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Choosing to go through some alleyway behind old buildings was never a good idea, especially accompanied with other already drunk people. Sota was the only somewhat sober person in their friend group that night, attempting to guide them to their next destination.
But a friend of his friend had confidently said they knew a faster way to a bar, in the deeper parts of Tokyo. Where people would cram into a small booth, get a whiff of the smell of cigarettes off of others and the bartender was a bit meaner, less patient.
There were too many bars to count in the big city that lies northwest of the Tokyo Bay. It expanded so far, there wouldn't be enough time in the day to explore the enormous and dense city. And there he was unwilling at this point, following someone he didn't know well. Sota was new to the city, deciding to move to the ever growing sky rises, gleaming building lights and fast pace city people that never stop moving.
Sota was already in his head, thinking this over.
The decision to rent an apartment just outside of the expensive city, a less populated area but still close where he could take the subway, or train to get to his classes. His mornings were always busy, taking long walks across the university just to get to a class and some of his afternoons were working at a convenient store, part-time.
Most of his evenings, Sota took the subway to the other side of the city for his dance classes. Partaking in giving classes to younger kids when he had the time or picking up a shift when another instructor had taken the day off. His ever growing passion for dance, didn't come one day to him, it was from the people surrounding him.
Watching his mother teach others, professionally and on the side. Being taken along to late night classes when he didn't have school the next day, observing how every dancer moved their bodies, how they struggled. In time their hard work paid off, by the sweat on their backs and aching legs, see how they took their last breath.
Sit himself in front of the tv and take in the popular music video and music that came out at such a young age for him. Sota saw himself in them, saw someone he could be, that could show everyone what he could be capable of.
The raw talent came from the passion he had, the long night of practicing a single move over and over again. Replaying songs that let his body flow, until his shirt was soaked in his sweat and he did the choreograph all over, until he had it perfectly down.
It grew and grew, that at one point he knew that he had to take it somewhere else. Where everyone could be amazed and gaze upon the details of how every muscle in his body moved to the beats of a song, sending it out and back in, those seconds become minutes.
The days became months and then he was packing to leave for the big city.
But everyone starts a little unsteady, getting their foot through the door. In a big industry that wanted good dancers, instructors, mentors, talent that was unique from everyone. Someone or at times a group of people that stood out, that could shine big bright light onto them, on a too big stage where all eyes were on them. See every mistake being made and every win that was taken, be judged on stage without tears at times.
Sota knew everything that came with it, when someone wanted to be the best of the best. Whether it be alone or not, he was going to make it. Let it take months or years, he was going to try and try, until he could no longer.
In between that were his slow days, where he had to sit with himself. Watch from his seat on the train, let the hours pass, let the mundane tasks of life take from him. Sit by himself in those crowded cafes and work on his homework, essays. Look over dance classes on his laptop and fix any mistakes from other dancers, pick up food when he was too busy to cook a meal.
Forgetting that he had laundry to do and have to do it late Sunday nights, whilst he washes all his dirty dishes and makes a quick late snack. Most of the time Sota pulled out sticky cold rice and made fried eggs with pickled cucumbers on the side, turn on his tv for background noise and accidentally fall asleep on the floor of his small living room.
There was no one to impress in his busy life, lonely at times.
He would call back home, ask his mother how she's doing, how his father is and if his sister is still giving dance classes in that small studio back in their hometown. And his mother would send him pictures of their family dogs, the good food she cooked and the evening sea.
Sota had made friends easily, he was rather a chatty person. Someone that got along well with others, no problems being friendly to strangers. People took to him easily, always telling him how talented he is, how anyone would be lucky to have him in their dance studio or company. The list of companies and labels in search of talented people like him.
How recruiters and labels posted for anyone young, willing and driven to take on the work. Be put on stage and moved around without protest, be bent and broken to their liking. Until the talent was no longer theirs and that their name be taken to make a profit. Stand there and be told what to do and how to do it, however long it took.
Every way Sota turned he felt he was trapped with a contract that felt false, stoned in to never be given true freedom.
So he practiced and practiced, let his body do the talking and keep his feelings close to him.
There he was, a random Friday night. Out with some friends he made in Tokyo, when the last of his classes ended and there was text from one of them to meet at a bar later that day. He was someone who would always say yes to a drink or two, let the alcohol run through his body. Let the ongoing thoughts be forgotten for some moments and enjoy the crisp and freshness of a cold beer or a good cocktail.
Earlier that night, everyone in the group chipped in to get some appetizers and share two, three pitchers of beer. They tried some expensive sake at another bar and a couple more beers, and off they went to another bar, meeting other friends they knew from school.
It became less organized as the night went on, when a friend had left their phone at one of the bars and had to go back to get it, mistaking one street for the other and then letting someone he didn't know guide them to who knows where. Sota was at the very back of the group, waiting for the night to be over so he could go home and sleep, remembering that he had a class he had to teach early the next morning.
They finally made it to the bar, the door had signs and many posters of bands that had played in the cramped place. As soon as they went in, the haziness of air, clinking of glass cups and low and neon lights barely gave sight. Sota moved through the crowds of people to take a seat at the bar as his friends began to order drinks right away.
He felt more alone in that moment than he had felt all night long.
Watch as his city friends talked over the loud music and lively crowd of strangers around them, people grazing their hands or arms against him. The tapping and swashing of drinks being made, clacking of people ordering more and more. Through all the loud noises Sota asked the bartender for a shot of tequila, getting a nod in return.
His eyes weren't on the shot that was placed in front of him, when he went to pick it up he felt someone's soft fingers there first. It was quick, that feeling and then it was gone when he looked up and the stranger froze to look at him too.
"Oh sorry, was this yours?" Sota heard his voice over everyone else's, big dark brown eyes looking back at him with apology.
The guy's hair was cut short and styled upwards, some highlights at the tip. It looked as if he was growing some facial hair, even from the crappy lighting in the bar, his face was smooth. Nicely dressed from where he stood beside Sota, who just stared without saying a word.
"Take it, I'll ask for another one." The guy continued, giving him a shy smile as he tried to get the bartender's attention.
"Ah, yeah." Sota finally responded, almost forgetting his manners. He didn't know the guy's name, if he was older or younger than him, where he even appeared from. Sota took the shot quickly, wanting to get another one as soon as possible.
When the bartender came back, they had two shots in their hands and placed them in front of the two. "For your troubles." He began as he moved the glass towards Sota.
Sota wanted to feel those steady fingers again, covered in rings. He took the small glass in his hand and lifted it to give a cheer, and the guy returned it. He had forgotten all about his friends, watching as the good looking stranger took his shot as quickly as he did, without hesitation.
"You're not from this city, are you?" The guy asked, waiting for his answer.
"Uh, no, no." Sota replied, looking at his empty glass then up at the guy's face.
Even with all the buzzing around them, Sota could hear him clearly. "Ryoki." Finally giving him a name to put to the face.
"Sota.." He answered back. "Want another one?" Sota asked, wanting to keep Ryoki there longer with him.
"Yeah, why not." Ryoki said, getting into a comfortable position. "Where are you from?" He continued.
Ryoki didn't take his eyes off of him for a second, making it known that he was there to just listen to him. "Kanagawa, south of Tokyo." Sota started, "Came here to do something with my life, you know."
"Same, I'm from Nagoya." Ryoki spoke through the noise, "Trying to get some roles, acting and whatnot." He said it so casually as if Sota was another one of his friends.
Sota gave a short laugh, not for how ridiculous it sounded but for how relaxed Ryoki seemed. And Ryoki returned the laughter, taking their next shot in hand. His eyebrows showed how sharp the drink was, giving Sota a thirst he never had felt before.
Their third shot of tequila came fast, the clear liquid so strong going down their throat. It cleared Sota's head, as he saw Ryoki's features better. His eyes turned soft when Sota said anything, how his lips moved with every spoken word, croaked but white teeth that seemed so charming to Sota.
Even when Ryoki showed him his pets on his phone, telling him stories of when they misbehaved. Going on about how difficult it is to get any decent role for someone who has no connections. The anxiety he has when he has to wait for a call back if he got the role or not, and everything in between.
Sota listened with so much intent, and he was returned with that same intensity.
Told Ryoki how hard some of his classes were, how he gets tired going on the train especially when it’s packed in the morning. How he had taken a nap one day and missed his whole shift at the convenient store, staying after hours at the dance studio to practice when he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep that night.
They went back and forth in their conversation, getting a drink here and there and adding one or two shots with every passing hour. Introducing Ryoki to his friend after a while, they were all drunk enough that they would forget all about their meeting, but not Sota.
He wasn't going to forget Ryoki, not his smile, or his quirky laugh, not how they continued to touch fingers every time Ryoki passed him a drink. Not even when he asked Sota if he was okay, seeing past his loneliness.
Ryoki would tell him a joke at random and Sota would laugh even when it wasn't funny. So much so that the other boy would get warm in the face, abashed with the thoughts that he could make someone like Sota laugh with ease. His soft dark hair shaped his face so well, the way his nose dipped down, and how he placed a hand on his cheek to listen. Every part of Sota made Ryoki feel too warm in the stifling old bar, where everyone had become blurs and the only glimmering light was the boy in front of him.
Some of his friends had left hours ago and Sota should have left a long time ago. He stayed for Ryoki though, and waited until he had the last sip of his drink. "I should leave, I have class early." Sota said, shaking his glass left with melting ice.
"Yeah, yeah, uh I'll walk out with you." Ryoki replied, calling the bartender over to close his tab.
He had paid for most of their drinks, the many drinks they had. Wasn't drunk enough, he could still walk fine, find his wallet and put it back in his pocket and let Sota take the lead. But things were spinning a bit, the sound of the music was muffled by all the alcohol in his system.
Ryoki could tell Sota was in the same position as without warning the other boy took his hand, held it tightly as they made their way out the bar. He didn't want to let go, as the door was pushed open and the fresh night air hit their faces. Brought something new in their shared company, could see better as the street lights hit them at an angle and Sota's ruby cheeks shined so nicely.
Sota turned to face him, saying something to him but Ryoki had become deaf for a second because all he wanted to do was press his lips onto Sota's own.
"Huh?" Ryoki brought his attention back, their hands had slowly slipped apart.
But they were close enough that if Ryoki wanted he could take one more step and make it happen.
"I never asked how old you are?" Sota said again, "I'm twenty-four." sticking his fingers out to make out his age, a little tipsy but relaxed.
"Oh, I'm older than you by a year." Ryoki let out a small laugh, then looked around them to see how late it had become.
"Ah Ryoki-san, I had a good time." Sota teased him, but was just as respectful.
"Stop, you should have been the one paying." Ryoki said no real malice to it.
Sota was swaying and let out a shiver as the light breeze hit them at that moment. "Hey, you okay." Ryoki asked, putting a hand up to keep Sota steady.
Sota nods his head, giving him a smile. "Got kinda chilly."
Ryoki stepped closer, placing both hands on Sota's arms and giving him slow rubs to get him to warm up. Sota let out short giggles as if he was getting tickled, but now he could smell Ryoki's cologne underneath all the alcohol they drank.
Could feel the heat radiating off of the older boy, could see Ryoki's perfect eyelashes and soft lips. Even the worried look on his face couldn't stop the curiosity Sota had to have a taste, something he never seriously thought about.
He had thoughts about meeting nice and polite girls his age and dating, thought about how he would take them out on a date and give them a sweet kiss. Have a lasting relationship, one that is steady and traditional.
The one that people approved of, that people wouldn't come to stare at.
Something easy for him to maintain with his busy schedule, but he had tossed that aside some time back. His priorities were to focus on school and get the chance to perform professionally on stage. His mind was always on his projects, the many choreographs he created and the career he would eventually make for himself.
He hadn't the slightest idea if he took the chance right now with Ryoki, if things would work out for them. If the alcohol was making him think this way, the closeness and that empty feeling that had become constant in his body.
Sota wanted to push Ryoki away as much as he wanted to bring him in and feel skin to skin.
"You sure?" Came again from Ryoki, waiting for another answer from the younger boy.
Sota had looked down at the pavement, then up at Ryoki. His head was spinning with doubts and losing time, losing and collecting every moment that had happened to take the next steps and bring his lips to Ryoki's, pressing softly.
It almost felt like cotton and airy, but solid as Ryoki stayed put and didn't move for some seconds. Bring his strong hands around Sota and close the gap, angling his head to deepen the kiss.
The quiet but sure kiss, Sota's bottom lips making its way between and tasting of dark cherries. Remembering that earlier that night he asked for as many as they would allow to put in his cocktail drinks, Ryoki found that darling.
That Sota would taste just as sweet as those berry fruits, mixed with pointed alcohol.
Ryoki had the younger boy wrapped in his arms, secure.
Made Sota cradle his head in his hands, keeping their lips locked. Listen to the moans that Ryoki was letting out that set Sota nerves on fire, heat coming up from his abdomen and traveling all over his body.
The alcohol might have made him hot but this was making Sota burn up.
He was having his first taste of something new and confusing, the way their mouths slot together, attempting to breathe through his nose. Because stopping would mean knowing what he had done, knowing that it could mean something.
Ryoki was pushing and pushing and Sota let him. Had the younger boy almost bent backwards.
They finally parted as Sota took a gulp of air, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Ryoki said through his teeth, lips glossy with their spit.
He still held Sota in his arms, pressing their forehead together with their noses touching. They looked at each other through their dizziness and wonders, let the warm fluorescent lights shine on them and hear the commotion of the city night.
Sota knew what that meant, the regret.
The words of, I shouldn't have done that.
That what they just did, should be forgotten. Be stored away, deep inside where no one would find out. As Sota let go and moved away from Ryoki's hold, stare in emptiness. Blink a few times to get his senses back, make the trembling in his hands stop.
"Hey.. I didn't mean.." Ryoki started but didn't finish.
"I have to go." Is all Sota said, making his way past Ryoki. Not waiting for another second to get an explanation from the other boy, just wanting to get out of there.
Be forgotten, hope the alcohol helps with that.
Wake up the next morning and pretend it was all a dream and move on with his life, as if he would every see Ryoki again.
His steps felt clumsy and heavy, his eyes becoming blurry with tears and stung, chest thumping too hard with too many emotions to understand. He could hear Ryoki call out for him from a distance, probably feeling regret.
But it was done, and Sota was done.
He walked faster and ignored all the shouts from the other boy, leaving him behind.
And Ryoki stood there, knowing it was a bad idea if he started following Sota. Replay everything that happened and hating himself for even spitting out those words. He eventually left those dark and empty streets and made his way home, to the other side of the city, regret running through him for letting someone like Sota go.
The days became weeks and some months later until Sota had the courage again to go out with his friends for some drinks. And at every bar they went to, Sota secretly hoped he would spot Ryoki in the crowd.
Just have one last look, so that he could quietly say his goodbye and make his heart truly move on.
His mind was too distracted that every conversation with his friends went flat and he barely had drinks, leaving them half full. His friends had tried to cheer him up, asking what was bothering him so much. Sota changed the subject every time, no prodding or nagging would make him open up about what happened between him and Ryoki.
Ryoki couldn't forget, how could he.
The way Sota's eyes crinkled from smiling so simply, whispering into his ears when the music was getting too loud and being held by the hand as if they knew each other for years.
He was sitting in a corner with a couple of friends at a bar he's never been to, slowly sipping on a beer. When his eyes caught someone at the other side of the place.
There was no one with eyes so mellow and gentle, yet pierced into people's hearts with ease.
The flutters of nervousness, that he could get another chance with Sota. But this time, he wasn't going to let go of someone that would become so important to him.
Sota's body must have felt it too, because seconds later those eyes caught his gaze with a quiet gasp and heart-stricken.