Chapter Text
April 20th, 2015.
The boy appeared normal at least—green beanies, a pair of glasses (Ray-ban, most likely), and never-ending fixation on his—sketchbook again? He was wearing a yellow coat, fully buttoned up especially to shield the neck area, a pair of black jeans, and maroon-red Dr. Martens. All in all, he looked every bit like those popular hipsters from Tumblr. Albeit a slightly better looking one.
It was not infrequent in the slightest bit, to catch some of the students dressed that way. Not at all. The hipster fashion industries were sought-after and ostensibly cool in this 21st century, apparently, for God knows what reason. To him, beards and plaid shirts were far than interesting. Much less their fixation upon indie songs, not that he was judging of course, but so many tweens nowadays just jumped on the popular bandwagon without much thought that it made him sick. Have some originality, at least. Okay—maybe he was judging a little bit.
Nakajima went back to focus on the other guy sitting in the bench, noticing how he was almost always with his book, sketchbook, whatever, sans any music player or mobile devices in hand, as if his social life was conceivably non-fucking-existent. Knowing how he was most likely anti-social (which delighted Nakajima to an almost impossible level), Nakajima felt an undeniable pull to know more about the guy. Nakajima stroked his non-existent beard over his contemplation as he pondered upon this. Yes, ‘The Hipster Guy’ fascinated Nakajima, even since the guy’s first day at school a few weeks ago. Too bad they were not in the same class, not even the same grade.
Nakajima Yuto. 16 years old (about to turn 17 and he was extremely excited), was not the brightest in class, but his motto was to at least not be the ‘last’, and he stood by this principle and had so far kept him safe and sound from any public (or acquaintances) scrutiny. He, in every bit of way—loathed attention. He sought serenity and quietude, avoided being in the midst of any ‘group’ like a dirty, disgusting plague.
So, it should have made sense that he was in the backyard of the school, sitting down on the turf with earphones attached to his ears although were not particularly connected to his iPod. After all, it was indeed the safest area to be in without getting ogled by nosey short-skirts. And by that he meant the shallow chicks that were popular for whatever reason. But back to the Hipster dude.
He may or may not have been following the ‘Hipster Guy’ for almost a week now, and that got him absolutely no-fucking-where. Look, he was desperate, okay? The guy looked so mysterious and it wasn’t even the ‘cool’ kind of mysterious, but rather—the ‘secret’ kind of mysterious. The kind that made Bermuda Triangle looked like a big fat joke. He desired nothing more but to approach the guy, ripped the sketchbook off him, (politely apologise), then, finally—enquired whether his eyes were as hazel-coloured as his dream projected.
And so...he did. And what he got was much more than he could have ever, ever thought.
April 9th, 2015
Yamada Ryosuke, he tested the name on his tongue and came to a decision that he would never get used to it, the name sounded weird. No matter though, he had to make a good first impression, and good first impressions were good. Since he could not afford to move anymore, he had come to a decision that this would be the last, and this resolution was genuine.
Eyeing himself in the mirror, he deemed it necessary to put on his favourite deep sea-blue beanie that he loved so much for his first day at school. He had quite a few, somehow the amount of beanie he had had multiplied, then quadrupled, starting from one favourite burgundy-coloured beanie. But this federal blue-coloured one was special. Good luck beanie, as he would call it.
After a series of checking his teeth whether there were leftovers from his breakfast that stuck in-between his teeth, and finding none, he nodded to himself in reassurance, put on his brand-less glasses, and marched to the entrance/exit of his one-bedroom apartment with reinforced confidence.
Only when he was halfway through the school that he remembered to bring his broken iPod Classic to fix at the Apple store, but going back home and then school would to be too taxing and he would be late then. After all it was his first day at school. He had gone through this for multiple times in his head. First there would be excitement, and then dulled excitement, curiousity, dulled interest, and finally, bored. So far there had not been any other school which students had displayed other outcome, so fingers crossed this would be the same.
In case you had not already noticed, Yamada made a huge amount of effort to avoid attention towards the point where he simply hated it. He had had enough attention to last him a lifetime. Although, it was more like, his attention towards other people. But anyway it’s—complicated.
Finally reaching towards the gate, he let out a deep sigh he had been keeping in. This was it. My final destination.
-
April 20th 2015
“Uh, hi there. Mind if I sit next to you?”
Nakajima shook off his nervousness as the hipster guy scooted over to the right side (Get it together, man!), making room for Nakajima’s apparently huge ass to sit. He sat, as he was supposed to, counting down to 5 Mississippis before opening his mouth to utter some creative question, but was made silent thanks to the spoilsport Hipguy who whipped out a sketchbook out-of-nowhere and began—more like continued, whatever people usually did to a sketchbook. Nakajima himself chose to tone down his excitement to a minimum, attempting to come up with plans to make conversations with Hipguy.
As if his mind was read, Hipguy chuckled to his own sketch, and Nakajima took a daring glance at his perfectly sculpted face for a brief second. Hipguy appeared engrossed in his sketchbook, and provided no elaboration on his sense of humour. Nakajima huffed, his hand reaching his music player, deciding that it was more safe to turn up the volume of his iPod. This was progress though, right?
Not only when he was settled and cozy, body leant back on the bench and made himself comfortable that Nakajima felt it, a subtle touch of a hand on his clothed shoulder and his eyes snapped open, ready to confront whoever dared to touch him before—a very good-looking, brown-coloured orbs, teasing smile, and—oh my God, was he smiling at me? Out of all the celebrities in the world, this perfect angel chose to smile at such a peasant?
Nakajima grew sheepish; his hand tugged his earphones out from both of his ears and dumped them unceremoniously to his bagpack. “E—Eheh, Yes, how may I help you?”
Now he was just straight-up costumer service.
“Your fly is open.” He pointed out.
Yes. Oh, yes. His voice was like honey poured over starving bees. So beautiful. But—? “Fly?”
Hipguy pointed to his private area, his very—revealing crotch area, now presented with a pair of Avengers boxers, Black Widow was very much displayed in public. Nakajima yelped, panic-stricken and just downright terrified. He zipped it up, before making sure nothing else was out of order and decided to laugh it off, despite a whirling vortex of embarrassment threatening to swallow him whole.
Hipguy appeared way too satisfied and amused, for whatever reason that was. And for a moment, Nakajima forgot his self-consciousness as he realised that he had not seen this expression on Hipguy just yet. It suited him more than he thought.
But man, that first impression was ace, right?
April 22nd, 2015.
Nakajima finally found out. His name, that is. And such a sweet name that was.
Yamada Ryosuke.
Yama-chan? Ryo-chan? Nakajima had yet to fantasise what he would call his soon-to-be beau, but whatever it was, it was going to be abso-fucking-lutely awesome, pun intended.
Coming back to the scene at the library, it almost felt like an over-dramatic romance movie cliché, well, judging from Yamada basically being so preoccupied yet again with books around him and Nakajima was just, staring—at his boyfr—hold that thought. He ain’t gay. Nuh-uh. This was just, modern-style admiration. So, no homo. Although, slight bromance could happen.
He was sitting sweetly in the corner with piles of books that seemingly had swallowed his head, Nakajima finally settled down several tables away. He was a professional stalker, so he had to think and behave as such. Safe distance was good, so Nakajima buried himself in a random book he had taken from the shelf. He did not particularly pay attention to the chosen book as he was too obsessed with examining Yama-chan’s each and every behaviour, but who cared. Certainly nobody, except the librarian apparently, who was giving Nakajima creepy looks.
This time, it was Nakajima who could not take it. How much time would Yama-chan finish all those damn books anyway? It was not possible for any human being to be able to keep their mind focused on one single thing for, for—two hours!
He approached, albeit warily, and all he received was a slight stare on the eyes, before even those were buried along the rest of—were those supernatural books? So he was into that kind, huh?
“Nice, umm—” Nakajima started. “Nice paranormal books! Do you uh, do you believe in it?”
“Believe in what?”
Jesus, he could only imagine what his bedroom-voice would sound like.
Wait a minute.
“Ghost-y stuff? You know? Can I?” Nakajima referred to a seat nearby his—his, his Yamada. When he received only a blank stare.
“I don’t know, can you?” Yamada was a sarcastic brat, wasn’t he?
Nakajima feigned a laughter that didn’t quite reach his face, dragging a chair to sit on. He was such a scaredy-cat at this. “So, the ghost thingy? Do you believe in it?”
“Maybe.” There was something glinting on those pair of eyes that Nakajima didn’t quite catch. “But it could just be bullocks. I’m just in for the entertainment.”
Nakajima nodded, almost enthusiastically. “Yes! Entertainment is good! Really good. It’s very, um, entertaining after all. So uh—” Can we hang out more often and maybe you could come by to my place this eve? “Do you watch Supernatural?”
“What?”
“Supernatural, the series. You know, Dean and Castiel?” Or Destiel for short, his fanboy-self added non-verbally. When all he received was a confused gaze, he reconfirmed. “No?”
He tried again. “So what kind of paranormal stuff are you into? Maybe, like big foot? Poltergeist? The Conjuring stuff? Exorcism?”
“I don’t watch TV.” Yamada replied with a non-committal shrug.
“Oh, right.” So his suspicion was correct, Yamada was a noob at modern lifestyle. “Okay then, so whatcha’ reading here? Oooh, Sightings?” Nakajima peered over the title of the book.
Yamada nodded, a little joy seeped into his features. “Yes, I finished reading that one, but I need it again for—” He paused thoughtfully. “—reconfirmation.”
“Reconfirmation.” Nakajima thought out loud. “I see.”
“Would you like to read this book with me?” Yamada held up a book titled ‘Supernatural Power Transformed Mind’. Nakajima nodded happily, swiftly dragging his chair near the other as Yamada laid down the book in the table.
This was a start of a great friendship.
May 5th, 2015.
It was almost Yamada’s birthday.
Nakajima had devised a birthday surprise, and it was going to be majestic, he could feel it. There would be no one but them, and it was going to be romantic, but also in a fun way. So funmantic, as Nakajima called it.
Tying up balloons onto the ceiling fan of his room, he only needed to wrap up his birthday present. The one present he had a hard time choosing. The brunet had consumed so much time looking for it, originally he even had thought of purchasing online for easier—well, easier everything, from cost to effort. But it would not be as genuine as handpicked objects after all, so he went out his way for a journey to find that one perfect gift for his best friend.
He called Yamada for a birthday dinner, and he had said yes, and nothing else. Nakajima was so giddy with excitement he felt his face reddening.
A knock on the door brought him out of his stupor, and he ran to get the door. Really, having the house to himself on Yamada’s birthday was too good to be a coincidence. His parents had to go for a business trip for several days, so he had jumped in headfirst to ask Yamada to have the birthday dinner at his house. First he got a raised eyebrow, he probably sounded like an outright perv after all, but then he said a hesitant yes.
“I hope I’m not late.” Yamada said when Nakajima kindly opened the door wide enough for him to enter.
“Not at all!” Nakajima replied happily, closing the door like the polite, well-mannered gentleman that he was.
Yamada took off his coat and hung it at the coat hanger, and Nakajima saw that Yamada did not even bother to wear nice clothes, despite him asking the latter to do so. The taller man sighed wearily, but all was not lost, because—well, he was here, wasn’t he? And that was all that mattered.
“Let’s go up to my room!” Nakajima offered, taking the red wine as he went along the stairs, Yamada gingerly trailing behind him.
He opened the door, turned on the lights, then, “Surprise!”
Nakajima added some confettis into the mix only to realise he did not have the people to throw them. So he took one and aimed for Yamada’s dumb-struck face. Bull’s eye!
“Happy 17th Birthday, Yama-chan!”
There was still no response whatsoever, and the taller man grew confused and slightly wary. Was he not into surprises? Maybe he did not like the idea of confettis being thrown at him? Oh no.
“You're hungry? I mean, I know I said birthday dinner, and I did bring some takeaways from my favourite Italian, but if you wanna eat now, we can—”
“That's not—” Yamada started, shaking his head. “This is too much. You didn’t have to—”
Nakajima did not hesitate.“Of course I do! You’re my best friend!”
Yamada blinked bemusedly. “I am?”
“Of coooourse you are!” Nakajima dragged Yamada further into the room, closing the door and pointed at the huge banner dangling from the ceiling. “Look at the handprints, those were my hands! And the balloons? Well, it was supposed to be the floating thingies, you know, the ones that fly, but I couldn’t get them. Of course I didn’t really need ‘em since I was going to put everything in my room, but also they are sooo expensive. But these balloons are pretty! They—uh, what are they called? Pastel? Pastel-coloured? I did all of these because I want to create the best birthday surprise! Sure it's not extravagant but it's the thought that counts, right?”
When Nakajima looked at him, he was already covering his eyes with his hands like a child, rubbing frantically at the dropping liquids from his eyes. Nakajima went towards him with two long strides. “Hey, hey, hey! What’s wrong? I can take them down if you want—”
Yamada moved his head from side to side to say no, and Nakajima pulled him to an awkward hug. His first hug, with his best friend. How exciting this was!
Although, it was still awkward. He did not know where he should rest his arms at, around Yamada’s upper arms? Neck? Head? Under the pit? He resorted eventually to the neck due to the height difference and comfort, and he may or may not chose it so that he could situate his head on top of the latter’s, inhaling the natural sweet scent of the other.
“Thank you. Thank you.” Yamada kept uttering in-between hiccups.
They knew then, that this was a start of something more.
More than just two friends who only had each other.
August 10th, 2015.
Nakajima was, simply to say—gay.
Not the guy-on-guy kind, the happy kind. Or try so so so so, happy.
He was a simple man. Although picky (Yes, the irony was lost on him), because Razer Blade was clearly inferior to the freaking almighty Alienware! Sure it was a bit bulky, but who the hell cared, he was so strong he could make this thing felt like holding a piece of dust. He could already imagine himself pulling all-nighters for WoW or DOTA, or perhaps binge-game Dark Souls 1 and 2. Oh, all of the things he could do! All was made possible for it was his birthday and his mum and dad went their way out of their offices just to celebrate together in a shitty ramen stand they had not the pleasure to eat at, only to tell him he would get a new laptop. Sweet!
He scribbled down the note of the desired laptop specifics to his mum, because obviously his dad was not trustworthy enough to be given information of such great significance. It was not surprising or anything, from long ago Nakajima’s mum had acted as the only member in the family Nakajima had trusted his beloved Tama-chan the Tamagochi with. Poor broken Tama-chan, he must be lonely somewhere in the dusty corner of Nakajima’s room.
Hugging both of them so tightly he was briefly scared of breaking their spine, before retreating to his chair and resumed eating the now-cold shoyu ramen.
After splitting with the busy couple, Nakajima went ahead and utilised his extra free time outside by taking a detour home. Maybe he could use some vanilla ice cream on a day like this, it was scorching hot anyways.
Apparently the ice cream guy was out of vanilla, and so he was forced to choose the second-best choice, as grudging that sounded for Nakajima. He only chose the best of the best, even in the case of ice creams. No matter, he guessed he could order some mint with chocolate chips and be on his way. Heck, any ice cream sounded fantastic at this moment.
He was merrily swallowing the melting ice cream like some kind of dog when a figure cast a shadow upon him. Instinctively he looked up, to find his beloved Yama-chan! He seemed too red, too sweaty, and out of breath.
“I've been, looking for you.” He said in-between pants.
Nakajima looked dumb-struck with his melting mint ice cream in hand before he regained composure slightly. “Uh, hi?” He offered.
“Dumbass.” Yamada’s insults were almost fond, and this was no exception. Nakajima welcomed his presence and proceeded to throw his what was left of his ice cream to the bin beside the bench.
“Here.” A pack of tissues were shoved into his free and clean hand, Nakajima's face lit up and uttered thanks before fixing himself up.
It had been, what, four months?That he got to know Yamada Ryosuke close and personal. They had developed a peculiar friendship, albeit a friendship nonetheless. Nakajima joked around with him every now and then, while Yamada countering his jokes only when they sucked, which meant all the time. Nakajima swore Yamada was like a real-life Uchiha Sasuke, only better, definitely better-looking, wittier, smarter, cuter, all those equivalents.
“Did you get me presents?” Nakajima asked, his hands now free of ice-cream liquid left-overs, he only felt slight stickiness upon his right hand. “Yay!” He exclaimed childishly as Yamada thrust some kind of package towards his torso.
With unsuppressed eagerness Nakajima’s hand trailed a finger over the cute bow over the top of the package, and he pulled it to untie the bow. “Cute blue bow.”
“It’s turquoise-coloured.”
The taller man said nothing, and after more ruffling the next seconds he pulled out his present. Boy oh boy, it was so beautiful for a moment he was rendered speechless. “This is—oh, wow.” Well, he tried.
Yamada looked embarrassed, but kept it together to maintain his ignorance. “It’s nothing.”
“No, really, Yama-chan, this is beautiful.”
Nakajima felt the turquou—turqose? Turquoise-coloured crystal upon his palm, felt the weight, texture of the stone. He was—to put it simply, overwhelmed with various emotions, none of them negative—he could feel that the thoughts given to choose this particular object was tremendously deep.
“The turquoise crystal has always been one of my favourites,” Yamada explained. “It provided—,” Yamada paused, seemingly embarrassed at the next information. “Strength, and protection from any harm. As well as, a token of friendship.”
When Nakajima did not respond, he had expected some kind of, rejection? Although it would not be possible from such a kind-hearted soul. However Yamada spluttered when a familiar hug was given to him, more like an embrace, perhaps? As the other guy did not seem keen on letting go. Thank you thank you thank you.
Finally, with a contented sigh, Yamada returned the embrace, deciding to ignore the electric jolt as he felt a slight brush of lips upon the side of his neck.