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Saichi stepped out of his car and adjusted his clothes. Alright, this guy shouldn’t have a problem sending me his room number now… he thought, shooting the man in question a text.
I’m here. #?
360.
Building?
the maple bldg
Saichi set off in that direction on foot, and after being let in by a passing student, found himself strolling though the dorm halls he might’ve been living in, too, if he weren’t so poor. Well, at least he could put himself through college–that was something to be grateful for. He stopped in front of the appropriately marked room, double checked the number, and knocked softly. He heard some shuffling and the door opened to a pale guy in a pair of fancy-looking glasses.
“Saichi?”
“Right.”
“Come in, then. Name’s Hyakunosuke, but my friends online call me Haku, or just Ogata.”
“You can call me Saichi, but my surname is Sugimoto.”
“Mm. You want tea? Beer?”
“No thanks, I drove here.”
Ogata popped a can of Sapporo and sat down on his sofa-style futon. “So I’ve got here for you Combat, Pitfall, and River Raid, but if you’re looking to build more of a collection, I should be able to find some more pretty soon when I go through my mom’s attic. But for these three here, I’m good for fifteen bucks.”
He gave me his dorm address all for fifteen bucks? We could’ve just met somewhere public. What a weirdo, Sugimoto thought, handing him the cash. He took a look around his cramped dorm–it was pretty plain, some assorted books and merch lying about, but not much to glean any personality from; the most notable detail was a small collection of model firearms hanging on the wall. But judging from the ramen cups on his desk and his Atari-god status, this guy was probably some kind of otaku.
“The guy you buy the system from not give you any games with it?”
“Ha, no, it didn’t even have the controller. I had to assemble the console by buying the parts from different people.”
“Jeez,” Ogata said, swigging his beer. At that moment, he noticed the university sports department’s logo peeking out from below Saichi’s hoodie collar. “Oh, you play here?”
“Lacrosse.”
“Nice.”
“Eh, I’m nothing special.”
Ogata slicked back his hair, “I’m about to play some COD zombies if you wanna join.”
“Isn’t that game kinda old?”
“I don’t hear you calling it bad.”
“...Well, I gotta go do homework, but I’ll send you my tag.”
“Sounds cool. See ya.”
The way this guy could be so casual with someone he just met seemed like a superpower to Saichi. “Yeah, see ya.” He showed himself out, nearly forgetting the bag of games he had come here for.
Late that night, Saichi sat down to his gaming setup to see that Ogata had added him. He pressed the “add friend” button and wondered to himself if he actually had made his first new friend in a while. He spent most of his time with his teammates, which had remained mostly the same group of people since freshman year, and math homework took up the rest of his time, so he hadn’t spent as much time socializing as some of his peers. Noticing that his new acquaintance was still online, he decided to shoot him a message.
So what’s your major?
ecology.
you?
Engineering.
damn. Hardcore
You’re tellin me… The homework is killing me
made your bed, gotta lie in it
So cod zombies?
yup, lemme grab a drink
Saichi spent about an hour plugging zombies with a drunken Ogata (or Haku, he guessed he could call him now?) and just shooting the shit. The dude was scary good at FPS games–Saichi figured he probably had thousands of hours logged in this one alone.
“Yo, Sugimoto,” Ogata called though the comms, “You smoke?”
“Nah, not really. I don’t like the taste.”
“Not that, the real shit.”
“Huh? Like hookah?”
“No, not like hookah. Pot.”
“You can get that?”
“Yep. You want some?”
“I mean, I guess I could try it.”
“Cool. I’ll smoke you out when you come back for more games.”
“Alright, cool.”
Saichi’s head spun; this dude was something else.
Strolling through the convenience store, Saichi’s mind was lost in thought. It’d been about a week since he’d seen Ogata, and he was supposed to go over and buy more games from him tonight. To say Saichi was nervous wouldn’t be inaccurate; he had no idea where it had come from when he agreed to smoking with Ogata, but he also didn’t want to back out. He had seen people smoking in movies and stuff before, but didn’t know what to realistically expect. An exasperated sigh escaped him when he realized he’d been spacing out while staring at snacks he didn’t even like.
Tossing some of his preferred foods and a few tall beers into his shopping basket, Sugimoto decided to try to make the most of the night; he was meeting a new friend for some games and a good time, that was all–he had nothing to worry about.
The brisk night air renewed his resolve, and Saichi made his way to Ogata’s dorm. This time, Ogata met him at the doors to let him into the building, eyeing him up and down.
“You picked up some beers? I’ve got plenty, ya know.”
“I don’t wanna put you out, you were nice enough to invite me after all.”
“So formal…”
Once they settled into the dorm, Saichi’s nerves started to creep back in. He quickly popped a can and took a swig, wondering for the fifth time that night why he was so tense.
“Jeez, who died?” Ogata quipped.
“Ha, sorry… I guess I’m a bit worried.”
“That you’ll freak?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Listen, you’ll be good. Have a beer or two, then you can take one hit–trust me, that’ll be enough for your first time.”
“I’m in your hands.” At that, Ogata just offered him a cryptic smile.
“Wanna play a few games first?”
Several matches later, Sugimoto was two beers down and feeling more relaxed. Ogata’s casual air seemed to be contagious, thankfully; Sugimoto was only perplexed when he finally pulled out his pen.
“This is how we’re smoking tonight. It’s a bit strong, but you’re only having one hit, so you should be good.” He took a puff himself and breathed a piney cloud out into the room, handing the device to Saichi after. Swallowing his final bits of hesitance, he took a small pull from the pen and promptly coughed his lungs up.
“Good, right?” Ogata coughed out.
Saichi just nodded, since his burning lungs felt like they might collapse at any moment.
“Alright, let’s play another. You can’t freak if you have something fun to focus on.”
“Right,” Saichi said haggardly, his senses already beginning to shift. He felt slightly warmer, and the lumpy futon felt just a little more comfortable. It occurred to him that he was probably pretty lucky to have someone to look after him for this new experience, and he found himself sneaking a peek at Ogata.
He was taking another puff from his pen, checking something on his phone as he did so. Sugimoto noticed for the first time how long his eyelashes were. He also noticed that with his glasses up on his head, the guy was really attractive-looking.
Attractive? Where did that come from??
Saichi discarded that train of thought and turned his attention back to the television, blaming the flush on his cheeks on all the substances in his system.
“Shit,” Saichi sighed,”I’ve had too much, I think.” Ogata sat up and looked his way.
“I figured that might happen, what with the pen and all. You can stay here if you need to; if you have class, you can just go from here, right?”
Saichi sat up as well. “Yeah, I have my backpack in my car… You’re sure, though?”
“No reason to drive fucked up. Shit like that’ll ruin your whole life.”
“Thanks, man. Here, let me order us some food.” A few button-taps later, Saichi had pizzas and soda on the way.
Suddenly, he was covered by a plush blanket that Ogata had tossed onto him. “Let me know if you need anything more.”
For a relative stranger, this new friend of Saichi’s was really kind. He didn’t seem to care for formalities, or anything that didn’t cut to the chase–Saichi could appreciate that kind of straightforward communication style; it was different than what he was used to.
“I’ll sleep on the couch, then,” Sugimoto said, still not-yet-broken from his polite, over-expository ways. Ogata smiled, and Saichi’s heart skipped a beat.
“Well, unless it gets cold of course,” he pondered, winking coyly in Saichi’s direction. All of Saichi’s brainpower focused on not reacting to the invigorating chill that ran through his body.
“Well, since you’re staying, care for a nightcap? I have scotch.”
“Sure–why not,” Sugimoto replied without thinking.
Ogata poured a crystal-clear glass of fine whiskey. “I don’t drink much liqour, but I like this one.” Saichi curiously accepted the glass.
“Cheers,” they both said, downing their portions.
After some mild sniffling and throat clearing, Ogata rejoined Saichi on the futon. “You know, it’s been a while since I really hung with somebody like this.”
“I know what you mean. They ban drinking directly before games, and the rest of the time I’m practicing or recovering, so I never get to do this.”
“Oh? Well, don’t make a habit of it–I won’t be blamed for you falling off.” At that particular moment, Saichi couldn’t help but notice the lock of hair falling outside of the slicked-back mass behind his glasses. All hesitation numbed away, he reached out and smoothed it back behind Ogata’s ear, before finally catching himself.
“I–I’m sorry, I didn’t–”
“It’s okay,” Ogata soothed, ”I knew what I was getting into.” Before Saichi could question him, Ogata reached for his face and carefully breached the short distance between them; their mouths met, and Saichi was too stunned to even close his eyes, the kiss passing him by before he realized it. It was brief and gentle, a kiss like Saichi had never had before; it left him desperate for another.
“Well? Still care to stay?” Ogata wondered.
Saichi forgot how to speak for a moment. “I–yes,” he stammered confidently. Ogata smiled bewitchingly and leaned back in.