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“Almost got it…”
You teeter dangerously on a chair, fingers only just brushing the box stacked atop your wardrobe. You stretch further, and a cardboard flap slips into your grasp.
“Aha…!”
With a triumphant grin, you tug it towards you, but overestimated the strength required to do so and end up pulling it straight off the edge and shit. You scramble to catch it, but forget that you’re on a chair and what a bad idea that is until your stomach dips unpleasantly and you’re very suddenly not on the chair anymore.
“HRK!”
There’s a single, terrifying moment in which you fall rather ungracefully through the air before landing safely (but not comfortably) on the stripped mattress laid out on the floor, which happens to be the only other thing in the room. The box lands with a soft thump next to you. You groan into the fabric.
Moving sucks.
You push yourself into a sitting position, and glance inside the stupid box. Everything is coated with a thick layer of dusk, which doesn’t surprise you; you’re pretty sure it’s been up there for years.
You poke around inside it cautiously, a small smile pulling at your features and nostalgia tugging at your chest. An old yoyo, a few photographs, even some faded notebooks (you end up spending a good half hour thumbing through those, grinning at your childish doodles).
And at the very back: a scrap of paper.
Curiosity peaked; you fish it out and smooth it out across your thigh so you can make out the words written in your own youthful scrawl.
☆ Leon!! ^u^
0-8-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x! :D
“Huh,” you mumble, eyebrows rising into your hairline. “No way.”
You remember, of course. You’d grown up with the boy, after all. Joined at the hip and all that, his mother used to joke. You don’t even really remember meeting him, you guys were so young. You do, however, remember attending his fourth birthday party and him discovering a talent (?) for baseball by accidentally giving you your first black eye. Your mothers had found the two of you sitting in a puddle of tears, Leon screaming about how he’d killed you and you just… screaming in general, really.
And then you guys became inseparable. Somehow.
He’d been so excited to get his first phone.
But then middle school had happened, and he’d moved somewhere or another, and you kept calling and texting each other for a while until you just… didn’t.
You frown, squinting aggressively at the numbers before you. Why did you ever stop talking to him? Granted, you were much younger then, and short attention spans don’t really mix well with long distance friendships, but still…
You wonder if he still likes baseball.
Your hand reaches blindly for your phone and punches in the number before you can convince yourself it’s a bad idea.
It rings once. Twice. Three times.
This is stupid, you think, there’s no way he still has the same-
“Hello?”
You don’t really recognize the voice, but that’s not surprising considering that he’s gone through puberty since you last saw him. You swallow, suddenly nervous. “Uh, hi! Is… Is Leon Kuwata there?”
You hear some shuffling – the sound of him standing up, maybe – and the distinct sound of a cleared throat. “Uhhh, yeah, that’s me!”
Holy shit. It’s him. It’s him and he still has the same damn number. It’s been years and- Has he even changed his phone? Is it 2016 and Leon Kuwata is still using a goddamn flip phone? You can’t decide if the thought makes you want to laugh or groan.
“Helloooo…? Who’s this?”
Fuck, you didn’t really think this through. Oh well.
“It’s, ah, ______ ______. We used to be friends back when we were kids?”
Leon doesn’t answer for a few seconds, and the nerves start to creep up again. You wonder if you should just apologize and hang up and bury your head in the mattress and never ever think about this again except late at night when all of the stupid embarrassing shit you’ve ever done reminds you of its existence and-
“Holy shit, ______!? Seriously?!”
Your breath comes back in a rush of relief at his thrilled tone, and you find yourself grinning. “Yeah! Um, yeah, it’s me!”
“No way. No waaaaaaaaay.” he says, and you’re pretty sure he’s smiling too. He sounds stuck somewhere between disbelief and delight, and the thought makes you… giddy.
“Yeah, dude!” You shift back on the mattress slightly, slipping into a more informal tone before you can think about it. Leon doesn’t seem to mind.
“Oh wow, _____, I can’t believe this. It’s been ages- you still have my number?!”
“You still have your number?” you retort.
“No. I mean. Kind of. I never threw the phone out. It ended up in the back of a drawer when I got my current one. Scared the shit out of me when it started ringing.”
“It’s still charged?”
“You never know!” he says quickly.
This should be awkward, you think. This shouldn’t be so easy; it’s been years since you last talked and the two of you are completely different people now probably. Except it is easy, just like everything with Leon always has been, and you find yourself slipping into a routine you had long thought forgotten.
You laugh lightly, flopping backwards to lie more comfortably. “So, how’s life?”
It’s only hours later, after you two have done some major catching up, that he even thinks to ask, “So wait, not that I’m not super psyched that you did, but why did you call me today anyway?”
“Oh,” you say, glancing back to the box sitting innocently next to you. “I’m moving this week, and I was cleaning out my room when I found your phone number in an old box. And I thought, ‘what the hell?’.”
“You’re moving?” Leon questions. “Where?”
You tell him, and he makes an odd noise over the line.
“You serious?!”
“Uh, yeah. Why?”
“Dude. That’s like, five minutes away from where I live.”
“No way.”
“Yup.”
There’s a silence, which you tentatively break. “So, uh. Do you think you’d mind maybe… showing me around? Once I get there?”
You know logically that smiles don’t have a sound, but you’re pretty sure you can hear one when Leon speaks again. “Course! I’d love to!”
“Really?”
“Yeah!” he exclaims. “Looks like I’m gonna have to give you my new number.”
You grin.
Exactly one week later, you’re standing outside an unfamiliar coffee shop in an unfamiliar town, waiting for a both familiar and unfamiliar friend.
“______!”
Speak of the devil. You turn, a reply ready on your lips, only for it to wither and die the second you see him.
Um. Wow.
He’s taller, obviously, lean and faintly muscled from years of baseball, and all baby fat gone. He’s grown into his features, his hair dyed a shocking red along with the little goatee he’s sporting, piercings dotting his ears and chin, and all at once you’re struck with the ground-breaking realization that Leon Kuwata is hot.
You hope the look on his face means that he’s come to a similar conclusion about you.
“H-Hey!” you greet, recovering as quickly as possible. “Sorry, it’s just… you look different.”
He frowns worriedly. “…In a bad way?”
“No! Definitely not.”
“Good! I-I mean, you too!” He flushes slightly. “You look great.”
Damn it, now you’re flustered too. “Thanks.”
He continues on hurriedly, starting off down the road and giving you a light nudge with his shoulder as he passes to prompt you into falling into step beside him. “So, I’m gonna show you all the best places to hang out in town, and then afterwards we can maybe grab some lunch?”
“Sounds great!”
A few hours later and you’ve become intimately familiar with the ins and outs of the area, including a bunch of secretive nooks and crannies that Leon has obviously discovered through years of exploring. You felt rather special, being shown all these places that he so obviously holds dear.
So you buy lunch, as thanks. He protests wildly, reaching for his wallet, but you’ve already handed the money over and are sauntering towards your seat. After a second of staring dumbly after you he follows suit, sliding into the booth across from you.
After your first multi-hour phone call (and the two you’ve had since), you’ve pretty much caught each other up on all the major news in your lives, but somehow it’s still so easy to slip into a conversation with him. And as he launches into a rant about his teammates trying to get him to shave his head again (you really hope he doesn’t, you’re quite a fan of his hair, you realise) and how much he wishes he could just quit the damn sport, you’re treated to discovering some of his new, physical quirks.
Like the way he squeezes one eye shut in a wince when he’s talking about something annoying, or how his nose scrunches up when he mentions class, or how he flushes and scratches the back of his head when you give him an embarrassing compliment.
You quite like that last one.
“But I ended up talking with coach, and he was all like, ‘RARGH. YOU DON’T WANT TO PLAY ANYMORE??? And I was pretty much shitting my pants – I mean he’s a big guy, _____ – but I held my ground and said that it just wasn’t doing it for me anymore. So then he’s like ‘well what do you want to do then?’ and I told him straight up that I wanted to get into music.”
“And how did he take that?”
“That’s the thing!” Leon exclaims, “He just sort of looked at me and was like ‘…very well.’ and I was like ‘shit really?’ and he says,” Here he clears his throat and his voice turns absurdly deep. ‘YOU HAVE A GREAT POTENTIAL FOR BASEBALL, KUWATA. IF YOU CONTINUE TO NURTURE IT, I WILL ALSO DEDICATE TIME TO COACHING YOU IN THE WAYS OF MUSIC, IF THIS IS WHERE YOUR DREAMS TRULY LIE.’
“What.”
“Yup. And I’m just looking at him because he’s obviously never touched a CD in his life, but I’m not about to push my luck here. And he’s all like, ‘It is my job to help athletes figure out what they want to become.’ all solemn and serious and everything, and I think that’s pretty cool, you know? That he wants to help me do what I want even if it might not be baseball.”
“Whilst at the same time asking you to keep with the baseball so that you don’t lose everything you’ve worked up to.” you point out, and Leon nods reluctantly.
“But then, get this, his intensity just multiples by a fucking hundred and he grabs my shoulders and straight up yells, ‘BUT DO NOT THINK THAT THIS NEW SCHEDULE ALLOWS YOU TO FALL BEHIND ON TAKING CARE OF YOURSELF.’ and I’m like ‘what.’ and he just leans in real close and says,”
Here, Leon leans across the table, looking you dead in the eye. “’The secret to being healthy is a good appetite, a good sleep, and a good shit.’”
You nearly snort your drink out through your nose.
Leon leans back, giggling hysterically as you attempt to wipe your face and stop grinning at the same time. “Oh my god.” you say. And then, “He’s not wrong.”
Leon only laughs louder.
When the two of you have calmed down again, you take a moment to eye him curiously across the table.
“So you accepted that offer?”
“Well yeah,” Leon blinks at you. “I mean, he’s a good coach. And he’s good at getting me motivated, even about baseball. It’s pretty much the only reason I haven’t completely quit yet. I don’t think he knows anything about music, but he knows how to get me off my ass and actually doing shit, so…”
You hum in agreement, and the two of you slip into a small, comfortable silence as you eat. You end up breaking it a few minutes later.
“You’d miss it, though.”
“What?”
“Baseball. I mean, I know being on the team and having people centre your whole life on it has kind of killed it,” you explain. “But the actual sport? I think you’d miss it if you didn’t play anymore.”
He frowns thoughtfully. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’m kind of sick of it.”
“Well,” you lean back and stretch. “You’ve had lots of offers from leagues and universities, right? Considering how desperate they seem for you, I don’t think they’re gonna go away if you take a little breather from it all.”
“Hmm.”
“Why don’t you ask your coach to keep you out of official games and practices for a while? Just ask him to do some one on one with you, so you don’t fall behind, and go back to playing casually like we did when we were kids. You know, just going to the park and making stupid bets on whether or not you can hit that can and me inevitably losing because you have stupidly good hand-eye co-ordination.”
Leon smiles at you. It feels kind of different to the ones he was giving you earlier, and your chest tightens weirdly. “You had to buy me so many meat buns. I don’t know why you kept betting me.”
You kick him lightly under the table. “Just because you’re some sort of mutant sports super-genius. Besides, I learnt my lesson eventually.”
“Yeah, when your allowance got cut off.”
You kick him again. He kicks you back, you chuckle and somehow your legs end up pressed together underneath the table for the rest of the meal.
It feels nice.
He walks you home after that, since yours is closest and it’s on his way anyway, he reasons. The sun is just beginning to set behind the horizon, and it’s pleasantly warm out as you two fall into step beside each other.
It’s only when your hands brush for the third time and you’ve snuck double the number of glances at him that you realise that you really want to kiss him.
You squash the thought immediately.
But then suddenly you’re standing outside your home, staring at your door and wishing that the day wasn’t yet over, and Leon appears to be thinking the same thing.
“I’d, uh, invite you in, but the entire place is still in boxes and there’s not really much to do…” you explain, faintly embarrassed.
Leon grins nervously. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ve gotta be getting back anyway, but…” he trails off, scratching the back of his head again. He’s been doing it a lot today.
“But…?”
“Well, if you need any help, I can come over tomorrow and help you unpack, maybe? I mean. If you want.” he says, his gaze fixed somewhere off to the side.
“Sure!” you grin. “That would be great, thanks.”
“Cool,” he says, relaxing slightly. “I- Yeah. So… I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” you agree. “Tomorrow.”
“Cool.” he says again. His expression shifts slightly as if he’s about to say something else, but he seems to think better of it and spins around, walking away.
He gets about five steps before he stops and makes a harsh U-turn back towards you.
You watch him in surprise as he approaches, shoulders hunched and face red.
“Was this a date?” he blurts, and your mouth drops open.
“Um.”
“I mean,” he continues quickly, “We met up and we hung out and talked and then you bought me lunch except not because you lost a bet this time and our legs were touching and I thought maybe we were going to end up holding hands on the way back but I panicked and didn’t go for it and I always kind of had a weird crush on you when we were kids but I thought it was because we were such good friends so I didn’t realise and then you called me and you’re still really cool and you got really attractive and I thought you were kind of looking at me too but I didn’t want to assume and flirt and fuck this up when we’re trying to restart a friendship here but I’m kind of lost on what’s actually happening.”
You are too, you think, taking a few moments to untangle his long string of words. When they finally sink in, you feel your stomach flip.
You attempt to calm your skyrocketing pulse through sheer willpower. “You… wanted it to be a date, then?”
Leon fidgets. He’s not as smooth as he seems to think he is. “I… yeah, I did. Do. If you’re cool with that, I mean.”
Your mouth feels dry. “I’m… I’m cool with that.”
His head snaps up. “You are?”
“Yeah.”
The guarded hope in his eyes quickly shifts to glee. “Seriously?!”
“Seriously.”
He grins wildly, and surprises you both by grabbing you by the forearm and pulling you into a tight hug. “Fuck yes!”
You laugh lightly as relief floods your bones. You start to return the embrace but doing so seems to bring Leon back to his senses as he quickly lets go and steps back, looking sheepish.
“Shit, sorry,” He smiles nervously. “Wasn’t really thinking.”
“It’s okay!” you say quickly, because it was and it felt really nice and you’re honestly hoping he’ll do it more often.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
His smile grows wider. He seems about to say something else, but the sudden chime of his phone interrupts him. He takes it out and glances at the message, frowning.
“Damn, I’ve really got to get home.” he says, clearly disappointed. He looks back up at you, a strange expression on his face.
“So… tomorrow?”
A strange lightness fills your chest. “Tomorrow.”
He nods and starts to turn again when you’re hit by a sudden flash of courage.
“You got attractive too, you know.”
He whips back around, eyes wide with surprise, and stares at you for a few moments before his expression shifts into a roguish grin. Before you can react, he leans in and kisses your cheek.
He draws back, grin widening at your expression, and winks.
And then he’s gone, setting off down the road and whistling cheerfully, and you watch him until he turns the corner and vanishes from sight.
You turn, shove your key in the lock and swing open the door. It’s only once it’s closed behind you that you allow a grin that threatens to split your face in two, touching your cheek lightly and feeling the heat beneath your fingertips.
“Dork.”