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“Shit, I forgot this was still here.”
Rohan blinks. It takes him a second to realize that Josuke’s stopped walking, and by virtue of their hands being interlinked, he’s stopped walking too.
Now that the sun’s dipped below the horizon, it’s cold enough that Rohan’s breath fogs in front of him with every slow exhale he takes. It’s not like he’s underdressed for the weather, with a thick wool sweater under his coat and a warm pair of gloves covering his fingers, but his face is still flushed from the chill. The layers help. So does the wine they had during dinner.
When Rohan looks up, Josuke’s staring off at something in the distance. Even with the streetlights, he still has to squint to make out what exactly caught his attention.
It comes to him in silhouettes. First, a clearing. Then the trees. Then what looks like the skeleton of a house. A rather small house, with an old rope ladder leading to the plastic platform above the sand. With a slide attached to the other side.
“I used to come here all the time when I was a kid,” Josuke murmurs. There’s nobody else on the street, and all the houses around already have their lights out, but he still whispers like someone could hear them. “I didn’t know it was still around. Thought this would have already gotten demolished or something by now.”
Rohan hums. As small and empty as it is, it still seems like a picturesque memory to have. He can only imagine what it looks like to Josuke, if he were to see it in the daylight.
“We can come back sometime, if you want,” Rohan says. His train of thought is briefly interrupted when he catches a glimpse of Josuke’s windbreaker. The nice lined one that Rohan brought to Tokyo to be fitted so that it wouldn’t strangle his broad shoulders. He reaches up to pull the zipper up, then pops the collar so that Josuke’s neck wouldn’t be exposed to the wind. “I wouldn’t mind getting some pictures. You’re going to have to map it out though. I’ve never been here before.”
Josuke furrows his brow together, but he obediently tips his head up to let Rohan smooth his jacket out. “Really? This playground’s been around for years.”
“I’ve never been on a playground before.”
Rohan pats out the slight crease in the denim around Josuke’s chest and steps back. Josuke doesn’t move to follow him though. In fact, he’s stopped looking at the playground entirely.
“What?”
“You never been on a playground,” Josuke repeats. “Ever? Like, at all?”
“No. Why?”
Josuke just stares at him for a while. Long enough to make Rohan shift uneasily. That must catch his attention though, because then, he nods his head over towards the lot.
“Do you want to?”
“It’s almost midnight.”
“And?”
Rohan’s long since lost any sense of shame he might have had about doing socially questionable things in public. In fact, the way Josuke’s pushing is usually what Rohan ends up doing to him if he sees something interesting. He doesn’t know why he’s digging his heels in now.
He glances at the empty climbing structure warily. “There’s no way you’re going to fit on any of that without breaking it.”
“We can just use the swings. You ever been on one before?” Rohan shakes his head. “Then let’s go. Trust me, those things can handle a lot worse than us.”
So Rohan ends up standing in front of the swings.
Josuke plops himself down immediately. The weather-worn chains creak ominously, the flimsy plastic seat curving almost clean in half under his body weight. Rohan eyes the whole thing with a healthy amount of suspicion, because with Josuke involved, he wouldn’t be surprised if the entire structure just crumbled down around them.
But Josuke just beams and pats the swing next to him.
“Come on. I’ll hold it for you.”
Rohan’s not stupid. He knows how to sit on a swing. But theory and application are two very, very different things.
Even with Josuke reaching out to hold one of the chains steady, it’s an awkward process. Rohan ends up grabbing the chains too high, the metal almost freezing to the touch, then digging his boots too far out to be able to comfortably sit down. Shuffling around to readjust becomes a gravity-defying experience what with all the perpetual motion, but eventually, he’s seated.
It’s strange, at first. He doesn’t know how to balance himself properly. He’s not so much swinging with the momentum as he is being dragged along feet first by it.
The toe of his boot drags against the sand, just enough to leave a swirling trail underneath him. He doesn’t know if it’s the pressure, or the give of the sand, or what, but it’s oddly satisfying. He lets himself sway back and forth, watches the sand shift under him like ink bleeding on a page.
He doesn’t know how long he spends drawing circles and figure-eights with his foot, but when he looks up, Josuke is staring at him with a warm, quiet smile.
“Having fun?”
He’ll blame the cold for the way his face flushes at that.
“I can see the appeal.”
Josuke huffs out a laugh. He’s slowed to a lazy sway on his own swing, ankles crossed and elbow hooked around the chain closest to Rohan. “I thought you’d be the kind of kid to like, scale the poles or get into the bushes. Be the scourge of the pediatrics unit and all that. Were you scared of heights or something?”
“No, not particularly. I just never had the chance to do something like this before.”
“Even at school?”
Rohan shakes his head. “I wasn’t a fan of playgrounds to begin with. Or other people.”
“So what, you just sat around and drew instead?”
That’s not incorrect. Rohan scarcely used the playground at his old elementary school, stationing himself at the benches by the gates with his colored pencils and his notebooks instead. It was quieter there, easier to concentrate on his drawings. Much more appealing than the swings, or the monkey bars, or the slides.
But there’s another memory that lingers in the back of his head. His mother walking him home after school even though he was old enough to get back on his own, holding onto his wrist tight enough to turn the tips of his fingers white and hurrying them both past the crowded playground on the way back.
“Something like that. My mother wasn’t that fond of letting me go anywhere but school and home anyways.”
When the silence stretches on just a little too long, Rohan glances over to his side.
“What?”
Josuke jolts. The slight furrow to his brow eases out by sheer surprise. “Huh?”
Rohan takes the opportunity to lean over and flick Josuke’s forehead. “You’re thinking too hard. What is it?”
Josuke winces. One of his hands jump up to protect his forehead from any other cases of unwarranted assault, like Rohan could actually do any damage to him.
“Nothing,” he says. “I mean, I was kind of a loud kid growing up, so I dunno if I’m the right metric for this kind of stuff, but that sounds kinda lonely, you know?”
“Lonely?”
“Yeah. Or, I don’t know. Maybe that’s not the right word.” Josuke kicks his legs out, like the motion could be enough to jumpstart the rest of his brain into action. “ If you were happy with that, then I guess that’s just what worked for you. But if I didn’t get to go out while my mom was working, I don’t think I would’ve turned out the same. I guess running around doing dumb shit with your friends isn’t that important in the big picture, but it helped. I don’t know. Were you lonely?”
Rohan pauses.
There’s a lot of emotions he associates with his childhood. Some of the softer, quieter ones that he can’t quite name linger inside the Sugimoto house. But lonely is a strong word for the strange ambiguity that settled over his development.
The newspapers redacted his name, but word still spread fast. And children can smell blood in the water better any adult ever could. Rohan knew how to play tag and hide-and-seek, but the kids he played with didn’t know how to climb out of a bedroom window, or how to list off the when, where, and who that the police officers would ask over and over again.
It was easier to play by himself. So he didn’t mind when his mother refused to let him join any extracurriculars, or have any play dates at the park, or even when she insisted on meeting all of his teachers individually before the school year started.
Because it didn’t matter if they were teachers or neighbors or parents standing around the playground watching their children. Those adults were strangers first before they were people. And strangers could do anything to kids like Rohan.
Things that kids like Reimi don’t survive.
“I don’t know. If I was, then I didn’t care. I had other things to worry about back then.”
With the way the Josuke purses his lips together, Rohan doesn’t think that was the answer he was hoping for.
So Rohan flicks his forehead again.
Josuke nearly falls off the swings entirely with how he flinches back and yelps. ”What was that for?”
“I’m not four anymore,” he says dryly. “You don’t need to plan my play dates for me. I can do that just fine on my own.”
There’s a red spot that’s beginning to form just underneath Josuke’s widow’s peak, and the way Josuke keeps rubbing at it certainly isn’t going to soothe it any.
“I know,” Josuke mutters. “So I’m bummed out because my boyfriend kinda had a shitty childhood. Sue me.”
Rohan would roll his eyes, but he’s afraid that he might roll his whole head off too with the amount of exasperation he needs to convey.
“You’re about twenty years too late to be worrying about that,” he says instead. “Don’t overthink it. You’ll give yourself an aneurysm using that many brain cells at once.”
“Thanks, honey. Really feeling the love here.”
His tone is dry, but there’s a hint of a smile at the corner of Josuke’s lips. Rohan takes it for a victory.
He finds himself rocking on his heels, matching the slow rhythm of Josuke’s ambling swaying back and forth. “You’re just going to have to fill me in on what I’ve missed. You said you came here when you were younger?”
“Mhm. You know the bus stop around the corner, the one that goes to the station?” Josuke points off somewhere down the road. “That’s what my mom used to take to get to work, before she got a car. It was kinda hard to catch her if she was working late, but when I was real little, my grandpa used to pick me up after school and take me here so we could walk back home with her.”
It took a while before Josuke could even mention his grandfather without going quiet, but something about this spot must have made things a little easier. Now, there’s nothing but a hushed, tender warmth in his voice when he talks about his family.
“I always had a blast, but I was a little dumb back then. I, uh, kinda dragged the other kids around into playing with me. I dunno. I just thought that if we were in the same place at the same time, that meant we were friends.”
Rohan sighs. “I’m glad we didn’t have to grow up together then. I think I would have actually tried to strangle you if you did that to me.”
Josuke barks out a laugh that’s nearly loud enough to set off a car alarm. Rohan slaps at his shoulder to get him to shut up, but Josuke’s already a step ahead of him. He brings a hand up to his mouth to muffle himself, but Rohan can still see a glimpse of his grin through the cracks in his fingers.
“You really think so?” he asks. “I mean, I was a real sweetheart back then. All the parents loved me.”
To prove his point, Josuke presents him with his best don’t mind me, I’m just being friendly smile. Somehow, it manages to make him look like both a cheesy sitcom protagonist and the world’s biggest, dumbest dog.
Rohan reaches out to pinch his cheek, huffing when Josuke’s smile immediately drops into a pout.
“I’m sure they did,” he says. “Did you share all your rice crackers too? Let everyone use the slide before you did?”
Of course, it’s not like Josuke can really answer when Rohan’s tugging at the stubbornly persistent baby fat on his cheek, but it’s funny to watch him try.
“I did, actually,” he mumbles, when he finally twists his face just far enough to escape Rohan’s fingers. “I was the one who pushed everyone on the swings too.”
Rohan quirks a brow up. “That’s a thing?”
“Well, I mean, to me it was. I was always the biggest kid around, so it was just like, my job. I could really get people up there too.”
Rohan would laugh if he couldn’t visualize it so clearly. Because of course Josuke would be the one recruiting new friends on the playground with the kind of aggressive helpfulness that only a child could pull off.
That’s when Josuke lights up.
“Hey, how about I push you?”
Rohan blinks. “Excuse me?”
“We’ve been sitting around, but you didn’t even get to actually swing yet,” Josuke says. “How about it? I can get you some airtime, so you can see what it’s like.”
“Josuke, I’m not going to the ER with a concussion because you launched me off a swingset.”
“I’m not launching you,” Josuke protests. “I’m just giving you a boost. Come on, it’ll be fun.”
Rohan’s first instinct is to say no. His final instinct should also be to say no. Like the adult he is.
But he hesitates.
"Can you actually get that high up?"
Josuke smiles. "How about we find out?"
Josuke only disappears for a few seconds, but not for long. The chains creak above him a second later as Josuke grabs ahold of one and leans over to beam at Rohan.
“I promise I won’t push you too hard.” Josuke bends down to press a firm kiss to his cheek. Despite the fact that the wind has made Rohan’s fingers almost numb with the cold, Josuke’s lips are still warm. “Alright?”
Rohan tightens his grip. "Alright."
Before Rohan can turn his head back around, one of Josuke’s hands gently catch him by the jaw and tip him up for a proper kiss.
If it weren’t for the fact that Rohan can quite literally feel Josuke smiling against his lips, he’d be a lot more vocal about his complaints. He tilts his head up to follow after him, but of course, that’s when Josuke straightens up again, nudging at his hands to get him to hold onto the chains a little tighter. “You got a good grip?”
“I think I’ll live.”
He knows it’s coming, but he still tenses when one of Josuke’s hands brush against his spine and gently push him forward. It’s more of a nudge than anything, not any stronger than what Rohan’s been doing on his own.
“Put your legs into it,” Josuke gripes, too amused to be actually biting. “M’not gonna do all the work for you.”
There’s a retort on the tip of Rohan’s tongue about how Josuke seems to be doing just fine by himself, but it never quite makes its way out. Besides, when he actually does start kicking to get some height, it’s even better.
He can nearly see over the fences of some of the closer houses, make out the dusty bulbs in the streetlights and the bright plastic clothespins hanging from the empty laundry lines. It’s like catching a snapshot from a bird’s-eye lens, just fleeting enough to make him crane his head up for more. There’s a dewy, slightly damp scent to the air that makes it feel almost cleaner the higher he gets, of cold condensation on the grass and heavy clouds dusted with starlight. The wind buffets against his face, makes him narrow his eyes and ruffles the thin flyaways that escaped the confines of his headband. His throat drops into his stomach when he comes back down, but Josuke always reaches out to catch him. Just in case.
It’s exciting, the way falling tends to be. Stimulating.
Fun.
Rohan doesn’t get quite as high up the next time though. Or the time after that. It takes him a moment to realize that it’s because Josuke has stopped pushing him.
He drags his heels along the sand to slow himself down. “Josuke?”
“I’m still here,” Josuke says. He’s wisely stepped to the side to avoid getting caught in the shins by Rohan’s boots. There’s a slight flush to his face, ruddy with the wind, the wine, childlike joy, or some bastardization of all three. “You doing alright? Your grip was getting a bit loose.”
“Mm?” Rohan looks up, then realizes that he has to pick his whole head up to do that. He doesn’t know when he started leaning to the side again. Without the rush of adrenaline, he’s suddenly aware of just how heavy his eyes are. “M’fine.”
Josuke gives him a look that suggests that maybe, just maybe, he might be doubting him.
“We can head back if you wanna go to bed,” he says. “I really didn’t mean to get sidetracked. It’s only gonna get colder anyways.”
Rohan squints at him, his head tipping back on his shoulders in order to adequately study Josuke. It takes a while to interpret what he’s saying. Much longer than would be usual for him.
“You have your keys, don’t you?” Josuke nods. “Then just go back without me. And lock the door. I’ll let myself in later.”
He’s pretty sure that’s what Josuke was trying to hint at, but the slack-jawed look Josuke shoots back at him tells him that he might have missed the mark. Just a little.
“Rohan, it’s like, midnight. I’m not leaving you here by yourself.”
Somehow, Rohan finds the strength to pry his fingers off one of the chains and wave a dismissive hand in Josuke’s general direction. “You’re tired, aren’t you?”
“Not that tired,” Josuke says. He’s still staring at Rohan like he’s started speaking nonsense. “Do you even know how to get back home from here?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
He doesn’t know why he’s being so stubborn. Logically, he knows they can come back later. The playground isn’t going to disappear overnight. Even if they came late again, with nobody around, it’d still be the same.
But the problem isn’t that he can come back later. It’s that he doesn’t want to leave now .
The words have never left his mouth, even when he was younger. He never even had a chance to ask. But somewhere inside of him, there’s a hidden, childish voice that quietly asks for just five more minutes before they have to go home. And for some reason, he listens.
Rohan turns around, lets the squeal of the chains fill up the silence. And the silence lingers. For a moment, he almost wonders if Josuke actually did just up and leave without him.
But then Josuke laughs. His palm lingers in the narrow divot between Rohan’s shoulders, warm and heavy.
“I think I can stick around a bit longer. Come on, honey. Let’s get you up there.”
At that point, Rohan really does lose track of time. Josuke pushes him, nice and easy, with just enough force to make him tighten his grip on the chains on the way back down. It definitely wakes Rohan up, shakes off the hidden inhibitions he might have held from the start of the night.
At some point, someone else starts laughing too. It takes Rohan a while to realize that it’s him.
By the time he actually does start burning that sudden burst of energy out, the exhaustion weighs tenfold on him. He’s not so much swinging as he is being pulled along by the lingering momentum, long after Josuke stops pushing him. Pins and needles run up his calves, one of his boots came unlaced, and his whole spine aches from being seated for so long, but Rohan’s still breathless and happy in a way he doesn’t think he’s ever felt before.
Josuke reaches above him to grab one of the chains and gently ease him to a halt, not so violently that he’d lose his balance or fall off entirely. “You ready to head back now?”
“Yeah,” Rohan mutters. “Just give me a minute.”
A minute passes. Then two. Rohan is still sitting down.
Josuke huffs out a laugh. He doesn’t seem all that irked by the constant delays in Rohan’s schedule tonight.
“Alright. Get up.”
Before Rohan can argue, Josuke is making his way around the swingset and crouching down in front of him. There’s a long moment where he stays there, completely still. He glances over his shoulder and does something exceptionally stupid with his fingers.
“What are you doing?”
“What’s it look like I’m doing?” Josuke replies. “We’re not that far. Come on. I’ll carry you back.”
He does the thing with his fingers again. It takes Rohan a second to figure out that it’s some twisted, backwards come-hither gesture that looks like it should break his wrist at the angle he’s trying to do it at.
“I can walk, you know.”
“Look, I love you, and I’m glad you had fun, but if we both have to wait around until you decide you feel like getting up, we’re going to be here all night."
Normally, Rohan would have bitten Josuke’s hand clean off for even suggesting that. Because it’s wrong, first of all, and the last thing he needs is one of their neighbors spotting Josuke toting him around like a literal child.
But it’s late. And cold. Nobody’s out by now, and the bed does sound awfully promising the longer he thinks about it.
Josuke certainly doesn’t have any trouble hefting him up either once Rohan clambers onto his back.
The slow rhythm of Josuke’s gait matches his pulse, strong and steady, enough to lull him a little closer to unconsciousness. The earthy scent of his cologne lingers on the curve of his neck, tucked right against the crook of Rohan's elbows. His legs swing loosely in the air, the heels of his boots knocking into Josuke’s hips every so often. It’s a little like being on the swings. But this time, he can lean down to press his forehead against the rough denim of his windbreaker and close his eyes.
It’s easy enough from there to tilt his head to the side and press a kiss to sharp curve of Josuke’s jaw.
“Thank you,” he murmurs.
Josuke hefts him up a little higher, squeezes his thighs just enough for an answer.
“You’re welcome, honey.”
When Rohan closes his eyes again, he doesn’t fight it this time. Josuke has his directions, and his keys, and Rohan himself. He can handle a little dead weight for now too.