Chapter Text
In Hayato’s opinion, the silence filling the room was already way too loud, so when it got cut by tapping noises, it was only normal for him to want to screech like a banshee, preferably to prophesize the pending death of the idiot sitting across him.
“Stop!” he hissed. On the other side of the table, the baseball freak lifted his head with a puzzled expression. After a second, his frown disappeared, and his agape mouth supported a smile. Not bothering with an answer, he turned his focus back to the homework in front of him, and Hayato would have been impressed if he hadn’t noticed how the other boy was literally mouthing the words, are you fucking kidding me, can’t you read like a normal human being?
It wasn’t until Takeshi launched into a full-blown laugh that Hayato realized he had spoken out aloud.
“I didn’t know you paid that much attention to what I’m doing.” Hayato hated the knowing smile plastered on the idiot’s face, that sly bastard. What did he even know? Not algebra, for sure, seeing his latest grades.
With a disapproving sound, Hayato turned his focus back to the article on UMAs, having finished the schoolwork hours ago. Some author claimed that if parallel universes existed, and if Hayato let out an amused breath at that, no one could blame him; they could be the reason for the recently increased doppelganger sightings rather than being the work of aliens like how many people on the internet claimed. He was ready to open up a Word document and type out at least 57 reasons why the theory was lacking, and the author was wrong, but before he could do that, he stopped, feeling the eyes watching him with interest.
“What?” He questioned without turning his gaze away from the document.
“Well,” the other boy stopped there, waiting until the Italian turned his focus on him to continue, “I don’t get this part.” Takeshi turned his book around so Hayato could see. Glancing at where he was pointing, Hayato decided that he, indeed, literally, officially lost it. However, instead of cackling maniacally over the irony of life as he wished, he settled on explaining just because the idiot finishing this last bit would mean he could finally go home.
“Entropy, in itself, is the thermodynamic quantity that represents the system’s inability to turn thermal energy into mechanical energy. However, it’s most often explained as the disorder of a system. And according to the 2nd law of thermodynamics, all matters strive to achieve high entropy, which means maximum disorder and low energy. Scientists believe that the entropy levels of the universe constantly increase. Since the 1st law dictates that the energy is constant in the universe, it must simply be changing forms. Think of it like the mess you cause in my life, constantly expanding and changing all my energy into anger.”
Hayato cringed at his over-simplified explanation, but from how the idiot nodded and smiled like he was just handed the moon, he figured it worked. They went over the equations a few times and finished the last few questions on Takeshi’s sheets.
With a sigh, Hayato finally slumped over the chair, knowing he was done for the day. He closed his eyes for a second but pinched himself hard when he noticed he was dozing off. He jumped to his feet, grabbed his bag hung on the back of his chair, and started packing fast. In his peripheral, he could see the other teen also grab his books, placing some back in his school bag and some in the book cabinet next to his desk. After putting all his books and his second-hand laptop he got in a bargain away, Hayato noticed the raven-haired was already done and, for some reason, looking at him.
“I will walk you home.” The cheerful bastard proudly and loudly announced as if there were anyone else in the room. Also, what he said did not make any sense since that would mean he would have to leave his home, go to Hayato’s place and come back home again. Hayato rolled his eyes and started to explain why it was a stupid idea, but Takeshi’s focus was not on him. Disregarding Hayato’s pathetic excuses and name-calling, he went to the living room to grab his baseball jacket. When he returned, Hayato looked at the jacket he was holding like it was an alien because it is already warm outside, and you are wearing a fucking sweater; what are you trying to do, cook yourself to death?
With an annoyed sigh, the silver-haired boy rushed out of the front door without waiting for the other to wear his shoes, wearing his own while walking downstairs. He passed through the crowd in Takesushi coming in after work hours. He saw the idiot’s father, perhaps the only person more annoying than his son in this whole damned town, behind the counter, chatting up a regular. The man waved goodbye after seeing the flash of silver hair rushing to reach the front door. Despite all the annoyance filling every inch of his body, he nodded in acknowledgment because it was the least he could and the most he was willing to do since the man took it upon himself to feed Hayato every time he came over to help the sword freak study, even if it was masked as thank you.
The sun was about to set, but it did not mean it wasn’t annoying and awful and messing with Hayato’s eyes. He felt his eyes adjust to the natural light as he blinked, burning after being cramped inside a room with white lights for hours. Who even uses white lights? They fucking suck. Like the room, like the owner. He snorted.
“Oh! Haha, you waited!” he flinched at the sudden interruption and then proceeded to scold himself for doing so. It was not appropriate for a right-hand man to get caught in his thoughts and ignore the rest of his surroundings. He had to be aware of every single thing going around him. Oh God, what if I am turning into an oblivious idiot for spending so much time with him? His train of thought was once again cut by the bane of his existence since the idiot decided to wave his hand right above his face like I am fucking blind, what the sad excuse of a fuck?
“You okay there?” he had the audacity to ask. “You were spacing out a lot today.” He had used the ‘I am aware something is going on even if you don’t tell me’ voice and God! Hayato hated he even knew the subtle nuances in the way the idiot talked and presented himself.
“Just tired,” Hayato replied nonchalantly and didn’t even realize he didn’t reply to the idiot’s claim that he had waited. As if.
Hayato turned left and started walking towards his home without saying anything else. After not hearing the footsteps he expected to follow him, he involuntarily turned back to see what the taller teen was up to.
“Today is Wednesday.” The idiot finally said.
Hayato narrowed his eyes at the explanation. He shook his head in confusion, his eyebrows crossing and his mouth dropping more with each passing second.
“Wow.” He dared to open his mouth again. “You must be really out of it if you look like that.”
“And tomorrow is Thursday, and after that comes Friday,” Hayato stated matter-of-factly. “So, what of it?”
The two teens stared at each other for a moment, one with his signature frown and the other with genuine concern. Few people walked by spared a glance at them, some with curiosity piquing in their eyes and most with annoyance over the fact that they were covering the sidewalk. A few kids playing tag ran between them, shouting and giggling, and one girl nearly tossed into Takeshi. He sent a soft smile the child’s way, who beamed back, before turning his attention to the silver-haired Italian.
“You always go grocery shopping on Wednesdays.” He finally gave up and softly placed a hand on Hayato’s shoulder, carefully like the boy would crumble upon a harder touch.
The Italian flushed at the reminder. “I will go tomorrow.” He mumbled and turned back to his way home.
“Okay.” Takeshi agreed, and for a moment, Hayato believed it was a gift from God that the idiot acted like a regular human being for once. But no. Of course not. I am being punished for my sins.
“I will go shopping for you.”
If Hayato was sitting on a desk, he would repeatedly be bashing his head, he decided. Maybe God would finally favor him and let his end approach then.
If you asked anyone that passed by at that exact moment, they would all agree the smaller teen just let out a series of incoherent screeches and definitely not a reply. Still, Hayato would defend his honor until he died and claim he yelled with dignity. After what felt like forever, and he stopped being a flushed mess, he managed to pull himself together to form one meaningful sentence.
“And why would you do that?”
The idiot laughed like Hayato’s craving for death was nothing but a joke, like he was part of the audience watching the circus clowns instead of being the main act.
“Do you prefer not to have breakfast tomorrow?” He asked when he managed to tame his laughter. A creepy smile no 28 appeared on his face, taunting Hayato. It was overly sweet to the point of giving the Italian stomach ache, with an unsettling feeling as a bonus. It was his “I know better than you.” smile. Even the thought of the idiot knowing something better than him was enough to make him shudder. The idiot, unable to read social cues, continued.
“I know you always get food exactly for a week, meaning your fridge is empty. You have to eat, after all.” This time instead of just a hand, he somehow concluded that it was a good idea to plow his arms around the other’s shoulders, using the smaller teen as an arms rest.
“Don’t touch me, you sword freak!” was auto-reply for Hayato. His annoyance doubled when the said freak grinned. Hayato started to worry that the shade of red he felt creeping upon his face was actually going to stick around this time, and he was going to live the rest of his life as a tomato. Or an idiot who didn’t know how to use sunscreen. He hadn’t decided which one was worse yet, but he knew for a fact that under no circumstances he never ever wanted to risk the idiot’s even more of an idiot dog to mistake him for the red ball he played with sometimes.
“I really don’t mind shopping for you.”
Hayato wanted to object again, but enough was enough, so he shrugged and acted like he did not care in the slightest. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and took the last one inside, throwing the package to the closest trashcan. The Italian stopped walking to lift the lighter hanging on a chain he wore on his neck and secured the flame from the wind as he lit the cigarette. He inhaled the smoke, and his shoulders dropped a bit, releasing the tension he had built all day.
He looked up, the sun was long gone, and the sky was a purplish blue, indicating the last few moments before darkness consumed the city. A red car passed them, loudly playing music. Green eyes ate up everything they lay upon. The cat resting on the brick wall of the ruins of an old family home, the trees that were now turning to a yellowish red with winter around the corner, the old lady talking to someone over the phone, sitting on her porch. It was silent. Hayato despised it.
As a young boy, he hated silence. Silence meant whispers could be heard; it meant being alone, dealing with his thoughts by himself. So, he had done what he knew best even back then. Destroy it. Not with violence, not yet, but with music instead. And now, in Namimori, he could not hear the music anymore. Everything was soulless in the forsaken town. The children were bland, and the elderly were unhappy. Everything but the people that came into Hayato’s life in the past three years. Hayato was mistaken. Not everything in the town was soulless. But nearly every damned thing was. He looked at the boy on his left at last. His brown eyes were following every movement Hayato made. He smiled when their eyes met. It was his smile no 34. He would never admit it out loud, but this was Hayato’s favorite.
After inhaling for the last time, he put off the cigarette by pressing it on the chipped brick wall. He continued. Neither of the boys spoke as they walked, but Hayato could feel how close Takeshi was; not exactly touching, but enough to feel the body heat radiating off the swordsman. Maybe if it was another time, Hayato would shove him away. A few years ago, that would be given, along with a string of the most creative curses his imagination came up with. It used to be a matter of pride, he thought. The pride of being enough by himself, not needing anybody else to survive. Because he knew how to do it, it came naturally to him, like the dynamites, playing the piano, or loving his mother even before he knew the truth.
He loathed depending on anyone else, knowing he couldn’t trust people he knew would leave him. Again, and again, and again. This was why he loved being the right-hand man. Because, for once, it was not him depending on someone who might leave. He loved the power it gave him, being trusted, and loved proving to himself that he was better than the assholes that left him. But being trusted for once also showed him that maybe this time, it could be mutual. He could be just himself, a friend to lean on rather than the wall he was set to become.
He had changed. It was a revelation that had eaten him alive for the past weeks. And it was not only him that had changed. A small smile bloomed on his face, and if Takeshi saw, he did not say anything.
Upon arriving at the rusted doors of his apartment building, Hayato patted his pockets to feel his keys. The door opened two-thirds before it got stuck, creaking loudly on the way. The hallway lights lit up for a second, and Hayato got surprised that someone had actually fixed it. Then, they started to flicker, disappointing him like the rest of the world. Takeshi was already climbing the stairs when Hayato finally managed to get the door unstuck and follow him a few steps behind.
The fact that his apartment was on the eighth floor was absolutely nightmare material. Hayato contemplated just giving up and sleeping right there several times before he reached the destinated floor, which, all things considered, was a win for his book that day.
The Italian took his shoes off as he got in but didn’t bother to place them correctly. He turned to see what he assumed Takeshi would be doing, as in waiting for him to hand in the necessities, but was met with another scenario, one that apparently allowed the raven-haired teen to let himself in.
“What are you doing?” He yawned halfway through the sentence, but the idiot would probably understand. Then he regretted that belief a second later when the idiot shrugged instead of giving out a proper answer and grabbed Hayato’s hand in a movement to pull him into the bedroom.
The idiot picked a few pieces of clothing from Hayato’s could-be-called-a-closet and sent him to the bathroom. “You go change. I’ll pull out the bed.” Right, because Hayato, with his tiny one-room apartment, didn’t even own a proper bed. But rather, he had a studio couch that turned into a queen bed, which in the end, was a better alternative than a shitty twin-sized bed he’d have to get if he wanted a real one.
He changed out of his clothes with as much energy as he could gather, putting over an oversized t-shirt that hung low on his shoulders with black shorts. He opened the cold water, slapping it directly to his face. A few drops made their way down his sleeve, which he dried off with the shirt he took off before opening the cabinet to get his toothbrush and a hair tie. He tied his hair into a small ponytail except for the few strands that were never just long enough.
When he returned to the room, he saw Takeshi frowning over the blanket in his hands. If it wasn’t for how tired he was, Hayato would joke about how Takeshi looked at the blanket like it was the bane of his existence, the mother of all his problems.
“It is just a blanket.” He commented after a few seconds passed, visibly confused over the one-sided battle of discontent.
“Not your usual one. What happened?” He noticed because, of course, he’d notice the most ridiculous things in Hayato’s life.
“Uri.” He answered with another yawn, causing a few drops of tears to run down his face. The only answer he got was a lackluster hum.
“I left the keys hanging from the door handle,” Hayato said as he took out the list from his bag. “Money is-”
“I got it covered.” Takeshi interrupted.
“I think the fuck not. Money is in the tissue box on top of the shoe cabinet.” He knew the idiot would not listen because he was as stubborn as Hayato himself, but he could at least try.
The idiot opened his palm expectantly. “Your phone.” His tone was the rare “no bullshit” tone he used when he wanted to show he could be serious, like when some idiot decided it was still okay to insult Tenth by calling him “Dame” or when some tipsy customers acted out in Takesushi.
“Why the fuck do you need my phone, you freak?” He complained while taking it out from his pocket and handing it over.
The idiot beamed, and Hayato was at least 89% certain that it was not normal for someone’s mood to change so vastly so quickly. “To make sure you actually go to bed instead of reading bajillion stuff on the internet.” He stated so flatly that the sarcastic piece of shit in Hayato couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit of pride.
Done with life, Hayato decided it was indeed a good time to throw himself onto his bed. He felt his eyelids close as Takeshi spoke. “I will be back in an hour.”
With a soft nod, the silver-haired teen let sleep lay its claim over him, hugging the thin blanket. And if Takeshi used his jacket as a cover to keep him warm, he was too asleep to oppose.
They had a routine. It was shaped over the years after all the ridiculous things they went through together. Every morning, Hayato would wake up at 06:30 thanks to his phone alarm, force himself a few bites whilst sitting at his small table for two, push the button on the coffee machine, and take a shower while it brewed. He would drink at least two cups of coffee while he went through the college classes he took, at least for an hour. At exactly 07:45, he would leave his house, and the sword freak would always be right around the corner, turning to his street, and they would always go to Tenth’s place together.
So, when Hayato woke up that morning, not because of his usual alarm but because the sun was bothering his eyes, which was already a problem with how irritating it was, he knew something was wrong. Because the sun never graced his room until at least nine in the morning. Which meant he was late. Very, very late.
He groaned and rolled around the sheets; his feet tangled to the blanket. He rubbed his eyes while forcing himself up. With a soft thud, something slipped down to the floor. Curious to see the victim, he opened his eyes to see the familiar blue and white of the idiot’s jacket on the dark brown wood. He grabbed it and threw it on the chair in the corner of the room, rolling his eyes as he did so.
His bare feet slapped across the kitchen tiles as he went to look at the time flashing on his microwave. The screen read 10:54, already midday. With a huff, he opened the fridge. If he got prepared and left now, he could make it in time for one hour of English before having a double-hour P.E. All things considered, Hayato could at least console himself with the fact that Thursday was always the best day to skip class.
Hayato was halfway through making his sandwich when he realized he did not know where his phone was. He remembered giving it to the freak, and the freak evidently returned to the apartment unless the bread was holding did, in fact, appear out of nowhere. It would only be a logical conclusion to decide the phone was somewhere in the apartment, yet Hayato knew not to expect logic from him. He checked the shoe cabinet, the table, the bag, and any remotely plausible place to put a phone in. He then decided to check implausible places since he would not put it past the idiot to put his phone in one of the grocery bags, or the laundry basket, or his not-so-much-of-a-closet.
Zero. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Disregarding the very slight chance that his phone was abducted by UMAs due to containing very secret and important facts, it was clear that the bastard did, in fact, not bring back his phone with the groceries. This led Hayato to have one option and one option only to retrieve his precious baby (and secrets!) back.