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It all starts at the racetracks.
It’s been months since you’ve broken off with your last partner and you finally feel enough like yourself to want to reconnect to your usual social life. Except life, it seems, has taken all of your friends by the ear and dragged them away, because no one is available to go out.
You’ve never considered yourself one of those outgoing, extroverted people, but there’s a certain joy to be had in hanging with friends, dicking around like the not-so-old days back in college. You’ve probably become spoiled from the asshole that is your ex, who was always encouraging you to both go out and try out whatever hottest new place either of you had heard of, be it for food or drinks, karaoke, or whatever fad was currently popular with people your age.
Now that that aspect of your life is over you find yourself empty without someone to hang out with. All of your friends are too busy trying to manage their new jobs and relationships and families to spare some time for you. You’ve always been the prideful, independent sort though, and you don’t want to seem clingy after all they did for you after your break up, so you tell them, “It’s fine, don’t worry, I completely understand,” and try not to let on how lonely you really feel.
So, with nothing else to do, you fall back into bad habits and head for the racetracks. It’s not as soothing as hanging out with people you know would be, but you’ve been slowly going stir crazy without any company, so just being out in the open surrounded by people is enough to soothe your frazzled nerves. You even indulge yourself enough to place some bets, though you don’t really expect much to come out of it.
The benches are already full with people when you get to them so you head to the front railings instead. It’s better to watch the races from, anyway. That’s one advantage to coming to the racetracks without anyone else—you can scream your head off to your heart’s content. The people you hang out with are well aware of how competitive you can be, and you could care less about being judged by strangers, but with your friends you have to deal their constant teasing for weeks afterwards.
You decide to stand between some old man and a guy around your age in a red hoodie, watching as they start to load the horses into the stalls when suddenly—
“Woah, what the fuck!?” You gasp and jump back from the hand squeezing your ass, tracing it back to the hoodie guy.
“That’s a cute ass you got there!” He rubs his finger under his nose (belonging to the other hand, thank god), completely unperturbed by your reaction.
“Piss off.” You growl, and turn your attention back to the races.
You can still feel his presence behind you though, and your hackles rise as the announcer starts talking through the speakers. Oh my god, is he really going to…? You glance at him from the corner of your eye. He is.
You’d sigh if it didn’t give you away. There’s just no learning with some people.
You feel yourself coil up in preparedness and time it just as the horses are set free to the buzz—you whip around and pack a satisfying Solar Plexus PunchTM right into an unsuspecting Red, who’d previously been gearing up for another grope. It’s strong enough to send him flying a few meters away, spit dribbling off his lips.
“That’s what you get for making me miss the beginning of the race.” You smirk at his crumpled figure, but when you turn back your attention back to the actual event you’re completely diverted by the fact that your horse is near the front of the line.
Holy shit.
“Fucking go! Go! Go!” You scream, bouncing up and down like a toddler as you yell encouragements at your horse. There’s no way it can pick your voice apart from the roar of the crowds, but it slowly starts to get ahead of all the others anyway and your heart is pounding like a jackhammer at the thought that you might actually make some money out of all of this.
You scream and howl and yell as the race progresses, nearly falling over the railings once or twice. All the stress you’ve been carrying for the last months is channeled into bloodthirsty curses directed both at your horse—“Move you lame-hoofed piece of shit!”—and at the others—“I saw you throwing that bite you cheating motherfucker!”
You yell out a particularly creative curse as your horse nearly flips another over, only for it to complete a perfect summersault and keep running, much to your dismay.
“Hey that was totally foul-play!” A voice calls out beside you. You pause in your screaming to turn to your right, and spot Red, now completely recovered from the hit you landed on him, leaning on the railing just as you are and ignoring you in favor of the summersaulting horse he’s screaming for. Probably the one he’s bet his money on, judging by the ticket crinkled in his hand. “Don’t let some half-assed cheating donkey beat you, Matsu-Mentum!”
In a spiteful act of pettiness you yell out, “Make him eat dirt Brisky Bookworm!” and give Red your best shit-eating grin when he turns to give you a death glare.
Yeah, bring it on you Muppet pervert.
It turns into an all-out war. The both of you compete for howling out encouragements at your own horses, riling each other up and growing louder and louder as the race goes on. You shriek and curse and shove at each other as if it’ll help your horse go faster, violence growing to slapstick levels of absurdity. Your horse surpasses his, he gnaws on your head. His horse gets ahead, you gnaws on his. It comes to a point where the rest of the audience has given you two a wide berth as you scream—you wouldn’t be surprised if security came to kick you out at any moment now.
In an amazing turn of events, both of your horses are at the front of the line during the last lap, and you’re practically clawing each other’s eyes out in an attempt to out-bellow each other. It feels like the earth slows down as they approach the finish line, nose to nose. The both of you freeze, his hands tugging at your hair while you bend his head back by the jaw with the palm of your hand, holding your breathe as they both get closer, and closer, and then—
And then a third horse barrels past the both of them like a meteor, knocking them to the side and also allowing the rest of the horses to cross the finish line before they can get up again.
You feel your soul depart from your body in shock.
But then you recover and forcibly tug it back in if only to complain, “Oh my god that is total bullshit!”
“What the hell?” Red demands beside you. “What the fuck was that!?”
“Did you see the size of that monster!? Was he even in the race!? I’m pretty sure he wasn’t in the whole race!”
“He totally came out of nowhere! Is that even legal!?”
“There’s no way it is! Holy shit, this whole thing is jigged. I demand a refund!”
“Yeah! Give us our money back, dammit!”
“Let’s burn the park to the fucking ground!”
“Leave no stone untouched!”
In a surprising moment of synchronization, the both of you pause to look at each other in the eye, and promptly burst out laughing.
“Oh my god… oh my god…!” You manage between gasps, doubling over to hold your aching stomach as you cackle. It’s hard to make out anything between the tears in your eyes, but you think you see Red doing the same. It takes almost five minutes to calm yourself down, but even then you’re so high from laughing that you could easily burst into another fit. “I haven’t… had t-that much fun in—in ages!”
“That was the best!” Red agrees, wiping his cheeks dry. “Do you come here often? I'm pretty sure I’ve never seen you around here before.”
“This is the first time I’ve come to the horse races since I moved like half a year ago, and this place is closer to where I live.” You explain, your giggles finally calming down. “You’re not that bad for a handsy pervert, Red.”
“I’m Osomatsu! Matsuno Osomatsu!” He beams, and you try not to burst out laughing again at his name as you shake his hand and tell him yours. Boy his parents must have a weird sense of humor.
“That’s such a mouthful! I think I’ll just stick with Red.”
He doesn’t seem to mind that at all, grin growing wider. It’s freaking adorable, not that you’d admit that at all.
“Does that mean I’ll see you again?" He says. "You have to come around more often. My brothers never come along since they don’t care about horse racing, but you can only bet by yourself so many times ‘till you get bored. You’re pretty cool though, even if you got shit taste in horses.”
“As if an ass like you knows any better!” You bark in laughter, before smiling, ”I’ll consider it though.”
You choose to pretend you don't see him fist-pumping in victory, quickly glancing at the people around you instead. By now the crowd has thinned out enough that you can leave without any trouble. Might as well head home. “Welp, I think I’m gonna go now. See you around, Red.”
His smile falters, but he bids you goodbye just the same.
As you’re about to leave, you’re struck by one last impulsive idea, and—why not?—you circle behind him on your way to the exit and reach out to pinch his ass. He jumps with a squeak and turns to you as his hands fly behind him, and you can’t help but laugh at the look of shock on his red face, definitely having not expected that.
You wink at him cheekily and disappear into the crowd. Matsuno Osomatsu, huh? Absentmindedly you realize that you’re already mulling over when your next day off will be, looking forward to meeting him again.
He’s not a bad guy, that Red.