Chapter Text
Sunlight slipped through the sloppily drawn bedroom curtains and danced across Gentaro’s eyelids, rousing him from slumber. Though it was hardly past sunrise, the world seemed blindingly bright, and he squinted and blinked furiously, sluggishly adjusting to the brilliance. He attempted to sit up further, but winced at the throbbing ache in his head and lowered back down to one elbow. How much did he drink last night?
Through the haze, Gentaro sensed a movement on the mattress adjacent to him; a glance to his left confirmed the presence of a human-sized lump under the covers. His expression scrunched up in dismay as he rubbed his face, and when he opened his eyes to look again, the figure was still there. No illusion.
Luckily, since this unknown lover was still asleep, it would be simple for Gentaro to slip out without any morning-after awkwardness. That was the best way to-
Wait a minute.
The author’s eyes caught a teacup, which looked quite a bit like a dish from his own collection. It seemed to have been forgotten on the desk next to the stack of scribbled notes, which was altogether adjacent to a bookshelf crowded with well-loved novels and sentimental knicknacks. A bit cluttered, sure, but this was certainly Gentaro’s room—surprising, as he avoided taking one-night stands into his own home at all costs.
So leaving was out of the question. The only way to avoid an interaction would be to pretend to sleep until the mystery man awoke and pray to god he wouldn’t try to stick around – which could take hours. Gentaro may be a proficient liar, but he wasn’t sure he could act convincingly with a hangover. Plus, he was in desperate need of a shower. Even through his headache, he could tell he reeked of alcohol and sweat and sex.
Despite himself, he was curious what sort of specimen he fell into bed with this time. Surely he could at least take a peek? Gentaro gently lifted up the bedcovers, taking care not to jostle the man or invite a draft, but his eyes went wide when he saw broad shoulders and shock of wild blue hair. The author practically yanked the covers back down, and his heart nearly stopped when the figure stirred again. But when the following moments proved perfectly still, the author exhaled in relief.
Only one thing was certain: staying in bed was the absolute worst choice Gentaro could make. His legs slipped over the edge of the bed, where he did not think to prepare his slippers last night, and shivered as bare toes pressed into the cold hardwood. The author’s head objected to the sudden change in orientation, but his fear overrode the nausea nicely. He managed to stumble to the shower with little incident, remembering at the last moment to grab a robe for modesty.
Gentaro normally showered in water that was borderline tepid, but this time, he cranked up the heat. He let the hot water cut through the layers of grime accumulated from the night’s activities as he desperately tried to recount the evening.
He remembered going out to a bar—while he preferred to people-watch in cafes, he seriously needed inspiration, and nightlife offered a whole different crowd to observe. He remembered having a few drinks, witnessing three failed pickup lines, one breakup, and what may have been a covert bathroom hookup. After that, everything got fuzzy. He dimly recalled the third pickup line being so painfully cheesy that he had to drink again just to forget it. At least one thing seemed to have worked out for him last night.
The author closed his eyes as he massaged his scalp. Water streamed gently down his face, dripping through his lashes to run in twin rivulets to his chin. He used to wash his hair with eyes open, as if he could be made less vulnerable by keeping constant watch over his surroundings, even though the shampoo made his eyes burn and itch. His brother used to laugh when he would exit the bathroom with reddened eyes, but he took pride in swallowing the pain for that bit of control. He soon learned that almost nothing in life was under his control. So he began to lean into uncertainty in the little ways, to spare himself the sting, and washed his hair with his eyes shut.
Drinking was another way that Gentaro learned to give up control. Instead of losing sensory input, he lost inhibitions. Whatever regrettable things he would do or say would be in the presence of strangers, practically ensuring that all would be easily forgotten. Evidently, he needed to recalculate that strategy.
Gentaro could just barely remember leaving the bar, leaning heavily on someone , and stumbling home. While the figure of his memory was blurry and faceless, he supposed that it must have been Dice. When and why he appeared, he could not begin to imagine.
The mystery to Gentaro was not why he had drunkenly fallen into bed with his closest friend—the gambler had fascinated him from their first meeting. Dice was the inspiration behind several of the author’s stories, and, he was ashamed to admit, a number of his personal fantasies as well.
But Dice–bless his soul–was straight.
Gentaro turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, feeling the cool of the bathroom hit his bare flesh before towelling off. He stared at the man in the mirror, wondering what led Dice to him . Just a body to use? The thought was a bit pathetic, and it bruised Gentaro’s ego. But what else?
It was also distinctly possible that Dice’s sexual proclivities were not as they seemed; experimentation would not be surprising for the gambler. However, if he needed to be drunk just to sleep with men, it wouldn’t make Gentaro feel any better.
Whatever the case, he needed to erase all evidence of this incident.
How could he fix this?
It would be easy enough to make up some excuse as to why Dice was sleeping in his bed, and he’d probably believe it as long as he couldn’t remember any better. Sometimes he envied the gambler for his ability to accept the world at simple face value.
Gentaro sighed. It was a pity he didn’t even have the memories to take with him.
While sipping his morning tea in the kitchen, the author heard a stirring from the bedroom. Something hit the floor with a thud.
“Shit!”
After a few more moments of rustling, the bedroom door creaked open hesitantly, and the gambler stumbled forward, blinking and yawning. Gentaro was sure he looked the same just a few hours ago. When Dice finally made eye contact with his host, a self-conscious smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.
“Heyyyy Gentaro.”
“Good morning, Dice.” The author desperately hoped he was passing for normal. As long as his eyes avoided the gambler’s well-worn undergarments, he should be fine. “So nice of you to finally join me.”
“So ummmm… I think I blacked out last night, and I woke up in your bed…?” Dice flinched as though he expected Gentaro to be angry with him. “C-can you fill me in?”
There was no law saying Gentaro could not have his fun. “Why Daisu, last night we finally consummated our love! I am really quite hurt that you have forgotten such a passionate evening.” He heaved a forlorn sigh. “Is this any way to treat a lovely maiden such as myself?”
“Wha-” Dice’s eyes widened in shock as his cheeks turned deep red. “You mean we- And you-” He shook his head. “Gen, you gotta be makin’ shit up again!”
“Indeed, ‘twas but a jest,” Gentaro lied. “You insisted on sleeping in my bed, so I took to the couch. Do not expect me to be so kind in the future.”
“So you don’t know anythin’ else? I mean, the sheets were kinda… well… maybe I don’t wanna say. You gotta wash those, man.”
Gentaro raised an eyebrow. “I suppose I should have expected as much.”
“...Can I-”
“Yes, please do shower, Dice. I can smell you from here.”
“Thanks, man! I owe ya!”
Under the streaming water, Dice couldn’t exactly refute Gentaro’s version of the past night’s events. He remembered that the author was already quite drunk by the time they met by chance at that bar. It was uncommon for the author to go out at night, so he was lucky to find him there – Dice didn’t like blowing his gambling money on booze, and Gentaro was quite generous with the drinks by that time. So, no, he didn’t remember going back to the apartment very clearly.
But what the hell happened…? Even for Dice, waking up in the author’s bed was fucking strange. Whenever he crashed at the apartment, he was always very strictly relegated to the couch (that is, after he graduated from the living room floor), and Gentaro always made him shower before bed.
He was not surprised to find his torn-up jeans and black shirt rumpled on the floor, but strangely, it seemed as though the author’s layers from the previous night were also thrown about – even though he apparently slept in the other room, and he didn’t strike Dice as the kind of guy who let his clothes sit on the floor, even for just a couple days before doing the wash. Was it possible that something else had happened last night…?
Get real.
Was Dice really considering the possibility that he had been messing around with mister buttoned-up prim-and-proper Yumeno-sensei? Sure, he hadn’t gotten laid in a while, but Gentaro? His closest male friend?
Dice shook his head, attempting to clear his mind by force. If Gentaro said nothing happened, then nothing happened, right? He just had to clean up those sheets, go easier on the drinks next time, and forget about it. Yeah.
“Soooooo Dice! Do anything super fun lately?” Fling Posse’s leader asked sweetly, twirling a lollipop between his fingers.
The gambler found himself low on funds again and hit up Ramuda to loan some cash. He usually asked Gentaro, since the designer’s “payment” requests could be… somewhat unpleasant. But even though several days had passed since he woke up in Gentaro’s bed, he was still too fucking mortified to face the author again.
Usually, Ramuda used him to do some manual labor, or even worse, clothes fittings , but this time, he just asked Dice to “hang out for a while!!”, which made him suspicious. Nothing came for free with the designer—but he desperately needed the money.
“Not really, I guess.”
Ramuda just stared at him, head tilted slightly to the right. There was something in his eyes that Dice didn’t particularly like, as if he was up to something. “Really? I thought I heard something about you getting lucky …”
“Oh yeah?” Ramuda couldn’t know, right? That would just be ridiculous. But then again, what the hell could he be talking about? Dice snapped his fingers in realization. Maybe he means the casino? “Well, I did win big in poker the other night! Just, I lost it all again in the next game, heh.”
The designer just stared and smiled placidly as he sucked on his lollipop. “Hmm, no, I think it was something else~”
It was clear that he was intending to wait Dice out, knowing that the gambler couldn’t stand an awkward silence. He sighed. “I really got nothin’, man. Guess you must’ve heard wrong…? Who’re you hearin’ that kinda stuff from anyway?”
“Actually, one of my ladies said she saw you out the other night! I thought maybe you were having some fun there,” Ramuda pouted, puffing out his cheeks.
Dice narrowed his eyes in disbelief. “Dude, do any of your ‘ladies’ even know what I look like? It coulda been anyone.”
“Well, you’re right about that!” the designer giggled. “She actually said she saw, quote, ‘Yumeno-sensei drinking with some weird homeless guy’ end quote. Isn’t that funny?”
“Hilarious.”
“So that ‘weird homeless guy’ with Gentaro was you?”
“Musta been. ‘Less you know of any others he hangs out with.”
“Diceeeee you’re not being any fun. Spill!! What did you guys do?”
“Umm,” Dice rubbed his face, recalling the epic hangover that hit him the morning after. “I really, really, really do not know. I was passin’ by this bar and saw Gentaro hangin’ out in there by himself, but I got wasted pretty quick after joinin’ in. Can’t remember much.”
“Aw, really?”
“Sorry.”
“What if I jogged your memory? Would that help?” Without waiting for a response, the designer pulled his phone out of his pocket and started tapping through messages. The devilish smile on his face spelled nothing but trouble for the gambler.
When Ramuda turned his phone around to show Dice, he saw a photo of him and Gentaro looking very cozy in a booth. Embarrassing, but it didn’t mean anything.
“Okay, and? Gentaro’s a touchy drunk.” He didn’t admit it to Ramuda, but seeing the picture did bring back some hazy memories from that night, more sensations than anything else. He could feel Gentaro pressing up against his side, head resting on his shoulder, and his skin felt hot.
“Super cute, right? There’s more too, check them alllll out!”
Dice did as he was told, taking the designer’s phone for a closer look, but the first few of the other pictures were just more of the same, just with slight changes in their positions, so that swiping through gave the impression of a very slow stop-motion video. Why the fuck were there so many photos? Were these from Ramuda’s onee-sans or the goddamn paparazzi?
Swipe. [Gentaro stopped leaning on him and sat up straight.] Swipe. [Dice turned to face him.] Swipe . Swipe. [They were very close face-to-face, noses nearly touching.]
Uh oh. Dice’s shoulders tensed up as he steeled himself to view the last of the images.
Swipe . [The author’s lips met his.] Swipe. Swipe. Swipe. Swipe. [They were fully making out now.]
There still were a few more images left in the message, but Dice just turned off the phone and set it face down on the table, lowering his head into his arms.
“You didn’t tell me you and Gentaro were having sooooooo much fun without me!” Ramuda complained brightly, startling the gambler in his misery.
“Obviously I didn’t fucking remember that.”
“Just checking, teehee!”
Dice finally looked up again to face his tormentor. “So was that how you planned for me to pay you back? If you wanted to embarrass me, it fucking worked, dude.”
“Actually, Dice, I wasn’t finished yet. Just one more teensy question.”
The gambler sighed in resignation. He was already this far in, so he might as well endure the rest. “Ask away.”
“How do you feel about Gentaro?”
“Wha- I mean-” Dice spluttered. “We’re just friends, man! Don’t get any weird ideas.”
“So when you went home with him…”
Without having seen the last few pictures, Dice imagined that they showed them leaving the bar together, Gentaro clutching at his arm to stay upright. His heartbeat quickened at the recovered memory, but he shook it off.
“I crash at his place all the time! You already know all that. Doesn’t mean nothin’.”
He fucking knew that something was up when Ramuda just wanted to “talk” before giving him money. Why did he have to act so coy about the photos? Even more, it disturbed him that he still couldn’t figure out Ramuda’s angle on this story yet. Was it all just to get Dice flustered, or was there something else on the table?
The designer’s face was pouted up into an exaggerated cutesy thinking expression, resting his chin in both hands. “Hmm… then why did you come to me for money?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, you usually ask Gentaro. I know he doesn’t normally make you do a buncha stuff to earn it like I do. But you said you didn’t remember any of that from the other night, so everything must be normallllll…”
Dice didn’t respond.
“So you woke up on Gentaro’s couch and neither of you had even a tiny clue what happened?”
“Yeah, I woke up on the… couch.”
“A hesitation!!” Ramuda jumped in his seat, leaning forward in excitement. “Tell me the truth, Dice~”
“That is the truth,” he grumbled.
The designer appeared to be delighted with the way this conversation was going. “Let’s leave the lying to Gentaro, yeah? You’re suuuuper bad at it!”
“You’re a crafty little bitch, you know that?”
“Aww, you’re such a meanie, Dice!”
Ramuda didn’t act dumb exactly, but he definitely obscured his true scheming nature behind all that cutesy shit.
“Okay, well, Gentaro said he remembers that he couldn’t actually get me to sleep on the couch this time. Like I was fighting him over it or somethin’, I dunno.” Dice’s head went back into his hands, as if he could hide from the reality of what he was about to share. “I actually woke up in his… bed.”
The designer howled with laughter, trying (and failing) multiple times to get himself back together. Dice supposed that he finally got what he was looking for.
“Imagine your shock waking up next to him,” Ramuda managed to get out through giggles. “Or maybe he was already making you morning-after breakfast~~ I totally get why you don’t wanna see him right now.”
The gambler’s ears pricked with heat. “Uh, no. Gentaro slept on the couch.”
An expression of disbelief passed over Ramuda’s face. “Are you telling me that after you drunkenly passed out in his bed, the great Yumeno Gentaro-sensei just gave up and slept on the couch ? Did he even try calling the cops on you first?”
“I dunno, dude. He was up before me.”
Ramuda stared. “...So you don’t actually know?”
“How long do we have to do this for?” he whined. He didn’t like where this conversation was going at all.
The designer sighed. “I guess Dice wants to take his money and run. Poor little Ramuda!” He smiled and struck a cute pose to show that he wasn’t really serious, a habit that would look absolutely insane on anyone else. “Just kidding! I guess I can let you go for now.”
“Yeah, well, thanks for the cash, I guess. Promise I’ll pay you back, even if you are a little shit.”
“Ooh! Just one more thing!!”
The gambler stopped in his journey towards the door, turning back to see that Ramuda had taken on a more serious expression.
“Don’t do anything stupid, ‘kay? I need my posse to stick together. Play nice with Gentaro!”
“Sure, man.” And Dice was gone.