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Taki chants under his breath with Yuma in excitement. One word repeated, Karaoke.
Euijoo leads the pack of them with Nicholas on his shoulder. Kei trails behind chattering to Fuma, already buzzed. Maki walks a little too close to Harua under the guise of being cold. He’s always ran hot, Harua knows it too, but the light brushing of their shoulders fills him with a distinct kind of warmth.
Although Harua’s is lower than his by quite a bit.
Euijoo shucks Nicholas off his shoulder to open the doors to the karaoke place. It’s a tall bright building likely with even taller prices. He reminds himself to take Euijoo out for lunch later as a repayment.
Inside, the warm air hits them like a reprieve. Harua’s shoulders lower from where they slowly climbed to his ears in an attempt to stay warm. Jo lets out a sigh of relief as he walks through the doors; relieved from the cold. When Maki glances back, Yuma is eyeing Jo out of the corner of his eye subtly and Maki resists the urge to point it out.
Euijoo and the cashier don’t talk in hushed voices, but with the seven of them chattering they can’t make out what they’re saying.
“Who’s going first?”
“Rock paper scissors?” Maki suggests while his eyes slide over to watch Nicholas put on his best performance to lower their room cost. Such a princess. Maki easily finds Harua from behind Yuma, he’s competing against Taki. Harua loses, but Taki gives in to his whims and agrees to go first anyway. Princess.
Nicholas claps, effectively garnering all their attention. “Room 23!”
Fuma, somehow having been the only one here before, calls them all along to follow him. Like ducklings trailing after their mother, they find home. Rather, they find room twenty-three.
Inside there’s a long couch pressed against the back wall. It curves around the other two walls as well in a huge U-shape. The lights are already dimmed with blue leds illuminating the room. Although the tv outshines, the selection menu a cool blue color that edges more toward white is nearly blinding.
“My eyes,” Maki complains with hefty over-exaggeration.
“It burns!” Taki copies him with more grandeur. Jo fumbles with the remote to turn it on dark-mode. A version which does not exist.
Yuma sighs deeply, already lounging on the couch. Harua, once he realizes Yuma’s relaxed, pounces on him. He sits atop his squirming Yuma shaped throne with pride.
Kei’s gone, probably buying drinks, and Fuma taps along his phone in a corner, on his thighs are Euijoo’s legs. Maki hurries to grab the spot next to the now well-behaved, probably kicked in the face, Harua before it’s taken.
Nicholas is practically purring from where he leans his entire body weight on Euijoo. Maki’s attention is drawn from observing his friends to only Taki when a loud squeal violates his ears.
“Sorry,” Taki apologises.
Maki boos him, then after nudging Jo and Harua nearly everyone’s booing. However it doesn’t last long as Kei walks in with a tray full of drinks. Enough for everyone barring Maki. He finishes whatever Harua doesn’t anyway.
“Drink up! We’re walking back to my place after.” Kei throws himself into the open seat beside Yuma, who’s now obnoxiously slurping the cheap soju.
“Thanks Kei,” Jo murmurs from his spot squeezed between Maki and Fuma. Everyone parrots him immediately. The last of them, Taki, gets an oddly menacing glare when he chirps out his.
“Pick a song already!” Maki heckles with his hand cupped around his mouth.
Taki gets squirmy and randomly selects something titled W.O.L.F (Win Or Lo… The rest of the title cuts off. He’s curious as to what the rest of it is.
The song starts off in some English, and the entire song seems to include that and Japanese. He follows easily, and presumes the rest of the group does too. Nearly all of them are trilingual, if not more. His voice is clesr, and each note is sung without signs of strain. He could be an idol, if he got rid of the bowl cut.
He ends the song, which featured some truly terrible dance moves, with a growl. Maki snickers to himself and everyone sitting varies in their laughter level. Kei is roaring like it’s the funniest thing in the world and his hand slaps against Yuma’s shoulders aggressively as he does so.
Taki holds the mic out to anyone in the crowd. Like a dead man walking, Harua slowly rises to his feet. He takes the remote and mic in both hands and searches for his song much quicker than Taki did. Maki stares at the back of his head, a little dazed.
“Was I good?” Taki nudges his shoulder lightly, effectively knocking him out of Harua’s siren song. He hadn't even realized he was making puppy dog eyes until he stopped.
Maki hums like he’s truly pondering. Taps his finger to his chin and all. “Horrible,” he decides with a smile.
Taki’s jaw drops, “Horrible?” He nearly screeches. Maki laughs at his melodrama.
“Be nice, it was only awful.” Yuma adds snarkily. Taki somehow finds a way to be more dramatic as Jo nods in slow agreement.
Fuma watches them with a soft smile that reminds Maki so much of his parents he has to look away. Nicholas darts his eyes between the four of them before adding his own decision. “It wasn’t awful! It was terrible.”
Euijoo shuts him up by tugging on one of his pink strands of hair.
“Listen!” Harua quiets them all down, having made his selection. A song titled Alien.
“A-A-Alien boy," he sings without checking the lyrics.
The song isn’t vocally hard, but Harua takes it to a level of perfection he’s sure the original singer couldn’t. His voice is amazing, and he’s jealous of Harua's own ears for being able to hear it again.
“Just you and I,” he winks to punctuate. If Maki was a saner man he’d believe Harua wasn’t dedicating that line to him. It’s fortunate that he’s sitting next to Taki, who’s transferring his crazy.
He finishes the song like he’d started it. Maki watches him trade spots with Euijoo in the same slight daze as before. The silver in Harua’s hair shimmers from the color changing leds like a hypnotic shine.
He’s about to stare for Euijoo’s entire song, something about doing something over and over, when Harua looks back.
He pulls a stupid face, crossed eyes and his tongue sticking out, to mess with him. Maki doesn’t see much as Fuma uses a hand to cover it up all while keeping his eyes trained on Euijoo.
He follows his guide and watches Euijoo sing. Although he glances back twice. The song title isn’t up, but the lyrics consist entirely of Japanese save for the chorus.
He doesn’t feel the eyes on him, not until Fuma’s already standing to sing and he notices out of his peripherals. When his eyes find Harua, he’s already staring back. Maki’s flickerance of s look startles him out of his stupor, and they both turn to watch Fuma. Although Maki’s eyes linger.
Their eyes chase each other as though trading blows all through Fuma’s rendition of Lucifer by Shineee and Yuma’s attempt at a blind karaoke song picked by Kei.
Maki and Nicholas duel it out with rock paper scissors over who goes first. Loser has to sing the other’s pick.
“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”
Maki throws a rock.
Nicholas pulls paper.
Nico leaps up from his seat, a loud cheer on his lips opposing Maki’s groan. He digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. Singing. Awesome.
The room looks darker when you stand beside the tv. He shouldn’t be nervous, he sings all the time. In the shower. This shouldn’t be much different, although he wishes he drank some of Harua’s half full shochu before coming up.
He begrudgingly allows Nicholas to command his movements through the featured catalog. He’s half certain he catches Harua whispering something, but the sight is gone the moment he turns his head.
“That.” He points one of his silver fingers at the selected song. Blind Love.
Maki reads the title aloud, it’s followed by a recommendation for two people.
He tilts his head, “I’ll need a partner,” he leers.
Nobody raises their hand. He’s half tempted to call on Nicholas just to be petty, but as he catches someone’s eye the idea flips on his head. The smile on his face nearly grows painful as he points someone out. The one person he’s had his eyes on the entire night.
“Harua.”
Surprise lights up his face, but there’s no hints of denial. Although he frowns at Nicholas pushing him, he’s never been one to back down.
“Alright,” he admonishes with bunny teeth bared like fangs. He snatches the mic from Maki once he’s close enough. Maki ducks his head; he’s dodging the light smile as though it were a jab.
Maki presses play on the remote, the second of three mics in his left hand. Harua pouts at him, so in true friendly competition spirit he makes a crying face back. He’s not sure what they’re competing for, whether it’s who can sing the best or who’ll back down first, only that he has to win.
The lyrics are blue for Harua, red for Maki for both of them. The first lines, in a middling shade of blue, are incredibly romantic. Maki sends a glare at Nicholas.
While yes he wanted to sing with Harua, he didn’t want a song that practically spells out his affections.
“Aww,” he can barely hear Kei cooing at the pair from where he took Harua’s seat.
His turn comes before he realises, “What will happen to me?” he starts in Japanese. “What do I want to do with you from tomorrow?”
Harua’s previous determination has slowed to a simmer. He’s more focused on accurately singing the lyrics in his near somber tone. Like it’s a love confession he’s afraid won’t be reciprocated.
It’s a slow and intimate affair. There isn’t any heckling from the crowd anymore. With the both of them practically singing into each other's hearts, Maki can’t help but feel touched.
They finish off together gently, “True love is a one-sided feeling towards someone."
The moment is ruined once the song ends with their duet. Taki interrupts with a loud whoop. Fuma laughs a little too loud at him, clearly drunk, and it sets off a chain event of teasing.
Maki tries not to look back at Harua when he hands the mic off to Nicholas, afraid of making things weird, but he can’t help himself. Harua crash lands into Kei with a grin on his face in order to dodge Yuma’s flick.
The rest of the night passes through his mind like a concussion-led bout. Blurry dazzles of song screamed into an already loud microphone. When they all tumble out of the place, the deal over going back to Kei’s is long forgotten.
They all partner up.
Harua insists on going with Maki. He doesn’t oppose the idea, and Harua seems to fight against invisible forces telling him not to go. It ropes him into a nearly ten minute one-sided argument on why he has to go with Maki.
Kei drifts apart from the group with Fuma which is extremely unsurprising.
Nicholas and Euijoo hover near the middle. They seem to be waiting to be asked, but nobody’s inclined to make the mistake of going with them. Maki still has nightmares about freezing in the cold after an outing because they couldn’t be bothered to make it inside the house before marking hickeys on each other's necks.
He had to pry them off each other with a stick.
Jo takes on both Taki and Yuma. Taki’s screaming while he sings and Yuma is attempting to crawl onto Jo’s back. Maki doesn’t envy him in the slightest.
His own singing Harua is enough to handle. He hums and belts various tunes from the night in a conglomerate of song as he begins them on the walk home.
He can’t trust Harua’s ability to find his own way home; the older’s a lightweight and although he’s walking half straight there’s not a lot going on in the brain department.
The linings of Christmas lights illuminate their walk. Only three days away. Maki’s not yet sure if each decision he makes is right for them, but the bones Harua’s throwing him have led him down a path too far to back down from.
“Harua,” he breathes the name out into the frigid air.
Harua hums, his eyes averted to watch the stone he’s kicking down the concrete.
He watches his hair fall into Harua’s eyes when he shakes his head. The rock flew into the road. “I have a match tomorrow. It’s a private tournament, that’s why I haven't asked the guys, but I wanted you to come.”
Harua looks up at him when he mentions the others. “Why me?” He nearly accuses. He’s nearly yelling.
Maki pauses his steps when he nearly walks past his own place. “Why not you?” He questions back, his tone a little quieter.
Harua takes the accusation and swallows it like cough medicine. He climbs up the steps to Maki’s apartment with a frown and a concerning wobble to his step.
He seriously underestimated Harua’s inebriation.
Maki unlockes his door, too slowly according to Harua’s loud complaints, and pushes it open slowly. Inside all the lights are flicked off and his items stacked neatly away.
Harua doesn’t pretend to ask about the couch, a false nicety that still ends the same. He shucks his shoes and socks off step by step. The items end up strewn around the house and Maki has to hold his hands down to prevent him from taking his shirt off.
Harua crawls right into the middle, and because Maki is weak he lets him.
His sleep is a little uncomfortable. He had to crawl underneath Harua’s limbs to fit, and as Harua’s contact always stings his skin like he’s a bleeder it’s uncomfortable.
Nevertheless he manages to match Harua’s unconscious breathing and lull himself to sleep.
With the rise of the morning sun, an annoyance stemming from him forgetting to close his curtains, Harua and Maki are no longer touching. Yet he feels warmer than he had the cold night before and Harua’s shirt is mysteriously missing.
He’s so close they’re nearly kissing. In the morning light his skin glows yellow. Soft breaths hit Maki’s skin in warm plums. Harua’s eyelashes brush softly against his skin. He feels fuzzy inside, like someone took a feather to his insides and tried to tickle him.
Maki doesn’t move. He, in his never-ending greed, watches the world wake up before Harua. The small shifts in his movements as the sun seems to move to hit his eyelids. Harua adjusts himself accordingly. With one long stretch Maki catches sight of Harua’s moles below his collar. He takes a mental picture for safe keeping.
As time ticks on, Harua eventually switches sides. Maki mourns the loss, but uses the opportunity to scroll on his phone. He clears the messages from the groupchat. It’s all of hungover complaints and Fuma laughing at their misery. The man is somehow immune to hangovers.
He’s already taken his morning run. Maki texts him to swing by on his next one, he needs the exercise. Recently he’s felt like a dog trapped in its cage.
Harua turns back to facing Maki, his mouth no longer slightly ajar in a snore. His silvery hair blends into his pillow case now that the sun isn’t warming the color.
“Stop staring,” Harua grumbles. Maki freezes up, every muscle still except for his mouth.
“I wasn’t.”
Harua smiles slyly and cracks his eyes open one by one. “Was. When’s your match?” he questions with his deep morning voice. Maki could be made into a liar if he said he wasn’t into it.
“Six I think,” he muses. “You wanna stay here?”
Harua nods a little sleepily, and searches around the pillows for his phone. Maki hands him it.
Maki moves around the once again unconscious Harua as he gets ready. He has to be at the gym by noon. He packed his tape, his gloves, his shorts and an extra shirt. The robotics of packing the necessities in his accessories bag ring familiar.
He shoves it over his shoulder and waves a soft, see you soon, to a sleepy Harua. As he jogs to the gym his match is far from his mind.
With each step all he hears is Harua’s name.