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It was obvious to everyone and probably Shima too. It was evident from the way Urata talked about him, how he always was trying to touch Shima, how he wanted to go everywhere and do everything with Shima, and when he’d drunkenly confessed to others about his feelings they’d laugh and go “I know.”
It made Urata feel a little stupid.
If everyone knew, did Shima?
Maybe. Probably. Shima’s smarter than people give him credit for, Urata thinks. But if that’s the case, why didn’t Shima say anything? He’s anxious, sure, but nothing?
It’s not like they particularly got along before or anything. But they got close, and maybe that’s why it’s hurting Urata so much.
They’ll be having dinner together at a restaurant after saying bye to Sakata and Senra who wanted to go have something different, and Urata will accidentally kick Shima’s foot under the table lightly, and Shima will offer Urata bites of what’s good on his plate, and Urata will get his hopes up and his heart will swell-
And then Shima talks about this girl he knows. About how he loves girls like that, with long slim legs, who are cute and a little rebellious, who drink beer with him and are a little chubby. And Urata’s smile will fade into a plastic one because he thinks about how he can do that, he’s cute and a little rebellious already, and he’ll try to get pretty legs like a girl, but he can’t drink beer, and he’s a guy at the end of the day.
And Urata thinks about that for a second too long and he feels his heart sink down into his stomach a little because maybe that’s the problem; no matter how hard Urata tries and no matter how much he likes Shima, he’s not the person Shima will like because he’s a he.
Urata thinks about how Shima could do so much better than another guy with issues. He bites the inside of his cheek when Shima offers him another piece of beef.
There are a lot of times that Urata thinks he could’ve kissed Shima, too- the summer fireworks display, walking together with the snow falling down at Christmas, when Shima was drunk in his apartment, when they were alone at a cafe, yesterday, now.
Urata will look at Shima’s smiling face however, and tell himself to forget it.
Keeping his friend is so much more important than a kiss. Than his feelings.
But it wouldn’t stop the feelings, and it wouldn’t stop him from hoping they were, in some way, requited. Somehow. He’s not Shima’s type, he’s not a cool and cute girl, and he’s not a cool guy either. But maybe they were close enough that Shima felt as close to Urata as Urata did Shima.
And Urata’d read into things to justify his maybe. How Shima would call their outings dates sometimes. Those were jokes. How Shima would call Urata his girlfriend. He’d call Senra his girlfriend too, though. How Shima used to change the lyrics in love songs during karaoke to make it as though he was singing about Urata, and call him Urata-chan, and sing how he loves him and wants him. But it’s just karaoke, it’s not even his song. How they’d slow dance together after Urata shows him new music he likes and invites Shima to dance. He dances like this with background dancers at their concerts. How Shima kissed him. He kissed him. He was drunk, and Urata kissed him first. It was in the back corner of a bar, it was 2am, it was hot, it was summer.
The counterarguments would always try to drown out Urata’s justifications and Urata would always jump under the water, holding his breath until he got dizzy, trying to pull them out.
He’d tell his friends he wants to tell Shima someday. And then take it back, because if he lost his friend he wouldn’t know what to do. Shima doesn’t even know, don’t let it ruin the friendship for him to find out and feel weird about Urata.
“Maybe he does know,” says Senra. “Maybe he’s not saying it because he doesn’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m already hurt.” Urata sighs, smiling.
"Then what’s the worst that could happen?” Senra offers, tilting his head and smiling gently.
Urata fiddles with his napkin and then slides it down on the table. “...I don’t want to lose our memories.”
“If he doesn’t, either, he won’t make you go away.”
Urata’s at Shima’s house and they’ve been drinking and Shima lets Urata wear his sweatshirt and Urata wants to cry and he wants to laugh and wants to spin. He sighs and stares at Shima’s eyes with nothing but fondness pouring from Urata’s heart. He wants to hold him tight. He wants to dance with Shima.
“You want to dance?”
“With you.” Urata’s breath catches in his throat when he realizes he said those things out loud. And he looks into Shima’s eyes for some kind of reaction, for some kind of sign on what to do now, how to react, what Shima’s thinking, and he can’t figure it out.
Shima knows.
But Shima’s eyes just tell Urata that he’s hurt too.
Urata wishes he knew why. He doesn’t want to lose his friend. Or, he doesn’t know how to say he feels the same way.
He hiccups on his breath trying not to cry and Shima says he’ll call him an Uber home, and to be careful when he’s drinking.
Even without words Urata tells Shima he loves him so much and Shima can’t read it. Maybe Shima knows and is trying not to hurt him and maybe Shima doesn’t. He doesn’t want to scare Shima off or make him upset. The Uber notification comes and they’re in the elevator going down, and Shima turns suddenly and holds Urata’s face and kisses him.
The elevator doors open and Urata’s hands are on top of Shima’s, looking up at him with glassy eyes. He can’t figure out what Shima's feeling. He never has.
Maybe he never will.
Urata lets go of Shima just before Shima lets go of Urata, and he leaves for the Uber outside the lobby.
Shima stands in the elevator, watching Urata as the doors close again. Urata doesn’t look back at him.
As the orange lights pass over Urata’s face, his head leaning against the window of the taxi, his nose starts burning and tears start falling down his cheeks. He sighs shakily and wipes them away with his sleeves when he realizes it’s Shima’s sweatshirt and he covers his hand as he suddenly lets out a sob, passing it off as a cough. He breathes through his mouth, trying to calm down before getting home.
Urata pays for the taxi himself and walks into his apartment building, noticing his tear stained cheeks in the elevator mirror and trying to wipe them away.
He breaks his no outdoor clothes in bed rule and sleeps with Shima’s sweatshirt next to his head.
Maybe one day he’ll figure out Shima’s feelings for him. But for now he’ll sleep clutching onto Shima’s sweatshirt and wondering why Shima didn’t pay for the taxi, why Shima kissed him but didn’t dance with him.