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Nanba was out of his element. Just a little bit.
There he stood, cloaked within his own beach towel, shrouding his shoulders in a reluctant anticipation as to what was to come. The Hawaiian beaches were something he was particularly fond of (given he hadn’t the chance to experience them in the past - though he never lamented it. Nanba had not regretted the role in which he played with Kiryu, regardless of the adventure they had went on - the role of a nurse is to care, is it not?). Yet, there was something gnawing at him.
“Ichiban,” he says, and Ichiban’s gaze fixes itself from boogie board to friend. “That’s not enough sunscreen.”
“Huh? That so…” Ichiban divots his heel into the sand, kicking it across the ground. The sun had begun to set and the tourists found themselves dispersing, so it was the most optimal time to catch the last breath of waves wrought from the ocean. They were hardly anything fierce, and for beginners, wasn’t that the best wave to catch? “Well, we’ll just have to be quick about it! C’mon, Nanba, you’ve hardly stepped a foot into the water.”
(Tomizawa had looked at him particularly shocked a few months prior when Ichiban had, point-blank, stated that a surfboard can’t be any harder than a dolphin and he’s gonna give it a shot the moment he can! Perhaps he can attribute the usage of a boogie board to Tomizawa, rather than his own cautions.)
“Look, Nanba. The suns going down. We gotta be quick about it. Just two waves,” and there was that distinct pleading to his tone in which Nanba so boldly claimed did not work on him. (It worked, frequently, after he goes through the motions of his disagreements). “You and me! Y’think we’d be more confident to try if Joongi was there to catch a gazillion waves without breaking a sweat?”
Joongi was flawless. Of course he was. Yeonsu, however, was not - but Ichiban knew that public equated Joongi and not Yeonsu. So they had to be at least able to not knock a few teeth out when they were all together once more.
“Heh, nope,” And at that, Ichiban extended his hand for Nanba to take. “Just you n’ me.”
Nanba gave him a look. The look. Ichiban relented, for his sake. “Alright,” Ichiban says. “Just one wave. Please?”
There was a dislike of the beach and then there was Nanba, who was that emotion but amplified. Slimy seaweed, urine from others, garbage that floated about. The sheer thought of it makes him desire to coil up within himself and simply not. His skin had already begun to prickle with sunburn despite not being within the suns immediate ‘kill shot’
Despite the impasse, they had come to an agreement. Nanba, slowly shrugging the towel to the ground, presented him with both a sigh and a nod. The two had known each other for some time now, and it was undeniable that Ichiban’s relentless excitement in all matters of exploration came as both a blessing and a curse. “You gotta be careful of the sea urchins. That’s uh… why you need me,” Ichiban adds. “Got one up my foot one time. Had to pick it out with tweezers - but the pharmacies here overcharge like crazy if it’s by the beach! Tourists traps, y’know?”
Nanba’s body, and Ichiban’s body, were quite different. Where Ichiban was harder, more toned, Nanba was undeniably softer. There was a pudge to his stomach that rested atop his boardshorts elastic, his torso flocked with dark hair from breast to below the belt. Instances of scratches and wounds had rendered sections of it hairless from scar tissue alone, the pasty whites of previous injuries a clean cut and dry mark against himself.
Sometimes, Nanba could have sworn he saw Ichiban inspecting it. Just from the corner of his eye, quietly, as if he were mapping out every inch of himself ever since their rendezvous overseas had begun. Prior to this, neither had seen each other in any form of nudity beyond the time Nanba was digging into bullet holes and scraping away congealed blood splattered against Ichiban’s chest with what limited medical supplies he did have. But now they were simply… two friends, on the beach.
(Friends inspected each others body, didn’t they? Like a routine examination.)
(Nanba scoffs and perishes the thought. No, that wasn’t what friends did - inexperienced in romance as he was, he had read enough magazines to know that’s not exactly how it works. Ichiban was simply an observant person.)
Nanba takes his hand, palm to palm. In the past, perhaps he’d have refused or simply used the barest tips of his fingers. Scarce was Nanba to trust ever-so-freely, and even scarcer was he to allow skin-to-skin. Nonetheless, he abided.
Yet, Ichiban did not. He’s shocked, almost, and it’s entirely unlike him. For a second it reminds Nanba of the sheer awkwardness he had, taking Adachi’s horrendous love advice in comparison to his clearly superior tact.
“…Alright, deep breaths. The waters not gonna be that cold, right?” Nanba asks, and Ichiban is pulled from his thoughts with a fast nod.
It was, indeed, that cold to someone who has not stepped foot in it. The afternoon clouds had engulfed the sunlight, and consequently, the warmth dissipated. It chills him to the bone, his teeth clattering in his mouth and the chill snaking up his body. Regardless, Nanba proceeded - yet, instinctively gripping onto Ichiban’s hand a touch harder than before.
(It seemed ridiculous to need to hold a hand to avoid sea urchins, but Ichiban had been here longer than Nanba had. He had been to these beaches plenty of times, apparently rode the dolphins, and got into a tourist trap. He seemingly was unscathed by the horrors of sunburn, and Nanba finds himself needing to keep an eye on a mole or two - but…)
(It was also endearing to humor Ichiban. Drunken nights aside, Ichiban’s touch was foreign to Nanba when not mending a wound or several. Bring sake into the equation and they may just find themselves entangled in one another, drooling and warm and all things comfortable in a mess of limbs and hair, but it was sake. Of course, Nanba relented and pretended to sleep longer than he truly had, which persisted for some time until Saeko point-blank told him, ‘you’re not good at faking your snores’.)
(Then, Nanba actually did fall asleep for longer. Just to prove a point. Competitive sleeping is a game he intends to win.)
Ichiban lowers the board when the water reaches waist-height, the ocean gently lapping at them both. When Nanba really thinks about it, there’s the instinctive urge to ask how much a rental costed. Nonetheless, Ichiban lowers himself ever so slightly, chest against board. With a motion of his hand, he seems to be doing baby-paddles. Curled hair matted to his face and wet sand kissing his jawline, Ichiban has a penchant of absorbing all that he can of the world around him, wherever he goes.
“You just gotta lean against it, and when you feel a wave, you kick off with your feet!” He does the motion, spraying water into the air before pushing his feet back under with a resounding thud. Skin, flatly hit against surface tension, and Ichiban winces slightly. He’s quick to replace it with a slight smile, albeit nervous for whatever reason, granting Nanba an expectant look. “And wherever it takes you is where it goes. Not much control in it!”
Alright. Seems simple enough. Nanba settles himself against board and— a wave knocks him, a wet slap as he finds himself slipping from his board. He mutters a curse under his breath, or two, before adjusting himself again. The pressure against his chest is somewhat uncomfortable. He feels sticky, and sandy, and has no beer in his hand that a typical holiday must have, and thus, something was wrong. The fact his blood alcohol sat at zero was a sin.
Nonetheless, Ichiban steadies a hand against Nanbas back.
“Careful!” Ichiban quips. “Don’t want you to, uh… float off back home.”
…
“Heh.”
Ichiban laughs at his own joke, but it seems a touch forced.
“Phew! Well, let’s get to it!” Comes Ichiban again, his voice loud as if to extinguish itself of any concerns. For a moment does he dunk his head beneath the water, flicking it backwards with a shake of his face. Psyching himself up for the clearly fearsome endeavor that was boogie boarding, wasn’t it? Well… “…Um, actually. Hey. Can we wait a sec?”
Their boards gently knocked into one another, and Nanba had come to find the erratic rhythm of the ocean to be quite soothing. “You worried I’m gonna drown?” is the first thing that comes out of Nanba’s mouth. “…No, yeah. Go on.” Is the second thing.
“Alright… right, Nanba. No. Shit, this is a bit tough to explain. Yu, I should’ve called you Yu,” Ichiban seems to be counting on his fingers a moment, as if to recall some form of mental notes. “Let me start again. Nanba, can we wait a sec?”
Oh, they’re repeating the motions.
“Ichiban. Whatever it is… I’m sure it’s gonna be alright,” Nanba gives him a nod. Clearly, something had been eating at him, and it wasn’t going to get a dry response in turn. Though Nanba is not a man of words, there came a line to tread of dismissiveness when necessary and blatant cruelty. When the ‘gang’ (as Ichiban would affectionately title it) was seemingly in distress, it was best to not rub salt in the wound. Even though Ichiban had likely gotten ‘all up in his head’, so to speak.
Crash!
The waves were an unwanted interruption. Pushing them was fine, but to barrel into them the way in which it did, totally off-guard? It reminded Nanba of his staunch dislike of the ocean - which never really left him, but were certainly numbed in his mind if only for a little while. As soon as the seafoam dispersed, Nanba does what he has been wanting to - and that is to get out of the water. Head whips backwards and he spies Ichiban, whose boogie board had found itself wedged into the wet and grime, seaweed climbing across his face and his body tinted a budding angry red.
Sunburn.
Ichiban laughs - of course he does. It’s hearty, from the depths of his chest, the way how he looks up towards Nanba and crawls to his feet. It takes him only a moment to fumble his way back to shore, careful in his footing so to not cause any unseemingly, early end for those crustaceans he loved so much.
“Looks like,” Ichiban coughs and sputters, pulling his hand across his mouth quickly to quell it a moment. “Looks like you need, uh, looks like you inhaled a bit of water, Nanba!”
Nanba stands, and shakes his head. “Nope. Just fine, actually,” he says, inspecting himself for any signs of sunburn. Thankfully, none. “Told you you’d get a sunburn.”
“…C’mon, man. Adachi said this would be easier and you’re making it tough,” Ichiban sighs. “Just… go along with it. Please? Pretty please?”
Nanba raises an eyebrow, and waits expectantly. Ichiban seems relieved at that.
“So, I better… give you mouth to mouth, right?” Ichiban cannot help but laugh, airy and wheezy, as if any former anxiety had begun to bubble up anew.
“Ichiban,” Nanba stares a moment, and honestly, he recalls all those nights in one anothers arms. Of course, riddled with alcohol, hangovers and more, but nonetheless - someone had told him once drunken actions were sincerity without being held back by worries. “…What did I say about following Adachi’s advice on this stuff?”
Nanba sighs. Ichiban scratches behind his head almost dismissively. “Hey, c’mon, he has some good ideas!” Ichiban says. “So, uh. Did it work on you?”
“If you want,” Ichiban continues. “We can… I dunno, pretend we’re a few soju deep?”
“How about you try this again as Ichiban and not Adachi?” Nanba smiles, lightly. Gently. There was something about Ichiban that soothed just about anyone. It came with his acts of heroism - not self-proclaimed but genuine. It struck him as odd, that a man who has toppled corrupted governors and cults alike had seemingly struck himself a critical weakness in the romance department. It wasn’t like Nanba was hardly any better - really, they had spent the last few Valentines together watching old movies on the television.
Ichiban halts, and extends his hand for Nanba to take.
“Yeah,” he says. “I think you’ve got a point there.”
Brows furrow at the burn momentarily, and there’s a tidbit of hesitation in Nanba. To take his hand as it was would change things. Of course, Nanba knew this is what he wanted. Truly and sincerely. The heat that blossomed on his cheeks was not from the distant sun alone, nor was it from any sort of physical exertion. There is uncertainty - and Nanba isn’t the fondest of such a thing… but there was no use in waiting anymore.
At that, Nanba takes his hand. Sweat-ridden, sandy and burnt, rough and ever so slightly cut up with the dregs of the ocean floor - but it was his hand against his.
“Pah… acting like I don’t usually,” Nanba responds, humorous, and his hand tenses. It takes the gentle rubbing of Ichiban’s thumb against his for him to relax it a moment, and yet the both of them could still feed off of the others anxieties. “Where to now?”
“There’s a frozen ice place I gotta take you!” Ichiban smiles. “And then, I’ll show you all these latest Sujimon I’ve found!”
At that, Ichiban gently tugs on Nanba’s hand - leading him in the direction. And for now, the only mission they had to face was simply avoiding a brainfreeze.