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“Akemi-san.”
Akemi was dully aware of something pressing against the top of her head.
“Akemi-san. Akemi-san.”
She grunted in protest and buried her face in her pillow.
“Akemi-san.” The hand gripping her skull bobbled it back and forth. She shook aggressively to try to dislodge it, but it only changed tactics, scratching the back of her head like a pet dog. “Akemi-saaan~!”
With a long, drawn-out groan, Akemi thrusted up onto her elbows, shaking a tangled mess of hair out of her face and blinking blearily into the darkness.
Yotsuya stared calmly back.
“Eugh,” Akemi cringed reflexively. Not a great sight to wake up to. His mouth pulled slightly towards a frown, but otherwise he didn’t react, face as solemn and impassive as usual. He was on his elbows too, poking out of the hole in Godai’s wall in his tattered old kimono. “Yotsuya-san, what the helllll, it’s…”
She shifted to find the clock, having to crane her neck to see over Godai’s sleeping form beside her. Annoyed, she kneed him as hard as he could, but all he did was twitch slightly and resume snoring. Jerk. Jerks, both of ‘em. The one night she went to bed early (drank so much during her day shift that she wound up passing out in Godai’s futon in the middle of dinner) and this jerk was happily sleeping while that other jerk just had to wake her up at—
“Midnight,” Yotsuya supplied helpfully, waiting until the very moment she finally caught a glimpse of the clock. “Good morning.”
Akemi dropped back onto the futon with a grunt of frustration.
Yotsuya poked the top of her head.
She glared furiously back up at him…then blinked, confused.
Yotsuya was holding out his hand, palm up. After a few moments of silence, he beckoned slightly with his fingers, indicating that he was waiting for something.
Akemi pushed herself back up onto her elbows.
She stared at Yotsuya.
He stared back.
She placed her hand on his like a dog, shook, let out a “woof” and rolled over.
“Akemi-san.”
She’d already closed her eyes, but his tone was low and gruff now, and he clearly wasn’t going to let her sleep. That didn’t mean she had to get up, though. Still on her back, Akemi just opened her eyes and glared at the ceiling instead.
“What.”
Yotsuya scooted further into the room, walking on his elbows until he was looming above her, gazing impassively down in the dark, face upside-down. God, this sight was worse than the one she’d woken up to.
“Have you nothing for me?” Yotsuya lilted, sounding not just reproachful but a little plaintive.
Akemi didn’t care. “Nope.”
“On this day, of all days?”
“Never.”
It wouldn’t have occurred to her to ask, because again, she really didn’t care. But Yotsuya pressed on anyway.
“It’s February 14th.”
Valentine’s Day?
Akemi actually barked out a laugh. Godai gave a start of surprise and Yotsuya got a faceful of spittle.
“Valentine’s Day?” she crowed, still heaving with laughter. It was so absurd. “When have I ever given you anything on Valentine’s Day?”
Yotsuya’s face seemed slightly sour as he wiped it on his sleeve. “I always assumed you were too bashful.”
Akemi shrieked with laughter again, pounding a fist on the floor beside her, heedless of Godai whining and curling into the covers. She kept on laughing as Godai physically kicked her off the futon, long after Yotsuya had already crawled back into his hole, muttering platitudes about the cruel hearts of young women.
—
“Good morning, Manager-san.”
Kyoko hardly looked up from where she knelt at Soichiro’s bowl, petting the dog fondly while he ate. “Good morning, Yotsuya-san! Going to work today?”
The silence dragged on for a few seconds before Kyoko turned around curiously. Sure enough, Yotsuya was still standing there, all dressed up with coat and hat and briefcase. But he was just staring quietly down at her.
Kyoko’s face flushed reflexively, and she carefully adjusted her dress (her underwear wasn’t showing or anything, was it?) before rising to her feet. “Um, did you need something?”
“You could say that,” Yotsuya murmured, as if to himself. Kyoko blinked, but he didn’t elaborate.
She had just opened her mouth to ask when suddenly he said, “Do you know what day it is?”
“The 14th.”
Yotsuya went on staring at her.
Kyoko fidgeted uncomfortably. She was right, wasn’t she? She’d checked the calendar when she’d gotten up, and it had said—
“Oh!” Kyoko let out a breath of relief, smiling brightly, feeling she’d passed the test. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Yotsuya-san!”
She watched in amazement as what seemed to be the edge of a smile, a genuinely pleased gentle little smile, curved at the edge of the man’s lips. But then it froze, and a few seconds later it dropped.
“Ah.” Yotsuya shook his head solemnly and took on a lamenting tone, and Kyoko couldn’t tell (as often she couldn’t) whether he was joking or not. “I’d thought you at least would have a generous heart, Manager-san.”
“Excuse me?!” It came out automatically, defensively, even though she thought she could see what he was driving at and honestly shouldn’t have cared.
The door banged open before Yotsuya could reply. Kentaro came sprinting down the walkway with shouted goodbyes, Mrs. Ichinose hot on his heels to deliver a forgotten lunch, then swat him on the backpack for dallying.
“That boy!” she groaned dramatically, clomping back toward the house. “If it wasn’t attached to his seat, he’d forget his own bu—”
“Good morning, Ichinose-san.”
She whirled, suddenly startled by the tall dark figure of Yotsuya looming over her in the entryway. “Don’t do that!” she snapped irritably, whapping him hard enough to make him stumble. But her expression twisted as he went on staring blankly at her. “Geez, what? What is it? Spit it out! God, you’re so—”
“You don’t have any Valentine’s chocolate for him, do you, Ichinose-san?” Kyoko piped up awkwardly.
“You kidding?” Mrs. Ichinose snorted, turning back into the house. “Not even my good-for-nothing husband’s getting one from me. Not unless he gets a raise.”
“I see,” Yotsuya said gently.
Mrs. Ichinose slammed the door to the house.
Yotsuya didn’t move.
The tension was unbearable. Kyoko was beginning to wish she had something to give him, but she’d only ever thought about giving chocolate to Godai and Mitaka and had ultimately decided against it, same as last year. Better to claim she’d forgotten than to give either one undue encouragement (though last year they’d both given her White Day gifts regardless). The only Valentine she’d had on hand was the fried chicken she’d just poured into Soichiro’s bowl.
She tried desperately to figure out what to say, what would sound kind without sounding pitying or being misconstrued as a come-on. (You’d think she would have had practice with this by now.)
She was still thinking when Yotsuya finally let out a sigh, opened the door, and stepped back inside, briefcase still in hand.
—
It was late when Godai returned to an apparently empty house. The Ichinoses were home, of course, but Mrs. Ichinose was spending her time tending to Kentaro—after an obligatory greeting just for the sake of gossiping to Godai about Akemi’s date with some unseen man and oh, Coach Mitaka just came by to pick Kyoko up in his car, they’re going out tonight, they’ve got a romantic date for Valentine’s, didn’t you know~?
Of course he’d been hoping to take Kyoko out himself, or even to get a Valentine from her (please don’t let her have given one to Mitaka and not him…), but at least Mrs. Ichinose was the only one around to laugh at his troubles.
Except…
He sighed loudly when he opened his door.
Of course.
There was Yotsuya, lounging as usual in his hole in Godai’s wall, picking a kettle off of a hot plate and absently sloshing the water around. “We may as well go home,” he was singing quietly to himself, “As I did on my own…”
Putting the kettle down, he instead picked up a cup of instant ramen, methodically starting to peel the plastic lid off.
“Alone again, naturally…”
“Geez,” Godai huffed, stomping across the room and snatching the cup from his hands. It was quite a feat. Yotsuya never let go of food easily, and by the looks of the cans scattered across the floor, he’d been drinking for a while already.
“Oh cruel, cruel world,” Yotsuya sniffed long-sufferingly, making Godai roll his eyes. “You would take away the only morsel left to a lonely man?”
“You’re taking from me. That ramen’s the only dinner I can afford this week.” A lie, he’d been saving up for the possibility of a date with Kyoko, but Yotsuya didn’t have to know that.
Ugh, Kyoko—Godai sat down heavily, tearing the lid off the ramen and sloshing hot water into it so hard he almost sprayed himself. Go on, laugh at me, he thought darkly at Yotsuya, pressing the lid down hard on the ramen and trying his best to steel himself. Mrs. Ichinose had gone easy on him downstairs, too pressed for time to do more than deliver the news, but he was stuck here with Yotsuya now, who would surely…
Slowly, Godai turned and stared.
Yotsuya was lying slumped on the floor, face on his arms, staring blankly at the wall.
Well, that’s fine, Godai decided, unsure whether to feel unnerved or relieved. Silence was better than all the barbed remarks he’d been composing for Yotsuya in his head.
His guard went up again when the three-minute mark passed and his ramen was ready, sure that Yotsuya would try to snatch it from his fingers.
He scooted halfway across the room, knees up, chopsticks and ramen cup clenched in a vise grip—
But nothing.
Yotsuya was alive, certainly. His face was too flushed (presumably with drink, though he could also turn out to be sick), not to mention his lips were moving. And unless he’d developed the skill to sleep with his eyes open (Godai wouldn’t put it past him), he was still awake.
Godai wasn’t taking any chances. He carefully finished his ramen down to the last drop, and took a swig out of a not-quite-empty nearby beer can for courage. But he still crawled nervously over to investigate.
“It seems to me that there are more hearts broken in the world…”
Yotsuya was still singing quietly, as Godai discovered when he got closer, having intended just to check his breathing.
“…That can't be mended…Left unattended…”
A deep inhalation.
“What do we do? What do we do?”
“Alone again,” Godai suddenly found himself murmuring in tune, startling himself as well as Yotsuya, who blearily raised his head to stare, “naturally.”
Godai realized he’d placed a hand on Yotsuya’s back, and self-consciously yanked it off.
They sat together in silence.
“I promised myself to treat myself, and visit a nearby tower,” Yotsuya suddenly belted mournfully, “And climbing to the top, will throw myself off—”
“All right, all right, already!” Godai snapped, shuddering. “Stop that, you’re creeping me out!”
“Would you care, Godai-kun?” Yotsuya asked, lolling his head onto Godai’s knee (unconcerned by the way Godai reflexively jerked at the touch) and gazing solemnly up at him. “If I were to throw myself off a—”
“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Flustered, unsure what to do, hating everything about this situation, Godai shoved Yotsuya off him and scrambled away. “I’d cry my eyes out for days. Are you happy now?”
Yotsuya rested his chin in his hands, gazing fixedly at the opposite wall.
“Do you really mean it?”
Yotsuya’s voice was always quiet. Usually soft and gentle.
If he sounded more melancholy, more sincere, Godai didn’t catch it. He was wrapped up in his own thoughts, wondering how to make Yotsuya stop whatever weird creepy joke he was playing now, thinking back through his day as an idea sent him digging through his pockets. It was one thing to take chocolate from Kozue—they were technically dating, and now Kyoko had hurt him badly enough that he could pettily justify eating Kozue’s chocolate in spite—when Kozue had insisted on a date he’d specifically deflected her to lunch so he would be free for Kyoko for dinner—but then Yagami had ambushed him on the way home, and thank god at least that no one else had seen her nuzzle up to him and squeal about her forbidden love as she shoved an enormous, home-baked, crisply burnt chocolate into his—
“We’re friends, aren’t we?” Godai huffed irritably, grabbing one of Yotsuya’s hands and plunking Yagami’s chocolate onto it. “So cheer up already.”
Immediately Godai sprang to his feet and found something to do at the other end of the room, willing his flushed face to cool down and for the mood to lighten up. He had a tough enough time deciphering the subtext of other people’s emotions without Mr. Stonefaced Weirdass putting things on hard mode, lolling around on the floor singing sad songs about being alone and killing yourself. Forget it, he’d trade this silence for barbed remarks in an inst—
“Godai-kun…!”
Godai’s head snapped up.
Yotsuya’s cheeks were still red. But now he was squirming like a bashful schoolgirl, holding the chocolate in front of his face—a chocolate which, Godai realized with a sudden lurch of the stomach, was heart-shaped.
“Why, Godai-kun~!” Yotsuya lilted in a high falsetto, rolling onto his back and hugging the chocolate to his chest. “I had no idea you felt this way~!”
“NOW CUT THAT OUT!!” Godai shrieked, launching across the room. But Yotsuya wiggled out of the way, stashing his prized chocolate in his kimono and successfully squirming back into his crawlspace despite the best efforts of Godai’s grasping hands. Godai banged furiously on the wall, shouting, sure that Yotsuya was going straight downstairs to spin wild tales to Mrs. Ichinose and not necessarily realizing that what he was yelling would make just as good gossip material.
But no—a moment later Yotsuya’s head popped back out through the wall, and Godai wasted no time reaching in and hauling the man straight out by the lapels of his kimono.
“I TAKE IT BACK!” Godai bellowed, beet red from the neck to the ears, too heterosexual to do more than a cursory patdown to determine that the incriminating chocolate was no longer in Yotsuya’s kimono to be confiscated. “I DON’T LIKE YOU AT ALL!!!!”
He gave a start.
It was brief—almost instantaneous. One second he had his fists curled around Yotsuya’s kimono, shrieking, both of them kneeling on the floor a solid foot apart. The next second, the kimono was out of his grip and Yotsuya was standing up.
But Godai could swear that, in between, he had felt a tight hug.
“Too late,” was all Yotsuya said. Quietly, impassively, the way he said everything else. But there was something about the way the light glinted off his eyes. “We’re friends. And that’s that.”
—
Later, Kyoko came home with a chocolate for Godai—the exact same flavor, brand, and size as Mitaka’s. The possibly romantic gift was immediately undermined by handing out similar candies to Yotsuya and to Mrs. Ichinose, for delivery to Kentaro and her husband, because it was only polite to treat all the men in your life equally, right?
Akemi came home shortly after, loud and drunk and bitching about men while shoving sake bottles and cups into Godai’s and Yotsuya’s hands for a long night of friendly commiseration.
Yotsuya, of course, showed off Godai’s chocolate to everyone with a tearful tale of Godai’s sordid confession of forbidden love, which alas Yotsuya found himself unable to requite. Possibly to make Godai admit in front of Kyoko where the chocolate had really come from, more likely just to make him sweat regardless of the context.
Nobody particularly noticed, due to the careful and constant orchestration of his face, that Yotsuya was in a much better mood than he’d been in all week.
But he gave Godai a hell of a present on White Day.