits down at his old desk, and Ikuya settles into his own right next to him. Being this close brings back memories of when Asahi wouldn’t stop jumping all over him; all outsized, uncontrollable energy. Ikuya would whine and complain, but he’d never put a stop to it, instead chasing it in the form of provocation and weak protests. He had secretly loved that closeness back then.
“So,” Asahi begins, “what have you been up to?”
Ikuya raises an eyebrow. “Really? That’s your opening line?
“It’s an icebreaker! You got anything better?”
He doesn’t.
“Okay, fine. I moved to the US with my brother about three months after you left, did some world travel while I was at it, moved back to Japan about three months ago. That’s about it.”
Asahi lets out an incredulous laugh. “That’s about it? Man, and here I am thinking I’m all cool for seeing most of Japan.”
Ikuya’s lips twitch in an almost-smile. “You were never cool. There’s no way that’s changed.”
“Probably. But I have seen most of Japan.”
Asahi’s calmer now. His smile and laugh are still bright and effortless, but he’s able to sit still and hold a conversation without shrieking. Ikuya supposes the same could be said of him, but he doesn’t laugh or smile much.
Even so, there’s a fondness in the way Asahi looks at him, and it tugs at something foreign and unfamiliar inside.
“I’m glad I finally got to see you.”
“Me too.” It’s a small thing, but even the small things don’t come naturally to Ikuya, so he considers it a victory.
They’re going to wake up soon. He doesn’t know why he suddenly knows this, but he does, and he’s a little disappointed that their visit tonight was so short.
“Think we’ll get to do this again?” He knows the answer, just as he knows they’re about to wake up, but he asks anyway.
Asahi grins. “I think you already know it’s going to be a thing.”
Ikuya returns his smile, the most genuine he’s given anyone in a very long time.
“I guess I do. See you next time?”
“Looking forward to it.”
Ikuya is a sound sleeper, and is almost always ready to face the day when he rolls out of bed in the morning.
It’s strange, then, when he wakes up one morning feeling like everything’s just the tiniest bit different, just a little off center. It follows him all day.
He doesn’t know what compels him to do it, but for the first time in years he takes out the box full of things from a time he’d like to forget, but still holds onto.
He pulls out a bright yellow t-shirt, the one with a monkey wearing sunglasses emblazoned across the front. He’d bought it for Asahi as a souvenir when he went to America over spring break.
He’d never given it to him, because by the time he got back, Asahi was gone.
It’s definitely going to be a thing. Four months later, they find themselves back in that classroom.
Asahi’s already there when he arrives, tapping his foot like he’s been waiting for hours.
“Thought you’d ditched me.” His expression is dangerously close to a pout. It’s cute, and Ikuya doesn’t know how he feels about that.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he deadpans.
Asahi rolls his eyes. “Good one.”
Ikuya takes a seat at his desk, but Asahi forgoes his own in favor of moving his chair over to join him, parking himself directly across from Ikuya.
“Did you remember anything when you woke up?”
“No,” Asahi admits, “it was disappointing. Or it would have been disappointing, if I could remember. Wait, that doesn’t make sense either.” He smiles at Ikuya as he waves it off, excitement evident on his face. “Forget it, it’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you too.” The words come out effortlessly, fueled by his own, more private excitement.
“So, any ideas about why we’re here? Don’t get me wrong, I’m definitely not complaining. I just wonder why.”
Ikuya’s definitely not complaining either.
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s an unfinished business thing? Like with ghosts?”
Asahi looks thoughtful as he considers it, which is not an adjective Ikuya would have ever used to describe him when they were younger.
“I hope not. It sounds like a homework assignment, like something you have to do to pass a class - ” Ikuya snorts “ - and don’t give me that look, I know I failed half my classes.”
Then Asahi takes a deep breath as though in preparation for something, like he’s been practicing this next bit outside of here for a while.
“For example, I’ve always wanted to apologize for just disappearing like that, especially after I promised I wouldn’t. I didn’t even say goodbye.”
When he places his hand on Ikuya’s arm it’s gentle, and so are his words.
“I’m sorry, Ikuya. That’s not unfinished business. I’m just sorry.”
Ikuya feels something very old dislodge itself, as though his windpipe’s just been cleared, allowing a key part of him to breathe for the first time in years.
He was never actually angry. He’d raged like a wounded animal, yes, but back then he’d only ever been able to express the feelings that overwhelmed him - like grief - in primal screams.
Asahi was there. Then Ikuya looked away for just one second, and when he looked back, Asahi was nowhere.
He removes Asahi’s hand just as gently, and when he speaks he hears a kindness in his own voice that he doesn’t use with anyone in the waking world.
“I’ll accept your apology if it’ll make you feel better, but there’s nothing to apologize for. We were kids, you didn’t have any control over what happened. Neither of us did.”
Asahi smiles at him, a little sad.
“You were my best friend, you know.”
Ikuya feels a stinging behind his eyes. Outside of here, his first instinct would be to back away from this, but there’s something about this place that demands honesty, and Ikuya has no choice but to comply.
“You too.”
It’s only two words, but Asahi lights up at the admission. That unfamiliar thing surfaces to tug at Ikuya again, harder this time.
Then Asahi gets this look on his face, one Ikuya recognizes immediately despite all the time and space between them. It’s amazing how completely identical it is to the one he used to get in middle school, right before announcing that he had an ide -
“Hey, here’s an idea - ” Ikuya has to bite his lip to keep from laughing “ - what if we stopped trying to figure out why we’re here?”
Ikuya tilts his head in question. “Go on.”
“I mean, who cares why? We’re here, no matter what the reason is. I’m also one hundred percent sure it’s not just our dream selves, it’s actually us, right?”
“It’s definitely us.” Ikuya is also one hundred percent sure of this.
“So then what if we just used this as a chance to hang out? Get to know each other again?” He looks hopeful.
Ikuya’s mouth is moving before his mind can even begin to process the question, and in the aftermath he realizes his answer would have been the same either way.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
Asahi’s beams at him, and Ikuya can’t resist returning it with his own, more quiet smile.
“Alright then, I’m Asahi. Nice to meet you.”
He holds out his hand, and Ikuya takes it. It’s warm, like everything about him.
“Ikuya. Looking forward to getting to know you.”
And he is, he really is. He knows who Asahi was then, and he very much wants to know all of who he is now.
They shake on it, and as they leave the figurative restraints of that classroom, those curtains, those doors that are always open, and that past they’ve made peace with, their new friendship begins.
Ikuya goes on vacation to Okinawa with his mother and brother. His hotel room is beautiful, all airy and spacious, sheer white curtains billowing around open windows looking out at the sea.
He’s unpacking his things when he comes across a t-shirt in one of the dresser drawers that the previous guest must have left there by accident.
It’s a soft material, light gray, with what he assumes is the name of a high school printed across the front. He’s never heard of Kazami, or their swim team, if they have one. Ikuya knows he should bring it to the front desk, but something stops him, and instead he puts it on.
It’s a little big in the shoulders, but it’s comfortable, and feels safe and familiar. He changes back into his own shirt, but before the rational part of him can protest, he folds the t-shirt that once belonged to someone else but is now his, and puts it in the front pocket of his suitcase.
It becomes one of his favorite shirts.
“So what’s your absolute favorite country you’ve visited?”
“France. I’d live in Paris in a heartbeat.”
“What do you love about it?”
“Now that’s a tough question. I love everything about it. If I absolutely had to choose, I guess I’d say the architecture? Everything is so beautiful.”
Asahi is hanging on his every word like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever heard. Ikuya is able to admit to himself that it’s very sweet.
“What about you? If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?”
Asahi’s answer isn’t as immediate as Ikuya’s. He takes a few moments to think about it, and then, as though he’s the first person to ever have the desire to go there, exclaims “Italy!”
“Why there?” Ikuya smiles at him encouragingly, knowing whatever his answer is, it’ll be genuine and entertaining.
“Okay, I’ll tell you why - first of all, I’ve never had Italian food, but I’ve heard it’s the best thing ever. My friend told me that there’s a city that’s basically all water? which is incredible, so I want to see that. Also - and you’re going to laugh at me - I kind of want to go to the opera.”
“I’d never laugh at you for that. Do you like opera?”
Asahi leans back in his chair, which he’d insisted on moving to the side of Ikuya’s desk. Ikuya had complained that they were too tall for that now, but he’d been laughing, so here they are, knocking knees under a desk made for a preteen.
“I think so? My sister listens to it sometimes and I like how dramatic it is, but then sometimes it’s also really quiet and beautiful, and I like that too. So I’d like to go to a real opera to see if I like it, and apparently Italy’s the best place to do it. That’s what my sister said, anyway.”
This new Asahi Ikuya is getting to know fascinates him. He’s still imbued with endless, contagious enthusiasm for everything, but his interests and desires are varied and unexpected, his tendency to hyperfixate melted away with time.
“Well, I know you’d love it. All of it. Everyone’s got these big, friendly personalities, so you’d fit right in. I hope you get to go someday.”
Asahi pats his hand. “You and I should go together. It’ll be like a field trip. With better food.”
It’s wishful thinking, and Ikuya knows it. There’s a small pang of sadness behind his ribs at the thought, but he pushes it aside in favor of enjoying the here and now.
“Let’s do it. Have you ever been on a plane?”
“Do I really look that uncultured?” he scowls. “…fine, I’ve never been on a plane.”
“I’ll just have to show you the ropes, then. We’ll bring parachutes in case it goes down.”
“Why would you even say that?”
It’s surprising how fast he’s gotten comfortable around Asahi. He’s easy to talk to and joke around with, and Ikuya suspects that it might not actually be this place that encourages honesty and authenticity, but Asahi himself. He wonders if any of those qualities will unconsciously bleed into his everyday life, even without the benefit of memory.
Less surprising is how handsome Asahi is now - it was one of the first things Ikuya noticed when they’d first arrived here. His smile is contagious, and his hair looks so nice; not all neat, but nowhere near the disaster it used to be. He wants to touch it, see if it feels as nice as it looks.
“I’ve been wondering - what did you do to your hair? It looks different. It’s not all over the place anymore.”
Asahi runs his hand through his hair, like he’s checking to make sure that’s true. Ikuya follows the movement with his eyes.
“I really didn’t do anything, honestly. Time just decided to give me a break, I guess?”
Ikuya gives him a doubtful look, even though he completely believes him. “Yeah, okay.”
“I’m serious! Puberty sucks, it was probably a congrats for getting through it alive. Besides, you look different too!”
Ikuya wasn’t expecting to hear that. He doesn’t give much thought to his looks for the most part, but he suddenly feels very self conscious. What if he’s unattractive?
“Really? How so?”
There’s a pause.
“You look - well, you were always - but we were - you look really nice. Good. You look good.”
He’s a little red - a distinctly different shade from the markings on his face - but he doesn’t look away from Ikuya, or try to play it off as more casual than it is.
“Oh.” Ikuya feels his own face heat up, but it doesn’t stop him from meeting Asahi’s gaze head-on. “Thank you. You too. You look good, I mean.”
“I - thanks.”
There’s another pause.
Then he feels a foot nudge his own under the desk, and Asahi smiles at him. It’s a small smile, almost shy, and Ikuya can’t help but return it. An accompanying thrill runs through him, knowing that he’s been noticed by Asahi in the same way Ikuya’s noticed him, that this isn’t something he’s experiencing alone.
With an awareness he almost never has in the real world, he feels the two of them easing into new territory, a new phase of this connection that’s forming.
Ikuya takes the train whenever he goes to visit his family. It’s his favorite way to travel - no bumper-to-bumper traffic, no recycled air or fasten seatbelt signs lighting up for passengers packed in like airborne cattle.
He’s on his way home for spring break, dozing off to the rhythmic rocking of the train, when a whirlwind of a human drops down next to him, scaring him so badly he nearly jumps out of his seat.
Ikuya barely hears his new neighbor’s apologies, too busy zeroing in on the newborn baby in her arms. He’ll never admit that he’s completely weak to the power of all babies, but he doesn’t know this woman, and she doesn’t know him, so who’s going to find out?
She notices his interest and laughs, explaining that he’s only two months old, and a nightmare, but a very cute one. She tells Ikuya that her brother does most of the babysitting, and that he’s a saint for putting up with him, though she’ll never tell him that. He sounds like good person.
Ikuya rarely talks to strangers - he’s allergic to small talk - but this woman has a warm, easy way about her that feels so familiar, and he can’t put his finger on why. She even lets him hold her baby for a little while, a very trusting action for a complete stranger.
When she gets off a few stops earlier than Ikuya, he’s sorry to see her go, and wonders if they’ll ever cross paths again.
It’s unlikely, but he hopes so.
They’re trying something a little different tonight. Tired of squeezing two third year high school students around one middle school desk - because they apparently refuse to just use two - they’ve opted to lie on their backs on the floor, heads pillowed on their team jerseys and turned in towards each other. It’s not the most comfortable position Ikuya’s ever been in, but it’s a change in vantage point, perspective, and closeness, evolving alongside whatever’s happening here.
“I can’t believe you’re eighteen now. You’re all grown up.” Asahi pretends to wipe a tear from his eye.
“I’m not. I just turned seventeen,” Ikuya grumbles, “and I’m pretty sure you already knew that.”
“Oh, that’s right!” Now he’s pretending to be surprised. “I forgot you were the baby of the group. I’m eighteen, so I can be your babysitter if you need one. I’ll even do it for free.”
“I hate you,” Ikuya pouts.
“No you don’t.”
He tries not to, he really does, but in the end he’s unable to suppress a smile.
“No, I don’t.”
Asahi props himself up on his elbow so he’s looking down at Ikuya.
“Seriously though, doesn’t it feel weird to be in our last year of high school? Sometimes I still feel like I’m thirteen - and don’t you dare say I still act like I’m thirteen, I know you.”
Ikuya laughs, because that’s exactly what he was going to say.
He likes that phrase, ‘I know you.’ He’s pretty sure it’s true, and that it goes both ways. It all feels accelerated, somehow, like they’ve been getting to know each other every day these last four months, and this visit is just a snapshot in time.
He’s struck by that pang of sadness again, stronger and sharper than before, when he remembers that just because it feels that way, doesn’t mean it’s true.
He refuses to let the reality of it ruin their time together, though, so he forcefully shoves it aside, bringing himself back to their little world.
“It does feel weird. I’m scared about what comes next,” he admits. “I mean, I know what comes next as far as what I’ll do. I’ll get scouted, join some college swim team, and who knows? Maybe I’ll even feel like an adult eventually. I can’t imagine it right now, but never say never.”
Asahi gives a strand of Ikuya’s hair a playful tug. “Nah, you’ll always be the baby. I guess my plan is basically the same as yours, though. Where should we go to school? We should definitely go to the same one, right?”
“I - ” Ikuya almost slips, about to speak to the reality of their situation, but stops when he sees it written all over Asahi’s face too. They both know it’s wishful thinking, but for now they can keep pretending like it’s not.
“What about Hidaka? Or Shimogami?” he suggests. At least those are real possibilities for them both - they have highly desirable teams, and it would put them in the same city. They’d probably even run into each other at a swim meet.
“Works for me.” Asahi lies back down on the floor, staring up at the ceiling.
After a few moments of silence, he turns to look at Ikuya. “Is it weird that that was the first time we’ve talked about swimming?” It sounds like the question is partly for Ikuya, partly for himself.
“I don’t think so. Swimming feels like a given. You’re Asahi, you swim. I’m Ikuya, I swim. That’s the one sure thing we know in and out of here. Everything else, though,” he adds, “that’s all new. That’s what makes us the people we are now, right?”
Asahi considers it. “That’s true, but I think there’s still something to be said for who we used to be. Minus the swimming. Those people are still in there, and everything new just builds around it? On top of it? Like this, what’s happening here - ” he gestures between them, then around the room “ - this is new, but we also have all that history, so in some ways it’s still us. Just the updated versions.” He grins. “Prettier versions.”
“I feel like you just compared us to phone models,” Ikuya laughs. “But yeah, I see what you mean. I still don’t understand any of this, but it wouldn’t make sense to bring two total strangers here. They - whoever ‘they’ is - even put us specifically in this room, so I think that supports your ‘us’ theory pretty well.”
He turns so his whole body is facing Asahi, and Asahi follows suit, a closed parenthesis to Ikuya’s open one.
Asahi has beautiful eyes, not only in their uncommon color, but how expressive they are. Asahi likes to talk - he’s become surprisingly insightful in the time they’ve spent apart - but his eyes communicate a depth of feeling that makes Ikuya feel seen in a way he never has.
He wonders if Asahi feels anything like that when he looks at him.
“So. Us, huh?” Asahi asks, smiling.
Ikuya answers by following his honest instincts, unable to do otherwise around Asahi. He slides his hand across the hardwood floor, until it sits halfway between them.
“Yeah. Us.”
Asahi takes Ikuya’s lead, moving his hand across the floor until they meet in the middle, fingertips brushing.
Then they move at the same time, like mirror images, and take each other’s hand, fingers finding their way through the empty spaces.
That word echoes over and over, through the room where they first met, and it’s clear that whatever ‘us’ means, it’s not pretend.
Ikuya likes to do his homework in the library. The absence of personal effects helps him concentrate better than he would in his dormitory, and he enjoys the quiet respect the space demands.
He’s working on his history paper between classes one afternoon when he’s approached by the captain of the Shionezaki volleyball team, Kai. Ikuya doesn’t know him personally apart from the few classes they’ve had together, but he’s familiar enough to know that he’s friendly, intelligent, attractive, well-liked, and an excellent athlete. It comes as a surprise, then, when he nervously asks Ikuya out on a date. He’s so thrown off that he accepts without giving it any real thought.
As he leaves the library, he can’t shake the feeling that he shouldn’t have said yes, that there’s a very good reason why he shouldn’t have said yes, that he’s done something wrong. He barely sleeps that night.
Despite his reservations, he has a nice time on their date. Kai is respectful, easy to talk to, and has a good sense of humor. Because he feels like he ought to, and has no concrete reason to say no, Ikuya agrees to a second date, then a third, then a fourth, and before he knows it, they’re seeing each other exclusively.
It’s Ikuya’s first relationship, and Kai is what anyone would call the perfect boyfriend. On paper, he’s exactly what Ikuya should want - only he doesn’t. Everything feels off, and he’s never able to shake the feeling that he shouldn’t be doing this, or the growing sense of guilt and wrongness keeping him up at night.
Three months into their relationship, Ikuya is struck with a sudden, irresistible desire to go to the opera. He suggests the idea to Kai, who quickly shoots it down - he thinks it’s boring; he had seen one on a trip to Italy and fallen asleep ten minutes in. He didn’t care for the food either.
Ikuya can’t explain why his heart suddenly plummets into his stomach, or why he flinches when Kai tries to run his fingers through his hair as he kisses him that night, or why he feels the desperate need to change into his Kazami t-shirt as soon as he gets back to his room.
He breaks up with him the next day.
The strength of Ikuya’s relief when Asahi arrives is overwhelming, as though he’d been afraid he wouldn’t show up this time. It must come through in the smile he gives him, because a brief look of surprise and concern crosses Asahi’s face before his kind smile takes over, one Ikuya doesn’t feel like he deserves right now.
He walks over to where Ikuya’s sitting on the floor, back against the wall below the blackboard.
“Hey there.” He sits down next to him, putting his hand on top of Ikuya’s where it rests on the floor.
“I missed you.” Ikuya can’t get it out fast enough.
Asahi’s smile goes soft.
“I missed you too.” He pauses, and looks at Ikuya like he’s examining him. “You okay?
Ikuya is not okay. He’s a mess. When this all started, he was sure they couldn’t really have missed each other, but since then he’s become convinced that it’s real when they say those kinds of things; that some kind of connective tissue between these visits does exist.
His current dilemma points to the truth in this. The feelings he was only just starting to understand the last time they were here have clearly grown exponentially over the last four months, as evidenced by his mounting guilt, lack of sleep, and the feeling that everything was wrong, wrong, wrong.
Most telling of all, though, is the way he’d been nearly bowled over by the sheer size of his feelings the second he arrived tonight. That’s not the product of a few isolated visits.
Should he tell Asahi that he’d been seeing someone between their last visit and this one, or keep quiet and take advantage of the limited time they get to spend together? Is it presumptuous to think that it would make a significant impact on Asahi? Ikuya’s current state, coupled with the way they were last time, tells him it probably would. If this has been growing for months in a place Ikuya can’t reach, isn’t it likely that it’s been the same for Asahi?
It’s the first time something so important has followed Ikuya into this space, one that up until now has remained unoccupied by anyone or anything but them; the first thing with the potential to affect or hurt the connection they’ve formed. The emotional honesty that’s become second nature here is suddenly being challenged, and he hates it.
This time the pang he feels isn’t just sadness, but desperate frustration. Frustration that all of this isn’t happening in the real world; that all he’ll take with him in the morning are unshakable, unidentifiable feelings. He’s falling, hard, but it should be giddy and exciting, not confusing and painful.
“Do you ever feel like you’re remembering things outside of here? Not specific things. How do I put this - it’s like you’re changing, but you can’t figure out how? Or you know there’s a reason you’re doing something, or not doing something, and you’re this close - ” he holds up his thumb and index finger, just a sliver of space between them “ - to getting it, but it keeps disappearing?”
Asahi leans against him and sighs. “All the time. Literally, all the time. It’s like something important’s always trying to get my attention, and I can see it out of the corner of my eye, but when I turn to look at it head on, there’s nothing there. Then I get here, and I feel all the changes like they’re happening all at once, even though they’re definitely happening at normal people speed.”
The confirmation that it’s a shared experience doesn’t help the way Ikuya hoped it would; it only serves to make him even more afraid that he’s ruined everything.
“Since you don’t consciously know that you’re changing, do you ever make mistakes? Mistakes you don’t really understand you’ve made until you get here, even though somewhere inside you knew something was wrong?”
Asahi sits back up and looks straight at him, now openly concerned.
“Seriously, Ikuya, are you okay? Where’s all this coming fr - ”
“I was seeing someone,” Ikuya blurts out.
Silence.
Ikuya doesn’t know how to handle that silence, or what to do with it so, panicking, he barrels forward.
“I dated someone,” he continues, “since the last time we saw each other. For three months.” He keeps his eyes trained on the floor as he speaks, afraid of what he’ll see if he looks at Asahi. “It just kind of happened. I said yes once, and next thing I know, I have a boyfriend. It’s like I was on autopilot, and I just kept saying yes because I thought I was supposed to, even though I knew - I knew I was doing something wrong, and I didn’t - ”
His voice breaks mid sentence, and suddenly Asahi’s holding his hand. It makes no sense, but it’s grounding enough for him to go on, to give Asahi the explanation he deserves.
“I didn’t hate him. I didn’t even dislike him, to be honest, but I was unhappy the whole time. I couldn’t sleep, I felt guilty all the time, and I still didn’t end it, because I should be happy, right? There was something wrong with me if I wasn’t happy, and there was something wrong with me if I was happy, and I was so confused, and it just got worse and worse until - you know why I finally ended it?” he laughs, and it comes out little manic, made more so by the tears that finally win out against his attempts to hold them back. “He told me he didn’t like opera. Or Italian food.”
He thinks he hears a small laugh, but he’s so caught up in his distress he can’t be sure. The hold on his hand tightens, and Ikuya finally makes himself look at Asahi, confused when he sees no judgment there. It still makes no sense, but it gives him the push to keep going, even as he stumbles over his words, ultimately failing to get even one complete sentence out.
“I knew - well, I didn’t know know, but when he said that, I knew for sure somewhere inside that I’d been chea - but we aren’t even - but when I got here I - Asahi, I’m so, so sorry, I - ”
“Ikuya.”
He stops abruptly as Asahi gently takes his face in his hands. He uses his thumbs to wipe Ikuya’s tears away, and then he leans in, until only the smallest of spaces remains between them.
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Apologizing. There’s nothing to apologize for.”
“But I - ”
“But nothing.”
Then he fills that small space, and he kisses him.
Ikuya stills for a moment, trying to process what’s happening, and then he’s kissing him back, hands on shoulders and buried in that hair, soft as he’d imagined. One of Asahi’s hands drops to Ikuya’s side, arm sliding around his waist, and Ikuya melts into him as he’s pulled closer.
There’s an urgency to it, four months of longing they didn’t understand pouring out all at once. As he loses himself in it, Ikuya can’t bring himself to care if anything makes sense.
Asahi pulls away first, laughing and giving in easily when Ikuya chases his lips for more. Satisfied, but knowing he’ll never be fully satisfied, Ikuya finally lets go, though Asahi keeps his arm around his waist, not allowing him to go far.
“I don’t understand why you’re not angry.”
“Why would I be? It sounds awful and confusing.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “It kind of scared me how upset you looked when I got here, and then you sounded like you were in so much pain when you told me. The only thing I’m upset about is that you spent four months torturing yourself over something neither of us understood until tonight.”
He hesitates.
“…but yeah, okay, I’m jealous. That’s it. I’d say tell me who it is so I could land a punch for trying to steal my man, but I’d definitely be the one leaving with a broken nose, so maybe don’t tell me.”
“My hero,” Ikuya laughs, and kisses him again.
They stay like that for a while, entirely wrapped up in one another. It’s one of those movie moments where everything but them fades away - until the room forcibly reminds them of its existence, hitting Ikuya with another one of its sudden realizations.
“So what do we do now? What happens to us when this ends? Because it’s going to.”
“By this you mean here? Because you better not mean us.”
Ikuya rolls his eyes. “Obviously. But this can’t just be it. Would we - ” he’s having trouble getting it out, because he can’t stand thinking it, nevermind saying it “ - if we saw each other outside of here, would we just be ex-best friends and have to start all over again? It can’t just be over when we stop coming here. Not after everything.”
“It won’t be.” He sounds so sure. “I mean, think about it. We’ve been doing this for what, a year and a half now? And we only just figured out that this isn’t only happening here, it’s happening out there too. That’s a whole year and a half of us, not a year and a half of visits every four months. Following me?”
He’s right. Ikuya’s felt it too - the way their relationship has changed dramatically from visit to visit, the way it hit him all at once as soon as he arrived tonight. Ikuya didn’t fall hard and fast, he’s been in a slow fall for a long time now.
“Falling - whoops, following.”
“Have your jokes gotten worse? That was awful.”
Ikuya swats his shoulder as Asahi laughs. “Mean. Okay, so if - ”
“When.”
“ - when we find each other outside of here,” Ikuya corrects himself, “we’ll know, even if we don’t know know?”
“Yeah. I don’t see how it’s not possible, not when it’s bleeding through so much when we’re awake now.”
Then Asahi gets the idea look. “Hey, here’s an idea - why don’t we put it to a test?”
“Go on.”
“Hidaka or Shimogami. Those are the schools we talked about. So why don’t we agree right now that we’ll pick one of those? Doesn’t matter which one, we just can’t even consider any other school, like anywhere else isn’t even an option.”
Ikuya can feel himself getting excited, excited and hopeful. “So if we get back here and that’s exactly what happened, then we’ll know this is really happening, we’ll both end up in Tokyo, we’ll definitely see each other again, and we’ll just - we’ll just know?”
“Exactly. It’ll be different, but deep down it’ll be the same, and it’ll still be us.”
“Okay.” Ikuya feels the tension seep out of him, and as he leans in, he whispers “So. Us, huh?”
Asahi smiles against his lips. “Yeah. Us.” he whispers back, like a secret, and kisses him, again and again.
Ikuya is the strongest swimmer at Shionezeki, and it’s been that way since he first joined their team. He wins gold at the national championship in his third year, bringing it home and breaking his own record in the individual medley.
Everyone knows he’s going places, so it’s no surprise when scouting offers come pouring in after his win. They come from all over Japan, and there are even a few from overseas. It’s a true surprise, however, when Ikuya immediately rejects every one of them, seemingly without any consideration whatsoever.
The schools he declines don’t give up easily, all wanting to benefit from recruiting a swimmer of Ikuya’s caliber, but he remains firm in his rejections. In the end, there are only two schools he shows any interest in at all, and while they certainly are both world-class teams, his enthusiasm over their offers is the most effusive anyone at Shionezaki has ever seen him - about anything whatsoever.
His peers, his coaches, and even his family observe a new lightness to Ikuya in everything he does now. He smiles more, he’s sociable - for him, anyway - and occasionally he even laughs. When he finally chooses one of the two schools he’s narrowed it down to, he’s absolutely beaming, so they all figure he knows what he’s doing, and that this is the best move for him as he takes control of his own future.
Ikuya doesn’t have a single doubt that it’s the best move for him. Something inside him had jumped for joy when those two offers came in, telling him he wouldn’t want to go anywhere else, that even considering anything else would be pointless, because then he’d never find whatever he’s been longing for. He follows that joyful, longing thing inside him, dying to finally understand where it’s taking him.
They arrive at the exact same time.
Ikuya is about to dive right in, desperate to know if it worked, if they have any kind of future, but Asahi beats him to the punch.
“Did you - ”
“Shimogami. What about - ”
“Hidaka.”
They’re both speechless, eyes going wide, and then they start laughing. Ikuya walks across the room and pulls Asahi into a hug, still laughing, but now he’s crying too, a messy and beautiful pairing. Not unlike them.
“You really said no to everything else?” Asahi still sounds incredulous, despite this whole thing being his idea.
“I almost felt bad how fast I turned them down. Wait, no, I didn’t feel bad at all. You passed on all of them too?”
“I may have thrown out a few letters without even opening them.” He gives Ikuya a quick kiss. “So this is for real, huh? We can really have this outside here. No offense to this room, but I want to take you on an actual date, you know? Which I’m going to want, whether I remember this room or not.”
Ikuya hugs him a little tighter. “I want you to. It’ll be right between our birthdays when we get to Tokyo, right? Can we celebrate them together? Even if it takes longer than that to find each other?”
“Of course. You’d better hope it’s before my birthday, or you’ll miss that six week window where I can’t make fun of you for your age.”
“You would anyway.”
“Absolutely.”
Extricating himself from Asahi’s arms, Ikuya walks over to one of the windows, pushing sheer white curtains aside to look out at the soccer field.
“Isn’t it strange how we’ve never bothered to look out here?”
Asahi joins him, taking in the familiar landscape. “I guess it never felt important.”
“It’s about to be important, though. I almost feel overwhelmed by it,” Ikuya admits, “by the idea of having this in a place where there are billions of other people, and we’re living regular lives, and swimming, and able to text or call when we’re too busy to see each other. It’s only been us for two years, in this one room.”
“I’m a little overwhelmed by it too. I don’t want to say that the biggest difference is that it’ll be real, because this has never not been real - but it’ll have everything that comes with real life. I want us to get annoyed when one of us has to cancel, because it means we’ll have to find another time, and we’ll get to find it, not whatever makes the rules here.”
Ikuya sighs. “I just want to be a dumb college student with you. I don’t want everything to have to be so deep all the time because we’re trying to figure out this big, existential thing that’s happening to us. I’m so - ”
He stops short as it hits him.
“This is it, isn’t it?”
Asahi looks pained, clearly having realized it at the same time. “Yeah. This is it. Man, that’s not fair. We only just figured it out, you’d think they’d just let us hang out this time.”
“Me too. I wish - well, it’s not up to us anymore. Or it is up to us, I guess. It's really only up to us from now on. Maybe we’ve gotten everything we needed from this place.”
Asahi runs his fingers through Ikuya’s hair, smiling as he leans into it. “Then we’ve got the rest of tonight before it’s up to us. What should we do?”
“Enjoy it?”
“Okay.”
And they do enjoy it. They lie around, make out like normal teenagers do, talk about nothing -
“You’re like a cat.”
“Shut up. And keep touching my hair.”
talk about everything -
“What do you think the meaning of life is?”
“Asahi, we can’t even figure out the meaning behind this room.”
make out some more, make bad jokes -
“You’re a good kisser. Cute, too. When did you get so dreamy?”
“Ikuya, you are the least funny person I’ve ever met.”
make out, for the millionth time -
“Oh my god Ikuya, you’re unstoppable! Please, let a guy breathe?”
“You want me to stop? Don’t tell me you’ve got some kind of quota we’ve gone over.”
“…I take it back. Oxygen is overrated anyway.”
and make out again, because in the end, they’re just ordinary teenagers under extraordinary circumstances.
They go on and on like that, allowing themselves to be the high school couple they’d like to have been outside of here, trying to fit nearly two years into one night as best they can, until the moment they realize they’re almost out of time.
They fall quiet then, sitting close with their arms around each other, determined to have this right up until the very last second.
Asahi looks around the room, a small smile on his face. “Remember when I said the reason why we’re here doesn’t matter?”
“You said we should just get to know each other again. I’d say that worked out pretty well.”
“Well, now that we’re here, and after everything that’s happened, I’m pretty sure that was the reason. We came here so this - so we could happen. You were right, whatever this place is, we’ve gotten what we needed so we can go do all this out there.”
As he speaks, those sheer white curtains begin to rustle, an unprecedented gust of wind blowing in off the soccer field.
Ikuya holds Asahi tighter as they recognize that this is it, this is the end of them in this place.
“I’m not ready.”
It’ll only be a few months until they’re in Tokyo, but he’s not ready to desperately search for something he’ll only understand when he finds it. He wants all of this - of them - when he wakes up tomorrow. He wants it tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and the day after that, until months, not days, become the milestones, then years.
“Me neither. I know we’re - but I’m not ready either.”
The wind picks up as the ground trembles beneath them, and leaves from the trees they’d never even bothered to look at blow in through the open windows.
“Promise you won’t make me wait too long?” Ikuya doesn’t realize he’s crying until he hears his voice break.
“I promise. I won’t leave you hanging, I promise.” Asahi’s crying too, and that just makes Ikuya cry harder.
There’s a crash as the sliding classroom door is blown clear off its tracks, followed by a series of cracking sounds as pieces of floorboard are torn from their tightly patterned setting.
It’s all background noise to them.
Ikuya kisses him one more time, slow and sweet.
“I want to wake up and do this.”
Asahi smiles and rests his forehead against Ikuya’s as the wind reaches fever pitch, classroom splintering and falling apart around them.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
They close their eyes, existing together in these final few moments as the last of that room - their room - falls away, and then -
The months leading up to Ikuya’s move to Tokyo are an emotional rollercoaster. Some days he’s elated, something deep inside telling him he’s almost there, that he’s about to have everything he’s been waiting for. Other days he’s inconsolable, a feeling of soul-crushing loss pushing him back into bed as soon as he wakes up, endlessly frustrated as his body rejects attempts at more sleep. Still more days bring anger, calm, hope, desperation, and in all of them a growing sense of impatience to finally, finally get where he’s going.
The people around him are concerned by his constant mood swings, but he assures them it’s just anxiety around graduating, and all the unknowns of moving to a new city by himself. What he doesn’t tell them is that the greatest unknown is the certainty that he’s looking for something, but won’t know what it is until it’s right in front of him. They wouldn’t understand. He doesn’t understand it himself.
Not long after his eighteenth birthday, Ikuya leaves his high school, family, and adolescence behind. It’s more bittersweet than he expected - he’ll miss everything and everyone, and letting go of the intangible things he’s lived with for years now is especially difficult, but it’s time for everything and everyone that comes next.
He takes the wrong train on his first day of classes. He notices a group of people walking by him in Hidaka t-shirts, and can’t help laughing at the irony when he realizes he’s ended up at his other school of choice. It’s a nice campus, with a friendly atmosphere. He thinks briefly about the what ifs of his decision, but they’re quickly pushed aside when he remembers he needs to get where he’s actually meant to be.
He’s just stepped onto the train headed back toward Shimogami when he’s jostled by someone hurrying to get off. He doesn’t see their face, but he does see their Hidaka swim team jersey, and hears their distracted “Sorry!” and freezes. He whirls around, not understanding why he needs to get off the train, but desperate to all the same, and almost swears out loud when the doors close just before he reaches them.
He has to fight the urge to get off at the next stop and go back to Hidaka, and while he genuinely enjoys his classes, and his first practice with the new team, everything he does that day is underpinned by an overwhelming restlessness.
Shimogami is a good fit for him, and so is the city, which he starts exploring in his free time. He likes Tokyo - it’s full of life and things to do, and wandering aimlessly quickly becomes his favorite pastime, discovering all kinds of places off the beaten path and meeting a lifetime’s worth of interesting people. He takes trains with no destination in mind, getting off wherever his gut tells him to.
He understands that in all of this, in everything he does, he’s searching for whatever it is that had him so impatient to get here. It feels so close, like it’s just around the corner, or racing by in windows of trains going in the opposite direction. It just keeps happening, and happening, and every time it does it feels like he’s losing it a little. As the weeks wear on and March gives way to April, the unreachable thing living somewhere inside tells him to be patient, but it’s a hard pill to swallow when it feels like he’s always just missed whatever it is.
So he doesn’t stop searching, convinced that if he looks away for even one second, he’ll miss it.
He nearly cries from frustration when he sprains his wrist a mere two hours before his first swim meet. Apart from cutting his own teeth on the collegiate competition circuit, he’d been looking forward to cheering on his teammates and scoping out the competition from other schools, but instead he’s at the doctor’s office getting fitted for a brace. He’d spent so much time in the waiting room that by the time he’s done actually seeing the doctor it’s already sunset, and the meet’s just ended.
Too discouraged to drag himself out for some exploring, he heads for the train, ready to just fall into bed and call it a day. He pays next to no attention to his surroundings as he scrolls through absolutely nothing of interest on social media, barely registering the lone person walking past him in the opposite direction on the overpass until -
“Ikuya?”
He comes to such an abrupt stop he nearly trips over himself, phone falling from his hand onto the concrete. He knows that voice, knows who it is, but what he doesn’t know is why his heart is beating a mile a minute, or why that thing deep down is loudly crying out for his attention.
He turns around, and the second he sees him that desperate, searching part of him goes quiet, save for one last word, the clearest it’s ever been: found.
“Asahi?”
He’s in a Hidaka swim team uniform, clearly having just left the meet Ikuya missed, and looking at Ikuya with a mix of shock, relief, confusion, and joy; mirroring everything Ikuya’s feeling.
“I think - ” Asahi starts, halting like he’s only figuring out what he’s saying as he says it “ - I was looking for you?”
“Yeah, I think - ” Ikuya's stumbling over his words too “ - I think I’ve been looking for you too.” He shakes his head, trying to wrap his mind around something impossible. “I know it’s been five years, but it’s more like - you know?” He doesn’t even know, why would Asahi?
“I know people say ‘I feel like I just saw you’, but this is ridiculous.”
Ikuya laughs, embarrassed when it comes out sounding more like a sob. “I don’t understand.”
As if something is pushing at him from behind, he starts walking toward Asahi, phone forgotten, and Asahi meets him in the middle of the overpass, evidently propelled by that same something. Trains fly by in opposite directions beneath their feet as they stand less than a foot away from each other, hesitating to come closer, both looking desperate to.
“How have you - ”
He’s cut off as Ikuya takes that extra step and throws himself at Asahi, who gets with it just fast enough to keep his balance, pulling Ikuya in and wrapping his arms around him.
“That can’t be your opening line.”
It doesn’t make any sense. Of course he’d missed Asahi, he was his best friend once - but he’s something else entirely now, and Ikuya has no idea how that’s even possible. He just knows it’s true.
He starts to cry in earnest, and he’d worry about how tightly he’s hugging Asahi if he could process anything at all in this moment, which he can’t. He feels Asahi’s shoulders shaking under his hands, and realizes he’s crying too. It doesn’t make any sense, and neither does what Ikuya says next.
“I didn’t miss your birthday, did I?”
Asahi pulls back just enough to really look at Ikuya, still with that expression like he‘s at a complete loss, and also like Ikuya’s the most wonderful thing he’s ever seen in his entire life - both of which Ikuya can relate to right now. “It’s on Monday. I missed yours, I’m sorry.”
Ikuya shakes his head again, smile breaking out even as he continues to cry. “Don’t be, we can celebrate them together. I mean, if you want. You’re not older than me yet.”
“Sure I am. And of course I want to.”
It feels like an old, well-worn exchange. It isn’t.
“Actually, if you’re free we could - ”
“Go get Italian?” Ikuya finishes his sentence.
Asahi gives him a brilliant smile, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his jersey. “Not what I was going to say, but that sounds so much better.” He pauses. “Is this a date? Did I just ask you on a date?”
Through his tears, Ikuya starts to laugh, all humiliating hiccups and sniffles, but he can’t bring himself to care.
“I hope so. I really hope so.”
Ikuya stirs, slowly waking up as consciousness demands he join the land of the living. He’s resistant, too comfortable to move. It’s not necessarily the sleep itself he loves, but that sweet space in between it and waking where he’s warm and comfortable, wrapped up in everything he loves.
What he’d really love right now, however, is a blanket.
He tips his head back, turning slightly to whisper “How is it even possible to hog the blanket when you’re clinging to me like a starfish?”
All he gets back is a little ‘hm’ and a kiss behind his ear as the arms around him tighten. Ikuya smiles to himself, giving up and wriggling back into the body heat he’ll just have to use as a substitute.
He doesn’t go back to sleep. He just enjoys the quiet of the room, in sharp contrast to the faint sounds of the city and all its endless life just outside. He lies there until those arms tug at his midsection, trying to get him to turn around. He goes easily, because this is his favorite part of staying over.
“You’re like a sloth,” Ikuya laughs, stroking Asahi’s sleep-warmed cheek as he clings to him in this position too. “You’re lucky I like you, you blanket thief.”
“You don’t like me, you love me,” Asahi corrects him.
“Yeah, yeah, I love you. Blanket thief.”
“Love you too,” he grins. “Also, I’ll have you know you kicked that blanket off in the middle of the night. Any dreams?”
“I don’t think so. Not that I can remember, anyway. Besides, I’ve got my dream come true right here.” He winks, and Asahi groans.
“I don’t understand how your jokes keep getting worse. It’s an actual talent.”
They laugh, and then suddenly Asahi starts, like he’s just remembered something of utmost importance. “Wait, wait, wait - ”
He settles, and then he gets that look that always makes Ikuya feel as if it’s been this way far, far longer than four months, and leans in to kiss him.
“Good morning.”
Ikuya will never know why those two words are so beautifully overwhelming, but it doesn’t matter. He kisses Asahi again, slow and sweet.
“Good morning.”