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1. you’re hiding something
Tei’s first impression of Ikeda Daiki: asshole. What’s your problem?
He says things that he knows hurt others. He has a special talent for picking people apart and creating the most shockingly offensive insult he can come up with. And he’s smart, is the thing. He gets verbose with it.
So he tries to ignore him, but oddly, Ikeda will very deliberately cling to him. He tries not to show it, but it doesn’t take long for Tei to notice. It starts when Ikeda just so happens to sit next to him in class one day. Then, somewhere along the line, he sits next to Tei in every class. Sure, he bothers Tei the whole time by stepping on his feet and throwing stuff at him, but he must not really mind him that much if he chooses to sit by him every day. He eats lunch with Tei every day too, and looks undeniably upset when any of Tei’s other friends are there.
Tei is compassionate. He eats lunch with just Ikeda whenever he can. Even though he’s nothing but an asshole to him. He doesn’t like seeing Ikeda upset, no matter how much Ikeda loves seeing him upset.
When Ikeda isn’t bothering somebody, his resting face looks sort of out of it. It’s odd to see him not making some sort of exaggerated face of disgust or pride. Some people just have odd resting faces, maybe Tei does, but he’s observed him in art class. He moves slowly when he thinks no one is looking, like everything is cumbersome. And then he picks up the pace when he feels even a glimpse of eyes on him.
He doesn’t eat. When they eat lunch, he keeps himself occupied by walking around in little circles or trying and failing to climb stuff or spinning around poles and columns. His uniform drowns him, and it’s the smallest size the school offerss His arms are really the only part of him that are exposed, and every bone can be seen through his thin, pale skin. Sometimes, he’ll crawl onto Tei’s lap to annoy him, and it’s like… a cat. He barely feels it.
Tei has tried to pry about his health, his life. It’s fruitless, of course, but he’s tried. I live better than you, he’s been told.
“That looks disgusting!” Ikeda snickers, pointing at Tei’s lunch.
As usual, he has nothing to eat. They’re sitting on the roof of Fujioka Memorial High School, and the sky is a bright, cloudy blue. Ikeda tried to race Tei up the stairs—he always does—but he had to tap out a dozen steps in—again, as he always does.
It doesn’t offend Tei. He’s grown a skin for it. “Rice and eggs?” he clarifies. “That’s like… the most normal lunch. Ever.”
“It’s gross because it’s you,” Ikeda explains. “You’re gross. You’re aaaawwfullll to be around.” He deflates on his seat, sighing loudly.
“Ahhh, right,” Tei smiles. “Is that why you always hang out with me?”
Ikeda gasps theatrically, clutching his pearls. “I-I don’t!” he shouts, “I’d never see your gross face if it wasn’t everywhere in this damn school, whore!”
“You seek me out,” Tei proclaims. It’s not often he gets to be the one with the cocky smile on his face. “Maybe Yokoi’s right. Maybe you like me.”
Ikeda’s face drops. Their playful bickering might be hard to differentiate from actual banter, but it’s just that. This time around, he appears to almost close in on himself. His hand falls from his chest slowly.
“I-I don’t.” Tei was expecting something much louder than the mousy volume Ikeda mutters at. “I don’t like it— you. S-so… don’t say I do.”
Tei’s face softens. “Um— okay. Sorry, Ikeda.”
“I don’t like it.” Whispered to himself, under his breath. “I don’t w-w…” Ikeda stands up. “I need to go in-inside.”
It feels like his steps are going all the wrong ways. It’s suddenly too bright out here. There’s too much open space. Somewhere small. He needs to be somewhere dim and inside and small.
He disappears into the stairwell. Tei glances at his lunch as he sets it down on the bench before following Ikeda inside.
Ikeda is leaning against the wall of the tiny room, eyebrows furrowed with anxiety. He’s breathing quietly, clutching the hem of his shirt.
“Are you okay?” Tei asks worriedly. He’s never seen Ikeda like this. He’s seen him annoyed. He’s never seen him scared.
“Calming down,” Ikeda gulps. His head is swaying. This is stupid. “I-I need to be here.”
“Okay. If it’ll make you feel a little better,” Tei says. “Um… do you need help? Do you need to see the nurse?”
“Is school over?” Ikeda asks, ignoring him. It’s a stupid question; it’s quite obviously still only lunch time. The logical part of Ikeda knows that, but that’s not who’s controlling his body right now. “I-I need to go home.”
Ikeda must be sick. “Let’s just go to the nurse, c’mon,” Tei says, gently tugging at Ikeda’s bony arm.
Bad move. Ikeda yelps like he’s been burned. They both jump.
“Sorry!” Tei apologizes. “I’m—I’m sorry.”
He decides it might be best to give Ikeda some time by himself to relax. “I’ll leave you be. Uh, come out when you’re—”
“No!” Ikeda shouts, a lot louder than he meant to. Tei flinches. His arms cross over his body as he sinks to the floor.
“Okay,” Tei replies softly, toeing closer to Ikeda. “Are you sick? You look like you’re about to puke.”
“I’m being stupid,” Ikeda says definitively. “It’s nothing. Don’t leave.”
“It doesn’t seem like nothing,” Tei huffs, concerned. He sits down next to Ikeda. “And I won’t.”
What could’ve spurred this… panic attack? Could Ikeda really be that upset about a simple joke? Tei frowns. There never seems to be anything right to do with this boy.
Tei picks at his nail. He feels awful, if this is really his fault, but it feels like Ikeda’s reaction went beyond it.
“Are you okay?”
Gentle. Not jumping to judge—he never is.
Ikeda blinks in hard squeezes, but it’s not enough to catch the sob that escapes his mouth. He hides his face in Tei’s shoulder as the floodgates open. He’d laugh if he could—he’s crying his eyes out in front of Tei fucking Atsushi.
Tei just stays there. He doesn’t try to touch him again, for the time being.
“Not crying,” Ikeda blabbers, “I-I-I’m not.”
Tei curls his hands in his lap. “I know,” he whispers.
He lets Ikeda tire himself out, crying until he has no more tears to give. Tei refrains from touching him still, but Tei is guaranteed to smell like Ikeda for the rest of the day with how he’s smothering him.
As soon as Ikeda is done crying, he literally shoves Tei away. Just like that, he’s back to normal. The redness of his nose and puffiness of his tired eyes don’t lie, no matter how normal he tries to act. When Tei asks, Ikeda says he’s just tired today. Tei regretfully holds his tongue yet again.
2. there’s another you
Sometimes Ikeda has days where he’s quieter; nicer, even. Tei assumes that being a loud, insufferable asshole all the time is hard work and even Ikeda needs a break sometimes. They’re sitting on a bench just outside the school, people-watching. Usually Ikeda makes fun of the people that pass by and Tei scolds him for it, begging they can’t hear him, but that’s not needed today.
The rudest thing Ikeda has done today was very shyly ask Tei for a bite of his sandwich, which he actually happily handed over.
“What’s got you so quiet, Ikeda?” Tei asks, watching Ikeda nibble on the lettuce.
When Ikeda looks up at him, it feels delayed, almost. “Huh? Oh…” he takes a few seconds to process the question and form his words. “I got in trouble at home.”
“You got in trouble? Are you grounded?”
“Mm-hmm,” Ikeda hums, mouth full of bread. He swallows. “Usually my papa doesn’t let me go to school when I’m grounded, but, uhm… I forgot what I was talking about,” Ikeda trails. “Oh! But he said that the school— there’s too many sick days… at the school, so I had to go… to school.”
Tei’s eyebrows furrow in bewilderment. He wiggles his hand in front of Ikeda’s face testingly. Ikeda goes cross-eyed as he tries to focus on the blurry object blocking his view. He seems just as confused as Tei.
“Are you feeling okay? Can I check your temperature?” Tei asks.
“Are you a doctor?”
Tei presses his hand up to Ikeda’s forehead. No fever. Cold, if anything.
Tei’s face drops in fear. “Hold on. Did anyone give you anything?!” he asks, hands gripping Ikeda’s shoulders panickedly. “Anyone, a-a pill or something?! Did you drink anything?”
“You’re scaring me,” Ikeda whimpers, pouting. “What pill? I didn't take any medicine today.”
Tei pauses. “O-okay, just, um.” He retracts his hands from Ikeda, squeezing them together at his chest as he breathes. “You’re acting really weird. Let’s go to the nurse’s office, okay? Just in case.”
Ikeda shakes his head, swinging his feet. “Mm-mm. Papa— my dad said I’m not allowed to go see doctors.”
Tei feels like he’s been given a lot of unsettling pieces of information about Ikeda’s dad over the past while. He’s decided he doesn’t trust the guy. ‘Papa’ is new—Ikeda always just calls him his dad or father. And what’s this about not being allowed to… see doctors…? Is that why Ikeda’s always coughing and sneezing? Is that why he’s out sick all the time?
Tei stares at him hard. Is this an impersonator?
Before Tei can speak again, Ikeda points to someone across the street. “I used to eat those!”
“Don’t point at strangers, Ikeda, it’s rude,” Tei scolds, automated, before he tries to look for what Ikeda was pointing at.
“Oh, sorry,” Ikeda says with a quiet sincerity. “Why’s it rude?”
“Because they might think you’re saying something mean about them. And you do.”
“Oh.” Ikeda looks confused at that, but doesn’t continue. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
“It’s…” Tei takes a shaky breath. “Wh-what’d you want to show me, anyway?”
“A girl was eating a samanco. I used to eat those too, when I was littler. My mom got them for me,” Ikeda explains.
Tei always forgets that at some point, Ikeda had a mother in his life. “Samanco? Those… taiyaki ice creams?” Tei thinks he’s seen those in the freezer section, but he’s never tried one himself.
“Yeah! I always liked the red bean ones. I haven’t had it since I started living with P-… my dad.” He looks away at a bird hopping around on the ground. “I liked the red bean ones because the chocolate ones were too bitter and the strawberry ones were too jammy.” Ikeda’s lips perk up into a fond smile. “I remember.”
“I thought you didn’t remember much from when you were younger.”
Ikeda would usually go as far as to claim he doesn’t remember a thing past the dawn of his teenage years. Maybe he remembers his mom faintly, but every time Tei says something about his youth Ikeda is unable to contribute. Was he just… lying? Or is he lying now?
“I remember lots of stuff! Like… Oh! I had really fluffy pajamas that were blue and stripey, and my mom used to give me bubble baths, and I had a plushie named Bunny that I took everywhere! Uhm… I don’t have it anymore, though, ’cause Dad…” Ikeda frowns. “But I remember everything from when I was little! I probably could remember being a baby!”
“Well, that’s…” Tei kicks a pebble. “Impressive, Ikeda.”
Ikeda smiles for a second when another bird lands on the ground, chirping and pecking at crumbs.
“It’s weird how everyone calls me Ikeda at school,” he mutters. “At home everyone calls me Daiki. And my dad is Ikeda. Sometimes Mr. Ikeda.”
“Everyone? It’s just you and your dad, no?”
“Clients come over.”
“Oh, that’s right; you sell your art.” Tei nods, recalling what little Ikeda has said about his homelife. Tei has a hunch that’s how Mr. Ikeda makes his money.
“Mhm. They come to buy art and to see me.”
“To see you?”
“I perform and stuff! I can play the shamisen and the shakuhachi, anddd I can sing, and I can play games! Lots of people love to see me!”
Only at this point does Tei realize that what Ikeda is saying is so outlandish that there’s no way he hasn’t just been elaborately messing with him all day.
“You’re pulling my leg,” Tei sighs.
“…I forgot what that means.”
“You’re lying.”
“What? I’m not!” Ikeda whines. “I really do that stuff, and super important people like me a lot!”
“Ikeda, I don’t even think you own a shamisen.”
“I do! I’m telling the truth!” Ikeda swears, flailing his balled up fists. “I’m not lying, I promise! I’m not!”
He looks like a kid right now. Come to think of it, he’s talking like one too. He seems serious—or as serious as kids can be.
“Okay,” Tei says suspiciously. “I believe you. Calm down. Finish your sandwich.”
Ikeda sniffles and stuffs the last of the sandwich into his mouth. He chews for a while, cheeks full like a squirrel.
“…You probably wouldn’t be able to come see me,”
Ikeda says once he swallows. The words are very fitting for normal-Ikeda, but this Ikeda speaks much differently. “It’s expensive, I think. And I’m probably the only kid allowed down there. And I don’t think you’d…”
Ikeda stops there. Tei finds nothing when he tries to read his face.
Tei checks his phone. “…We have to head back to school soon, Ikeda.”
“Can you come too?”
“To your science class? No. We don’t share that period,” Tei says apologetically. “I’m in health class, remember?”
Ikeda picks at his fingernails in his lap. “Can you show me where the classroom is?”
“Of course.”
3. you aren’t as bad as you’d like me to believe
“I have no idea what I’m doing wrong,” Denden says, pouting. “It looks all… slanty.”
It’s time for art class—the second period of the day, which Tei and Ikeda just so happen to share. The art classroom is set up with several large tables where up to six students can sit all sharing the space, which Ikeda never shuts up about how much he hates. He works independently, so he says.
Tei and Ikeda’s table consists of them as well as Denden, Yokoi, and Yaitabashi. Kumada used to sit there too, mostly so she could chat with Yaitabashi, but she now sits at Ogura’s table after a few too many scuffles with Ikeda.
The whiteboard shows a few different nude figure studies, which the students were instructed to copy, taking note of the shapes and negative space and all that.
“Hmm…” Yokoi hums, tapping her chin. “I think that leg’s too short. See how the knee’s all the way down here?”
“Ohh, you’re right!”
Ikeda looks over to Denden’s sketchbook every few moments. Tei is watching him.
He grits his teeth together like Denden’s art is a personal slight on him. “Let me fix it,” he says.
“Huh? Oh, thank you, Ikeda! I know you’re a really good artist!” Denden slides over her sketchbook happily.
“God, your art is shit,” Ikeda whispers, rubbing the eraser over practically the whole thing before scoffing and flipping over to a new page entirely.
Tei glares at him. “Ikeda.”
Denden doesn’t react to the insult. Tei hopes she didn’t hear it.
“Okay, no. Come here. Let me show you how to make this way better.”
Denden rounds the table and rests her elbows on Ikeda’s side, watching.
“You have zero line confidence, so you’re just building up these scribbly blobs instead of actual forms,” Ikeda explains. “God, were you even listening to the teacher? Thinking about the negative space actually does help. You have to detach yourself from the idea of a person and think of it as just… a-a bunch of shapes, I dunno.”
Ikeda begins to sketch out a few rectangles, to start. “Like, instead of starting with a shape, you’re trying to start with a head. You get me? You have to be patient.”
Denden nods diligently.
“This box right here contains the head. But we’re not paying attention to it right now. We’re just getting down the basic pose…”
Tei’s eyebrows furrow with interest as he watches Ikeda explain his art process to Denden.
“Look,” Yokoi whispers from across the table, amazed. She has some sort of interest (or maybe concern) for Ikeda too. He treats her awfully, but she’s even better at not taking what he says to heart than Tei is.
“I know,” Tei whispers back.
“Only now can we actually go in and begin to add detail. Don’t go overboard. We’re just adding on even more shapes for the most part.”
“Do I have to draw the boobies?” Denden asks, rubbing at her nape. “It feels wrong.”
Ikeda rolls his eyes. “Yes. Grow up. It’s just body parts.”
Tei didn’t really expect Ikeda to be so open to artistic nudity. He supposes it makes sense, because Ikeda is actually a very serious artist from what Tei has seen. He’s focused on drawing with perfection; he doesn’t have time to worry about a few extra lines, even though he is dramatically disgusted by anything relating to sex or genitals when it comes to the everyday world.
Ikeda looks concentrated. He’s berating Denden for ever daring to join art class, but he’s also earnestly teaching her. Tei wonders why, if Ikeda truly does love to see his “moronic” classmates fail.
“Oookay,” Denden says, resting her chin on her fist. “Just shapes… That’s a lot easier to think about. I’ll give it a try.”
“Uh— right. It’ll probably take a lot of practice before it looks anywhere near decent, so…” don’t give up, he almost says. Way too inspirational.
“I’ll keep going! Thank you, Ikeda! I’ve learned from a master!”
Denden takes her sketchbook back and goes back around to her side of the table, smiling and full of inspiration as she takes her own hand at copying Ikeda’s sketch.
“That was pretty nice of you,” Tei says as he turns to him.
“Yeah, well— whatever.”
When Ikeda works on his art, he’s usually hunched over his easel or his sketchbook, hiding his work from the prying eyes of the lower class—that’s probably what he’d say. Tei doesn’t know the actual reason why, because Ikeda is an amazing artist. Sometimes art by the students will get hung up around the school or showcased, and people always stop dead in their tracks in the halls to snap pictures of Ikeda’s paintings. His statements are beautifully written, too. Ikeda pretends art isn’t really a big deal to him, but it’s clear that he cares about it a lot.
“So… What’re you working on?”
Ikeda’s shoulders tense. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“I would, actually.”
“Just some warmups. I’m working on a painting to sell at home.”
“Can I see?”
Tei figures there’s no harm in asking even if the likely answer is no. But to his surprise, Ikeda hesitantly slides over his sketchbook.
“I don’t usually show off my art like this for free. So consider yourself lucky.”
“I do,” Tei says honestly, flipping through the pages gently. Ikeda usually guards his sketchbook like a dog, so this is how Tei knows he really is fond of him. Or at least, he feels safe around him.
Among the gray charcoal and pencil sketches, Tei comes across a watercolored portrait of a geisha in a dark purple kimono. Her black hair is tied up in a bun, held in place by intricate hairpieces.
“Wow,” he whispers. “Did you just… come up with this?”
Ikeda rubs his nape. “Yeah. It’s… not that hard.”
“I knew you were good at drawing but,” Tei breathes a laugh, “I didn’t know you were so creative, too.”
“God, whatever! I probably just supplied you with jerk-off fuel for the next month. Give me that.” Ikeda snatches his sketchbook away from Tei, right back to holding it against his chest protectively.
That earns a few confused looks from nearby classmates, particularly Yaitabashi.
“What?” Tei sputters. He’ll never understand him.
4. your bad habits
Click. Click.
Tei’s eyebrow twitches. The classroom is silent, save for Ikeda picking at the nail of his thumb with his pointer finger. Tei is pretty sure he’s the only one who can hear it, sitting right next to Ikeda and all. The other students around don’t react. Maybe Tei has super-hearing. Or maybe he’s just sensitive.
Tei grits his teeth together. He brings his purse into his lap, digging through it. Tei is the kind of person who has everything in his purse. Band-aids, lotion, wet wipes, gum, a tampon or two. You never know when a girl might need one! He likes to be prepared.
He also, apparently, keeps a tiny tub of play-dough buried at the very bottom of his bag. He remembers it being a spontaneous gift from Denden or something along those lines. It’s a bright pinkish-red color, and Tei hopes it’s still soft when he taps Ikeda’s shoulder.
“Psst,” he whispers.
“Huh?” Ikeda mutters back. He takes the tub into his hand.
“Play with it,” Tei says. “Don’t pick your fingernails.”
Ikeda wants to continue picking at his fingernails out of spite, but he’s curious about this thing. He opens the lid as quietly as he can, and the smell awakens faint memories from deep in his mind. He runs his finger across the surface, and it’s nothing like the clay he uses at home. This stuff doesn’t hold shape well and breaks apart too easily. He could sculpt with it if he had to, of course he could, but it’d be unideal.
It’s not actually meant to be used for art, though. You’re just supposed to squish and—as the name suggests—play with it in your hands.
It keeps Ikeda occupied for the rest of the class period. He pokes his finger in the tub as he writes with his free hand, switching places every now and then—he’s almost perfectly ambidextrous with a preference for his right hand, which Tei finds quite impressive.
Ikeda takes the play-dough without asking just to be sneaky, but Tei doesn’t mind at all.
The next time Ikeda has a habit that bothers slash endears Tei, it’s the fact that the end of Ikeda’s pencil is always destroyed, and he thinks Ikeda consumes more eraser chunks than actual food. Many of Tei’s personal belongings are also often wet with Ikeda’s spit. He sees things and shoves them in his mouth like a goddamn baby. His shirt, his hair, his fingers, Tei’s fingers, Tei’s phone charger, Tei’s wallet, Tei’s juice box. It’s a real problem. Tei has concluded that Ikeda just likes having things in his mouth. Maybe he likes to chew.
So Tei tries to treat the issue with gum. Gum can be chewed for a long amount of time, there’s a variety of flavors to choose from, and it shouldn’t set Ikeda off with his weird eating issues because it’s, like, one calorie.
“I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a stick of gum,” Ikeda says when Tei offers it to him during morning homeroom. “’Cause, like, who just carries around gum?”
“Lots of people,” Tei argues.
Ikeda crosses his arms. “Name one who goes to this school.”
“Ruka. She says it helps her study.”
“Okay, new thesis: people who carry around gum are all weirdos.”
Tei scowls. “Do you want it or not?”
“What flavor?”
“Tropical.”
Ikeda takes a stick. “What the hell kind of flavor is ‘tropical’? What does that mean?” He unwraps it and pops it into his mouth, chewing slowly. The flavor is rather strong but it’s not minty at all, just sweet and citrusy.
…And just like that, Ikeda Daiki has been temporarily placated. Tei would liken it to a baby and pacifier.
Ikeda doesn’t torment people as much because his mouth is full. He doesn’t shove everything in his mouth. Tei’s belongings are all dry. Ikeda’s pencils stay in one piece.
Ikeda goes to Tei between every other passing period for gum. He quickly runs him dry, so Tei buys some more.
New problem: the Ikeda chewing gum fund adds up, and every cent matters to Tei.
“And you’re sure your dad wouldn’t buy you any?” Tei asks when Ikeda has come for his third piece of gum.
“Definitely not,” Ikeda answers with an odd confidence. “He gets so mad when I ask for stupid stuff like that. That’s the difference between you and him, Tei. You spend your money on gum.”
“For you.”
“My point still stands.”
Ikeda pulls his gum from the pack regardless and skips away to his next class. Tei has been demoted even further, if that was even possible, to gum supplier.
Ikeda meets Tei outside of the school for their lunchtime walk. “Hi. Gimme gum.”
“I’m out of it.”
“Uhh, what? Get more.”
Tei sighs. “I live by myself, you know. I have to save where I can.”
Ikeda sputters angrily. “It’s fucking gum, Cheapstakes. It’s not gonna put a dent in your bank.”
He’s chewing his lip. He’s clearly much more genuinely agitated than he lets on.
Tei looks around as he thinks to himself. If only Ikeda had something he could safely mouth on, that Tei didn’t have to buy constantly.
Ikeda’s uniform happens to have no tie—he misplaced it long ago and never cared to get a new one. Tei’s uniform does, even though he hates ties.
“Here.”
Ikeda stares at it. “I don’t want your gross tie,” he says, confusion leaking through his voice. “You probably use it to do BDSM shit.”
“Well, I don’t, surprisingly. Do you know how to tie a tie?”
Ikeda heavily considers lying, but it’d be embarrassing if Tei actually made him demonstrate. “No. When my uniform had one my dad did it for me.”
“Let me show you.” Tei places his tie around Ikeda’s shoulders. “Start with it like this. Then, cross this wider end around the small end like this. Now put the wide end up through the neck… and down through the little pocket you made.”
After finishing his demonstration, Tei tugs on the tie to tighten it. “Simple.”
Ah, whatever. Ikeda will make up his own creative way to do it.
He doesn’t understand why Tei gave it to him at first. He assumes it was just another one of Tei’s random gifts, but he realizes what it was really for the moment he finds the tip of it between his lips.
5. the little things about you
Ikeda doesn’t really seem like the kind of guy who would smell good. Maybe the opposite.
And yet, whenever Tei nears him, something lightly pleasant fills his nose. Tei himself wears bargain body mist, but he uses more girlish, sugary, one-note scents like strawberry and vanilla. The air smells expensive around Ikeda. Something mature, complex and fancy.
It’s something that draws you in for more. Too feminine to be cologne. Initially, Tei doesn’t accept it. Ikeda neverendingly mocks him for his feminine traits, he’s not wearing rosy perfume. He thinks maybe it’s Ikeda’s soap, or maybe even just how he smells? Is it all Tei’s imagination?
No, it’s him. They’re sitting in an empty classroom during lunch time and there it is—that addicting fragrance, nothing else to be making it but Ikeda Daiki.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think you smell good, Ikeda,” Tei blurts.
Ikeda gives Tei a look. “What?! Do I look like I smell bad?”
“You definitely act like it. But…” Tei sniffs the air, “You smell really good.”
“Ew. Don’t do that.”
Tei chuckles. “Sorry.”
“And it’s no wonder you like it so much,” Ikeda says, crossing his arms and sticking his nose in the air. “My dad said this kind of fragrance draws in losers like you in droves.”
“Oh, is it something your dad bought you?”
“Of course it is!” Ikeda nods. “I don’t know why I should be wasting the bottle for these numbskulls instead of saving it for special things, but for some reason he ap— he told me to apply it every morning.”
Tei rests his chin on the back of his hand. “So it’s a perfume? What kind?”
Ikeda reddens. “It’s— it’s cologne!”
He freezes when Tei draws in just a little closer on the side of Ikeda’s neck and sniffs lightly.
“Mm-mm,” Tei hums, shaking his head. And just to be sure, he practically burrows his face into Ikeda’s neck—still not fully touching.
“That’s not cologne,” he concludes. “God, that smells gorgeous though. Must’ve been expensive.”
“G-get off me, creep!” Ikeda shouts, shoving Tei away. “It’s not perfume!”
“Okay, sure. Not perfume. Come on; what’s it called?”
“As if you’d be able to afford it anyway,” Ikeda huffs. “My dad buys it for me. It’s from France, I think. I’ve been wearing it for a few years, so… people recognize it about me,” he explains, voice softer than it usually is. “It’s called, um… nevermind, I’m not telling you.”
“Was it your idea to buy it? Seems a bit… mature for a teenage boy like you," Tei observes.
‘Seductive’ was the first word that came to Tei’s mind in reality. Not because he thinks Ikeda is attractive—that’s just obviously what the fragrance is going for. Now that Tei has gotten a good smell of it, the notes are clear. Right off the bat, it hits him with an overwhelmingly sweet floralness, and he recognizes rose first. Something smoky and spicy lurks underneath. It’s alluring.
“Well, wouldn’t you know all about that, whore?” Ikeda sneers. “And no. My dad got it as a gift for my thirteenth birthday.”
“Thirteenth?” Tei repeats, eyebrows raised.
“Yeah?” Ikeda responds earnestly.
“Huh,” Tei mutters.
“What?”
Tei waves his hand dismissively. “Nothing.”
Just like many other things regarding Ikeda Daiki, Tei worriedly thinks about how at home Ikeda performs for rich guys wearing sexy perfume(…?) and keeps his concerns to himself.
He’s had this sort of hunch for a bit now. He doesn’t know what really set off the red flags, but something about Mr. Ikeda gives Tei the creeps. Who buys that kind of perfume for their thirteen year old son? Why? Is there any valid, non-weird reason to do that?
Tei feels stuck. It feels like all he can do is hope that Ikeda is okay while he pushes away every attempt at closeness.
“Hey. What color are your eyes?”
Occasionally during lunch, they leave campus and take walks. Ikeda likes them a lot, even though walking makes him tired almost immediately. He stops in his tracks to look up at Tei. “Huh?”
Tei steps closer. “I was just thinking to myself… they’re purple, right? And then I realized you never let me get a good look at them. Or you,” he chuckles lightly.
Tei’s eyes are purple. Ikeda (secretly) likes them. Lavender has always been his shade of purple of choice—it’s serene, beautiful, light and airy. Things Tei himself is not, of course.
Sometimes, even if the painting doesn’t exactly require it, Ikeda will try to remember what Tei’s eyes look like and mix the exact shade of his iris. He gets annoyed when he knows it’s not quite right but he can’t waste any more paint.
Tei’s eyes have a sad, droopy shape to them with long eyelashes. Caked in faggy mascara, but Ikeda thinks they’re still nice. At least he has a good handle on what makeup works on him. Black would be garish paired with his light features. The light, rosy brown shade he uses is ideal.
Sometimes, Ikeda watches Tei touch up his mascara. Like he did just a few minutes ago. He uses his finger to guide the lashes into little clusters. He’s a girly guy, one his dad wouldn’t appreciate.
“Are you blind? They’re…” Ikeda blinks. He only really glances at himself for a split second when he washes his hands in the restroom. He prefers to not really look at his reflection too hard. “They’re like… pink and… blue and gray and shit.”
Tei gently places his hands on Ikeda’s shoulders.
“Tei…?”
He leans close. Very close, noses almost touching. Ikeda looks up at Tei, and for just a second, purple fills his view. He thinks he spots a freckle in his iris. He looks away at anything else after that.
“Stop darting your eyes around everywhere,” Tei tells him, quietly. They’re so close that near-whispering sounds loud. “Just stay still. I wanna see.”
Ikeda feels oddly compelled to follow Tei’s instructions. He tries his best to still, not quite able to look straight at Tei.
“Huh, yeah. This part’s light pink, and this part’s light blue,” Tei observes. “I’ve never seen anyone with eyes like yours before.”
“My mom,” Ikeda whispers. She had eyes like mine, he wants to elaborate, but his throat feels closed up.
Tei hums. “They’re pretty.”
Tei can clearly see the light freckles that pepper Ikeda’s cheeks, too—and right now, blush. He thinks Ikeda’s freckles would be a lot darker if he spent more time outside. Anyway, he’s got his answer, so he backs away after that.
Ikeda stays rooted in the ground like a tree, mouth slightly agape.
“I’m surprised you’re not calling me a creep,” Tei whispers to himself as he continues to walk. “Ikeda?” he calls, looking back.
Ikeda shoots up upon hearing his surname, chasing behind Tei.
+1. …you did?
Ikeda taps his papers against his desk before putting them in a pocket of his backpack, humming to himself quietly as his classmates make their way out of the classroom and into the freedom of after-school time.
“Ah- Daiki!” Tei calls, walking over to him. His backpack is wide open, which Ikeda thinks is funnier not to point out, and it’s positively stuffed with crumpled papers and overdue books. “Can you see me in the courtyard tomorrow morning before class?”
Ikeda turns, flinching a bit. “Don’t call me Daiki. People might think we’re friends.”
Tei rolls his eyes. He rarely argues with Ikeda anymore; it’s a losing battle. “I have something I wanna give you,” he proposes, smiling excitedly. “Will you be there?”
For some reason, Ikeda feels compelled to meet up with Tei, no matter how hilarious the prospect of standing him up is. And his stupid, ugly sad face…
“Maybe,” Ikeda decides. “Don’t hold your breath about it.”
“Yes!” Tei pumps his fists. “Okay, bye! Gotta head to work before my manager nails me in the ass for being laaate!!!”
“I said don’t hold your—”
Tei zips out of the classroom after that, waving. Ikeda faintly wonders if he’s been spending too much time with that Yokoi girl as he slings his backpack over his shoulder.
…Well, home he goes. Ikeda’s dad should be here soon. He makes his way out of the building and leans against the wall, looking out for his father’s car.
Inevitably, it pulls up to the curb. Sometimes Ikeda wishes something different would happen, one day.
Ikeda gets a kiss on the cheek as soon as he sits in the passenger seat. It’s strange—Papa does that every time he picks Ikeda up, no matter how upset he is.
“Hi, Dad,” Ikeda sighs, setting his school bag down on the clean car floor in front of him and buckling the seatbelt.
“You don’t seem too excited to see me,” Papa observes as he shifts the gear and begins the drive home.
“I was just breathing,” Ikeda defends himself. “I’m always excited to be with you, Papa.”
A complete lie. Ikeda dreads it.
Papa doesn’t respond to that. “Mr. Yuyama is coming around today.”
The people who come around to the den all blend together into one amalgamation of a bougie money-man in vaguely formal clothing with an expensive wristwatch. “Who?”
“You’ve met him, ’couple years ago. Tall, black hair.” Not really narrowing it down. “He’s one of those cryptocurrency guys, got big in business from…”
Papa drones on about Mr. Already-forgot-his-name as Ikeda stares out the window at the buildings passing by until they arrive home.
To the den. Clothes off, hitoe on. Ikeda’s evening is full of homework and sex that no longer feels like anything. Nameless business mogul guy comes by. Routine.
(“You were even smaller the last time I saw you.” Ikeda gags, only in his head.)
Rough hands are keeping Ikeda in place, even though there’s nowhere for him to escape to. He counts the popcorn-bumps on the ceiling just to keep himself from getting too bored.
Twelve, thirteen, fourteen… Isn’t fourteen Tei’s favorite number?
Tei always slips into Ikeda’s mind during these moments. Maybe just for comfort. If he was here… he wouldn’t even be super grossed out. Tei is kind of famously a slut, even though he pretends the rumors don’t exist. Ikeda isn’t sure what Tei would do, since he does the same thing as Ikeda, completely voluntarily.
Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eigh…
Ikeda freezes when he feels a nose at his neck.
“You smell so nice,” whatever-his-name-is grunts. “…Sexy.”
“Perfume,” Ikeda whispers. He’s not supposed to tell clients he wears perfume; it just slipped out.
“Hm?”
“Nothing. Uh— that f-feels good…”
Never was a very good actor when it comes to things like this.
…Lost track. From the top. One, two, three, four…
Ikeda’s mind wanders away again, especially after he gets flipped onto his stomach and can’t see the ceiling anymore. He thinks of what Tei might have in store for him in the morning before it feels like he detaches from his body completely.
The next morning, Ikeda stands in the courtyard awaiting Tei’s arrival. After five minutes have passed, he checks the imaginary watch on his wrist to an audience of no one and suddenly Tei is barreling at him, panting like a dog.
Ikeda flinches back when Tei stops before him. “Uhm…?”
“Here,” Tei huffs. He hands something small and wrapped in plastic out to Ikeda. “You will never believe how hard it was to get this for you.”
“What is—… samanco?” he mutters. It’s cold when he takes it into his hands.
“Samanco!” Tei confirms, smiling proudly as he finally stops catching his breath and straightens himself. “The—the red bean kind. You said you ate it as a kid, remember?”
Before Ikeda can respond to that he continues to rant, “I biked to, like, three different corner stores this morning just to find it. Three corner stores, Ikeda! First one didn’t have any. Second one did, but no red bean ones, and I couldn’t just get you a chocolate or strawberry one because you don’t like them! And then finally the last one had, like, two left.”
Ikeda stares at it. “…Why?”
Going out of his way to get it was odd enough. But going as far to continue to search for a specific flavor instead of just settling for one Ikeda doesn’t like as much? It’s absurd.
Tei shrugs. “Thought maybe if I did something nice for you, you’d pull that stick out your ass.”
Ikeda scoffs. “That’s stupid. You always do nice shit for me. Why’d you run all over the city looking for samanco? The hell do you want from me?”
“Well, Jesus, maybe I just wanted to do something nice! For my friend,” Tei stresses. “I care about you, and… I thought it might make you happy, especially if you haven’t had one in years.”
Ikeda looks down at the dessert. The plastic feels so familiar in his hands, which are much bigger than they were the last time he had one of these.
“Now eat. It’s gonna melt and I’ll be so sad, Ikeda. I’ll fucking cry. I’m serious.”
…Ikeda didn’t eat this morning. He is hungry.
Tei watches with anticipation as Ikeda unwraps the treat, and he can faintly smell the sweetness of the ice cream. It doesn’t feel real in his hands.
He’s greeted by layers of melty white cream and red paste when he takes a bite, lips-first. He used to hold it up to his own mouth and pretend to kiss it, which his mother would giggle gleefully at. In retrospect, Ikeda doesn’t think she was that happy. In almost all of his faint, blurry memories of her face, runny mascara stains her cheeks. Ikeda has seen Tei like that, too.
The flavor hitting his tongue feels like a warm blanket. He forces himself to savor it before taking another bite. He doesn’t think about his father, and how upset he would be if he ate without his permission or supervision. Ikeda has been asking for one of these for his birthday for years, just to get shut down by ‘you deserve something much more expensive than that’. Ikeda hates caviar.
“Is it good?”
…It’s perfect. Freezer burnt and soggy as it is. Ikeda is just too stubborn to ever be caught saying that.
Tei really does do a lot for Ikeda. Too much, if you were to ask him. That’s how strong people take advantage of weak people. And apparently Ikeda takes up enough space in Tei’s brain for him to remember the snacks he ate as a kid, even though Ikeda doesn’t recall ever telling him.
Ikeda is polite, sometimes. Like with the very few clients back at the den who aren’t degenerate creeps who are into the whole bratty thing. He may be snarky but he isn’t an unsocialized, mannerless chimp like his classmate Ninomiya, for example.
Ikeda’s idea for showing his appreciation is maybe a bit short-sighted, but a sap like Tei will love it. Plus, he doesn’t really know how else to show affection. He’s never had to, or maybe he’s never tried.
So he hops up to the tips of his toes and gives Tei a kiss on the cheek. Tei never asks for anything so just the cheek should be fine.
Tei puts a hand to his face disbelievingly, mouth agape, and Ikeda sputters a laugh.
“You look so stupid right now!” Ikeda points, giggling childishly. It’s the perfect thing to break the silence.
Tei’s mouth closes and curls into a smile. Ikeda’s lips were thin and a bit wet with ice cream, and it’s the nicest kiss Tei has ever received.
He bumps Ikeda’s shoulder playfully, which earns him a scolding because Ikeda doesn’t want to drop his samanco.
He eats it from head to tail—his favorite part, because he loves the little shell pockets full of ice cream.
They don’t talk about it, but they both feel that they don’t have to.