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the start of it feels so far away at first, like how winter feels the furthest to fall, even though fall is so close to it. riku doesn’t realize it fully, it comes in fragmented pieces, a painting that doesn’t make sense until you look at it from the right angle.
when he lifts his head from the table on set, he sees people running around. the noise feels like static in his ears. the sense that someone could call out to him any second settles heavy in his stomach, he can never fully relax.
there are people here who helps him, and it wouldn’t be fair to say there are no moments when he feels loved.
but sometimes it just hits you, in a random hour of a random day. it grabs your brain with its claws and ruins the normal-looking moment you are in, piece by piece, with its fingers. that’s when riku remembers yushi the most.
maybe remembering isn’t the right word for riku. (can you really remember something you can never forget?) when he was close to yushi, he didn’t really think about him that much. he didn’t need to. he was already there. there was no point in imagining a moment without him when he was already in the one that isn’t.
riku’s habits haven’t changed much, still when he feels overwhelmed or tired, he buries his head on the table, trying to mute the sounds. before, when he did that, at some point he would feel yushi’s fingers in his hair. every time he put his head down, he knew yushi would come. either to ask if something was wrong, or to offer food, or just to touch his head and say a few words. one of the reasons he did it was knowing someone would wonder why. that someone was usually—almost always—yushi.
this moment feels a lot like that old one, and it’s strange because there is nothing here that should make it feel that way. no object or person is trying to resemble that moment. there was no yushi with him anymore. or the other members, or their shared places. yet somehow, riku feels yushi’s fingers in his hair, like the moment has slipped out of the past, both far away and the closest.
“i told you not to stay up until 5 a.m. again,” yushi had said to him once. that time, he had his hands on riku’s shoulders. the other night they had played games until midnight and talked for a while, and riku had said he still wasn’t sleepy. yushi said that he was, added that he didn’t like riku’s sleeping habits.
“i’m not sleepy, i’m just resting,” riku had said then, lifting his head slowly and meeting yushi’s eyes. yushi was already sitting beside him, his lunch on the table, looking hungry. he handed one of the chopsticks to riku. riku’s hair was messy and his eyes tired. “come on, eat,” yushi said.
even with all the noise and the crowd around, whenever yushi came up to offer something, riku felt like the moment was just made up of them. he never questioned why, he just liked existing in it. the feeling was so satisfying that questions didn’t have a place in it. he felt the same at certain moments too, even on stage. it was strange, because there were thousands of people, even if he couldn’t see every one of them, the crowd always made itself known through the screams and lights. there were dozens of people on stage too, and still—and he never questioned this either, his brain never took him a step beyond just living the moment—when yushi’s eyes found riku and his hands reached for his, something he did at most concerts (riku didn’t know if he did it to everyone but it didn’t matter, because he did it to him). and sometimes he would lean in close and whisper something in that raspy tone that always touched riku’s skin for no reason.
riku had felt so many things when he was with him. but never loneliness.
now that he doesn’t have yushi, he has too much time to think about him. all the questions that never needed to be asked back then now sit quietly at the corner of his mouth. now that yushi isn’t here, he has to think about him just to make him exist a little more.
he hates that it’s come to this.
if yushi called, he would answer. he knows that. and if he were to call yushi, yushi would answer. he knows that.
they both still won’t call. he knows that too.
it’s strange, because other members has called— and he’s called them. the only thing stopping him from calling yushi is the same reason that would make him want to.
it was too much. everything with yushi was too much. when they pick up the phone, neither of them wants to ask or answer the kind of questions that sound casual but feel cruel in their casualness. “what have you been up to, how are things, how are your days lately?” because they were supposed to be together, they weren’t supposed to be asking those things. if yushi ever asked what he’d been doing all these months, it would make the distance real, and that’s exactly why he never would.
the reason they still haven’t reached out isn’t lack of love but the abundance of it, which somehow feels weirder and more alive than a relationship that simply ends. because it doesn’t let you live for even a second. it still breathes, still has working organs, just dehydrated, but never dying. it would be better if it did. if it died, it would feel stillness instead of thirst, and that would be easier. and yet, despite all the people and all the new memories, this monster only lingers between the two of them, the things yushi and riku could only feel together refuse to die. they can’t accept that it’s over, at least not like they should.
maybe he’d want to run into him somewhere, then they’d be forced to have the conversation they’ll never have otherwise. he misses yushi’s voice. even if it means hearing things he wouldn’t like.
“aren’t you coming to eat?” his friend’s voice reaches him a little late, but his body still smiles on instinct and says he’ll come. there are still people who wonder about him when he rests his head down. there’s still nothing that feels like him.
sometimes riku thinks about writing an email. that way, it wouldn’t be a conversation, and maybe he could say everything he wants to say.
it sits in his drafts. a draft that he will never send.
it starts with, hey yushi. he doesn’t want to talk about the time that’s passed, or what he’s been doing, or how the work has been. he doesn’t want to hear those things back either.
i know this is a late message. but still… i wanted to write. it’s not like you did write either. really, why didn’t you? but i guess i don’t have the right to ask.
i just want to say i’ve been thinking about you. i guess there isn’t an easier way to do this.
i used to think we’d be friends until we were old. i used to imagine the future a lot, you know that, and for some reason there was never a version where you weren’t there. i still remember when i said i’d introduce you to my kids someday, and how we laughed thinking about their names.
but it feels strange now. this strangeness never goes away, yushi. you always told me how emotional i was. but i know you are too, otherwise you would have called already. you wouldn’t think too much about it and you’d just do it.
the only reason you haven’t is because you know it would hurt you too. i know, i know. so i’m not mad at you. don’t ever think i’m mad at you while you read this. i’m not, not at all.
i don’t want to talk about how i’ve been. maybe you already hear about it from others. or maybe you read it somewhere. i just want to tell you the things you haven’t heard.
there hasn’t been a single day since we stopped talking that i haven’t thought about you. i don’t know what that’s like for you. maybe it’s nothing like how i imagine, and… i don’t know.
is it too late for everything now? i don’t know. i can’t believe how many times i’ve written “i don’t know” in this message. and if i don’t, then why am i even doing this? but i just want to talk to you, and somehow you’re the only one i can’t.
maybe you feel the same? it would be funny if we both do. i’d like that. i’d like to laugh about it.
i don’t want it to get even later. i’m not excited about the number of memories i can’t share with you growing. maybe that’s why? i don’t know. maybe we start talking and it won’t be so hard.
maybe you’ll tell me what you think too.
hope you’re doing well. – riku
it feels useless. his fingers were always eager to write, but never eager to send. because sending would open up possibilities—yushi might not see it, or he might not reply, or worse, he might reply in that unbearably casual way that would make riku want to change his phone number, his address, even his name.
most likely, after sending it, he wouldn’t be able to focus on his real life anymore. with every notification, he would feel that disgusting sting in his chest, that ache disguised as excitement. nothing would have that boring stillness it has now.
one night, he stares at the send button longer than he ever has. and still, the message finds its only home in drafts.
“so you’re saying you’ve never kissed anyone?” yushi had asked, eyes wide. “no one?”
“yushii,” riku had squeaked, sinking into the soft couch, shifting uncomfortably while throwing him a quick glance. “you know i started this job really young. maybe i just didn’t have time?”
“no one?”
riku rolls his eyes at yushi’s repeated question. “okay then, mr. kisser, how many people have you kissed?”
“a few. there were some girls who liked me.”
“judging by how you said that, i’m guessing you didn’t like them that much back?”
“i don’t know. i think i was too young to know.”
“then i guess i waited until a better age to find out,” riku says, watching him. a few seconds pass. “so, what does it feel like?” he adds.
“wet,” yushi starts. his hand goes to his lips for a brief second, as if trying to remember the memory, and it makes riku laugh. he laughs so hard that yushi has to hit him on the shoulder. “i’m trying to remember, stop laughing!” he raises his voice, which only makes riku laugh quieter.
“i don’t know, it’s just… feels nice.”
“how nice?”
“nice enough that you’d want to experience it.”
“yushi,” riku hisses, squeezing yushi’s wrist in mock annoyance. “i will experience it, i just want it to go to the right person.”
“hm, so you’re one of those who put meaning into their first kiss.”
“i put meaning into most things, you know that.”
yushi smiles, and riku can see the way he bites his lip a little.
in that moment, he could feel every cell in his body. but he never questioned it. now, thinking back—and after kissing dozens of people since —he realizes that he had already known who the right one was.
while laughing at yushi that day, at the version of himself who hadn’t kissed yet and the version of yushi who had never kissed with feeling, he realizes he wanted to give the feeling to both of them.
he still doesn’t think about whether he liked yushi, or whether yushi liked him back. he only knows that if it were with him it would mean something.
riku, of course, knew this moment would come one day. it was not like there were oceans between them. they were still in the same city, just different parts of it. it was strange that they hadn’t seen each other until now.
he used to imagine places and situations where he might run into him, sometimes lining them up in his head from best to worst. in some of those scenarios, if he saw yushi first and was sure yushi hadn’t noticed him, he’d avoid him. in others, yushi would see him first and there would be no escape.
seeing him at a brand event was one of the realistic scenarios. they were both still in this industry. it made sense.
the drink in riku’s hand feels like it’s slipping out of his control, the sounds blur into one another, and suddenly the only thing he can really see is the man his eyes are stuck on.
yushi looks good. too good. the suit he’s wearing fits him perfectly, his energy fills the room like he belongs here more than anyone else. riku had always envied that about him—how he could make every event feel like it was his. riku, on the other hand, always felt slightly out of place, like he was wearing a ring too big for his finger. yushi had encouraged him countless times about it, told him he was doing fine, that he belonged too—although he was better know he still couldn’t quite do it the like yushi.
his smile still radiates that same warmth, and riku still can’t stop himself from smiling back when he sees it.
he still likes him.
the years hadn’t changed a thing. all the people and all the distance. seeing him now, he feels just as young as when they first met.
he is nineteen again.
without realizing it, he starts stepping away. he doesn’t want to be seen before he’s ready. he’s not even sure he wants to be seen at all. conversations with his friends beside him are getting harder by the second, so he excuses himself to go to the bathroom.
the bathroom is downstairs, which means he has time to think and decide whether he’s going back to the event or not.
as he walks toward the elevator, he feels the warmth of what he’s trying to escape lingering on his skin.
yushi is standing next to the other elevator.
riku begs the words to leave his mouth, but yushi speaks first.
“maeda riku.”
people step out of the elevator and move between them. for a second, riku’s vision blurs. it feels crowded. he can’t see yushi anymore. then he feels the pull on his wrist. yushi grabs it and guides him toward the wall, a little away from the crowd.
for a few seconds, neither of them says anything. riku can even hear himself swallow.
“tokuno yushi, you look really good.”
calling each other by their full names is one of their many shared habits. usually it feels sweet or playful. now it’s bitter.
“you look even better.”
riku can feel the last frantic beats of his heart. breathing doesn’t feel normal. everything he wants to say evaporates into the air, filling the space but never his mouth. he doesn’t know what’s supposed to come next. a hug? holding hands? saying i missed you? asking how he’s been? he doesn’t know the procedure because he’s never missed anyone this much before.
“do you want to go outside?” yushi asks, and riku nods without thinking.
they sit on the bench, riku can feel himself shivering when the coldness outside hits his face. he wishes he’d dressed better. he couldn’t admit to himself that it wasn’t because of the cold.
his jaw starts trembling, and it’s noticeable now.
“are you okay?” yushi asks. only the lamps light his face.
“i’m fine, i think i’m just cold.”
“if you want we can go back ins—”
“no, no. i’ll warm up in a few minutes,” riku says, slipping his hands into his pants pockets.
seconds pass, but he’s thinking so much it feels like minutes. he clenches his jaw so hard to keep it from shaking that the cold starts to feel like the words begging to escape his mouth.
“i wanted to call you,” yushi says. he doesn’t look at riku’s face as he says it. he looks at his own hands tangled together. “i’m sorry i didn’t.”
riku feels tears starting to form in his eyes. he’s never imagined it would be this hard in any of his scenarios.
“it’s okay, yushi. we were both busy.”
he hates himself as soon as he says it. it feels foreign on his tongue. busy with what? thinking about him while doing everything else. what a pathetic excuse of a busy life.
“i’m glad i saw you here,” yushi says, this time meeting his eyes. “i’m also glad to see you doing well.”
riku closes his eyes for a few seconds and exhales. “me too.” he looks down at his trembling hands. “i missed you,” he confesses. the thing that’s lingered on his tongue for months finally finds its subject. the cold doesn’t fade, but he’s shaking less.
yushi’s fingers move closer until they rest on top of his hands. “talking like we’re strangers is driving me crazy,” yushi says, tilting his head toward riku until their faces are so close all he can feel is the warmth.
“i know. i didn’t expect us to end up like this,” riku says. his voice is low and humming.
he feels yushi’s hand on his arm now. he used to stroke it gently, like he wanted to comfort him. now it feels the opposite. like yushi’s hand is pressed against his throat. hard enough to move him but never fully cutting his air. unbearable.
“is there someone in your life?” yushi asks, and riku’s eyes widen. he’s expected many questions, but not this one. he shakes his head. he opens his mouth to say no, but yushi cuts him off with his own.
riku knows he can’t move with permission, yushi looks so delicious like that, and also so easy. yushi’s hands travels to his collarbone, tongue in his lips now. he can almost feel the need and desire in his mouth, months and years of not getting it, and slowly defrosting in his mouth.
“okay?” yushi licks his mouth before going in again, it’s funny how he asks but doesn’t wait for his answers. he can tell by riku’s fingers tightening in his suit, another’s in his hair strands, he can tell how impatient he is with kissing, like he knows this won’t end sweetly as it started.
he bites riku’s lower lip. riku is not proud of the sound that escapes from his mouth, feeling naked by how desperate he is.
“sorry,” yushi says, even though he is not.
riku always ate without ever feeling full. now he hands in his chest, tongue in his mouth, and maybe a mouth he can get into.
“i miss you,” yushi breathes, right where riku loses his. “and i remember you asked me what kissing felt like.”
a couple of fireworks begins and ends to sparkle in riku’s mind, his words make him moan without his permission. yushi looks at him, fingers in his chin, never giving him any space to look at but his eyes, his eyes that burns with the want, like it’s darkening and darkening.
riku closes his eyes for a millisecond because with the way yushi looks at him doesn’t allow words to come out properly. “yes,” he murmurs, feels yushi’s tremulous breaths. it feels a like a first kiss, it is their first kiss after all.