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Taichi is scared of Juza.
Well, no, he’s never said that out loud. But it’s obvious.
Contrary to what Settsu might say, Juza’s not stupid. He’s used to being feared so he can tell. Growing up, everyone avoided him. They watched him warily like he was some sort of wild animal ready to snap and wreak havoc at any moment. People didn’t come close, and when they did, their intent was obvious. That’s how his reputation grew. That’s how he met Settsu.
Juza understands it. He understands it was because of his face. His blank expression. Intense eyes. Bad habit of glaring. Tendency to mumble. All that… and his lack of outgoing personality to make up for it like Kumon does. He understands. He does. That’s why he’s always known to keep away from people. Keep them at arm’s length. Stay in the shadows. He knew better than to stand out, because every time he did, it made everyone around him uncomfortable.
… Well, that was years ago. He’s long graduated from high school. Ever since joining Mankai, the more he’d been putting himself out there, the easier it’s become to be himself. He doesn’t worry about being misunderstood as much. People don’t fear him like that anymore, quickly realizing his true nature after just talking to him for a bit, and he’s actually quite popular on campus, it seems. It’s almost starting to feel like all his insecurities were never true to begin with. Because he’s not feared anymore.
But Taichi…
Taichi — who’d always give Juza the brightest and most genuine smiles, who would practically drag him out the door so they could walk to school together almost every morning, who’d always look straight at Juza without hesitation, eyes clear and unwavering — is suddenly acting like he’s afraid of him.
And he doesn’t know what to do.
Juza hates to admit it, but he is quite dense. He only realized it recently, but he does have enough hindsight to see that it’s been ongoing for quite a while now. Taichi’s been acting distant as if trying to put up a wall between them — subtly, gently, without addressing it directly, as if to not hurt Juza’s feelings. Because he’s just kind like that.
It’s small things. The way his body shifts slightly if Juza gets too close, his shoulders tensing up as if stopping himself from pulling away, stopping himself from making a scene. He doesn’t laugh as easily when they talk anymore, his smile awkward and forced. Not that they talk that much either — not just the two of them. They never seem to be alone in the same room. At first, Juza didn’t think much of it, but with all the evidence, he’s almost entirely sure Taichi’s making an active effort not to ever be one-on-one with Juza these days.
And most importantly…
He doesn’t look him in the eye anymore.
Juza doesn’t know how he hadn’t noticed before. Taichi always used to meet his gaze without fail; even when they first met, even when all he knew him as was the top yankee of Ouka High, even when Taichi had absolutely no reason to doubt the rumors. But lately… his eyes would just wander around the room while they talk, glancing at his face for a second or two in a way that feels almost calculated before drifting away again. Juza wouldn’t think twice about it if it were anyone else. But this is Taichi.
At first, he thought maybe something was wrong. Maybe Taichi was just feeling under the weather or the stress of adjusting to the new classes was getting to him. But it didn’t seem to be the case at all — Taichi acts just normal with everyone else. He doesn’t flinch at skinship from Sakuya or Kumon. He laughs so openly and genuinely with Kazunari-san, the two responsible for about fifty percent of the noise complaints from Sakyo-san. He points his entire attention at Yuki, never once looking away even when he’s being scolded and called names. The only one he’s been acting weird around is…
Juza.
And somehow, it took until today for Juza to realize.
They had a morning rehearsal today — they usually have Wednesday mornings off, since most of the Autumn Troupe are students, but both the director and Sakyo-san had a business meeting scheduled for the evening, so everyone agreed to move the evening practice to the morning. Everything started as normal. Taichi was his usual self, eager and full of energy, trying to make everyone laugh and lighten the mood — and they sure needed it so early in the morning before a whole day of classes (and in Sakyo-san’s case, work). Since they had just finished the reruns of Dead/Undead a couple of weeks ago, they didn’t really have anything specific to work on, so Settsu and the director agreed it’d be good to revisit the basics of stage-fighting. And, hopefully, it would help them wake up at the very least.
Juza and Taichi just happened to get paired together.
That got Juza’s blood pumping — the last time he’d shared a fight scene with Taichi must’ve been as Chan and Qilong. The director had told him that it’s good to have different practice partners in order to train one’s flexibility as an actor. Flexibility has never been Juza’s strong suit — it’s always been something he envied Settsu. The prospect of improving always motivates Juza to no end.
So maybe he’d gotten a bit too excited.
Maybe he shouldn’t have let himself get as immersed in the routine as he did. Maybe he should have held back just a bit, the sudden surge of energy too intense at such an early hour. Maybe he should have… remembered that he’s destined to play the role of the bad guy.
But he didn’t. He just followed the steps of the sequence carefully, muscle memory carrying him through the motions and letting his mind completely blend with his role.
And then, Juza had Taichi pinned against the wall.
His right hand gripped Taichi’s wrist firmly — not strong enough to actually keep him put but strong enough to be convincing from the audience’s perspective — and his left wrapped loosely around his neck, his thumb brushing against his throat gently. He was mentally counting down, waiting for Taichi to make his move — push off the wall, twist his arm free, duck to the left — but…
He didn’t.
He was staring at Juza, his eyes wide, breath caught in his throat.
His face was slightly flushed, sweat clinging to his skin and making it glisten under the lights. His shoulders were rigid, unnaturally still despite the clear signs of exertion, as if he’d forgotten how to breathe. In fact, his whole body seemed frozen — his wrist limp in Juza’s grip, his back pressed stiffly against the wall. The only part of him that moved was his throat — Juza felt his Adam’s apple bob against his thumb as he swallowed thickly.
Then, his gaze flickered — from Juza’s face, to the hand pinning his wrist, to the slow rise and fall of his chest, and back up again. Even when his breathing resumed, coming out in slow, uneven huffs, he still didn’t move.
It might have been only a couple of seconds, but to Juza, it felt like hours.
“… Taichi,” he breathed out after another moment of inaction. “It’s your cue.”
Taichi blinked.
Once.
Twice.
And then, he laughed.
“A—Ah, haha… Sorry…!”
It sounded awkward. His smile was just a little too wide, his voice a little too high, cracking slightly at the end.
With the momentum broken, Juza decided it was best to step back.
The moment Taichi was free, he exhaled a breath he must have been holding this whole time, his shoulders sagging slightly. His flushed cheeks darkened, his laughter ringing hollow as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“I just… I got a bit dizzy…!” Taichi said, his voice still a little shaky.
“You should take a break, Taichi-kun,” the director said, already reaching for his water bottle.
Taichi just laughed again, apologizing breathlessly before rushing past Juza with his head down.
And from that moment on, Taichi wouldn’t look at him.
His face stayed down — always. As if hiding from Juza, as if he were prey, terrified of agitating the predator by meeting its gaze.
When Juza came to the cafeteria for lunch that day as always, he didn’t even get to sit down before Taichi shot up from his seat.
“I—I forgot I promised to eat with my classmate today!”
And just like that, he ran off, leaving Juza, Tenma, and Tsuzuru dumbfounded. The other two tried to fill the awkward air with small talk, but Juza barely registered the conversation. His mind kept circling back to Taichi, picking apart his behavior, tracing it back, realizing…
Realizing for how long it’d been going on. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong. The only thing that came to mind was that morning rehearsal. He’d gotten too into it, forgotten himself — maybe the look on his face was too much, maybe his body language was too intimidating, maybe all that combined with Taichi just having a bad day. But that wasn’t it. That wasn’t the reason. That was just the moment Juza finally noticed.
Up until now, maybe Taichi had been wary of him, subtly withdrawing himself and keeping his distance. But today’s rehearsal was the final push for him.
And today was the day Juza realized.
Taichi is scared of Juza.
Juza clenches his jaw, pushing the thought down. But no matter what, he can’t just let it go. The thought swirls in his mind, brewing and boiling, filling his brain with pointless images and ideas. The only reasons he doesn’t end up spiraling completely are the classes keeping him busy, the ever-present noise of the dorms, and the sweet smell coming from the kitchen as Omi-san prepares the dessert for after-dinner.
That, however, isn’t something he can rely on at night, and the moment he pulls his blanket over his body, the thought returns, making it too loud for him to even think about falling asleep. He doesn’t know how long past his usual bedtime he stays up; Settsu calls out to him a bit past 2 A.M., telling him to go to sleep or he’ll kick his ass. ‘It’s too damn quiet’ he complains, pulling his blanket over his head. Juza honestly doesn’t have enough headspace to be annoyed with it, so he just ignores him. When he wakes up, he feels like shit.
And not just because of the sleep deprivation.
He’s always been used to being seen as a threat, a danger, something to fear.
And Taichi was one of the first few people who didn’t seem to see him that way.
Days pass. And then weeks. Taichi continues to avoid him, their interactions almost exclusively limited to rehearsals. It hurts. But Juza tries not to think about it. He keeps himself busy instead — rehearsing, training, filling his hours with anything that keeps his mind from circling back to Taichi. Thinking about it was pointless anyway.
He wishes Taichi didn’t see him this way, but… If it can’t be helped, the least he can do is fulfill Taichi’s silent wish and stay away. If he knows Taichi’s with Settsu in 104, he hesitates in front of the door, considering his next refuge, usually going back to the living room. On the weekdays, even if they start with the same period, he leaves the dorms early, right after eating his breakfast, just so Taichi doesn’t have to make excuses himself. Whenever he hears Taichi’s voice in any shared space, he catches himself sneaking in quietly and taking whatever he needs before leaving as fast as he entered — before he can be noticed. He isn’t avoiding Taichi, not exactly. Just… making it easier for him. Easing his guilt just a little bit.
It’s for the better.
He’s never wanted anyone to be scared of him.
And just like that, it seems to work for a while.
Except Settsu can’t keep his fucking mouth shut.
The weekends are usually when the members go out to do some street acts and promote the company. There are ‘street act duties’ at the dorms like with all the other chores but nobody is really forced to go — not anymore. It’s a good excuse to just go out, though — just perform a couple etudes, get the ‘responsibilities’ out of the way, and hang out for the rest of the day. Juza’s finishing putting the clean dishes away when Settsu’s voice reaches him, clearly raising his volume on purpose to grab his attention.
“How ‘bout you go with Hyodo?” he asks, his lips curling into that one foxy smirk that makes Juza’s blood boil.
“B—Ban-chan…!” Taichi stammers nervously, his voice hushed.
“What? You haven’t done street acts together in a while, right?” He nudges Taichi on the shoulder, causing his eyebrows to furrow.
“Stop that!” With his face flushed, he pushes Settsu away, a wordless whine of frustration escaping his lips.
“Stop what?” His shit-eating grin only grows wider. “You don’t wanna?”
“I…!” For just a split second, his gaze flickers to meet Juza. In that moment, Juza can see his expression soften, just a tiny bit, before he scowls at Settsu again. “I don’t not wanna… But…”
Juza just barely stops himself from clicking his tongue. Settsu is an asshole. It’s so clear Taichi’s uncomfortable — so clear that even someone like Juza sees it — and yet he keeps egging him on. As if trying to get him to say outright he doesn’t want to be around Juza; even though Taichi’s too kind to ever say something like that. Settsu’s seriously the worst.
So Juza just turns around, shoving his hands into his pockets. He squeezes his fists hard, trying to focus on the sting of his nails digging into his palms and not think about the numb, cold ache spreading throughout his chest.
“‘s fine,” he mumbles, keeping his voice in check so the others can’t tell how upset he is. Not like it’s hard. He’s never been that emotional to begin with.
“… Eh?” Taichi asks from behind, a note of clear confusion in his tone.
“You two just go together,” he says. “I’ll join Muku and Sakuya.”
And with that, he heads out. The other two don’t have anything to say — it’s probably for the best. He doesn’t want to make Taichi any more uncomfortable than he already is.
As he lets the door fall shut behind him, a hushed ‘Ban-chan, you idiot…!’ just barely manages to reach his ears.
It’s for the best.
When he comes back to the dorms after class, he hears the familiar laughter sound out from the kitchen. He hasn’t heard it in person in way too long. Something squeezes at his chest, so he decides to head straight to his room to change before announcing he’s home.
The dorms smell like salmon. His stomach growls as he wonders what kind of dinner they’re going to have tonight. Well, if it’s Omi-san, anything will be great.
After taking his sweet time changing and putting his things away, he hesitates for only a moment before leaving his room to finally show himself in the living room. Anticipation eating on him, he steps in, swallowing thickly.
There’s nobody in the living room — which is a rarity in the dorms — except for Omi-san in the kitchen. And, of course, Taichi helping him out, taking care of the simple chore of cutting vegetables. As the door closes behind Juza, Omi-san looks up and meets his gaze.
“Oh, Juza,” he says with the same warm smile as always.
Taichi’s shoulders seem to stiffen at the sound of his name. But Juza pretends not to notice.
“Welcome back,” Omi-san says, going back to stirring the miso cooking in the pot.
“Mhm, I’m home,” Juza murmurs back, walking past them to grab some strawberry milk from the fridge.
“J—Juza-san! Welcome back!” Taichi exclaims with clear nervousness, his smile twitching and twisting into something clearly forced.
Before he even manages to grab the bottle off the top shelf, Taichi jumps, dropping the knife he’s holding onto the cutting board.
“Ah! I just remembered!” He claps his hands together in apology, bowing his head down to Omi-san. “I forgot there’s an assignment due tomorrow! I’m sorry, Omi-kun! I have to go!”
“Don’t worry, most of it is done anyway,” he says. “Good luck with your assignment.”
“Yeah…! Sorry!”
And with that, he bolts, the kitchen falling silent save for the bubbling of the miso soup in the pot. Juza just stands there, staring at the door, then wordlessly opens his strawberry milk and takes a sip, leaning against the counter. Omi-san watches him for a moment before speaking up.
“He’s pretty obvious, isn’t he?” he asks, a fond smile on his lips.
Juza blinks. “… Uh… Yeah.”
“He’s a great actor,” Omi-san continues, covering the pot with the lid before leaning on the counter as well. A small chuckle shakes his shoulders. “But when it comes to this kinda thing — you know, his genuine feelings — he can’t pretend to save his life.”
“That so.”
A moment of silence falls between them, stretching out and filling the kitchen with some sort of strange air — it’s not awkward or tense, but it’s not exactly comfortable either.
It’s not Omi-san’s fault, though. Juza’s always felt relaxed around Omi-san. Being crowned the ‘mom’ of the company, he’s always cared and doted on others (especially Juza for some reason). So even though it felt a little off at first, Juza quickly got used to being spoiled and found it especially easy to talk to him.
He knows that if there’s anyone he can honestly talk to, it’s Omi-san.
“… Don’t think he wants me around.”
Omi-san doesn’t really respond — he just continues watching him, tilting his head slightly as if to ask Juza what he means.
“Every time I show up, he runs away,” he mumbles, his nails scratching at the bottle to try and peel the label off. “He doesn’t talk to me anymore. I’m…” He pauses for a second, lowering his voice. “I’m worried it might affect our actin’… Is all.”
That is, honestly, the least of his worries.
Omi-san stares at him blankly for a moment before his lips form into a gentle smile.
“Juza,” he says, straightening himself. “Can I ask you a favor?”
“… Huh?” Juza looks up at him, dumbfounded.
“Will you be patient with him?” Omi-san asks, something foreign sparkling in his eye.
Juza frowns slightly, unsure what to say. Omi-san reaches for the pot lid and adjusts it, though it doesn’t seem necessary, before finally continuing.
“He’ll figure it out eventually. Just give him some time.”
Juza isn’t sure what it means at first. ‘Figure out’ as in… how to tolerate Juza? How to cope with his presence? Until then…
Omi-san is asking him to give Taichi space.
“… I ain’t pushin’ him or nothin’,” he murmurs, his eyebrows furrowing as he glares at the half-empty milk bottle in his hands.
“I know.”
Time continues to pass, though, and things only start getting more complicated. By that time, everyone seems to have already realized more or less that something is going on. Juza keeps getting questions of concern from the others every other day. ‘Did you fight?’, ‘Are you doing okay?’, ‘Need someone to talk to?’
He appreciates them but he doesn’t think he deserves all the concern. If anything, they should be caring for Taichi, who’s forced to be around his object of stress daily. Well, he’s sure Taichi’s getting his fair share of questions as well…
Even though everyone is concerned, nobody really confronts them about it directly.
Not until it starts affecting them as actors.
At some point, the wall that Taichi had built between them and that Juza had helped with has become too much, causing even their simplest interactions in rehearsals to become… awkward. Which is probably the worst sin an actor can commit.
Juza’s serious about acting. He thought he’d never let his personal matters affect it and yet here he is, responding to Taichi’s adlib just a beat too late, hesitating on his next words, clumsily stressing his line with a rising intonation, as if unsure of what he’s saying.
He wants to apologize. It’s his own fault — both for still being pretty bad at adlibs and for letting his personal feelings get in the way.
But before he can do so, Taichi apologizes on his own. He doesn’t think it’s Taichi’s fault at all. He wants to say that. But he doesn’t.
He just mumbles a small ‘sorry’ as well before they go on with their rehearsal.
But after it’s over, Sakyo-san makes the two of them stay behind in the room.
“Enough,” he tells them, crossing his arms over his chest.
Even though Juza is taller than Sakyo-san, somehow he feels like he’s being looked down on.
“Nanao, Hyodo,” Sakyo-san says, his expression stern and unwavering, clearly signaling to them this is not a matter up to debate. “The two of you are on street act duty.”
” … Huh?”
“Eh?”
They’re almost completely in sync. Ironic, considering why they’re here in the first place.
“I don’t know what’s goin’ on, but whatever it is, you must not let your personal issues get in the way of your responsibilities,” he continues without skipping a beat. “You’re goin’ out after lunch today and I don’t want to see you back without meetin’ the quota.”
“I—I can’t!” Taichi squeaks out, looking up at Sakyo-san with pleading eyes. “I promised Yuki-chan I’d help with—”
“Rurikawa is out with Sakisaka.”
Taichi freezes, eyes wide.
“They won’t be back until dinner, if that’s what you’re concerned about,” Sakyo says calmly. “I’m sure you’ll be done with your duties by then.”
“I… I see…” Taichi just mutters, a wave of shame washing over his face.
Even to Juza it’s clear that it’s an expression of someone caught in their lie.
Juza feels bad — he doesn’t want Taichi to have to be exposed to his presence. But he can’t really come up with an excuse of his own either.
So a little bit after lunch, they find themselves walking through Veludo Way, watching other troupes perform and looking for a good spot to settle for now without risking stealing anyone’s thunder. Taichi is talking to him about something. Juza isn’t sure what it is. He’s just half-listening to the story, but it’s fine. Taichi’s probably just telling it him to fill the silence anyway. No matter what, even if the only person around is someone he hates, there’s nothing that upsets Taichi more than awkward silence.
They settle near the station, passersby not paying them any mind. Juza takes his jacket off and tosses it to the side — the September wind is already chilly, sending a shiver down his back, but in a sunlit spot like this, he can still feel the remnants of summer warmth in the air.
“Anythin’ you wanna do?” Juza asks, looking at the passing people, the pigeons flying above, the signs and advertisements around — anywhere but directly at Taichi.
“Hmm,” he hums, rocking on his feet from side to side. “I’m good with anything!”
Juza just nods. It’s not like him at all. Taichi usually takes the lead with this kind of thing — he’s the creative one, spinning ideas out of thin air, listing different themes and dynamics he’d been wanting to try off the top of his head with zero effort, pulling Juza into his bizarre scenarios before he can protest. Him just going along with whatever Juza comes up with… Clearly, he doesn’t want to be here.
So they just go with whatever. Something safe. Start without any specific direction and see where that takes them.
The first few exchanges feel stiff.
Of course they do.
Juza has always been the weak link when it came to etudes, adlibs, improvisation. He needs time to properly understand and internalize his role, analyze their character and decide how to portray them in a way so the audience can understand their feelings and motivations. With etudes, there’s no established characters with backstories and actual lives — there’s just a vague idea. Unable to truly become his role, he ends up second-guessing himself and lagging behind, unable to get in the rhythm of back and forth with his partner. Especially with comedy, which is Taichi’s strength and go-to genre.
But Taichi’s not like him. He might have his flaws, always working just as hard as Juza in order to reach everyone else’s level. But when it comes to adlibbing, he’s always had a knack for it. He’s outgoing, always running around and chatting away about nothing in particular. Juza thinks it’s a talent. Himself, he can’t really say much if he has nothing to talk about, but Taichi’s always ready to fill the silence, as if not making noise is the worst offense he can make. As if afraid that if he’s not loud, people will forget he’s there.
Juza doesn’t think he needs to worry about that. He wouldn’t forget him.
Despite his talent for etudes, today, his acting is off. Just like their chemistry has been affected in rehearsals, it’s becoming clear in their street act performance as well.
Taichi’s voice is a little quieter, a little more hesitant, his ‘yes, and…’ responses slower than usual. He’s still responding properly, pushing the scene along and even cracking a clever joke in between the lines to break the tension, which the few passersby who have stopped to watch them laugh at. But it’s clear he’s using all of his brainpower, as if it doesn’t come as naturally to him as usual. As if he’s distracted.
And the distraction in question is very much aware of being one.
Juza almost clicks his tongue but stops himself last second. And then, he reaches out, grabbing Taichi’s shoulder and jerking him around to face him. He pulls him close, closer than he means to, and shifts his hand to wrap it around his bicep.
“Please,” Juza’s character growls, his voice a little rougher than this role’s should be. A little too dramatic to fit a light-hearted comedy skit. But it doesn’t matter. “I’m beggin’ you…!”
Taichi freezes, his eyes wide for a split second — caught off guard. He’s still, his chest rising and falling with a breath he doesn’t seem to be able to take just yet.
Juza doesn’t let go. He doesn’t even realize how tightly he’s holding onto him.
For a second, Taichi seems at a loss for words. He’s not used to not being in control, to not carrying the scene when it comes to Juza and Juza knows that.
As the silence stretches out for a second more, then another, Juza starts regretting it. Maybe it was a mistake to change the direction and mood of the scene on his own without considering his partner.
But then, something flashes in Taichi’s eyes — a sparkle of something familiar, something he hasn’t seen in a long time.
And his lips twitch.
“Man, okay,” Taichi’s character says, holding back a laugh clearly edging at the back of his throat. “You’d think someone died. Wait, did someone die?” he asks, his voice more casual, pretty on par with Tsuzuru-san’s iconic ‘straight-man’ tone.
The shift is almost jarring. They’re back. Their rhythm and chemistry are there. The flow comes back as if it was never gone. They both can tell. And the audience, very clearly, can tell as well.
The scene ends with a bow, Juza’s shoulders feeling stiff with the excitement of being able to perform. It might not be much, just a short scene, but acting is always exhilarating to Juza — he wants nothing more than to become someone else, even if just for a little bit. The crowd claps and they give out the name of the company before thanking them for their attention. It’s a success, no doubt. But to Juza, it feels like something more. Something real.
He catches Taichi’s eye as they stand there, in front of the audience. And even though Taichi’s wearing that usual grin, something about his expression is different. His gaze lingers for just a second too long.
Then, without warning, something washes over his face — something Juza can’t quite decipher before it’s gone — and Taichi jerks his head away, his smile slipping just a little. He withdraws once more, just like that.
Juza doesn’t miss it. The slump of his shoulders. The nervous look on his face. The anxiety. He never does.
He hasn’t seen that smile since the street act.
He doesn’t know what to do anymore.
No matter what he does, nothing helps — Taichi just keeps pushing him away.
He doesn’t even know for how long it’s been going on, but at this point, he’s starting to doubt it’s ever going to end. He never fooled himself that they could go back to normal, but he at least hoped it’d become tolerable — that he’d get used to it, mourn his late friendship with Taichi and learn to share a new, distant colleague-like relationship with him instead. But it feels impossible.
He can’t sleep.
He can still hear the faint sound of music coming from the other loft bed, muffled by Settsu’s earbuds, so it can’t be long past midnight. Juza used to have a pretty solid sleep schedule, always going to sleep and waking up early, but with the entire mess going on, he’s been sleeping less and less. If he could, he’d sleep — honestly, he’d do anything to avoid another lecture from Azami about the darkening circles under his eyes and his dry skin — but whenever he closes his eyes, he sees the same; Taichi’s expression of shock, eyes wide and body rigid as Juza pins him against the wall.
Juza tosses and turns again.
And then, he gives up, dragging his feet down the ladder and across the room to put his sweatpants and jacket on.
“… The fuck you goin’?” Settsu asks from his loft, removing one of his earbuds.
“Out,” is all he says back.
Settsu snorts. “‘Kay, be like that. Hope ya trip and break your neck. Fall into a ditch while yer at it so no one finds your body.”
He rolls his eyes. “Convenience store. Be back soon.”
“You better,” Settsu mutters, shoving his earbud back in. “Not wakin’ up Sakyo-san ‘cause your dumb ass went missin’.”
Juza doesn’t care to answer — not that Settsu would even hear — so he just double-checks that he has his wallet and leaves. It’s a little chilly tonight, but not chilly enough to make him turn back and continue to suffer the dreaded fate of sleepless hours in his bed. He makes sure not to make much noise as he walks to the main exit, quietly putting his shoes on and carefully shutting the door with a gentle click.
It’s not the first time he’s gone to the convenience store late at night. He doesn’t have to worry about getting in trouble or anything. Nobody’s going to bother a big guy like himself. He’s just going to get something warm and sweet that might help him fall asleep (if it doesn’t, at least he’ll have something warm and sweet, and that’s always a positive) and go back to the dorms.
It doesn’t take him long to get to the store, but he does take a little longer than he’d like to admit to pick between the custard and red bean paste filling for the steamed bun. In the end, he decides to buy both. He pays for his purchase and exits the store with a polite bow, hoping his exhausted face doesn’t make the middle-aged lady behind the register too anxious.
The door chimes as it closes behind him, and the chilly wind gives him goosebumps. He pulls his jacket tighter—
And freezes.
“Juza-san?”
Taichi is standing there, eyes wide. With his jacket zipped all the way up, he has his hands shoved in his pockets, protecting himself from the cold. His hair is unstyled, probably still a little damp from the bath a couple hours ago, and his bangs are fluttering in the wind, getting in his eyes.
Juza catches himself thinking that it looks like it’d feel soft to the touch — his hair.
“… Hey,” he finally remembers to say.
Taichi points to the bag in Juza’s hand. “Midnight snack?”
“… Somethin’ like that,” he murmurs, stepping out of Taichi’s way and rushing past him to head back to the dorms. “See ya.”
“W—Wait…!”
Juza stops, turning his head in question.
“Um… Uh, I…” Taichi stutters.
“What?”
Taichi hesitates, his voice quieter now that Juza is actually looking at him.
He lowers his head, his bangs covering his eyes.
“… Do you have a minute?”
Before he knows it, he’s sitting on one of the benches in the nearby park beside Taichi. He’s holding a can of some orange soda he doesn’t really care about, but Taichi got it for him when he was getting a coke so the least he can do is drink it.
He takes a sip and the carbonation feels weird in his mouth.
Taichi’s voice breaks through the calming ambiance of the night.
“… Juza-san…” he says softly, his fingers tapping against the can of coke nervously. “I just…”
He trails off, pausing for a moment before shaking his head with an awkward laugh.
“I dunno. I wanted to talk but… I don’t even know what to say.” He gives Juza an apologetic smile. As if to tell him it’s okay to leave. To go back to the dorms and leave Taichi alone here.
As if Juza would do that.
He swirls the soda in his can silently for a moment before speaking up.
“You don’t have to say anythin’.”
Taichi snorts, his laugh a little bit more natural than earlier. But other than that, he stays quiet, not moving his can away from his mouth in between little sips.
The silence they share is probably the most comfortable they’ve had in weeks. No, months. It’s already been months, hasn’t it? Juza has lost the sense of time. They sit there, listening to the stillness of the night, the whistling of the wind, and the rare distant noises of a car somewhere deeper in the city.
Juza is halfway through his weird soda drink, and he doesn’t know if it’s the exhaustion, desperation, or this weirdly comforting atmosphere making him feel isolated from the rest of the world, but he finally decides to break it. Because he might never feel as brave again.
“I dunno what I did to make ya hate me.” His voice is quiet, but he’s doing his best, forcing the words out before he loses the nerve. “But... I’m sorry.”
Taichi blinks. “Huh?”
"I just…” Juza pauses, swallowing to get rid of the tingling feeling of soda on his tongue. “I dunno how to talk like you do. I’m not good at it. But I do care, alright? I care about ya. And it—” He hesitates, jaw tightening. “It sucks seein’ you act like you’re scared of me."
Taichi just continues staring at him.
"I wish we could just go back to how we were before. Y’know, before all this weird shit happened.” His grip on the can tightens, the metal cracking under his fingertips. “So if you tell me what I did wrong, I’ll try to make it up to you.”
Still, Taichi doesn’t say anything. He just keeps staring at Juza with wide, unblinking eyes.
“… Oi.” Juza furrows his eyebrows. “You listenin’?”
Taichi finally snaps out of it with a violent shake of his head, making Juza jump slightly in surprise. “W—Wait, hold on…! Back up!"
“What?”
“You think—?” Taichi gestures at himself. “You think I’m scared of you?”
Juza pauses for a moment, unsure what to make of it, before looking away and rubbing the back of his neck. “Well... yeah."
“No—” Taichi’s voice cracks on the word. “What? No! I’m not scared of you! And I very much don’t hate you either!”
He looks at him bewildered. Suddenly, they’re having a very different conversation, and he doesn’t really know what to say. “… Then… Then why…?”
Taichi tilts his head in question.
“Why were you avoidin’ me? You’ve been actin’ so weird,” Juza says, frowning slightly. “I thought you didn’t want me around, so I… stayed away.”
“What?” Taichi’s eyes widen. “Is that why you—? No, that’s not…!”
Juza watches silently as Taichi leans forward, holding his head in his hand.
“I thought…” He sounds even more exasperated now. “I thought you were avoiding me ‘cause you learned the truth…! I thought you hated me or were uncomfortable or just didn’t want to deal with it so…!” A small frustrated noise escapes his throat, his hands ruffling his own hair. “I thought if I got over it, we could go back to normal, but no matter what, I just couldn’t let go…!”
“… The truth?”
Taichi freezes at Juza’s voice, his entire body stilling for a moment.
And then, he looks up, meeting Juza’s gaze for the first time in weeks, his eyes watery and cheeks bright red.
“I like you,” he mutters, his voice trembling with raw emotion.
Juza blinks.
But before he can say anything, Taichi bends over, hiding his face in his hands. “Wah… I said it…! How embarrassing…!”
Juza just… stares.
His brain takes a full three seconds to catch up.
“… Huh?”
“Don’t make me say it again…!” Taichi whines, his voice muffled by his hands.
“ Like me? You mean… Like—”
“Stop saying it out loud!” he cries more desperately. He finally tears his hands away from his face, his cheeks beaming with the brightest blush Juza has ever seen on him. “Yes, okay?! I like like you! As in, I want to go on dates and hold hands and hug and k—kiss, and I’ve felt this way for a long time!”
Juza stares at him, wide-eyed. His heart is pounding in his ears and he doesn’t know what to do with that realization.
Taichi, still looking like he wants to disappear, groans at the lack of response and buries his face in his hands again. Juza thinks he can hear him mumble something that sounds a lot like ‘how uncool…’
After a moment, Juza manages to open his mouth, but nothing comes out.
He swallows, looking away, trying to gather his thoughts before another attempt.
“I…” His fingers tighten around the can in his hands. “I wasn’t expectin’ that.”
“I—I know it’s wrong… I know it’s gross, so I’ve been trying to give up on those feelings…” Taichi rambles on, his voice getting higher with every word. “Just… Just give me some more time and I’ll—”
“No,” he says firmly and Taichi’s mouth shuts immediately. “It’s just… I dunno what to say.”
Taichi peeks at him between his fingers, his eyes swirling with anxiety. “You don’t… have to say anything.”
But that doesn’t sit right with Juza.
He looks down at the ground, jaw tight.
“… I’m not good at this stuff,” he admits. “I never thought… I mean…” He trails off, struggling to put it into words.
Taichi’s hands drop to his lap, his eyes boring into Juza mercilessly, waiting. Understandably.
Juza forces himself to look up, and when he sees Taichi — flushed, anxious, clearly restless about what he’s going to say — he feels something twist in his chest.
The idea that someone like Taichi, someone so full of life, could look at him like that. Could want him like that. It’s something he never thought could happen. He’s lived his whole life in a belief that it’s just impossible for anyone to look at him as a potential partner. But there he is, being confessed to by the literal embodiment of light itself, attempting to force itself into Juza’s shaded heart.
He grips his can tighter. “I don’t wanna say the wrong thing,” he mutters. “I just… I need time. To figure out what I—” He exhales sharply, raising his hand to ruffle his hair in frustration. “I don’t wanna screw this up.”
Taichi blinks. “Huh?”
Juza rubs his face, groaning. “I just— Gimme some time, alright?” He glances at Taichi again, softer this time. “I don’t wanna say somethin’ I don’t mean. So just… lemme think about it.”
Taichi stares at him. His hands, which had been gripping his knees anxiously, loosen a little.
Then, to Juza’s surprise, he lets out a weak laugh.
“You really are serious about everything, huh?”
Juza stares at him, eyes wide, before shrugging and looking away. He feels his face getting a little warmer. “I guess.”
“It’s a good thing,” Taichi clarifies, his lips forming into a warm, gentle smile — it almost seems knowing, as if Taichi knows exactly what Juza is feeling. Maybe he does. Maybe he also felt as lost as Juza when he realized his own feelings. “Juza-san is always so sincere. I… I l—like that about you…!” His voice cracks at the last word, but he doesn’t look away despite his reddening cheeks.
The words make Juza’s chest feel tight, but he can’t tell if it’s because he’s nervous or something else.
“B—But…!” Taichi continues. “Take your time. However much you need! I’ll wait…!”
Juza doesn’t really know what comes next. Suddenly, nothing feels certain — like the ground has disappeared from beneath his feet, sending him plummeting into an unknown void. But his heart is pounding in his chest, racing in a way that feels almost exhilarating. It’s something new, something he’s never experienced before. Like a curtain slowly rising, revealing a stage he never thought he’d be standing on.
He looks Taichi in the eye.
And Taichi doesn’t look away.