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Warmth radiated from the restaurant, the dinner table emitting a light glow from the liveliness. There sat Yanagi, Hayashi, Tamba, Hiroaki, and Ojima. They had all come together to celebrate Yanagi's entrance into the Grand Prix final. Drinks were being passed around, conversations being exchanged and food slowly decreasing from people's plates.
"You should've seen his face!" Tamba's laugh breaks out, tears building up in her eyes as she slowly loses her breath.
"Tamba, shut up!" Hiroaki's voice booms across the table, seemingly distressed from the story Tamba is telling.
Hayashi on the other hand seems quite amused, feeling entertained by Tamba's anecdote.
The event continues to drift into the evening as the group exchange stories and arguments (mainly between Tamba and Hiroaki). Yanagi feels a sort of softness in his chest from seeing the people he cares about accompanying him at such an important time in his life. It comforts him to know he's found such wonderful people in his life that he can rely on and that wouldn't exploit him. He felt safe with them.
Yanagi stands up from his seat, tapping his drinking glass with his spoon, "Excuse me, if I could please have everyone's attention." All the conversations die down as everybody turns to focus on Yanagi.
"Thank you. I'd like to take just a few minutes to say a few things. I wont take long: I assure you. I just want to thank all of you for your arrival. I truly appreciate that all of you would take time out of your days to attend something that is so important to me. I am incredibly proud of myself and glad that you can all treasure that just as much as I do. Thank you for being such big parts of my life and making it so much more fulfilling."
A few seconds of silence settle amongst everyone, slightly in awe from the sheer sincereness from Yanagi.
"That was...seriously emotional. You're a captivating speaker, Shigeki," Ojima breaks the silence in slight astonishment.
"Don't get too sentimental now, Shigeki. Still haven't bagged that gold yet," Hiroaki grins.
Yanagi retorts, "I'm sure you wont need to worry about that."
Hayashi then raises her glass, "Alright, toast?"
Tamba smiles in return, "Yeah! For Shigeki!"
The group raises their glasses in unison and lightly clash them together to complete their toast. Smiles are shared and laughs are spread: this was truly a special night.
As the event went on, Hiroaki had noticed that Ojima was acting... strange, to say the least. He had quietened down a little bit and wasn't very responsive for some strange reason. Hiroaki had put it aside at first, but now he couldn't help but think that something was wrong.
Hiroaki turned to Ojima and spoke softly, with the aknowledgment that he may be upset, "Takeshi? You okay?"
Ojima looks up, his head slightly wobbling as he did so, "Hah?" He laughs a little, starting to fiddle lightly with Hiroaki's sunglasses.
It's become apparent now. He's drunk, for some genius reason. Hiroaki was slightly confused, though. Ojima would usually control his alcohol intake, knowing his state when he's drunk isn't the most pleasant. Hiroaki hadn't even noticed he was drinking alcohol.
Ojima lays on Hiroaki's shoulder and wraps himself around Hiroaki's arm while giggling softly, "Nakamigaaaawaaaa."
Hiroaki is slightly startled by this, attempting to pull him off, "Okay- Takeshi, stop."
Ojima completely ignores his request, saying incomprehensible things, "The light is sooo bright in here..." Ojima starts to try to take away Hiroaki glasses off his face.
"Takeshi!" Hiroaki batted Ojima's hand away from his face, still trying to push him away.
Ojima then starts to pepper kisses onto Hiroaki's shoulder, laughing to himself: it's as if he's proud of himself.
Hiroaki freezes at this moment as he feels himself flush a slight pink colour.
"T-Takeshi!!!" He aggressively whispers under his breath, feeling incredibly embarrassed in this moment.
Unluckily for him, Tamba had flown out of conversation with Yanagi and Hayashi and had now diverted her attention to the other two, her mouth slightly agape from shock. She let out a snort, immediately pulling out her phone to start taking pictures.
Hiroaki starts to grow more agitated, "Tamba, PUT THAT PHONE DOWN!"
The commotion seems to attract the rest of the group.
"Whats going on?" Yanagi asks in slight confusion.
"Is Takeshi drunk?" Hayashi looks more closely at Ojima's face, "What did he even drink?"
Hiroaki replies, "I don't know. That's the problem."
Hayashi picks the glass near Ojima, looking over it and briefly smelling it, "I think he may have accidently drank my shit."
"W-what was even in that?!" Hiroaki is perplexed at this point. How could he have just drank the wrong drink?
"I... think it'd rather go unsaid. Though, I'll say he won't be feeling exactly fresh in the morning. I think you should take him home for the night."
Well this is just great. Ojima drank Hayashi's magical shit-potion which has gotten him completely plastered. Now, he has to take this insufferable plastered Ojima to his house and watch him meet the consequences in the morning. Amazing.
"Noooo…" Ojima starts to weakly shake Hiroaki for whatever reason, seemingly in his own world at this point.
"No you, Takeshi. You're not sticking around any further to embarrass yourself even more. We're going." With struggle, Hiroaki pulls up Ojima to proceed to drag him out of the restaurant. The rest of them assist him and exchange goodbyes amongst themselves. Hayashi and Hiroaki duel-wield Ojima and take him to the passenger seat of Hiroaki's car. They exchange farewells and go their separate ways.
Hiroaki sits in his car with a sigh, starting up his car and driving out of the car park.
At the moment, Ojima was drawing on the fogged up window of the car: much fitting to his illustrator nature. He was drawing some sort of patterns with his finger. Wonky, but still containing some sort of clarity. After a few minutes, he abandoned the window and slumped into the car seat, drawing his gaze in front of himself.
Ojima breaks the silence, "Are you mad?"
Hiroaki gripped the wheel a little tighter and sighed. As frustrated as he was because of Ojima's embarrassing behaviour, it wasn't really his fault. It's not like he intentionally drank the alcohol and intentionally acted so stupid. He couldn't really control it, per say.
"I... I'm not mad." Hiroaki just utters that one sentence softly. He didn't want to just start going off at Ojima while he was in this state. He was quite a sensitive drunk, really. He didn't want to upset him.
"You're not?" Ojima slurred.
"No."
The car goes silent for a minute, which is slightly surprising due to there being a heavily drunk Ojima and well... a Hiroaki Nakamigawa currently in the car. Although they did have those loud arguments and eccentric moments (it was always an eccentric moment if Hiroaki was involved, to be honest), the two of them had their fair share of quite moments too. Ones that they didn't have with anyone else. Ones where words weren't needed and they could just find comfort in their presence.
"Why can't I drive?" Ojima speaks up from his seat.
"Why do you think?" Hiroaki doesn't attempt to look at him and pay attention to his drunk antics, "You're literally drunk, Takeshi. You'd crash and end up killing us. Or you'll send us to the hospital."
"I have a license, Nakamigawa. I can drive! I can drive so good! Even better then you!"
"Oh yeah?"
"Y- hic yeah! And... and I'm not drunk. I'm... super not drunk."
"Really now." Hiroaki holds an unamused tone, but deep down he finds Ojima somewhat endearing in this moment. He can't hold back a small smile despite himself.
They eventually arrive at their shared apartment as Hiroaki parks his car and meticulously drags out Ojima with much struggle.
They (somehow) eventually make it to their bedroom and Hiroaki chucks Ojima onto their bed, quickly following as he sighs and slumps onto the bed. They both face the ceiling, their shoulders pushing against each other in the dark, moon-lit room. Ojima turns his head to look at Hiroaki, staring at his face for a while and paying attention to the way the shadows accentuate his face nicely. He thought it was a beautiful sight.
"You're pretty."
"Wh- excuse me?" Hiroaki sounded slightly flabbergasted as he turned to Ojima, his cheeks being dusted with a soft pink.
"When... you're face looks like that. You're pretty."
Hiroaki was stunned to silence one might say. He didn't really know how to answer that. It had caught him so off-guard that he couldn't even think of a snarky comeback for that one.
Hiroaki settles with, "Shut up," and pushes his hand into Ojima's face, getting up from the bed. "Go to sleep. You're out of it right now."
Ojima scrunches his face back when he feels the palm in his hand, "Okayyy…" He shuffles into a more comfortable position and practically goes out like a light switch, falling asleep in the speed of a minute.
Hiroaki looks over him fondly, chuckling to himself as he presses a tender kiss to Ojima's forehead while brushing his fingers through his delicate, navy strands.
"Idiot."
He slowly pulls away and steps towards the closet, carefully slipping off his jacket and the rest of his clothes so as to not wake the man sleeping a few metres away from him. He picks out something more comfortable: nothing too flashy, but good enough not to be called homeless.
Hiroaki treads carefully towards the bed and slips under the covers. He rests his back against the headboard, watching Ojima shuffle around in his sleep and swing an arm over his waist. He smiles fondly at the sight of him. As much as he'd hate to admit it to anyone, he felt lucky being able to experience this every night. Being able to see Ojima's silly sleeping face and being able to press against him as he loops his hands around his torso. He felt like the luckiest man in the entire world.