Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Harua always tries to pursue the unreal, the marvelous. He feels almost selfish; living with what people call a perfect life—he has a great family, a wonderful girl beside him—and yet he can’t help but feel that something is always missing. He knows that it is important for him to figure things out, but all he seems to do is reach for distractions that he’s well aware are only temporary. He can’t help it though—keeping a facade is tiring enough, let alone trying to find meaning for his life.

But, what exactly could this meaning be? If Harua could be honest, selfishly honest, what is the one thing he is willing to risk everything for?

This thirst Harua has for living is too dulled down for his liking, and he notices it in the drag of his heels as he makes his way to the only high school in the district. He tenses up when he feels the eyes on him; they usually do, not because they see him, but because they can talk.

On the other hand, Yuma is happy-go-lucky. He doesn’t feel the pressure of adulthood yet, or rather, the pressure of heading out into adulthood. He has a big family that supports him; they all work in the same restaurant, and he dreams of taking over one day and changing some things up. His family opposes this, but he doesn’t take it to heart. He knows that one day, one miraculous day, they will let him take the lead.

Yuma’s friends are more worried about his future than he is. Euijoo walks next to him, a grip on his shoulder bag strap to prevent it from sliding off his shoulder. His arm loops around Yuma with a sense of comfort that only a decade long friendship brought.

“You’re going to be stuck here for life,” Euijoo says, concern lacing his already quiet voice. There's something about Euijoo that is strongly maternal, but Yuma has long been immune to his nagging. He rolls his eyes, complaining about being given a break—the year has just started, and Euijoo is already fussing.

Behind Yuma and Euijoo are Taki and Kei, the second most popular couple in the school, second to Harua and his girlfriend, Mitzerni. Kei and Taki are holding hands, fingers intertwined. Students buzz around, keeping a distance from their group.

Right, they're popular because of how controversial their relationship is. In such a small town, it’s hard to find other open-minded people. Not that they minded, those people had nothing to do with them anyway. Why dwell on things that don’t matter?

“Do you guys have notes I can borrow?” Yuma asked the two, turning his head to face them. Kei squinted at Yuma with lighthearted judgement. Yuma watches as his pupils trace a circle before answering.

“You had all summer to do the homework.”

Yuma merely shrugs, turning to ask Euijoo next, but Euijoo shakes his head. “I know someone who can help you though.”

“Oh?”

Nicholas doesn’t give away freebies, not when it concerns academic integrity specifically. He has a strict business code—downpayment before initiation, and then full payment right before collection. It’s how he managed to survive from ninth grade without being ostracized. He made the school need him—or at least the smug, wannabes whose only purpose was to be trophy children to their parents of status. It’s such a joke. Who really gives a fuck about small town power?

Euijoo goes ahead and texts Nicholas.

Euijoo: Do you accept installments?
Nicholas: Only with a 50% down payment.
Euijoo: Deal.

Euijoo shows his screen to Yuma, his screen buzzing with notifications. Yuma rolls his eyes after reading the contact name. It was Fuma asking why he needs Nicholas’ service.

Euijoo almost forgot that Fuma and Nicholas were cousins—well, almost. Their families are so close that they’re basically considered extended family. Yuma almost forgot that Euijoo and Fuma were “just friends” as well, but he has no energy to try and pry the truth out of Euijoo today. Not when Euijoo actually managed to make him concerned about his summer assignments.

What kind of school gives summer assignments? It’s such a sadist thing.

“I owe you everything,” Yuma grins, shoulder bumping with Euijoo. Kei shakes his head in disapproval, but he understands anyway. Taki giggles at Kei’s switch up and inability to hide his amusement. He grips the older’s hand tighter, and Kei redirects his smile to the younger, then landing a quick peck on his cheek.

“Stop with the PDA, please,” Yuma begs, but he isn’t really annoyed.

A few days later, Yuma finds himself on a treasure hunt—the treasure being Nicholas, who he finds himself breathless for. Nicholas is nowhere to be found. Yuma wonders just how Nicholas manages to do it each time—it’s a small high school. It’s not even crowded, and everyone knows each other to an extent, so why and how is he struggling to find him?

Yuma circles around the first story, opening and closing classrooms during lunch period, which is something he isn’t even supposed to do, but the hall monitors are nowhere to be found either. He finds himself cursing at the unnecessary difficulty of pinning down this man. Just as he is about to pick his phone out of his pocket to spam call Euijoo, he catches a glimpse of Nicholas headed up the stairs, into the music room.

Yuma wastes no time to run after him, and the transaction goes smoothly. With a smile, he sends their group chat a text, proudly stating that he isn’t failing the grade twelve summer requirement. Taki replies with a thumbs up; Kei sends a whole lecture, and Euijoo just haha reacts to his messages. He smiles and then leaves the room, not forgetting to thank Nicholas, who only replied with a tight smile.

Yuma walks back downstairs before realizing that his next class is in the room where Nicholas was in. He hurries back up the stairs right as the bell rings, and takes a seat at the back of the class—somewhere he is free to sleep. He prepares his resting area, when the door swings open, distracting him. Harua walks in, and now it is just the three of them in the room–Yuma, Harua, and Nicholas. What a peculiar group.

Yuma sits up abruptly, eyes lingering on Harua a little too shamelessly. Although he doesn’t realize that the latter is rather preoccupied to notice—Harua worries about how he could possibly pay attention to class with all his thoughts attacking him.

The class runs smoothly during the first half—when it was quiet and the teacher was discussing the syllabus. Now, everything sounded far too chaotic for Nicholas’ enjoyment. The strings are untuned, the vocals unpolished—so many things wrong that Nicholas can’t help but notice.

Nicholas also notices one good thing about the class, but he doesn’t give too much credit. His ears perk up at Harua’s singing—his warm voice cutting across the unhinged music that diffused across the room. Harua sings well, and Nicholas recognizes that. He nods in approval. How does one score a hundred percent in genes? Looks, voice, smarts, poise, Harua has it all.

The world is unfair—Nicholas believes this.

Nicholas is especially affirmed when, at the end of class, their teacher announces the mandatory senior talent show. Nicholas knows that not everyone is blessed in that department, and he can’t help but groan at the future performances and how he’d have to sit through them. He also dreads the fact that he has to perform. Performing is sacred to him—he only does it in the comfort of his own home, in front of a wrinkled portrait of his late mother.

Nicholas wastes no time in heading to fourth period—philosophy. Unnecessary, but unfortunately, interesting philosophy. The class goes by smoothly. Half the people from music class also take his philosophy class. Nicholas is starting to get sick of seeing the same, obnoxious people in his life, but it’s not like he can do anything about it.

The dismissal bell rings, and every student, without hesitation, comes flooding into the hallways. A click of a tongue steals Nicholas’ attention, which was wholly on packing up prior. He looks up to see their teacher shaking her head in half disappointment, and half something else he can’t quite decode. Is it pride?

“Twelve different takes on deontology? Impressive,” she starts, scanning the papers scattered across her teacher’s desk.

Nicholas firmly denies it, “Those aren't mine.”

“Either way, I wanted to talk about your university applications.”

Nicholas’ shoulders tense up, anticipating the same old nagging from his teacher, who self-proclaimed to know what was best for him. His shoulder rises as the words 'university applications’ rang through his head over and over again, the sound of it stinging his brain.

Nicholas wants to go to university. He knows that he has a bright future outside his town, but he keeps on declining. “I’m not going… Pa needs me here. I can't leave.”

Air hissed through his teacher’s teeth as she expected this answer too. “Have you even talked to him?”

Nicholas thinks about this for a moment. He assumes his father needs him. It was only ever him and his father after his mother had passed away—Nicholas is used to being depended on. There is no other reality he knows of, or other reality he can even fathom. He doesn’t have the nerve to leave his father alone.

Nicholas assumes this is what his father wants too; him staying in this small town of Ontario forever.

Or maybe there was a chance that Nicholas could go; a very slim chance. With what money though? They aren’t well off, his father can barely work in his state, and he’s surviving off of their dying business and his fraudulent student services.

Nicholas is afraid of even a sliver of hope that he could get them out of their situation, because that hope is far too impossible to reach; too far into the future to consider when this is his present, and this present proves to be demanding, both physically and mentally. He isn’t ready to consider, or entertain, anything else.

Nicholas' brain justifies the assumption that his father wouldn't approve. But deep down, he knows he will. And that’s another thing that scared him—that his attachment isn’t as reciprocated. That his father was desensitized by the loss of his mother that he pays no mind on losing Nicholas too. Nicholas knows that is absurd, but that fear lingers anyway.

And still, practicality appeals itself in bright neon lights for Nicholas to see.

“Yes.”

“Okay then. You still have the rest of the year to fully think about it, Nicholas.”

The bustling corridors are now eerily quiet as the only sounds heard are the squeaks of the custodians’ shoes and the faint rattling of their carts. Nicholas exhales the tension in his body with each step he takes toward the exit.

Nicholas pushes open the door and the wind greets him violently as autumn prematurely says hello. The chills begin, although he cannot prove whether it’s brought by the ber-months weather or his state of mind.

Nicholas rides his bike through roads and roads of empty fields until he reaches home; a small house beside the train station and a poor excuse of a café. He drops his bike on the pebbled road, not bothering to chain it to the post, then rushes inside to get started on his after-school routine.

Nicholas pokes through his messy desk to find his checklist: brew coffee, defrost pies, laundry, meal prep… he only had (their) assignments and shop closing left to do. He wastes no time to get started on the assignments—five-hundred words on thwarted desire… here we go again.

Are we the source of our own hell?

How can we be, when hell doesn’t even exist?

Harua slightly believes it though—he believes in Sartre’s claim that hell is other people; that people can only do so much for themselves until others break that self-established control. Humans have an inherent affinity for self destruction—even biology says that people are always in death mode.

So how true is that statement?

Nicholas starts on Mitzerni’s paper:

Nicholas freezes, suddenly contemplating whether to give this paper to Mitzerni, or his other loyal client, Maki, who wasn’t that bad of a student, he just has other priorities. Nicholas empathizes with Maki. He knows just a bit about the boy, but he finds himself relating to him a whole lot. Maki is only trying to get by, working three part time jobs for his survival. He was sixteen when he ran away, seeking shelter in his friend’s house.

With a sigh, Nicholas erases the name on the title page and replaces it with Maki’s. Satisfied, he smiles and settles the pages on the left side of his desk, in his folder. He stretches before grabbing another piece of bond paper and writing the rest of his commissions.

All of this feels morally wrong, but what else could Nicholas do? It's all a matter of survival, and although it stings to work for the very thing that he's battling against, he has no choice. Because of this, it stopped bothering him as much as it probably should, and that's almost as equally terrifying. He has to swallow his pride and go through the rougher path just to make his present bearable. Because without his present, could a future even exist?

It's such a selfish thing that life offers; an illusion of hope that is actually just a this or that towards hardship.

Yuma is across the street, but Nicholas doesn’t know that. Nicholas doesn’t know about Yuma’s existence, despite being neighbours for half their lives.

Yuma stares at his paper, writer’s block hitting him square in the face. He groans, erasing his essay’s introduction for the ninth time, before fully crumpling the page and tossing it in the bin. He wraps his hands around his head in surrender, and Taki, sprawled on top of Kei, rolls his eyes at the dramatics.

“It’s the last year, I might as well take as many risks as I can, right?”

“Why don’t you risk your sanity and go study like the rest of us?”

“Fuck off, Taki, you were as bad as me before your boyfriend straightened you up.”

“You’re just bitter that his help only worked on me.”

“It worked terribly. If I knew I’d have to witness you two all lovey-dovey, I wouldn’t have encouraged you,” Yuma sighs, standing up to stretch like a cat with his arms up and leg muscles tense. He yawns, trying to battle the fatigue.

“I wonder what Harua is up to,” Yuma asks, trailing off at the mention of the boy’s name.

Kei snickered, earning a glare from Yuma. “You say that like you’re close.”

Yuma squinted. “We canbe close.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it.”

“Are you challenging me?”

“Are you challenged?”

Yuma curls his fists like a kitten trying to intimidate its owner. His two friends laugh, and Yuma does too. Except, his laugh comes strange, and Taki notices.

A beat of silence, and then a gasp startles Kei.

Taki almost screams, “You’re actually doing it, aren’t you?!”

Yuma only grins in response. He thinks it’s actually a neat idea—to get close to Harua, even as a friend. He knows the perfect way to do it, but it’d involve someone he’s not quite familiar with.

“Euijoo’s gonna be pissed,” Taki says.

“Why would he be?”

Kei snorts. An answer isn’t needed—the three of them already know how Euijoo will react to this, but what’s wrong with having fun? Like Yuma said, this is their last year. Yolo.

“You are pathetic,” Taki bluntly states and Yuma walks over to smack his ass.

“Says you, Mr. I-Have-A-Crush-On-Our-Senior-But-I-Can’t-Approach-Him-So-Instead-I’ll-Purposely-Fail-So-He-Can-Tutor-Me.”

“Wait, that’s why you were so bent on me tutoring you? And here I thought I was finally better than the valedictorian,” Kei whines, whipping his head to look at Taki, who is already a blushing mess.

Taki kept quiet as Yuma burst into a fit of laughter, remembering their junior year with fondness. The way Taki begged Yuma to take extra lessons because of his stupid crush on Kei.

Yuma couldn’t blame Taki for his admiration. Kei has everything—the smarts, the looks, the skills to excel in anything he puts his mind to—he sighs, going back to his desk and staring at a fresh piece of paper. But it’s not his essay—no, it’s something else. Phase one of his plan to get closer to Harua. He grins at the paper and begins writing.

Yuma: Juju, can you send me Nicholas’ number?
Euijoo: Don’t abuse it.
Yuma: It’s not like that.

Yuma: Heyyy
Nicholas: $20 for two pages, $40 for three to ten. Not considering anything over 10.
Yuma: Wait no I’m not trying to cheat on my classes
Nicholas: You literally asked me for help the other week
Yuma: Summer was an exception. Who even does summer work? (Except you)
Nicholas: What do you want?
Yuma: Can you help me write a love letter?

Nicholas curses, “What the fuck?” He has never gotten that before. His business is purely academic.

Nicholas: Who the hell writes love letters these days?
Yuma: I thought it’d be romantic… Don’t you think so???
Nicholas: Well no. Who’s this even for?
Yuma: Shigeta Harua.

…

Nicholas: You are a joke.
Yuma: I’m so serious
Nicholas: I’m not writing a love letter to Harua??? To some boy??? What is wrong with you
Yuma: Please, I only need a page
Nicholas: If you really like him, you can write it yourself. A letter is supposed to be personal. Use a dictionary or something, browse through pinterest or twitter

Nicholas puts his phone on do not disturb. He puts his slippers on and slides down the stairs, feet light so as to not disturb his father’s sleep. He sits on the sofa across from him. He soon stirs, opening his eyes, which land on Nicholas. He smiles, greeting him in their mother tongue.

“Hello, Pa. I wanted to…” Nicholas trails off, second guessing asking again. His father hummed, waiting for a continuation, but Nicholas dismissed it with a smile. The room faintly echoes—buzzing travels around from the dying light bulbs above. Nicholas notes that it needs replacement soon before it becomes a bother. His mind sinks deeper as his mental note grows and he is now way too conscious of each fault in their home.

How can I leave Pa here? In this poor excuse of a home…

Nicholas rises from his seat, greeting his father goodnight.

“I’ll see what I can do about that tomorrow,” Nicholas mumbles, pertaining to the bulb. The television plays an old English movie—the same one his father has been watching for a month now. It’s heavy in dialogue so his father tends to use it for speaking practice.

His father only smiles back, gums peeking from the corner of his sweet smile.

“Shh. Best part.”

Nicholas spends the night playing his periodically neglected guitar. The tips of his fingers strain from the pressure—the shape of the strings dented on them. They’re a bit numb from the strumming, but anything to distract him from his thoughts are welcome, even when they hurt.

Seize the day? Or will the day seize me?

Yuma spends the morning trying to pin Nicholas down again. Nicholas is nowhere to be seen—actually, he’s currently hiding in the old calculus classroom. No one touches that side of the school. It’s creepy, dirty, perfect for people who want to be alone, like Nicholas. He also has a strange feeling about today—it’s as if he’s anticipating something.

It’s probably Yuma.

It is Yuma.

The second half of the day arrives, and Harua, Yuma, and Nicholas are the first in the class again. Harua and Nicholas are a usual sighting, but the two were slightly surprised about Yuma. Especially Nicholas.

“You’ve been haunting me the whole day,” Nicholas says as Yuma nears. Yuma wants to ask about the same thing again—about Harua. Nicholas squints at him before shooing him away. He makes a comment to bother him at the end of class, rather than right now.

Once Yuma leaves, Nicholas digs the folder out of his bag, and as students flood in, he passes their papers out. A few thank him, but most just completely brush past him without an ounce of gratitude. It’s like clockwork, a tragic routine, and Harua is displeased with it.

How can he let himself be used like that?

Harua glares at Nicholas, but it’s not actually for him. Before Harua realizes, the pit in his stomach forms again. He stiffens, realizing something. I’m a hypocrite.

Dismissal comes faster today, and Yuma bolts out his class and spots Nicholas from a hallway away. His pink hair bouncing as he runs towards Nicholas, who mutters a curse under his breath.

“He is EVERYWHERE. Just kill me now.” Nicholas is helpless, but his reflexes seem to prove itself to Nicholas again. Without a second to spare, he takes a sharp turn towards the right hallway, and then up the stairs. He just hopes that Yuma hadn’t spotted him as he did that.

Nicholas lets his arm hang tired with a relieved sigh. It bounces slightly against his hip as he walks past a disappearing crowd. Someone bumps into Nicholas, causing his stack of books and paper held by the other arm to crash onto the ground. The student who bumped into him is now nowhere to be seen, vanished without an apology. It’s not a problem, though. Unfortunately, he is used to this treatment. Swiftly, he begins to gather all his stuff, but freezes when he sees someone bending down to help.

“These hallways are too cramped, huh?”

Nicholas blinks. Harua is in front of him. Sweet angel Harua.

Harua maintains his smile, almost giving Nicholas chills. Nothing about him seems fake—no, Harua is being genuine, and for some reason, it stings for Nicholas. His brows furrow in confusion that he paid no mind concealing.

“Why…” Nicholas trails off. “I’m Nicholas-”

“Weno. I know.” Harua says it way too casually that Nicholas almost didn’t notice the slip of his childhood nickname.

Harua continues, “I’ve only been seeing you around for all my life now. You’re my dad’s favourite heathen. He hates mediocre accompanists—even if they’re saved.”

That’s one thing we have in common… minus the saved part, Nicholas thinks.

Nicholas stands up, bowing slightly in gratitude. Harua giggles as Nicholas takes his belongings from his hands and speed walks out of his sight. Harua’s gaze lingers a bit longer than what is normal to him, and it’s almost like Nicholas senses that with the way he stiffly struggles down the stairs.

On the opposite side of the corridor stands Yuma—he meant to arrive quicker than Harua, to persuade Nicholas to write that letter, but he was late by a second.

“Seriously, is he an expert at dodging people?”

As Nicholas is about to swing the same doors open to leave, his phone impatiently buzzes in his pocket. He fishes the device out and reads the emails and alerts that won’t stop persisting—he sighs, thinking about Yuma’s offer. It might just be his last resort as he’s not too pleased about the idea of turning into crime, and it’s not like his father’s business is booming.

With a bit of hesitation, Nicholas shoots Yuma a text to meet up. He’s surprised when Yuma suggests meeting between their homes.

“We were neighbours? Since when?” Nicholas asks Yuma as they both sit on the curb.

Yuma looks at him in disbelief. “Since grade seven, you idiot.”

Five years ago.

Nicholas does faintly remember a moving truck parked back then, but he never initiated a conversation with the newly moved family. He never got a chance since, with his business in school and with his part time jobs, there were no opportunities to really socialize.

“Anyway, fifty for one page. Take it or leave it,” Nicholas offers. The emails flash in his mind. Please take it.

Yuma seems unbothered by the price with the way he jumps and screams in triumph.

“Thank you!” Yuma says—his snaggletooth is kind of adorable, Nicholas thinks.

Nicholas clears his throat. “Do you have a draft or do we need to work from scratch?”

Yuma shakes his head and takes out a piece of paper from his back jeans pocket. He reads it out loud:

Nicholas is silent.

Oh dear.

“Is it good?” Yuma asks, expecting.

“Uhm… No,” Nicholas says, cringing as he recalls Yuma’s attempt at a love letter. He doesn’t even have to know love to realize that the letter is poorly written. Poor Harua—he doesn’t deserve this.

“First of all, everything needs revision. It lacks character—you just sound annoying. You’re treating this like a grocery list—are you even in love with him? Or is this just admiration? Either way, I think it’s stupid.”

Yuma exhales, then follows his shakiness with a grin, which Nicholas finds slightly creepy. He raises his arm, and Nicholas assumes he is about to get punched, but he doesn’t. Yuma pats him on the shoulder.

“This is why I need you. Do you get it now?”

Nicholas blinks. His shoulders fall with a tired sigh.

Yuma continues, “I am in love with him—he’s the first person I think about when I wake up, and the last when I go to sleep. Even when I’m doing my chores, I think of him. And when I’m in class.”

Yuma feels a bit unreasonable, and he's scared that Nicholas can see it too. He adds a joking laugh, hoping to cushion potential disappointment, but Nicholas doesn't attack him. He only judges him, but it's nothing belittling. It's just natural, something that is Nicholas.

Without missing a beat, Nicholas responds, “That just says you’re stubborn.”

“You’re saying that because you’ve probably never been in love yet,” Yuma guessed, and for a split second, he sees Nicholas falter.

This seems to have ticked Nicholas off because he abruptly stands and dusts himself, glaring at Yuma. His eyes show seriousness, and Yuma finds himself gulping—although not out of fear. Despite the threatening gaze, Yuma has a good feeling about this.

“You want a love letter? I’ll write you a fucking love letter.”