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Ryuji had always been a runner. Ever since he could stand on his own two feet he was on the move- so much so that his mother often joked that he learned to run before he learned to walk- and he liked it that way. Running to him wasn’t about setting records or winning races, it was about freedom. Being the fastest guy around didn’t matter (even if he was frequently the fasted guy around), what mattered was moving, going, getting out there and feeling the wind whip against his face and absolutely fuck up his hair, and to feel like he was flying, untouchable on the backstreets of Tokyo.
It was also necessary to get him the hell out of his home when he needed it. As long as he wasn’t around, he couldn’t get knocked around by his lousy drunkard of a father, and it always helped to build up a proficiency for being quick on his feet when he couldn't escape otherwise.
So yeah, all things considered, running was a pretty essential outlet for him. Even after his father fucked off and finally left him and his mom alone, there was no better way for him to release his energy- unless he wanted to bounce his leg one thousand million times per minute and drive her absolutely bonkers- but no, he’d much rather be on the move anyways. Being on the move made him feel like he was never missing anything, like the faster he went the more he could see in equal amounts of time. Hell, not many people could say they got into high school and instantly became the track team’s star runner, and not many people could say they held records and were looking at the prospects of full athletic scholarships for post secondary, so he considered himself to be doing pretty damn well.
Truly he didn’t know what more life had to offer him- he had the track team and the relative popularity that came with it, he had his freedom, he had his future, so what else could possibly be in store?
Well. A lot it seems, though perhaps not in the way he would have hoped.
Maybe it all started before he even noticed. Maybe the pressure from Kamoshida’s incessant torment was building for even longer than he’d even been aware of, because the moment he snapped felt like as much of a surprise as it felt like a long fuckin’ time coming. Unfortunately though, the brief moment of satisfaction from punching his stupid bitch smug-ass face was not quite enough to outweigh the absolute cataclysm that came raining down upon him in its wake.
In what felt like one fell swoop, everything was crashing down around him; the track team disbanded, with the (former) members now all turned against him, his reputation down the toilet, his academic and athletic career looking more than abysmal, and worst of all, his leg. Countless weeks he spent in recovery alone, no one but his mother to sign his cast, and nothing but a scar to show for it- a scar he normally would’ve thought was sick as hell, but now only served as a constant reminder of his failure.
Because that’s what he was: a failure. He failed the team, he failed his mom, he failed to keep his emotions under control, and he failed to be any different than the good for nothing bastard that raised him and left him behind. And for the first time in his life he felt like he was truly and completely adrift, trudging his way through school with nowhere to go and nothing to see, and he hated it.
But what else was there to do? So he kept going, dragging his feet and falling behind until it all sort of became a haze, a routine of sneers and whispers behind his back that he eventually learned to filter out.
Mostly.
Because there was always fuckin’ Kamoshida, lurking around corners with a snide comment and a smug glare like it was his god damned job to make sure Ryuji felt as pathetic and powerless as possible. And oh boy did it work, because that motherfucker was untouchable with his olympic medal, and all the glory and prestige that brought with it, which meant that the bastards that ran this hell-hole of a school were willing to overlook just about anything.
So Ryuji just had to sit there and take it, and he had to silently watch while many others took it as well, and there was nothing he could do but chase after the car that Takamaki-san had just got into, shaking his fist and cursing that pervy teacher’s name.
“Pervy teacher?”
If he had thought he was at a standstill before, it was nothing compared to the way he ground to a halt now. The sound of the stranger’s low voice was disarming- only made worse by the fact that he couldn’t remember that last time another student had spoken to him and it hadn’t gone poorly, but this guy was only looking at him with mild confusion, not an ounce of disdain in sight.
And just like that, his feet had hit the ground and he was running again, possibly faster than he ever had before. Yeah maybe his leg was still fucked four ways from hell, but it didn’t matter how physically fast he could run, because he still felt like he was positively flying, like he was free again, like he might actually be capable of some good because now Akira was here at his side.
Or maybe Akira was in front? Yeah, definitely in front.
Ryuji may be doing better now, but he was certainly a far cry from the absolute perfection that was Kurusu fuckin’ Akira. He was just- he was so fucking cool all the god damned time- he made the metaverse look like child’s play, he managed to charm the pants off anyone he spoke to (Ryuji included), he was smart and he was funny and he was more than capable with a knife and a lockpick, and every day Ryuji felt like he was sprinting a country mile just to keep up.
And Akira didn’t have to slow down; he was a man with a mission and a saviour complex deep enough to rival the darkest trenches of the ocean- he probably didn’t have the time to stand around and wait for the likes of Ryuji to catch up (a fact that the dutiful right hand man was painfully aware of), and yet.
Yet he did anyways.
Even with deadlines and impending doom dangling over their heads, he never let his friends lag behind, he was always there to help with their personal problems and he never seemed to let the pressure get to him. If anyone could restore Ryuji’s faith in humanity it was Akira- and he did again and again, as if camping out in a monjayaki restaurant to eavesdrop on some shiny new asshole teacher was just a Thing To Do and not going way above and beyond to help solve a problem that wasn’t even his own.
Each day Ryuji’s respect for him only grew tenfold, which only meant that he raced faster and faster, trying his fuckin’ hardest to catch up as his feet took him beyond the point of no return.
“My place in the world is next to you,” he said, making the declaration as easily as breathing. “And don’t worry, there’s a place for you here too.”
“And where is that place?”
“Uh-um, next to me? Or maybe in front? I dunno.”
And he was running, oh god he was running so fast he was losing control of his footing, and Akira’s smile was so shy and his eyes were so pretty and his heart was so kind and he made Ryuji feel so funny inside, and and and- He never realized just how fast he was racing until he was running headlong into the brick wall that was falling in love with his best friend.
—
Akira wasn’t a runner so much as he was a burst sprinter- a guy whose mind was going twenty four/seven, and who acted on instinct just as much as he did careful thought and planning. Mostly he was a creature of habit, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of making snap decisions when the time called for it, and he liked to think he was at least somewhat capable when it came to that sort of thing. Zipping from place to place on a tight schedule is where he felt the most comfortable, and he liked knowing he had used his time efficiently- it just wasn’t the most… freeing experience.
Growing up in a small town was stifling as it is, but growing up in a small town as a quiet kid with a non-negligible case of undiagnosed autism didn’t help matters in the slightest. Mostly he didn’t let it bother him, he just kept to himself, read his books, indulged in a cheeky little hyperfixation or two, and his parents left him alone as long as he kept his grades up. So yeah, not exactly miserable, but not exactly happy either, just sort of riding the line of comfort until he could grow up and get out.
What he didn’t expect was that getting out would happen a little sooner and a little more forcefully than anticipated.
It was complete and utter bullshit- that woman was being assaulted and needed help, and somehow in his attempt to enact justice he had ended up being the one that got persecuted? What the fuck was up with that? In one fell swoop he had gone from his practiced sprints to absolute sporadic nonsense overnight, and he had to say he was not a fan. Not a fan of the justice system, and not a fan of running for his damn life.
Even as he stood sardined on a Tokyo subway train, completely incapable of moving, he’d never felt like he’d been running harder. Everything was so loud and crowded and he had no idea where he was (seriously, could they have made the Ginza line any harder to find?) and his whole routine was up in flames and god was everyone staring at him or was he going crazy?
For once he was glad his resting neutral face made him look profoundly disinterested, because he was not keen on the idea of all these people knowing exactly what a fucking mess he was right now.
The silver lining of the situation being that it seemed that much like his parents, Sakura-san seemed content to leave him to his own devices as long as he didn’t cause any trouble and kept his grades up- which worked out because he never intended on stepping out of line ever again. He was gonna stick to his silly little routines, study quietly, maybe read some books, and get through this year as painlessly and uneventfully as possible.
Running was for schmucks anyways, he would much rather slow to a walk if it meant he could avoid catastrophe. (The funny thing about that is that catastrophe will find you no matter how quietly you’re tiptoeing.)
“Pervy teacher?”
He could almost count the amount of words he’d said aloud in Tokyo on two hands, but these ones definitely stood out to him. Maybe it was because the content of the words was so absurd, or maybe it was because the boy he said them to stood out so much himself- and not just because of the blonde hair.
No, this boy looked about how he felt- defensive, but perhaps not as good at masking it- and it was hard for Akira to miss.
“You don’t know Kamoshida? Don’t you go to Shujin?”
“I think so?”
God, what a stupid thing to say. This guy was probably gonna think he was the world’s biggest jackass now, and that was assuming his abysmal reputation hadn’t already preceded him. And yet. And yet the boy didn’t laugh or sneer or roll his eyes, no, he offered to show him a shortcut through the rain of all things, so maybe today wasn’t going to be all bad.
Or maybe there was gonna be a big fuckin’ castle where the school was supposed to be.
If Akira had thought he was tired before, it was nothing compared to how he felt in this cell, with his aching ribs and ringing ears, and god he was so sick of all this already, but his companion in containment refused to give in.
“Run! Get out of here! Don’t stand there and worry about me, run.”
Was your past decision a mistake? Would you forsake him to save yourself?
“No.”
Then Vow to me.
For the rest of his days, Akira would never forget the look on the other boy’s face from that moment, or the way that it felt to finally hit the ground running again, because now he had something worth running for: one Ryuji Sakamoto.
It wasn’t easy, but damn if it didn’t feel so liberating. Having Ryuji around was like having his own personal sun to clear the skies and keep him warm, like seeing the unrelenting conviction with which he believed in Akira made it all the more convincing that maybe there was good left in humanity, and that it had been worth fighting for all along. He just couldn’t help the feeling he got every time his right hand man would excitedly call out when he found a treasure chest, or enthusiastically drag him to ramen after school- it was just so openly happy in a way he’d never really experienced before that he found it absolutely impossible not to run to him every chance he got.
Never in his life had he met someone who was so easy to talk to, someone who didn’t mind when he was mostly quiet, someone who let him feel like he didn’t need to hide behind a mask, and that he could be himself without worry of misinterpretation. Ryuji let him feel like he could actually safely stray from the track, but still always feel secure in where he was- gone were the days that he ran rigidly from point A to point B, for now he had a bright open field to let loose in, and he never had to fear being lost because he knew exactly who would be beside him if he was.
It was a process, but with each passing day he began to think more and more that perhaps ending up in Tokyo wasn’t that bad, and that maybe he’d even like to stay here. ‘Home’ certainly wouldn’t be an improvement; if his parents had been passive to him before, it was nothing compared to the radio silence he received now. Not one text or call or even an email in all the months he’d been here, and the weirdest part was that he didn’t even find he minded that much.
“That’s bullshit!” Ryuji had exclaimed when Akira had explained the situation- and yeah, maybe it was- but he couldn’t bring himself to care, because the warm, electrifying feeling he got in his stomach whenever Ryuji defended him was more than enough to supercharge his heart. Truly he felt like he could sprint for miles on this energy alone, spurred on by his deep need to continue hearing “whoa Joker! That was freakin’ amazing!” whenever he did even the most insignificant of feats (at least that’s how he saw them).
Maybe it happened overnight- or maybe it had always been the case and he’d just never noticed, but at a certain point it became rather difficult for him to deny the fact that his feelings might be slightly more than platonic. In his defence: he had no frame of reference really because he’d never had a best friend like this before, and he’d also never really had a crush on anyone, so how was he supposed to know that the average bestie didn’t normally elicit soft fuzzy feelings like this?
See? Clearly not his fault.
What was a young gay even to do in that scenario? They’d had so many things going on that he’d hardly had a moment to think straight about it, and even if he could spare a minute to think, what was he even going to say? So he did what any sensible person would obviously do: run as fast as he could in his crush’s direction and hope to god that he wasn’t making a mistake, because at this point resistance truly was futile.
“And don’t worry, there’s a place for you here too.”
“And where is that place?”
Was that the sight of Ryuji’s pace stopping dead, or was it picking up? The gears in his head were clearly going a million miles a minute, but was Akira running for the finish line, or was he running over the edge of a cliff like a misguided lemming?
“Uh-um, next to me? Or maybe in front? I dunno.”
“In front?”
Ryuji’s neck was nearly as red as his shirt as he scratched the back of his neck nervously. The exertion from running for so long seemed to be catching up to him now, and his feet felt like lead under him as he stumbled his way through his words.
“Well I- I mean you’re the leader right? And it ain’t like I could ever catch up to ya anyways.”
“Catch up to me?”
“Y- yeah?”
“Ryuji, I’ve been trying to catch up to you.”
“Wha- for real??”
“For real.”
And it all started to make sense for Akira, because Ryuji was the self sacrificing type, so of course he would never be able to imagine himself on the same level, even though…
“Juji, you’re the only reason I didn’t crash and burn on my first day here, and the only reason we got outta that castle, and the only reason every week since then has been bearable. I could never have gotten as far as I have without you beside me.”
“But- but you…”
None of this was anything Ryuji had ever expected to hear from Akira- Akira who had always been so cool, who had always made everything look so effortless, who had always seemed to be miles ahead of him in the race of life even with all of the baggage he carried- and yet here he was, insisting that all of that was only doable because of him.
“You sell yourself too short, and you put me up so high. How many times have you watched me fumble a lock pick, or fallen on my face because I cranked the treadmill too high? What about the time I had a bruise on my forehead for a week because I domed myself with a pool ball trying to do a fancy trick?”
“But you still managed the trick.”
“Yeah, but only after bruising my forehead. The point is that you were there for all of it- you’ve seen me at my best and my worst and you’ve never been anything but supportive- and I would never have felt comfortable enough to do any of that if I didn’t have my right hand man, my chariot with me.”
Ryuji wasn’t even sure where his feet were falling anymore. Somewhere along the lines his heart rate had picked up so much he felt like he was flying, soaring among the clouds where the only thing he could see was the boy in front of him and the only thing he could feel was how dry his mouth was.
“I had no idea you felt like that.”
“It’s the truth.”
Akira held out his open hand across the table- a hurdle that Ryuji never thought he would get to jump- and even as he stretched his hand out to intertwine it with Akira’s, it felt like he was scaling a mountain that he could fall off of at any minute, like one wrong move would send him plummeting back to earth, shattering every bone in his body and leave him incapable of moving ever again.
But Akira’s hand was soft, and his grip was firm, and his eyes were like a guiding light through the fog that made Ryuji feel for the first time like maybe this was achievable.
“I always thought ’cha were so far ahead, just another finish line I couldn’t see and wasn’t gonna be able to cross.”
His voice was quiet, as if speaking too loud was going to invite fate to yank this away from him like it had everything else, but Akira’s smile just softened as he held Ryuji’s palm to his face, an action that sent both their hearts soaring.
“Maybe you couldn’t see the finish line because you’d already crossed it.”
“Kinda stupid of me to not notice that, huh.”
“Kinda stupid of me to draw it behind you when neither of us were looking.”
And they laughed. They laughed so much because it was so stupid that neither of them had noticed, but god were they glad they had now, because their place in the world could be anywhere, as long as they were next to each other.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Please.”
Maybe track really wasn’t the sport for Ryuji, because it turns out running alone is nowhere near as nice as running hand in hand with someone he loved.