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Masaomi comes back on a Friday night, long after the sun goes down and Mikado has bid farewell to his acquaintances in the chat rooms.
He shows up on Mikado’s doorstep looking a little worse for wear, roots growing in dark and shadows under his eyes but still smiling.
Mikado lets him in, no questions asked, and Masaomi traipses around just like he used to, as if he owns the place, steps heavy and loud and unapologetic. But he doesn’t get very far, collapsing onto the futon spread out in Mikado’s tiny living room.
He lies still for quite some time. Mikado just stands there and stares at him, hands curled into fists at his sides because he hasn’t seen or heard from his friend in months and he’s so angry Masaomi would just show up here after everything.
But then his unannounced guest shifts, arms rising and fingers curling into the material of the futon so tightly Masaomi’s knuckles turn a sickly shade of green, as he’s so pale there really is no way he can get any whiter.
Mikado is angry, but he lets Masaomi sleep until morning.
The weekend goes by agonizingly slowly.
Mikado cancels all of his plans, apologizing to Anri and Kuronuma through text before turning off his phone and shoving it into a drawer at his desk, hopefully to be forgotten until Monday. He can’t tell Anri about Masaomi just yet, not until he knows what’s going on, and he absolutely refuses to tell Masaomi about Kuronuma.
He just can’t tell Masaomi about Kuronuma and the Blue Squares, not when Masaomi seems so… sick.
Looking back, Mikado can admit that Masaomi has always been sick, albeit in a different way, ever since Mikado first arrived in Ikebukero. He did a much better job of hiding it back then, dragging an unsuspecting Mikado along on his everlasting mission to chase tail and discover all the oddities that Ikebukero seemed to house around every corner.
At that time, Mikado noticed a few things – how Masaomi acted around Izaya, the slight tightness around his eyes whenever the color gangs were mentioned – but he was more inclined to let them go, as he’d believed that Masaomi would come to him if something were really wrong.
It was almost laughable how wrong Mikado had been, how naïve. And frankly, that hadn’t even changed until recently, until the Dollars found themselves involved in something awful and Mikado was forced to play his hand as the new leader of the Blue Squares.
Mikado had trusted that Masaomi would return one day, after he’d faced and conquered whatever demons he still carried, but now that Masaomi is here, despondent and Saki-less, Mikado isn’t sure what to do, doesn’t know what to think.
“Shouldn’t you be out doing whatever it is Mikados do on Sundays?” Masaomi asks, and Mikado tears his burning eyes away from his computer screen, glancing over his shoulder at his friend, who is leaning against the wall near the window.
They spent most of Saturday ignoring one another. Or, Mikado ignored Masaomi while Masaomi slept on and off, tossing and turning on the futon and only getting up to use the restroom.
Mikado hadn’t been ignoring Masaomi out of spite, but more for a loss of things to say. The questions Mikado wanted answered – Why did you leave? Why did you come back? How come you’re here with me and not Saki? – were obviously not appropriate, and Mikado had decided he wasn’t going to ask until Masaomi offered the information himself.
“I mean, it’s not like I need you here to babysit me.” Masaomi continues, picking at his dirty, bitten nails. “I was the leader of a very formidable gang once, I’ll have you know.”
“It’s a hard thing to forget.” Mikado says in reply, and Masaomi’s hands fall back down to his lap. The dark-haired boy isn’t proud that he’s hurting his friend, but he can’t say with certainty that the warm feeling in his stomach isn’t satisfaction. “And I know you can take care of yourself, but I’d feel better if I was here to watch you in case something happens.”
Masaomi smiles slightly, but it’s ghastly compared to the obnoxious grins of the past, tight-lipped and nervous. Mikado only knows because he lived in a perpetual state of that feeling for far too long. “Well, what about tomorrow? You can’t watch me if you’re at school, and you sure as hell can’t take me with you.”
Mikado is thrown, because he’d actually forgotten the weekend’s inevitable end. Frustrated with Masaomi though he may be, Mikado doesn’t like the idea of leaving him alone in this tiny apartment.
He came back for a reason, came to Mikado for a reason, and the teenager isn’t beyond admitting that he desperately wants to know why.
Masaomi tips his head back against the wall as he waits for Mikado’s response, tugging on the drawstring of his sweatpants, curling it around his left index finger.
“I can miss a few days.” Mikado says at length, watching the motion, and Masaomi stills. “Anri takes really good notes.”
Masaomi is quiet for a long time, and Mikado just observes him, takes in every shift, every twitch. Eventually, the blond’s eyes flit up, and Mikado realizes that this is the first time they’ve actually made eye contact since Masaomi showed up.
The sadness seems more potent this way. Mikado wonders when Masaomi stopped trying to hide.
“Yeah.” Masaomi murmurs. “I remember.”
Sensing that there really isn’t more to be said, Mikado turns back to his monitor. The orange bubbles that signify Kanra’s entrance into the chat room send a shock of cold terror down Mikado’s back, and he quickly closes the web browser, suddenly short of breath.
Slowly, Mikado casts another glance at Masaomi over his shoulder, but his friend is no longer paying attention to him, instead toying with the charm on his cell phone, which hasn’t gone off once since Masaomi arrived.
That night, Masaomi once again refuses to get up from the futon. And Mikado, instead of retreating back into his bedroom as he had on the first night, decides to stay with him, lying down on his side facing away from Masaomi, hands pillowed beneath his head.
They lay together in the dark for a while, Mikado staring off into the darkness as he tries to ignore Masaomi’s warmth at his back, but it’s not so easy a task.
“Hey, Mikado?”
“… Yes?”
“Did you ever grow a pair and hook up with Anri?”
Mikado sputters indignantly, warm despite the lack of heating in his apartment, and Masaomi huffs with restrained laughter. “No, I didn’t! She and I are just friends, all right?”
“Friends.” Masaomi parrots, and Mikado barely manages to stop himself from turning over and kicking the blond. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. I’ll be here when you’re ready to accept the truth.”
“Go to sleep.” Mikado grumbles, but the reassurance that Masaomi won’t be leaving any time soon, whether he meant it that way or not, does wonders for the lingering sting caused by his abrupt departure.
Mikado feels guilty for skipping school for all of five seconds before Masaomi is awake and demanding to be entertained.
He starts with breakfast, because he can’t recall seeing Masaomi eat at all over the weekend. Mikado knows he’s right when Masaomi practically inhales his food, a leftover bento that Mikado had planned on taking to school.
They spend the rest of the day talking idly, reminiscing about times past in the most cautious way they know how. It’s comforting, actually, how little Masaomi seems to have changed once they stop hesitating so much. He still talks too loudly and his jokes are mediocre at best, and for a while, it feels just like old times.
Later into the afternoon, Mikado is sitting by himself at the small table in the middle of his living room when there’s a knock at the door.
Mikado stares hard at the door, suspicion rendering him immobile. These days, house calls normally spell trouble, and he wants to make sure Masaomi is able to recover as peacefully as he can. But it could be Anri, coming to check on Mikado after his unexcused absence, and with Masaomi in the bathroom, Mikado reasons that he can settle this before his friend returns.
But it’s Kuronuma’s face that Mikado sees on the other side, unclouded and eager.
“Hey, boss!” The younger boy says, entirely too familiar. Mikado keeps his hand on the door. “You weren’t in school today, so I thought I’d come by and check on you.”
Mikado doesn’t even need to wonder how Kuronuma knows that he wasn’t at school. They aren’t in the same class, but Kuronuma always seems to know about everything Mikado does. This impromptu visit is most likely the underclassmen checking to make sure he isn’t backing out of their arrangement.
“I’m fine.” Mikado replies shortly, dark gaze flickering down to the other boy’s hand, still thickly wrapped in bandages. “Something came up, but everything’s – “
“Mikado?”
Kuronuma’s eyes brighten considerably, sharp with an intensity Mikado recognizes and doesn’t welcome, but all he can do is move aside as Kuronuma shoulders his way into the small apartment.
Masaomi’s expression is pleasant as he regards Mikado and Kuronuma, but Mikado can see the suspicion in his eyes, a habit the blond will probably never shake. In this case, however, his suspicion is warranted.
“Masaomi, this is Kuronuma Aoba. He goes to our school.” Mikado begins reluctantly, resigning himself to his fate. “Kuronuma, this is Kida Masaomi.”
“The Kida Masaomi?” Kuronuma demands, staring at Masaomi like he’s some circus animal, and something in the blond’s expression darkens. “Wow, I never thought I’d actually get to meet you. Anri-chan and Mikado talk about you a lot.”
Mikado feels a rush of warmth low in his stomach as Masaomi blinks owlishly, mouthing Mikado to himself as he sinks down to the floor, reclaiming his spot at the table. It’s the same feeling he got when Masaomi showed up at his door, that same festering anger.
“Well, I can’t stay long.” Kuronuma demurs, taking a step back towards the door. “Just wanted to drop by and make sure everything was okay with you, Mikado.”
He’s playing the part of a concerned underclassman well, Mikado thinks, and if he didn’t know any better, he would be caught up in the allusion brought about by Kuronuma’s flitting eyes and soft tone. But his posture is too straight, and his shoulders are squared with a confidence Mikado has seen on many a gang member before.
Mikado isn’t fooled. And judging by the lack of emotion on Masaomi’s face, neither is he.
Kuronuma leaves as quickly as he’d arrived, already bouncing down the steps leading back to the street before Mikado even gets a hand on the door. He closes it firmly and finds himself wishing he’d never opened it to begin with. Sick or not, Masaomi is far too observant.
“He seemed nice.” Masaomi says, fiddling away with his phone as Mikado turns around. His eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth is set, as if he’s concentrating on an important task, but his tone is searching. “Must be awesome to have an adoring underclassman like him, eh, Mikado?”
“Yeah.” Mikado murmurs, drumming an uneven pattern onto his thigh with his fingertips. “Something like that.”
Mikado has to go back to school at some point, and when he does, he goes with the resolve to keep Masaomi’s return a guarded secret.
It’s hard, keeping Anri in the dark, especially when she’s obviously concerned over his unexcused absences. Mikado doesn’t even know why he’s keeping the fact that Masaomi returned from her. Some part of him wants to protect her and the lasting image she has of Masaomi, because the boy sitting despondent in his apartment is in no way the same person Anri surely remembers.
Another part just wants to keep Masaomi to himself for the time being. It’s probably the same aspect of Mikado that gave in and accepted the role as the leader of the Blue Squares.
Initially, Mikado was worried Kuronuma would be the one to mention something about Masaomi to Anri. But to Mikado’s immense surprise and slight suspicion, Kuronuma never once brought up the incident, not even to Mikado.
What that may mean… well, Mikado almost doesn’t want to know.
Nearly a week goes by as Mikado maintains the same routine, going to school during the day and returning home to Masaomi at night. He doesn’t attend Blue Square gatherings, hardly even thinks about the color gang that nearly ruined Masaomi’s life, but Mikado quickly finds that without it, without the Dollars, his existence is incredibly dull.
So, he tries to convince Masaomi to return to school with him, hoping that if his temporary roommate has something to keep him busy, homework or Anri or even Orihara Izaya’s twin sisters – well, maybe not them – Mikado will be able to cover up his involvement with the gangs.
It doesn’t feel good, resolving to lie to the boy who used to be his closest friend. But Masaomi is the one who left, Mikado tries to tell himself. He no longer has the right to know about the dirty aspects of Mikado’s newfound life.
“It isn’t too late to enroll.” Mikado brings it up over dinner one night, take-out Russia Sushi that he’d hoped would make Masaomi more susceptible to persuasion. “Anri would be really happy to see you.”
“And I’d be very happy to see her.” Masaomi nearly purrs, and Mikado is hit with a violent rush of nostalgia. “I’ll think about it, okay?”
“No.” Mikado finds himself saying, a week’s worth of frustrations spilling over. He’s tried to be agreeable, he’s tried to be the person he’d been when Masaomi last saw him, but he’s reaching the end of his rope. “No, I’m not going to let you think about it. You need to go back to school.”
Masaomi says nothing for a long moment, the dulling blond strands of his hair obscuring his eyes from view. And Mikado stares at him, hard, wishing the other boy would just look up so he can see how serious Mikado is.
“Nah.” Masaomi says eventually, shrugging his shoulders and flashing Mikado a lopsided grin, as unapologetic as ever. Mikado’s jaw clenches. “Books and homework and all that crap, that’s your thing.”
“It’s not my thing, Masaomi, it’s the law. You’re only seventeen, you need to be in school.”
Masaomi huffs, glaring across the table at Mikado, expressing just the tiniest bit of the fear and frustration Mikado just knowsis festering within him. “Look, I hardly paid attention even when I was in school. What good could possibly come from me going back there?”
“Well, nothing good is going to happen if you stay here all day!” Mikado shoots back. “You can’t keep this up, Masaomi, I won’t let you.”
When Mikado really thinks about it, the basic truth of the matter is that he’s angry with Masaomi because he’s scared for him. He’d kept it to himself for the sake of the remnants of their friendship, but if they can’t even be straight with one another anymore, what’s the point?
Mikado is going to get Masaomi to open up to him, even if it means the end of the delicate balance they managed to establish within the past two weeks.
“Why did you come back?” Mikado asks, willing himself desensitized by the agonizingly slow rise and fall of the blond’s shoulders.
Masaomi stabs at a piece of fish violently with his unevenly broken chopsticks, and despite himself, Mikado jumps, bumping his knee on the underside of the table.
“Because love is a leveler.” Masaomi practically spits, amber eyes as dark and hard as Mikado has ever seen them.
And Mikado is stunned, because he’s heard those words fall from Masaomi’s mouth before, but never with such… intensity. Masaomi won’t even look at him, his unoccupied hand clenching and unfurling atop the table, nails digging into the skin of his palm so hard they leave impressions in their wake.
For the first time in days, Mikado is reminded of Saki.
All at once, he’s finished trying to negotiate, tense and upset and uncertain as to why. Masaomi has always loved to argue, but something about this conversation has left a bad taste in Mikado’s mouth.
When he abruptly stands from the table, Masaomi looks up, clearly surprised by whatever he sees in Mikado’s expression.
“Goodnight.” Mikado says curtly before turning around and stalking to his bedroom. He closes the door sharply behind him, and he doesn’t hear so much as a peep from Masaomi for the rest of the night.
Mikado goes to school the next day, and afterward, he goes to meet with Kuronuma and the other members of the Blue Squares. They greet him with knowing smiles, and Mikado pretends to not be unnerved by their assurance that he would return.
He doesn’t tell Masaomi where he goes in the evening, and Masaomi doesn’t ask. In fact, they barely speak at all. They’re completely back to square one, and Mikado can’t help but think that’s how they’ll stay until Masaomi decides to disappear again.
This continues for days, Mikado sinking further and further into a life he’d previously tried to avoid. He trusts Kuronuma and the others about as far as he can throw them, and he only half listens when they inform him of the movements of other gangs, the Dollars included.
But he can’t deny that it’s nice to have some semblance of power when in every other aspect of his life he has none.
That must’ve been why Masaomi went back after leaving the Yellow Scarves the first time, even after what happened with Saki, even after Mikado reentered his life.
Of course, Mikado can only guess. If he knew why Masaomi does what he does, they wouldn’t be having any problems.
Mikado sighs to himself as he enters his apartment. He’s been finding reasons to stay away from home all day, staying after school to help a classmate with homework and wandering around the park once the Blue Squares meeting finished, but he can’t run forever.
“I’m home.” Mikado calls loudly, more out of habit than anything, but as he sets his bag down at the door, there isn’t even so much as the slightest sound, and it’s almost instinctive, the way Mikado knows that Masaomi is gone.
He checks every corner anyway, and in the end he just stands dumbly in the middle of the living room, trying to sort things out in his head.
He’s not surprised or anything. He’d known this was going to happen sooner or later, and he’d tried to prepare for it as best he could.
It’s just that… in every scenario Mikado’s mind concocted, Masaomi at least stuck around to say goodbye. But whatever. Maybe now Mikado can go back to his normal routine and stop obsessing over the past. Masaomi will be better off with Saki anyway, if Mikado is right and his friend really did go back to her.
But just as Mikado is ready to write Masaomi off as lost and move on, a thought occurs to him.
It’s been bothering Mikado, how Kuronuma hasn’t so much as spoken a word about Masaomi since their meeting. That’s normally the sort of thing the younger boy would gush all about in meetings and at school, as tactless and sadistic as he is.
There’s no possible way he doesn’t know that Masaomi used to be at the head of the Yellow Scarves, or that he would just take that information and do nothing with it.
A cold chill shoots up Mikado’s spine at the thought that maybe Kuronuma has something to do with Masaomi’s disappearance. He hadn’t acted any differently during school or after, but that doesn’t discredit him of anything.
Or maybe Orihara Izaya found out Masaomi was back – because that guy knows everything about Ikebukero – and decided to pay a visit. Considering everything, Masaomi wouldn’t have been in any condition to face him, and what had Mikado been doing, wandering around the city doing anything just to avoid his best friend…
Mikado is lurching for the door before the movement even registers in his mind, and it takes him a moment to get a good grip on the door handle, his fingers are trembling so badly. He wrenches the door open, horrible memories coming back to him in a violent torrent, memories of Masaomi and yellow and red -
“Mikado?”
Masaomi is observing at him with an expression of vague amusement and concern. And Mikado just stares back, all too aware of the rapid pounding of his own heart.
“What’s up?” Masaomi continues, looking Mikado up and down. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
After taking a few deep breaths, Mikado manages to say, “Where were you?”
Quirking an eyebrow, Masaomi lifts up a plastic bag. “My roots are getting out of control. Went and hit up the nearest convenient store. Sorry, had to raid your wallet after you went to bed last night.”
Of course. Mikado had overreacted. Masaomi stepped out to run to the store and nothing bad had happened to him. Mikado doesn’t know why he jumped to the worst-case scenario, but with Masaomi, it’s hard to know what to expect. And even if he is angry and frustrated, the last thing Mikado wants is for Masaomi to get hurt again.
“Mikado.” Masaomi says slowly, and Mikado feels heat rushing to his face as a consuming grin starts to spread across Masaomi’s. “Were you worried about me?”
Instead of responding, Mikado slams the door in Masaomi’s smug face and retreats to his bedroom. But the door isn’t locked, so Masaomi just lets himself back in.
“I feel like a new man!” Masaomi crows, hours later when he exists the bathroom, freshly blond with a damp towel resting over his shoulders. He looks better like this, Mikado thinks from his spot at the table. Healthier. “Thanks for the endorsement, Mikado.”
“I still don’t know how I feel about you stealing from me.”
“Ah, please, I’ve been leeching off you for two weeks. If you really had a problem with it, you would’ve said something by now.”
Mikado’s pretty sure the whole “you can’t sit around here all day” thing counts as a complaint, but he isn’t about to bring it up of his own accord. Instead, he sits quietly as Masaomi plops down beside him and takes a swig from a soda can he bought along with the hair dye.
“But, uh, listen, Mikado.” Masaomi says once he swallows, clearing his throat and capturing Mikado’s undivided attention. “About the other day, I didn’t – “
“It’s fine.” Mikado interjects, leaning heavily against the table. He’s mostly recovered from his earlier scare, but it took a lot out of him. More than he’d care to admit. “Let’s just forget about it.”
“You don’t want to, though.” Masaomi points out, passing the can over to Mikado, which the other boy takes. He can’t deny it. “And I don’t want to fight with you anymore. That’s honestly the last thing I want to do. I’m just… tired of missing you, Mikado.”
It’s hard to swallow his portion of Masaomi’s drink, but Mikado manages somehow, even though it hurts. “… Yeah. Me too.”
“So, what do you say?” Masaomi’s flippant tone is trying to downplay how earnest his expression is, as if he really thinks Mikado will deny him anything after the near meltdown he had earlier. “Wanna go back to being best buds?”
Mikado slides the drink back to Masaomi. “I don’t think we ever really stopped.”
“Bullshit, you’ve been ignoring me for three days!”
“Well, it’s not like you tried talking to me either.”
“Oh, please, I know how moody you can get. I wasn’t touching that with a two meter pole.”
It's easy. It's familiar. But there's a vague impression that not all is as it should be.
Mikado finally invites Anri over to his apartment after school one day, and he feels badly for putting it off so long when he notices the tears that spring to her eyes upon seeing Masaomi lounging around in front of the computer.
“Kida-kun!” She gasps, and Masaomi turns to her with a small, shy smile, replying, “Really, Anri, what’s it gonna take to get you to call me Masaomi?”
She takes it better than Mikado did, hugging Masaomi close and telling him how much she missed him, asking after his health and demanding to know why she wasn’t informed of his return sooner.
Masaomi takes the furious onslaught of questions in stride, while Mikado just sits back and watches the foreign sight of Anri acting so frazzled. He thinks he should be jealous, maybe, that Masaomi can bring out that side of her, but he’s extremely relieved when it doesn’t come.
The three of them decide to go out – well, Masaomi insists but Mikado and Anri go along with it out of the goodness of their hearts – and it actually feels like nothing has changed.
“You should’ve seen his face. I thought Shizuo was trying to kill him or something!”
“In my defense, you didn’t leave a note or anything.” Mikado retorts as Anri presses the back of her hand to her mouth to hide her smile. “Something could’ve happened while I was at school.”
Masaomi tips his head back in a laugh, hopping forward and spinning around so he’s walking backwards, hands linked together at the base of his skull. “Okay, Mikado. Next time I’ll ask you for permission before leaving the apartment. That should put your poor little heart at ease.”
“I think it’s sweet.” Anri reassures Mikado with a light touch to his arm. “You were being a good friend.”
“You’re onto something there. I’m never gonna find anyone else like Mikado.” Masaomi says, though there’s a somewhat tinny quality to his voice. Mikado doesn’t know what to make of it. “Not sure I’d find someone so dead set on mothering me either.”
“I do not mother you – “
They go back and forth like this for a good while as they navigate the darkened, busy streets of Ikebukero, no real destination in mind. The three of them just walk and talk for as long as they can, until Mikado and Anri are exhausted and Masaomi is trying to convince them to go around just once more.
“Couple of lightweights.” Masaomi grumbles, ignoring the elbow Mikado digs into his ribs as Anri slowly ascends the steps leading to her apartment. “Sometimes you just gotta take the night by the nads and run with it, ya know?”
“No,” says Mikado, side-eyeing his friend, “no, I don’t know.”
“It really is good to have you back, Masaomi.” Anri calls, tapping the toe of her boot against one of the steps almost restlessly. “We missed you around here.”
“And I you, my beloved Anri.” Masaomi replies, bowing before her like some newly christened knight, and Mikado resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Don’t be a stranger, now that we won’t see each other at school. Never be afraid to hit me up!”
It still bothers Mikado, Masaomi’s refusal to go back to school, and from the slightly forced smile on Anri’s face, it doesn’t settle well with her either. A person with as much wanderlust as Masaomi can’t just sit around and twiddle his thumbs all day, not without him falling back into unsavory habits quicker than he could ever break them.
Not that Mikado is any real authority on bad habits and how to avoid them.
The walk home is leisurely. Masaomi whistles to himself. Mikado thinks this is the most normal thing he’s done in months.
“How is Anri, by the way?”
Mikado glances at Masaomi in confusion. “I mean… she’s fine? We just saw her.”
“Yeah, but how is she doing? Mika isn’t still ignoring her, is she?”
“No, they talk again. And they hang out, sometimes. Mika is just usually with Seiji.”
“Seiji.” Masaomi repeats slowly, almost like he’s testing the syllables and how they sound on his tongue. “His sister was the one who worked for Izaya.” Mikado almost trips. “Does she still?”
Mikado hesitates, skirting around two men that are just a bit too drunk to watch where they’re going. “Why are you asking?”
“I don’t know, I just haven’t had to think about any of this in a long time.” Masaomi explains, shrugging one shoulder. “Ikebukero was like some drug I’d managed to purge from my system, and now that I’m back, it’s just… I feel like I need to be aware of everything.”
“You’re fine as you are.” Mikado insists, thoughts wandering to Kuronuma, about what he might be planning now that he’s aware of Masaomi’s return. “This city will chew you up and spit you out if you let it.”
And Masaomi snorts, just once, before bursting into hysterical laughter. “That happened such a long ass time ago.”
“I don’t know what to do with you, Masaomi.” Mikado sighs, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. If they’re toeing the line of what should and shouldn’t be said, then he might as well be the one to cross it. “You’re a detriment to yourself.”
Masaomi swings around to face him, head slightly cocked and lips pursed in thought. “Yeah, you’re probably right. But, hey, at least I’ve got you and your logic and reason in my corner.”
Mikado wants to tell Masaomi to stop shifting the focus from himself whenever they start talking about things he doesn’t like, but the words won’t come. He is almost frozen, penetrated, by the intensity he sees in Masaomi’s eyes, something he’s been seeing more and more frequently with each passing day.
It isn’t the first time he’s felt this way, like they’re on the cusp of discussing something new and important, but school or life or any number of things always get in the way before it happens.
Mikado doesn’t know what it is, what Masaomi wants to tell him, or even what he himself wants to tell Masaomi. That he missed him, maybe, more than he should have, that he hates the fact that Masaomi left with Saki of all people, someone who practically worships the ground Orihara Izaya walks on.
And Mikado finally feels it. That jealousy he’d been waiting for when Anri had still been with them. “Masaomi – “
“It’s the Black Rider! The Black Rider is coming this way!”
The shouts come from nearly every direction, startling them both, as people push past them, running and gushing and laughing about possibly catching a glimpse of the infamous Black Rider.
Briefly, Mikado wonders how Celty manages the fame. He also pushes away some horribly insensitive pun about how she thankfully hasn’t lost her head to it just yet.
“Fuck it.” Mikado hears distantly, and then he’s being yanked forward by a firm grip around his right wrist, and Masaomi is dragging him down the street in the direction of the small mob.
It has the perfect makings of a déjà vu-inducing situation, but something about Mikado’s perception has changed since the last time he and Masaomi were scrambling to catch a glimpse of the elusive Black Rider.
Of course it goes without saying that some things have changed since then, but it runs deeper than that. Among other things, Mikado can’t remember having noticed how warm Masaomi’s touch was the first time.
As always, Mikado hears Celty before he sees her, the haunting wail that no one can seem to explain, not him and not Masaomi. It happens in a nanosecond, stretching on and on in a way it only seems to do in this place, in this city, and maybe Mikado sees a flash of black from his peripheral… but mostly it’s just the side of Masaomi’s face, the slackness of his jaw, a tear that rolls precariously down his face.
Masaomi’s hand slips from Mikado’s wrist.
It all occurs in that nanosecond, quicker than Mikado can snap his fingers. And he’s used to that feeling, but not like this. “Masaomi?”
The blond tries to laugh, but it comes out as a cough, lifting a hand to his face but just leaving it there, completely still, like he doesn’t know what he was trying to do with it.
“I really am a detriment to myself.” He says, tone as flat as it was the day he came back.
It’s enough to break the spell. “Come on,” Mikado says, taking ahold of Masaomi at the elbow and pulling him from the street corner, “we’re going home.”
A different kind of quiet consumes them on the walk home, Mikado still dragging Masaomi along like a dog on a leash. He’s beside himself with worry, and he doesn’t even care if that confirms what Masaomi said about him being prone to “mother.”
Telling Anri about Masaomi’s return had been a bad idea. Going out had been an awful idea, of course Masaomi wasn’t ready to –
“I saw you that day, after that thing with the Dollars and the Toramaru.”
Mikado stops walking. He lets go of Masaomi’s arm, and while his first instinct is to try and deny everything, he knows it’s useless.
So, he turns to face his friend, mentally steeling himself for a fallout, for the onslaught of accusations, but it doesn’t come. Masaomi doesn’t even look angry. He just seems… desperate, eyes bloodshot and face splotchy.
“I can’t give you the details, but I came back because I thought you were in danger.” Masaomi admits in a rush. Mikado has to really concentrate to understand what he’s saying. “I had this… dumb notion, like oh, I’m just gonna swoop in and save Mikado and everything can go back to the way it used to be! But that’s not what happened, and it’s still not happening.”
Mikado is confused. So… Masaomi doesn’t know about Mikado’s involvement with the Dollars. And if he’s unaware of that, it’s safe to say he doesn’t know about the Blue Squares either. “What – “
“I want that, more than anything, the relationship me, you, and Anri used to have. And tonight just proved that it’s not going to work.”
“I don’t under – “
“It’s me.” Masaomi snaps, tearing at his own hair in frustration. “I’m trying to be the same guy I was back then, even though you and Anri are different than how you used to be. And it’s exhausting, Mikado, I can’t keep that shit up!”
“We’re not asking you to.” Mikado says quietly, aware that they are still in public, and in front of Russia Sushi nonetheless. “Masaomi, this really isn’t the time – “
“I love Saki.” Masaomi continues, and that shuts Mikado right the hell up. “After everything we’ve been through, I don’t see how I couldn’t, but it just wasn’t enough anymore. I couldn’t make myself stay with her.”
Mikado tries to understand where Masaomi may be coming from, but he can’t. “Why can’t you see that she isn’t good for you?”
“Hell if I know.” Masaomi sighs, and he seems less wild now, just drained. “But it’s driving me crazy, because I just feel so guilty.”
Mikado bites back a groan of frustration. “For leaving her?”
“For leaving you for her.”
Okay, now Mikado is really lost. “… Um?”
“Because Saki never would’ve flipped her shit and closed a whole web browser just to keep me from seeing that Izaya was online, or change the subject entirely if he was even brought up.” Masaomi says, and he’s got that look in his eyes again. “She wouldn’t have nearly had a panic attack just because I left the apartment for twenty minutes. Mostly because she’s not that paranoid, but still.”
He’s so earnest, Mikado realizes. He’s never seen this side of Masaomi before, and he’s not sure what to do in its wake.
“She convinced me to come back here, when I found out you might’ve been in trouble. I don’t know if I would have if it weren’t for her. But, Mikado, I – “ Masaomi pauses to take a deep breath. “I hated Ikebukero so fucking much before you moved here. You had no idea what you were doing, and I didn’t want this town to swallow you up like it did me. But I failed. I don’t even know how I know that, I can just tell.”
Mikado wants to reassure Masaomi that it wasn’t his fault, that Mikado was doomed before he ever stepped foot off the train. It happened a long time ago, in front of a computer screen, at the very first mention of the Dollars.
But he can’t.
“I’m not going to ask you what happened. But I want you to ask me.” Masaomi demands, staring hard at Mikado. His face is starting to return to its normal color, but his eyes are still somewhat shiny and red-rimmed. “Ask me again why I came back.”
“But you just told me – “
“Ask me.”
Mikado closes his eyes with a heavy sigh. He doesn’t even know what’s going on anymore. Masaomi just said he came back because Saki told him to. Mikado isn’t stupid. He doesn’t need this spelled out for him again.
But what else can he do but comply with Masaomi’s odd demand? “Why did you come back, Masaomi?”
And it’s like a switch is flipped. It’s another nanosecond moment as Masaomi takes one step forward, then another, and another, until he’s standing completely within the fold of Mikado’s personal space. Slowly, he reaches up and touches Mikado’s face, barely holding the action before sliding his hands down to fit loosely, collar-like, around Mikado’s neck.
Mikado must be bright red at this point, all too aware of the bystanders gawking and whispering. But with Masaomi’s dark brown eyes so close, it’s hard to focus on much else. With infinite care, Masaomi leans forward and nuzzles his temple against Mikado’s.
The brush of Masaomi’s mouth at the curve of Mikado’s cheek as he says, “Because love is a leveler,” sends an electric shock through Mikado’s system, and he finally understands what Masaomi has been trying to tell him.
There’s a distinct thumping sound, loud enough to startle Mikado and Masaomi both, and they jerk away from one another only to find several pairs of eyes watching them from behind the polished glass of Russia Sushi.
“This is so embarrassing.” Mikado mutters as Erika presses her palms flat against the glass, pounding away in apparent excitement, mouth moving silently as she screeches who-knows-what at her friends. “Why couldn’t you wait until we got home?”
“But we just made Erika’s night.” Masaomi laughs, turning back to give Mikado a slightly awe-struck smile. And despite everything, Mikado finds himself actually returning it. “Waddya say we seal the deal with a kiss and make her entire life?”
It all comes to light afterward, why Mikado and Masaomi had found themselves constantly at odds no matter what they tried.
Like Masaomi had said. They’d been trying so hard to get things back to the way they were before when they just weren’t the same people anymore. They’d been living under the influence of the past while actively ignoring the present.
Masaomi can’t see Mikado as just a friend anymore, no matter his insistence at still harboring feelings for Saki. And Mikado can’t pretend to be as ignorant as he’d once been, not for Masaomi, not for anyone.
So, they adapt. Mikado learns to accept the odd place Saki has in Masaomi’s life, and he doesn’t worry about it as much, not when Masaomi is sleeping in his bed every night, not Saki’s.
Masaomi starts talking about the fears he still harbors, the near constant threat of losing the ones he cares about looming over his head. Even if he no longer leads the Yellow Scarves, he still carries the label and the reputation, so Mikado can hardly blame him.
They maintain whatever it is they started outside of Russia Sushi as best they can, which is clumsily, just like the teenagers they sometimes forget they are. Mikado can admit that he’s always looked up to Masaomi, and that awe he’d felt for a best friend somehow morphed into a slow-burning crush along the way, one he never stopped to actually acknowledge. And of course Masaomi thinks it’s just the funniest thing.
That being said, nothing really changes aside from where Masaomi goes to sleep. There’s more touching, of course, but Masaomi has always been a little too handsy for his own good, so it’s not anything Mikado isn’t used to.
Maybe they’ve just always been like this, a little more than friends, slightly less than a couple – although that is quickly being rectified the more they open up to one another.
The main thing holding Mikado back is his involvement with the Blue Squares. Knowing what they did to Masaomi, Mikado feels like a hypocrite for disliking Saki when he’s basically doing the exact same thing.
The Blue Squares is Mikado’s Orihara Izaya, but at least he’s sparing Masaomi the knowledge, at least for now.
Mikado just can’t give up the way Masaomi looks at him, like he’s the end behind all means, the only good thing about the black hole that Ikebukero sometimes makes itself out to be. And maybe that makes him a bad person, but after everything, Mikado just can’t bring himself to care.
And at night, when Masaomi is dead to the world and snoring softly into Mikado’s largest pillow, Mikado thinks that he is something precious, something to be protected, and if lying will help him achieve that, Mikado will gladly do it.
Because Masaomi has suffered enough. And he deserves this quiet, this peace, for as long as Mikado can salvage it.
All he can really do is actively live for the present and wait for the day when his past catches up to him.