Archive of Our Own

Karube is good at making friends. He’s personable, he gets along easily with people and really, he always has. Maybe he wouldn’t have called himself necessarily 'popular' at school, but people knew him and he couldn’t walk the halls without people saying hi to him. It’s also why he’s good at his job. People are supposed to be able to open up to their bartender, to feel comfortable in the bar, and he’s the life of his workplace. 

Niragi’s the first person he’s had an actual issue with in years, the first person who’s not just some drunken asshole that Karube’s had to deal with and kick out, playing the part of both bartender and security guard. So it seemed though, it wasn’t really about Karube, more about Niragi’s own issues of getting caught up in his head. 

If Karube’s good at making friends, he’s also good at noticing when people need one - and it’s pretty damn obvious that Niragi does. 

It means pushing down those feelings of attraction that have been bubbling up. Karube tells himself it’s a necessity because Niragi needs a friend, not a quick fuck and probably not a boyfriend and Karube hasn’t actually dated in months anyway. It’s not like Niragi would be the first person Karube’s been attracted to and also friends with. There’s Arisu, there’s Kuina, even Ann’s rather pretty, Usagi’s cute in a 'sporty girl' way, not that he’d ever do more than vaguely look since he’s Arisu’s best friend and he’d never want to get between them. Karube finds himself falling for people all the time, over and over and over again. 

Like breathing, like his heart beating, it’s unconscious. 

But Niragi needs a friend, so he folds the feelings up and pushes them down into his chest. 

They’re getting coffee. Because Niragi’s been up all night and he’s practically falling asleep on his feet. It’s been happening more and more lately. He’s been working on projects through the night, trying to prove to his seniors at work that they don’t need to coddle him, that he’s still just as good as before the Shibuya incident, that he deserves to have his old projects back from his idiot coworkers who are probably fucking up all the progress he’d made. His hands and fingers are slightly cramped from typing on his keyboard, his back is aching from being hunched over at his desk. He hadn’t even made it to bed, he’d woken up with his face smooshed against his arm and his hand lying so heavy on the keyboard that he’d had to delete lines of senseless lettering in his code. 

It’s a surprise that he even managed to shower and dress himself. He’d stood in the shower for maybe minutes too long, his head hanging under the stream until it was all he could hear, until nothing else existed. Then his fingers had gotten pruny and his scars had gotten achy and he’d been forced to get out, grimacing about the hit to his water bill. 

What’s worse is what he’s taken to mentally calling the 'cologne situation'. 

It had been a mistake, one made days earlier. He’d been so tired when it had happened. Someone had put the box in the wrong place at the store and he’d just grabbed it and bought it. He’d meant to return it, but he hadn’t gotten the chance. He shouldn’t have opened the box, but he just wanted to know what it smelled like so then maybe he didn’t have to take it back. 

Raspberries. It smells like fucking raspberries. Fruity and vanilla-y and slightly white musk-y. 

And now he smells like raspberries. Because he’d been rushing and the bottle looks similar enough to his regular cologne and he hadn’t had time to try and wash it off before Karube was knocking at his door.

They’re walking side by side, maybe a fraction too close to each other but there’s other people on the street and they don’t want to get separated or bump into anyone else. Karube is talking but Niragi’s not really listening because his entire consciousness is locked onto the fact that all he can smell is raspberries. Every breath in, raspberries. It’s almost making him dizzy. He stumbles a little as he dodges past someone, his shoulder bumping against Karube’s. 

The crowd starts to peter out as they turn down another street, opening the sidewalk up for them to walk comfortably. Karube doesn’t move away though, still close enough that their shoulders brush every few steps. He bounds along, clearly more energetic than Niragi, but maybe that’s just his default. All springy sunshine, like summer incarnate. It’d be annoying from anyone else, but somehow Karube makes it seem charming — which is an entire different kind of annoying. 

The coffee place, some hole-in-the-wall that Karube knows, is just a little further down the street. Niragi thinks he can just about see the small hanging wooden sign. 

Before he can point it out and ask, he glances at Karube and notices a curious expression on his face. Oh god. No. There’s a slight furrow to Karube’s brows. His freckled nose twitches, then he leans slightly closer to Niragi, his head tilting. 

A slight grimace pulls to Niragi’s mouth. 

Don’t notice don’t notice don’t no— 

“Why do you smell like raspberries?” Karube says with a short laugh.

Niragi can feel his face heat a little and he elbows Karube away. 

“I bought the wrong cologne,” he grumbles. 

Karube laughs again. Normally when people laugh at Niragi, it gets under his skin and prickles at him, but for some reason with Karube it doesn’t hit the same way. Less like a punch, less like he’s laughing at him. It’s weird, different, and he doesn’t really understand why. Karube sways casually towards him, easily keeping up with him even as he hastens his pace. 

“Well, if you’re taking second opinions, it’s not bad, but I like your usual one better,” Karube says. 

Something flickers in Niragi’s chest. Small, like the flame on a candle. 

He huffs lightly, rolls his eyes, “Whatever.” 

Karube grins in that wide way that makes his eyes crinkle. He tucks a hand into the pocket of his jeans. 

“Well now I’m feeling like something sweet,” he muses. His eyes flick sidelong to Niragi, grin quirking, “Are raspberries in season?” 

“You’re lucky I’m in desperate need of coffee or else I’d be walking away from you now.” 

Again, Karube laughs, swinging an arm over Niragi’s shoulders as if jokingly worried he’s going to try and run off. Niragi rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t so much as shrug him off left alone move away. 

It’s a slow night at the bar. Or rather, it’s a completely dead night at the bar. Sure, it’s the middle of the week and it’s pretty late in the night, but Karube’s been scheduled on and he can’t leave early even if he wants to. Customers are few, lingering quietly at tables that Karube can’t tidy until they leave. He’d only mentioned his boredom in passing to Niragi over text, he hadn’t invited him to come down or even expecting it considering the hour. 

That being said, he hadn’t been complaining when the bar door had swung open and Niragi had strolled in. He must’ve been ready to stay in for the night before deciding to come keep Karube company down at the bar because he looks like he’d been ready to stay in for the night. He’s wearing his glasses and his dark hair has been messily pulled back, the buttons of his cuffs and at the top of his shirt aren’t done up, revealing a tantalising amount of skin and the smooth points of his collarbones. His eyes are underlined with dark circles and Karube has half a mind to tell him to go home and sleep, but then he decides to be selfish and says nothing of the sort. 

He sits down at the bar and Karube flashes a welcoming grin. 

It’s not long after Niragi comes that it’s just the two of them, but Karube’s still got about an hour until he can close up. Niragi sits on one side of the bar and Karube stands on the other, leaning his hands on the bar. Karube could just start cleaning up now, but why not take this as a chance to try and get to know Niragi better? He’s got a hard shell that’s been hard to crack but Karube is determined to get through. 

“Two truths and a lie? Seriously?” 

Niragi looks surprised, or maybe dumbfounded is a better word. There’s a quirking of his dark brows, the pink burn scar over his right temple wrinkles slightly. 

Karube shrugs, “Easier than asking dumb questions.” 

And easier than trying to figure out what you’re comfortable with telling me, he thinks. 

Niragi rolls around the base of the glass of beer he’s been nursing for the last half-hour. He takes a deep breath, seemingly thinking. Karube wonders what goes on his head when he goes quiet like that. Finally, his dark eyes flick up to meet Karube’s gaze. 

“You go first then,” he says. 

“Fine.” Karube sways his weight as he thinks, humming quietly, “I’ve haven’t traveled far outside the Kanto region, my favourite colour is yellow, and …” he shrugs, “I’ve been blond since high school.”

Niragi eyes him, examining. 

“I can believe those last two, so the first is the lie.” 

Karube smirks, shakes his head. 

“My favourite colour’s orange.” 

“Seriously?” 

“I didn’t realise liking things had an age limit, mister judgey.” 

“No, I meant,” he huffs, shakes his head, “You’ve never been outside Kanto?” 

“My parents were always too busy working to go anywhere when I was a kid and I don’t exactly make a lot of money here now, so,” he trails off with a shrug, “Nope.” 

There’s a pause. Niragi’s eyes search across him. His tongue wets across his bottom lip. 

“Where would you go?” Niragi asks, “If you could.” 

Karube’s head tilt in thought, “In Japan? Hokkaido, I suppose. Maybe I’d try out snowboarding, visit the beer museum, try the food.” 

Niragi hums softly, his fingertips tracing around the rim of his glass. 

“Hokkaido’s not that far.” 

“Maybe not, but like I said, not a lotta money in my account, not a lotta days I can take off.” He leans towards Niragi, smiles, “Where would you go?” 

“In Japan?” he replies, mimicking him, “…Osaka maybe.” 

When Karube realises that he’s not going to say more, he feels a little disappointed, but just lets it pass. He props his hands back onto the bar, leaning on them. 

“Okay, it’s your turn,” he says. 

Niragi huffs quietly through his nose. Picking up his beer, he takes a slow sip from it. His pierced tongue flicks across his bottom lip again, Karube watches the glint of silver, feeling his own tongue shift behind his teeth. 

“Stupid,” he murmurs under his breath, his fingers drumming once, twice on the glass.

“Come on,” Karube pushes. 

Niragi sighs. 

“Okay, fine, whatever,” he pauses, thinking, “Uh, I only started gaming in high school, I’ve broken a bone, I hate cold weather.” 

“What did you break?” 

“Are you allowed to ask questions?” Niragi shoots back, thought there’s a hint of amusement in his tone, “We should’ve laid down some ground rules.” 

“Oh come on, just tell me.” 

His fingers flex on the bar top. 

“My hand.” 

Karube’s eyes flick down to his hands. His long fingers and the soft points of his knuckles, his bitten-to-the-quick nails and the pink burns mottling his pale skin. Which one had he broken? When? How?

Niragi’s fingers curl into his palm, tense. Karube quickly looks away. 

“It’s the first one, right? The gaming one’s a lie?” he continues. 

A smirk twitches at the corner of Niragi’s mouth. 

“Yeah,” he drawls, then rolls his eyes, “Is it that obvious I’m a nerd?”

“Hey, I like nerds.” 

Well, that’s not a lie. He does like nerds. Arisu’s definitely a nerd and he’s Karube’s best friend. He’d meant it in a friendly way but the way he says it hangs in the air for a moment as Niragi looks at him. His dark eyes blink behind his glasses, a slight quirk of his brows. 

Karube clears his throat and quickly tried to change the subject. 

“How’d you break your hand?” 

Niragi shrugs. Karube pulls a face. 

“You don’t remember?” 

Niragi’s expression twitches, “It was more than a decade ago.” 

Of course Niragi remembers. The sun setting, the grit of gravel digging into his skin, his glasses knocked from his face, the sound of his bullies’ laughter in his ear as they watched Arata grinding the heel of his shoe into the back of Niragi’s hand until the bone cracked and the skin bruised, a punishment for some imagined slight that Niragi actually can’t remember. 

Unconsciously, he massages his thumb into his palm, self-soothing against a remembered ache. 

“Seriously? Back in high school then?” Karube whistles lowly, “That’s rough. I busted up my knuckles real bad in high school once.” 

Niragi seems a little tense at that, shifting in his seat. 

“Why?” he asks, an odd caution in his tone.

“My buddy Arisu, he got into some trouble with a couple older guys. He’s not a great fighter, was really getting his ass kicked so I just … jumped in, I guess. Didn’t really think about it. But you can really fuck up your hands if you just go in all guns-blazing, y’know?” 

He doesn’t say it like he’s trying to paint himself as some big-shot hero. It had just come naturally to him. He hated bullies then, he hates them now. 

“He was lucky to have you,” Niragi says quietly, but there’s a kind of bitterness tinging his tone. He takes another sip of his beer, then motions at him, “Go on. Your turn.” 

They continue to trade off truths and lies. Karube almost failed maths every year. Niragi’s never been able to keep a tamagotchi alive. Karube’s always wanted a dog but his parents never let him get one and now he doesn’t have the time or space for a pet. Niragi hates online multiplayer games. Karube’s bought a t-shirt at every concert he’s ever been to. Niragi 'always wins' at crane games, he got good at them during high school. Karube doesn’t have a favourite genre of music because he listens to anything and everything. Niragi hates the rain. Karube argues that that’s the same thing as hating cold weather and Niragi quick to argue back that it’s different, giving their game pause for a handful of minutes as they bicker over it. 

As the game goes on, Niragi starts to wonder why he’s telling Karube all this stuff. There’s a growing crack in his built up walls, showing a glint of usually-well-hidden vulnerability. He’s not even saying much, but somehow it’s still probably more than anyone else knows about him. He doesn’t talk to people much, let alone talk about himself. He keeps all his cards close to his chest; about himself, about his past, all of it. 

Somehow, Karube is chipping his way through the walls that Niragi has had set in place for years. For some reason, Niragi is letting him.

“Okay, last round before I gotta close up,” Karube says with a clap, “Come on, lay it on me.” 

Niragi swigs down the last of his beer as he thinks. 

“Alright, uhh, I’ve seen a ghost, I’ve spent way too much money on a collector’s figurine, and,” He pauses, “My first piercing was done by … a non-professional, let’s say.” 

His expression creases imperceptibly. Why had he said that? He never talks about that. He doesn’t even talk about the bullying, why did he mention the piercing? It was the worst moment of his life, it still makes him sick it even think about. His hands slip off the bar, sinking into his lap and digging his nails into his palms. 

Karube doesn’t seem to notice, even with his eyes flicking across Niragi’s face. 

“Which piercing?” he asks finally. 

“My tongue.” 

Karube huffs a disbelieving laugh. 

“No way you got your tongue done first. And by someone who wasn’t even trained? No way! That’s gotta be the lie.” 

Oh, how Niragi wishes that were true. 

“That’s a truth,” he says, not quite meeting Karube’s eyes anymore, forcing a hand up to lazily roll his empty glass around on the bar. He hopes Karube doesn’t notice the slight tremor in his fingers. 

Karube’s face scrunches. “Then what’s the lie?” 

“I’ve never seen a ghost. I don’t believe in all that crap.” 

“Wait, you’re serious? The piercing thing is true?” 

Niragi’s smile is a little weak as he slips off the stool, nudging it back against the bar. His stomach feels a little twisted up, his throat tight, as if thinking any longer on the memory let alone talking about it will make him hurl; though the few beers he’d drunk over the course of the last few hours certainly aren’t helping either. He slides the glass across to Karube. 

“Good night, Karube.” 

Something crosses Karube’s expression that Niragi refuses to look too closely at. He can’t bear that it might be pity. That he might’ve ruined this already. He should’ve kept it to himself. He should’ve lied.

“Right. Good night, Niragi.” 

With a short nod, Niragi turns and escapes out into the late dark night. 

Ever since meeting Karube, Niragi’s been leaving the house more. In the month after finally getting to go home from the hospital, he’d been holing himself up in his apartment. He hated being stared at by strangers and the burns had been so much more visible when they were still healing and red-pink. It had made his skin crawl, the way people acted around him. He’d taken to only going to work and then going home, and ordering delivery instead of going out to eat anywhere; though when that got too pricey, he’d had to start cooking for himself. 

As it turns out, he’s actually pretty good at it. Before the meteor, he hadn’t done anything more complicated than what could be cooked in a microwave, now he’s actually making use of his kitchen. It means he has to go on bigger shopping trips, but if he stocks up, then he doesn’t have to worry about going again for a while unless it’s for fresh food. 

That had been the plan for today until Karube texts and asks him to hang out. He could decline, he knows, but he just finds himself agreeing. 

It’s not long after replying to that text that he finds himself stepping into the noisiness of an arcade center. The sounds of the machines and the overhead speakers is close to overwhelming, it could’ve made a lesser man dizzy, but to Niragi, it just feels nostalgic. Holing himself away in his apartment means that he hasn’t been to a place like this in months, maybe years since his job had been keeping him busy even before the meteor took him out of commission to recover from his injuries. 

Karube is beside him and bumps slightly against his shoulder as he steps aside to let some other people leave. Niragi looks sideways at him. He doesn’t really look overwhelmed either, making Niragi wonder how much time he’s spent in arcades like this. Maybe with his other friends? Or on dates? It’s not an uncommon date activity. 

Niragi quickly shakes off the thought. Friends. They’re just friends. 

“You really want to waste your afternoon here?” he asks. 

Karube grins at him. 

“You’re the one that said you 'always win' at these games, I wanna see you prove it,” he replies. 

“I think you just want me to win you prizes.” 

Karube hooks an arm around his shoulders. He smells woody and citrusy; it’s not something Niragi would ever wear himself, but on Karube it’s perfectly suited. He starts to pull Niragi further into the arcade.

“Sure. Treat me like your girlfriend, I wanna leave with my arms full,” Karube jokes. Niragi huffs, amused, but there’s a heat that creeps up his throat and he shrugs Karube’s arm off of his shoulder. 

They walk down the aisles of games, checking out the prizes and different machines. As the nostalgia floods his mind, Niragi has to keep reminding himself that he’s not here alone. He nearly walks away from Karube more than once. Karube doesn’t seem to mind, just follows after him until he finally grabs Niragi by the elbow. 

“Let’s do this one,” he says. 

There’s two stacks of boxes inside the machine just waiting to be toppled. From the looks of it, it’s packs of sweets. 

“Are you just using me so you can save your snack budget for the week?” Niragi jokes as he steps towards the machine. 

Karube elbows his bicep. 

“I’ll share!” 

Niragi just smirks, shaking his head as he slips a few coins into slot. Focusing, he makes quick work of lining up the claw and nudging over one of the stacks, a couple boxes falling down. It’s not hard if you know what you’re doing and what you’re looking for. He hears Karube laugh beside him. 

“Okay, I’ll admit I thought you were lying the other night, but you’re actually really good at these games, aren’t you?” he says, leaning down to scoop the boxes out from where they’d fallen in the chute. 

Niragi just snorts. 

Continuing to walk around, it’s not long until Karube’s got quite the collection tucked under one of his arms. He pauses in front of a machine, leaning to look closer at it. Niragi stops by him, mouth twisting at he takes note of the game. Karube straightens up, looking back at him. 

“How about this one?” he asks, cocking his head towards it. 

“Nah, those ones are total money-wasters,” he pauses, rolls his eyes a little at the irony of the statement, “Well, more of a money-waster than the rest of these games.” 

Karube quirks a brow at him. Niragi takes a step closer, motioning. 

“Take a look,” he says, “See the box and that lil tab? You have to line up and hook the claw through that loop, but the claw is too weak to pick up the box, so it can only shuffle it, but the box is heavy. So you have to keep putting coins in just to move it millimetres every round until it’s close enough to edge to finally push over. Not worth it.” 

“Huh,” Karube replies, looking closer. 

Niragi nudges at his arm, starting to walk down the row of machines again. Karube shuffles the boxes under his arm, his gait casual as they stroll along. They turn around into another row, this one a tad emptier of other players. There’s solitary large plush toys in the claw machines, the majority looking difficult to grab and win. 

“So how’d you get so good at this?” Karube asks. 

Niragi taps on a flashing game button in passing. He presses his tongue piercing up against his palate. 

“I just had a lot of free time when I was younger,” he replies, shrugging. 

It’s not a lie. He did have a lot of free time, but the unspoken truth is that it’s because he didn’t have any friends and sometimes he couldn’t bear to stay home where his mother would look at him so sadly. She knew firsthand the effects of the bullying on him. His lack of friends, the bruises, the broken bones, the nightmares, the ruined uniforms and books. There’d been nothing she could do to help him though, there was nothing anyone could do. 

“Me and a couple of my friends used to hang around places like this. We didn’t always have money so sometimes we’d just walk around,” Karube says, “Arisu always wanted to play the actual video games, but Chota …” Niragi notes how his voice shakes a little bit on the name, but then he clears his throat and continues, “Well Chota was totally useless as all these claw games, so I’d have to help him out to win anything.” He laughs a little, but it seems a bit weak for some reason. “Hey, maybe if we’d had you around then we wouldn’t have wasted so much money.” 

Maybe if Niragi’d had Karube around back then he wouldn’t have been so alone. 

He buries the thought. It’s hard enough to believe that Karube wants to be his friend now after the way they’d first met, there’s no way Karube would’ve wanted to hang around with him when he was a beat-up, constantly-bruised nerd. 

“So if you’ve played these before too, why am I doing all the work?” Niragi asks, unserious, fixing him with a look. 

That strange sad look leaves Karube’s eyes and he smiles. 

“Well since you’re such a champ, I didn’t wanna upstage you,” he jokes. 

“Come on then, win me something.” Niragi looks around at the prizes behind the glass. Something challenging enough to make Karube work for it, but not something impossible. He points. “That one.” 

Karube turns, following where he points, then he laughs. Walking over, he looks into the machine. Sitting inside is a, quite frankly ugly, godzilla plushy. It’s chunky with a stiff heavy brow bone and tiny arms and a goofy open mouth, down its back is a row of thin felt-looking dorsal plates. Karube glances sidelong and quirks a brow at Niragi as he steps over to join him by the machine. 

“You want this thing?” he confirms.

Niragi nods, “Yeah.” 

“Fine,” Karube chuckles, holding out the boxes to Niragi. 

Taking them, Niragi steps aside to watch Karube’s technique, resolving to not speak up even if he can see a better way. He wants to see what Karube can do, if he’s all talk. Karube wrings out his hands, stretching his fingers. Niragi watches as he picks at his chain bracelet, nudging it a little further up his wrist. He notices Karube’s got some freckles on the backs of his hands, little sunborn things like the ones on his face. For a moment, he wonders where else Karube might have them. He’s distracted from the thought as Karube slots some coins into the machine, a determined expression coming to his face. 

Watching, Niragi’s eyes flick between Karube’s hands and the claw as he lines it up over the toy. He resists the urge to reach over and nudge it just slightly in the right direction, instead prodding his thumb at the pointed corner of one of the snack boxes in his hands. 

Karube hits the 'down' button. The crane claw lowers. It grips the plush at an awkward angle, dropping it after a few milliseconds of airtime, the toy landing on its side barely closer to the chute opening than where it had started. 

Karube huffs. Niragi’s mouth twists in a smirk. 

“Yeah, you’re really 'upstaging me' with those skills,” he teases. 

“Shut it, I’m just getting warmed up.” 

More coins go in the slot and the machine’s music starts up again, fast paced and excited. As Karube starts to move the claw around again, Niragi digs into the box of one of their won prizes, pulling out a lollipop. Grape flavour. His tongue is quickly coated with sticky sweetness as he rolls it around his mouth before pushing it into the pocket of his cheek. 

Karube manages to move the plush a little bit more before it drops again. He curses quietly under his breath, shoving another coin into the slot. Niragi resists a chuckle as to not break his focus. He rolls the lollipop from one cheek to the other. 

Casually swaying, he keeps quiet as he watches Karube play round after round, slowly getting closer and closer to winning. Karube seems to hold his breath as he presses the button, watching the claw lower down and grip around the plush. It lifts, wobbling. Niragi finds himself caught up in the moment, silently willing the toy to land in the hole. The plush drops, landing on the edge of the chute before its weight topples it over. 

Karube huffs out a laugh, sounding more relieved than victorious. 

Leaning down, he pushes open the chute door, grabbing the godzilla plush out. He presents it to Niragi, wobbling its stiff body. Niragi takes it, amused. It’s a bit bigger than he’d considered from just seeing it through the glass, and it’s got a bit of heft to it now that it’s in his hands. 

As he holds it, there’s a sudden twitch across his expression. 

Karube grins. 

“Just realised you’re gonna have to carry it around for the rest of the afternoon, huh?” he correctly guesses. 

He laughs as Niragi grumbles, shoving the boxes into his hands. Arranging the boxes back under one arm, he claps a hand onto Niragi’s shoulder. 

“Come on, let’s go find one of those games with the hooks, I’m great at those, you’ll see,” Karube says, his tone insistent, stepping past him to keep walking down the aisle. 

Turning the godzilla plush in his hands, a small smile pulls at Niragi’s mouth. He squishes the chunky body. It really is goofy looking. Tucking it under his arm, it’s a soft weight against his side as he picks up his pace to hurry after Karube. 

It was a simple thought: Arisu likes games, Niragi makes games, why not get them together to play something? 

But Karube forgets one thing: he’s patently bad at video games. 

Niragi had seemed a little quiet while Karube was practically dragging him along. He’d left Arisu in his apartment to fiddle around with his tv and set stuff up, going to pick up Niragi and drinks and snacks. With the bag straps hooked his the crook of his elbow, he has a hand on Niragi’s upper back, nudging him along. Every so often, there’s a flicker across Niragi’s expression, like he’s trying to find an excuse to leave before changing his mind then changing it again. He hasn’t actually said anything though and Karube isn’t going to take a 'no' anyway. Arisu is his best friend, Niragi is a new friend, and he wants them to get along. 

They get close to the door and Niragi pauses. 

“You know, I’m —” 

Karube’s hand lands in the middle of his back. He’s dealt with Arisu for years, he knows all too well how to deal with someone nervous who’s trying to back out of a situation. 

“Don’t go acting shy, come on, Arisu doesn’t bite.” 

Niragi’s mouth thins in a line, but Karube keeps nudging him along, practically pushing him through the door when they reach it. He sticks close to Karube in the genkan as they take their shoes off, a slight air of discomfort hanging over him. Karube simply keeps a casual smile, hanging his jacket on a hook, kicking his shoes off. 

Arisu is sat on the ground by the couch, fiddling with controllers. He glances up when Karube and Niragi enter. 

“Hey, are you eating my chips?” Karube asks, snatching an empty packet up off the short coffee table as he dumps the convenience store bags down. 

“You were taking too long,” Arisu replies. 

His gaze shifts past Karube, head tilting to look at Niragi. Karube follows his gaze, then sets a hand on Niragi’s slightly-stiff shoulder, a comfortable smile on his face. 

“Arisu, this is Niragi. Niragi, my buddy Arisu,” Karube introduces easily. 

“Nice to meet you,” Arisu says. Karube can see the pre-meteor awkwardness rising in him too. The slight twitch in his fingers, thumbing over the buttons on the controller; the drooping slope of his shoulders and slight dip of his chin so his hair falls over his eyes. 

Niragi nods shortly, as if to silently say 'same to you'. His mouth is still in a tight line, an obvious tension tightening his body. He scratches at the edge of the scar on his face. 

Karube just keeps smiling, ushering Niragi towards the couch. 

That awkwardness doesn’t last for long. 

If Karube is bad at most games, he is especially bad at racing games. Niragi and Arisu don’t seem to share his same problem. In fact, they’re like fish to water while Karube is drowning. It’s been five races and Karube has been in almost dead last in every single one. On the opposite end, Arisu and Niragi have been trading off first and second place. Arisu sits on the ground, his arms propped on the coffee table. Niragi is beside Karube on the couch, elbows on his knees. Both are leaned forward in concentration, their gazes locked on the screen. Karube leans back against the couch cushions, legs kicked out, his own controller resting in his lap. 

They, at least, haven’t noticed how badly Karube is playing, but he hadn’t realised just how competitive both of them are. 

Niragi gives a victorious whoop as his character slides over the checkered finish line, firmly in first place with Arisu full seconds behind him. He leans back against the couch, controller dangling from his long fingers, a smile on his face. Arisu’s shoulders are tense, his jaw tight. He drops his controller onto the coffee table as he snatches up his can of beer. 

“How the hell did you do that?” he asks, snapping around to look at Niragi. 

A pleased cat-got-the-cream grin grows wider on Niragi’s mouth. His tongue flicks across his bottom lip as he shrugs. 

“Maybe you should get good, Arisu,” he taunts, “Keep playing that bad and Karube’s gonna beat you next.” 

“Hey!” Karube cuts in with a laugh, elbowing into Niragi’s bicep. 

Arisu huffs, “Okay, no way you’re beating me again.” 

With that, he scoops up his controller again as the next round’s countdown starts. 

Karube’s not really playing anymore. He knows two truths; one, he can’t win and two, he’s got no chance of beating either of them, so he’s just messing around. In fact, he’s even lost count of what round they’re on now. There’s an intense aura coming from both Arisu and Niragi, but they seem to be having fun so Karube’s not going to complain, even if he is horribly losing. Swerving around the course, he find he can bump the npc racers off. From doing so, he’s at least landed himself out of last place. 

He’s got two items that he hasn’t used, not that he even knows what they do. Looking down at the buttons, he tries to figure out which one he needs to press to use an item. Why not use them? It’s not like he’s going to win anyway. He thumbs at a button and a blue shell goes flying, then he presses the button again and his character zooms off. 

Three things happen in quick succession: 

1. Niragi has been knocked out of first place by one of Arisu’s items.
2. Arisu gets knocked out by Karube’s shell.
3. Karube’s zooms into first place just in time to steal the win.

Both Arisu and Niragi make sounds of horror, shock, and anger. 

“What the fuck was that?” 

“Damnit!” 

Karube just throws his head back with a laugh. 

“So who’s playing badly now?” he says with a grin. 

As it turns out, it’s more fun to mess with Arisu and Niragi than it is to win. 

Unfortunately, Arisu and Niragi have quickly become wise to his game and are on the defensive. Just throwing random items and trying to catch them off guard isn’t going to work a second time. Karube tries anyway since he’s so far in last in the overall rankings that he’s got no chance of catching up to make even third place, so he might as well just make his own fun. If they’re watching his moves so closely, then he’ll just have to get creative. 

With a few bad hits, he sees Niragi slipping into third and trading fourth place back and forth with a particularly tough npc while Arisu pulls far ahead in first. It’s just a game, he knows, but he can see the pinch of Niragi’s expression. It’s pretty obvious that he doesn’t like to lose, even just during a round of fun gaming. It’s starting to seem less fun though, with both of them too caught up in their own competitiveness to be enjoying themselves. 

Well, Karube will just have to remind them that this is all just for fun.

Skirting to the edge of the couch behind Arisu, he leans in and claps a hand over Arisu’s eyes. 

“Gah!” Arisu squawks, “Cheat!” 

Arisu uselessly throws an elbow back against his side, trying to pull out of his grip while also trying to keep his hold on first place. Niragi snatches up the chance to speed ahead. Karube laughs, still keeping Arisu in a hand blindfold as he jerks around. 

“Come on, man, I thought you were good at this game,” Karube jokes, “Can’t you win with your eyes closed?” 

“Knock it off! You’re such a sore loser,” Arisu complains. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, hypocrite.” 

Arisu grabs one-handedly at his fingers, trying to peel his grip off. Karube parts his fingers just far enough for Arisu to watch as Niragi’s character zooms across the finish line in first. Arisu groans with an indignant scrunch of his face, whinging out Karube’s name as he flops back against his knee. Karube laughs, hooking an arm around his neck in a half-headlock, half-hug. He ruffles a hand through Arisu’s hair, making it flop in his face. Arisu finally laughs, grabbing his wrist to dislodge him. 

“You cheated and didn’t even win,” he says, pushing Karube off. 

Karube shrugs as he leans back against the couch, picking up his own beer from the small table next to him. He sip his drink. 

“Yeah, but neither did you,” he replies, glancing sideways to wink at Niragi. 

A small twitch of a smile curves onto Niragi’s mouth. The sight of it makes Karube’s own smile grow against the lip of his beer can. 

The next race starts up. 

Niragi’s renewed determination seems to rend him self-sufficiently 'lucky' this time. Arisu’s playing too cautious, keeping Karube in his periphery in case he decides to try and interrupt him again. Even the slightest shift Karube makes causes Arisu to flinch, half turning towards him to make sure he’s not going to make a move. Because of that, it’s practically child’s play for Niragi to take the lead. 

Well, Karube won’t be accused playing favourites. 

He messed with Arisu, it’s only fair to do the same to Niragi now. Besides, he tells himself, it’ll help to prove to Niragi that he considers him a friend. Being Karube’s friend comes with being messed with sometimes, all in the name of camaraderie of course. 

Watching Niragi slip further and further ahead and Arisu slide further behind, Karube plans his move. It won’t be as easy to just throw a hand across Niragi’s face. Besides, it seems a tad too personal to grab him like that and, with those burn scars, he doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable since it seems like he doesn’t like his scars being touched. They’ve gotten closer, but maybe they’re not that close just yet. 

He shuffles imperceptibly across the couch closer to Niragi, careful to not catch Arisu’s attention, then he whips a hand out to grapple across Niragi’s controller, pushing random buttons and shoving at his thumb on the joystick. Niragi jolts, a flash of shock across his face. 

“Hey - hey!” Niragi snaps, leaning away from him, holding the controller away. Karube follows, half leaning against him, his arm stretched out to keep hand-mashing over the controller, knocking against his fingers. “Cut it out!” 

“Come on, how else am I gonna win?” Karube’s thumb shoves at his own controller stick, his character goes careening across the screen. 

“You’re still losing!” 

“I’m gonna make a comeback!” 

Niragi leans further, his upper torso hanging halfway over the couch arm, his arms stretched to keep the controller away. Karube lunges, almost lying across his lap as he reaches out for the controller. 

“'Comeback' implies you were ever close to winning at any point,” Niragi snaps back, struggling against him. 

Karube cackles as he paws out at the controller, his fingers knocking against Niragi’s hands and wrists. He’s completely disregarding his own controller now, not really caring where he places by the time he crosses the finish line. Niragi squirms, barring an arm across Karube’s chest to try and push him back to his side of the couch.

“I just got first in that other race!” 

“By pure luck!” 

Karube redirects, planting a hand on the couch arm and turning to block Niragi’s view of the television. A grin is stretched across his face, so wide it scrunches the corners of the eyes. Niragi leans one way then the other, trying to see past him. Karube moves with him, darting into his line of sight. 

“Karube,” Niragi complains. 

“What? Can you not see?” 

Arisu gives a cheer of victory and Karube grins, finally relenting to move aside back to his spot on the couch. Niragi huffs, but Karube notes the glint of amusement in his eyes even as he shakes his head. That’s a victory in itself, Karube decides. 

“Okay, last round,” Arisu says, “No more messing around, Karube.” 

“Fine, be boring then,” Karube replies, kicking lightly at Arisu’s side and Arisu responds by elbowing back into his calf. 

Chuckling, he leans back against the couch, knowing he’s likely to lose the next race but not caring that much since both Niragi and Arisu are enjoying themselves. Succeeding in that regard is worth more than winning the game to him. 

There’s only so much Niragi can stand going out. Sometimes his head just gets the better of him. Tonight, he hates his scars. He can’t stand to have to go out where people are going to stare. Every burn scars numbly tingles, so distracting that he can’t even pretend that they’re not there. Tonight he can’t even face himself in the mirror. 

He hasn’t showered, just loosened his hair from his hairtie so now it covers up the scars on the side of his face, flopping over his damaged eye. The scars he can’t so easily escape are the ones on his hands. Before the meteor, he’d never thought much about his hands, now he can’t stop thinking about them. The burn scars, the pain and tightness in his joints, the days spent working to get use of his hands back. As if the damage from years spent typing hadn’t been bad enough, the burns only made it worse. 

The plan had been to flop on the couch and rot for the night. 

When he’d mentioned that over text, Karube had offered to bring him something to eat. 

It’s easier than cooking and he doesn’t want to go out to buy something himself. He considers declining, but … he’s hungry. Karube doesn’t judge, he doesn’t stare in that pitying or disgusted way strangers do. For some reason, it’s like he just sees Niragi, sees him as if the scars aren’t there or like it doesn’t matter that they are. It makes Niragi feel stupid for the way he’d reacted when they’d first met, blowing up at Karube, maybe just a tad overreactive. Karube, at least, didn’t seem to be holding it against him. If it was the other way around, Niragi wouldn’t have been so forgiving. Maybe that just proves how much better a person Karube is than him. 

Karube arrives, bags in hands, and they’ve barely sat down and unpacked before Niragi is devouring down a pack of dumplings, knowing he was hungry but not realising just how hungry he had been. He slumps back against the couch, his tongue swiping across his mouth, finally satiated. Stretching out an arm, he scoops up a can and ignores the voice in his head that tells him he shouldn’t be drinking since he’s taken his meds. Karube had brought canned highballs and Niragi can’t find a suitable reason to deny himself. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d paired his medication with alcohol. 

The food is soon finished, leaving behind only the empty containers spread across the coffee table, a mess to be cleaned at a later time. The television’s on, but neither of them are actually watching it, resigning it to becoming background noise to their conversation. 

Karube’s perhaps a fraction too close to him. It’s a long couch, there’s more than enough room for them not to be this close, but instead Karube is sitting right beside him, so close that their thighs are touching. He’s twisted at the waist so he can lean his arm on the back of the couch, his hand hanging over it. His half-empty can has been put aside so he can talk with his other hand, motioning as he gabs on. 

He’s rambling about … something. Niragi isn’t fully listening. He can’t focus. Karube’s too close. Niragi can feel the warmth radiating off him, seeping into him where their legs are touching. His gaze is locked down on their thighs, Karube’s blue jeans flush up against Niragi’s dark ones. 

How has Karube not noticed? Or maybe … is this normal? Is it just fine and platonic for them to be this close? Did he sit like this with Arisu? Is Niragi overthinking it? 

It takes him a moment, then he notices the silence. Karube’s stopped talking. Niragi’s eyes flick up, his face lifting. Had he asked a question? Was Niragi supposed to reply? His tongue flicks across his mouth, trying to piece out what Karube had been saying before he stopped. Eyes searching across his face, he notes that Karube is … staring? Not at Niragi’s face, but lower down, at his neck and the open collar of his shirt. 

“Karube?” Niragi starts. 

Karube exhales slowly, then he simply flops against Niragi, leaning heavily into him. Niragi jolts, stiffening, blinking in shock. For a moment, he wonders if Karube had just passed out. His arm falls across Niragi’s lap, his wrist limp, his hand hanging over the side of Niragi’s thigh. Shifting somehow even closer, he presses his face against the column of Niragi’s throat and takes a deep breath through his nose. 

The rich scent of black cherry, edged with a hint of bitter nuttiness, the very slightest undercurrent of something floral that Karube can’t guess the name of right now. It’s slightly faded, but it still clings to Niragi’s skin. 

“You smell nice,” he mumbles. 

Niragi can barely hear him over the pounding of his own heart. He’d thought Karube was warm through his jeans, he hadn’t even considered how hot his bare skin would feel and he especially hadn’t considered it being pressed up against his throat. Karube nuzzles against him, his nose tucking under Niragi’s jaw. Warm. God. Fuck. He’s so warm. Niragi’s fingers twitch where his hands are still lying in his lap. 

Karube’s mouth is so close to his skin. Niragi can feel him breathing through his parted lips. If he moves any closer, he’d be — No, stop that, his mind chastises him. They’re just friends. Karube’s just drunk. This doesn’t mean anything. 

Niragi should just push him away. 

He doesn’t. 

There’s a sound from the television and Karube seems to come back to himself. He pulls away, taking that addictive warmth with him. Niragi’s gaze flicks away around the room and he clears his throat, rubbing a hand up his neck where Karube’s face had been pressed and where he can still feel the tingle of his breath against his skin. Karube shifts a little, putting some more space between them, leaning over to grab his discarded can and take a sip of the doubtlessly lukewarm mixer. There’s a rosy hue over his freckled cheeks. Probably from how much he’s been drinking, Niragi thinks. Niragi’s own face is pinkish and heated, though for a much different reason. 

“You’re drunk,” Niragi says with a slight shake of his head, in part reassuring himself that was why Karube had done what he did, that there’s nothing deeper to it. 

Karube just chuckles lightly, leaning back against the couch. 

“Yeah, think I overdid it a bit,” he replies, “I should probably be going.” 

“You can stay, if you want,” Niragi cuts in, stumbling slightly, “I mean, what did you say to me, it’d weigh on the conscience if something bad happened? You can sleep on the couch.” 

Karube looks at him. 

“You sure?” he asks. 

Niragi shrugs, “Yeah, if you don’t mind me waking you up when I’m getting ready for work in the morning.” His tongue flicks behind his teeth. “You brought me dinner, the least I can do you is offer you my couch.” 

When Karube agrees, Niragi gets up to grab him a blanket and pillow. It’s late and, unlike Karube, Niragi has work in the morning so he excuses himself to his room. Behind the closed door, Niragi quietly sighs and resigns himself to waking and showering early. He presses his face into his hands, trying to clear his mind, to force the memory of Karube’s skin against his into some dark recess. Changing his clothes, he climbs into bed and clicks the lamp on his bedside table off. 

Even as he lays his head down on the pillow and closes his eyes, he can still feel Karube’s warm face pressed against his throat and his heart pounds.