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There’s something of a familiarity about stormy days. The way the shadows fall to the ground under an overcast sky isn’t anything short of comforting; it’s the middle of November, and the wind picks up fallen leaves with its chill, turning the suburbs of Sendai into somewhat of a dismal frame paused between the genesis of autumn and the forthcoming winter. Late afternoon isn’t easily distinguished, as the sun is concealed by the clouds that hang heavier with each passing hour, but Yamaguchi is excited nonetheless. Tonight is movie night: the one thing he can look forward to among piles of schoolwork and volleyball practice. It’s the weekend, which means no obligations other than showing up to his best friend’s house.
After a quick kiss goodbye on his mother’s cheek, he heads out the door of his home, walking the length of the walkway in his yard and out onto the sidewalk. His neighborhood is cramped, and the mismatched clumps of old houses give a character to the street he’s grown up on. Yamaguchi has no problem with the town of Torono; it’s small and situated in the space between comfortable and homey. He’s used to it. Part of him yearns to leave once his high school days come to an end, but the thought of going to university someplace far away puts a pit in the center of his gut. It isn’t time to think about the future.
He walks. As he puts one foot in front of the other, the combination of exertion and crisp air turns his cheeks the color of strawberries. The route to Tsukishima’s house has been so ingrained in his brain, thinking is totally unnecessary at this point. Yamaguchi lets his mind wander. This happened every two weeks. The two of them would have a night set aside for the one thing they both enjoyed to the same extent: watching movies. Whether it was comedy, action, or a classic, Yamaguchi loved every minute of being in his best friend’s company. This time, Tsukishima was hosting, and Yamaguchi couldn’t contain his eagerness. Kei’s mother always provided good snacks and plenty of hugs, which Yamaguchi appreciated with every fiber of his being.
It was funny how Kei’s family was so warm and welcoming, whereas he himself had taken time to get used to. Even to Yamaguchi, who had known him for seemingly forever, he couldn’t always control the critical and biting nature of his personality. But then again, that was just who Tsukishima was. Yamaguchi could hardly complain.
There was no need to knock on the door of the house that sat approximately seven minutes down the street from Yamaguchi’s own. Upon entering, the sounds of pots and pans rattling in the kitchen signified that this was his second home. The smell of lit candles—vanilla scented—as well as the delicious scent of a meal cooking, greeted him as he shut the door. Yamaguchi let himself relax, slowing his breathing as his cheeks warmed up after the brisk walk over. Here, he was welcomed just as any member of the Tsukishima family. For years, Yamaguchi could remove his shoes in the doorway, take about four steps in, and…
“Tadashi, sweetheart! You look so pale! Let’s get you some food right now, young man!”
Arms wrapped around him, caring and close, and Yamaguchi let himself laugh. Kei’s mother was a force to be reckoned with. Her hugs were the best, rivaled by no one, and it took around twenty seconds for her to pull back.
“Aren’t you hungry, Tadashi? Kei can wait on the movie if you—”
“I’m fine, I promise!”
Yamaguchi bowed in a way that showed his utmost respect. Just then, heavy footsteps came from down the hall, and Yamaguchi looked from Kei’s mother, who still gazed upward at him with kind and gently prodding eyes, to see his best friend standing with his arms crossed and shoulders thrown back. The way his eyebrows furrowed together in trivial annoyance made the butterflies that resided in Yamaguchi’s stomach flutter around halfheartedly. It was a comical sight indeed.
“Mom, if you don’t mind, we’ll be going up to my room now,” says Tsukishima, and Yamaguchi smiles awkwardly over at him. They make eye contact, and behind the glasses, Tsukishima’s stare turns soft if only for a moment.
“Of course, of course. I’ll just go back to the kitchen. Have fun, boys!” Kei’s mother whisks off in a blur, voice apologetic for no reason. Yamaguchi was grateful enough for the both of them that Tsukishima had such a wonderful soul running his household.
“You ready?” Kei’s voice prods him from his thoughts. Yamaguchi nods enthusiastically.
“Duh!”
Tsukishima’s room is neat and orderly, but only if you understand the context in his terms. Every wall is covered up with posters; Yamaguchi couldn’t exactly tell what color the paint was underneath. He’s always been told that there’s a method to the madness, but he has yet to figure it out. Yamaguchi has offered to organize his bookshelfs, but Tsukishima insists that whatever he’s looking for is easiest to find if he just leaves it be. Yamaguchi doesn’t bother arguing.
The setup is always the same: two beanbag chairs atop numerous blankets, bowls of popcorn and various candies to snack on, and the television, DVD drive open and waiting for whatever they decided on.
Yamaguchi drops down on his beanbag—his favorite color, yellow—and looks up at Tsukishima, who is sorting through the large cardboard box in the corner labelled ‘movies’ on the side in black permanent marker. He watches him, not saying a word, but instead listening as the sky opens up outside and rain starts falling, hitting the roof with the steady drum of drops. Yamaguchi taps his fingers on his shin in time with the rain, anticipating loud cracks of thunder, but none come yet. He knows they will, and this makes him want to bite his fingernails out of habit. He doesn’t want to ruin movie night by letting his fears get in the way.
Tsukishima hums. “How about Jurassic Park?”
“We just watched it a few weeks ago, Tsukki.”
“Oh yeah...still, it’s such a good movie. We could just—”
“Nope,” Yamaguchi interjects, “I’m not watching it again. Pick something else.”
The shuffling continues. Usually, they pick out a movie together, but Yamaguchi is feeling exceptionally skittish with all the rain. Yeah, he’s afraid of thunder, and just then, he hears it booming somewhere outside in the distance, and he nearly jumps. The tiniest whimper escapes his throat.
“Don’t worry.” He hears Tsukishima mumble, back still facing him as he digs around in the box for another DVD.
Yamaguchi nods absentmindedly, letting himself lean back in an attempt to ease his mind. He’s too tense nowadays. Along with the task of keeping his grades up came extreme stress, and added onto that was the underlying soreness that constantly plagued his muscles from volleyball. It was an enjoyable ache, but on the contrary, it made his shoulders hunch up and every tendon in his body was suddenly composed of steel.
Tsukishima turned around, holding up a DVD case.
“The Princess Bride?” He raises an eyebrow, a hint of a smile appearing on his face.
Yamaguchi smiles back. Kei knows it’s one of his favorites; this was his way of letting him know he’d be alright, safe from the thunder and protected in the midst of his company.
“Yes!”
Tsukishima pushes his glasses up, popping the disc out of its case and placing it seamlessly into the DVD player. He steps over to his beanbag and lets his weight fall, sinking into the already-present dip that formed to the curve of his spine. The disk whirs and the TV screen lights up as the movie starts; Yamaguchi tries to block out the sound of the sky as the rain falls harder and harder.
They’ve watched The Princess Bride so many times that the two of them can easily quote it without thinking. That’s exactly what happens; Yamaguchi keeps a grin plastered onto his face as Tsukishima tries his best to do impressions of each of the characters. Sure, he was a hardass sometimes, but making Yamaguchi laugh was one of his secret talents. The world seldom caught a glimpse of the Kei that got into a movie, that tried so hard to be animated, that made Yamaguchi glad they had kept up this tradition. He wasn’t always so critical, and that was something Yamaguchi loved about him. The Kei he was sitting next to was only for him.
If Yamaguchi was looking for an excuse to not reach over and grab Tsukishima’s hand, he wouldn’t be able to find it.
At that moment, the TV screen went black and the whole house went silent; the flicker of the lights ceased and the power turned off, leaving the two of them sitting in total darkness. Thunder crashed; Yamaguchi jumped, startled, and shut his eyes. His fingers were trembling, but not for long, because he felt the touch of Tsukishima’s own hands lock their fingers together. It was nice, but Yamaguchi couldn’t exactly focus on the feeling. There was no light that came in through the cracks on the blinds of the window in Kei’s room besides the occasional lightning strike, and as much as Yamaguchi knew his fear was completely irrational, the booming of the thunder would not leave his ears. He shook his head back and forth as if trying to rid his skull of the pounding.
“You’re okay,” said Tsukishima, “it’s okay. It’s just thunder, it can’t hurt you.”
“I know,” Yamaguchi snapped, unintentionally letting his vexation over the rain get the better of him.
Tsukishima shifted his beanbag so that it was right next to Yamaguchi’s own; suddenly there was a lanky arm wrapped around his shoulders, and Yamaguchi let himself lean into Kei as he sat there awkwardly. In any other instance, he would’ve laughed at the notion of Kei being gawky and maladroit, but he could distinguish the honest effort. The rain continued. Every time the clouds would crash together and thunder would sound, Yamaguchi would feel Kei squeezing his hand, letting him know he was there. He was warm. The cotton of the hoodie he wore was soft against Yamaguchi’s cheek where he let his head rest against his shoulder. The butterflies in his stomach had flown up and out some time ago when he hadn’t been paying attention, because this position felt like the most natural thing in the world.
“Do you feel better, Tadashi?”
Yamaguchi did not answer. He let his eyes open slowly, other senses blurred by how pleasant and reassuring his given name sounded when Tsukishima had whispered it without effort, close to his ear. He turned his head; Tsukishima’s eyes were barely visible in the darkness, but Yamaguchi had gotten used to it already, which made it easier to stretch out his neck and kiss the bottom of Tsukishima’s cheek impetuously, not caring if his best friend would retract.
He didn’t, because now the hand that wasn’t holding Yamaguchi’s was petting his hair benevolently, his fingers parting it towards the back of his neck. Tsukishima had never outwardly shown him affection like this before. For a second, Yamaguchi was more grateful for this storm than he was for anything else. If not for the copious downpour outside, he wouldn’t have been holding Kei’s hand. He wouldn’t be snuggled into his side, and the softness of his lips wouldn’t be present against his forehead, kissing there in the most innocent way, not needing to be provocative.
Yamaguchi gulped. “Do you...do you think the power will be back on soon?”
“Let’s hope not,” Tsukishima said, and Yamaguchi suspected the slightest bit of surprise in his voice, as if he hadn’t planned for that sentiment to slip out. Nevertheless, they remained close.
The power stayed off for a while. Downstairs, Tsukishima’s mother would periodically shout up to the two of them, making sure everything was okay. Yamaguchi hoped and prayed that she did not climb the stairs, that she didn’t swing open the door to Tsukishima’s bedroom, because he wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about someone walking in to see them holding hands. To be frank, he himself was unsure of what was going on as the rain continued pouring and the darkness would not cease. There was nothing wrong with holding your best friend’s hand, he was thinking. There wasn’t anything weird about kissing his cheeks, or running fingers through his hair as he sighed and whispered words of uncharacteristic comfort.
Yamaguchi didn't want to ask and disrupt the intimacy. It was all so innocent. There was nothing to disturb the silence, so he just shut his eyes and kept trying to drown out the noises from outside. Beside him, Kei was breathing slow and steady, and if it weren’t for the soft stroke of his thumb on Yamaguchi’s hand, he would’ve thought he had fallen asleep.
All of a sudden, the lights turn back on. The TV screen that had shut off in the middle of the film became animate once more; the home screen of the DVD popped back up into view. Yamaguchi looked around. He looked at Kei, first of all, who looked back, and for a moment, the look they shared was one that couldn’t not be classified as confusion. Downstairs, Yamaguchi could distantly hear the beeping of the appliances in the kitchen and the frenzied outbursts of Kei’s mother as she was rushing to shut everything off after the power reset. Tsukishima’s eyes are still on him, Yamaguchi takes note of. He doesn’t want to say anything. There isn’t really anything to say.
“Er...I guess we should—”
“—finish the movie?” Yamaguchi finishes Kei’s sentence. He blinks up at him, silently willing him not to ruin it. They could stay like this. Tsukishima must agree, because he nods slightly, smirking as his eyes flicker down to where their hands rest, still holding onto each other.
“Good plan.”