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“I have rent and a dance pad to pay for,” Hasebe says. “I do not care for your marital predicament, Yagen.”
—————
Mitsutada is going to die. Rather, he is going to be killed. Yes. He has no chance of survival anymore, not even the bleak 0.3% of Hakata’s initial prediction can be trusted at this point. He is going to be murdered. In his sleep. Or maybe his state of consciousness doesn’t matter. It might just happen when he’s awake. And if that doesn’t work, he is going to be assassinated. That’s it, yes, he’s going to be shot in the head. Thrice. Yes. Maybe even four times.
He’s so dead.
“Hi, it’s me,” Mitsutada gushes into his phone. “I need your help.”
“When do you not,” the voice says— yells, over the booming Leopard Eyes playing in the background. “I mean, last week you said Aizen almost burnt your house down and wanted—”
“Listen. Listen to me. This is more important than my house burning down.”
“Wait, is this about Sada—”
“No. Worse.”
There is silence between them, and this is when Mitsutada realizes that the music in the background has stopped.
“What happened?”
Mitsutada sighs, rubbing his temples for the tenth time that evening, and says, “The cat is gone.”
There is silence between them, again, and the music resumes.
“I’m on my way.”
—————
Hasebe likes to think of himself as a level-headed guy who has his life under control at all times before 3 AM and after 8 AM. Really, he barely flinched when Yagen texted him that he had gotten married to Souza when they went to Las Vegas, just to feel the feel. That calls for some serious level-headedness, all right. There’s also how Hasebe managed to keep smiling through Jiroutachi’s birthday party last week, in spite of learning an important truth that day, which is summarized as: when Jiroutachi is piss drunk (i.e. when he has consumed all, literally all, the alcohol that he is gifted (because of course everyone would gift him alcohol)) and in front of you, you must not move. If you so much as breathe, he will kiss you, and you will cry.
Basically, Hasebe is level-headed, under control, unflinching and perpetually well balanced. So when he decides to take up a part time job at the pet store down the street, he wasn’t expecting this.
This being, ironically, the pets.
It is his first day here, and he is standing in a corner of the room, expending an excessive amount of energy into glaring at the floor. It is his first day here, and he should be doing actual work, like he planned to before he got here. It is his first day here, and he realizes he might not be as level-headed, under control, unflinching and perpetually well balanced as he thinks he is. It is his first day here, and here there are many animals.
It is his first day here, and these many animals are very cute.
He cannot deal. He continues standing in his corner.
—————
In a moment of weakness and, to be honest, plain confusion and downright panic — yes, all of this in a moment, yes, Mitsutada is apparently capable of this now, what next, oreo lasagna? — he ends up declining Ookurikara’s Skype call instead of accepting it.
He regards this as a phenomenally wrong move, and if he were to mention this to his friends in their group chat, which has inexplicably been named as ✮ HOWLING LOINS ✮ since April, he’s beyond sure that he will only be told lol rip. What are friends. What is he. He stares at his laptop.
“Dude.” Tsurumaru shakes his head, stops, then places a hand on Mitsutada’s shoulder and continues shaking his head. To think that calling this guy was the first thing Mitsutada did when he realized that his death was imminent. To think that this guy has not disconnected his Bluetooth speakers and is still blasting that single song inside Mitsutada’s house although he knows how painful Mitsutada’s departure from this world will be. What are friends. “Mitsubou, lol rip.”
“Please leave.”
Mitsutada sighs, running his hands through his hair as Tsurumaru doubles over in laughter. But it’s true, he hasn’t ever not answered Ookurikara’s calls, especially when he’s out of town. What is going to happen with him now. He feels like he’s in one of those long-running soap opera previews that are captioned with, How will this develop? Catch next week’s episode to find out!
“Call him, we’ll figure something out afterwards,” Tsurumaru says, and Mitsutada, against all his instincts, agrees.
—————
There is a cage. It is large. On top of the cage, there is a sign. The sign says, POMSKIES. Indeed, inside the cage are Pomskies. And in front of this large cage labelled POMSKIES which is full of many Pomskies, Hasebe stands.
—————
“How’s the weather there?” Mitsutada begins, adjusting his eyepatch and making sure he’s in a good viewing angle. This is highly important, and Mitsutada does a good enough job to internally pass it off as aesthetic because he is that kind of guy.
“Hot,” Ookurikara mumbles, grimacing. There are three bottles of Pepsi and a general aura of why am I alive behind Ookurikara. The latter isn’t anything new, but the fact that it now seems tangible enough to even be picked up by his crappy webcam is quite alarming. The kid’s been away for one day and he already looks ready to kill. To kill…
“Drink lots of water too, okay?” Mitsutada says without giving it much thought. He just wants to live.
Mom, Tsurumaru whispers from the other side of the laptop, and Mitsutada chucks a pen at him when Ookurikara isn’t looking. It hits his chest and he falls dramatically, clutching his collar, feigning death. Mitsutada almost laughs, but then sees himself in Tsurumaru, except Ookurikara’s standing over his body with his hands censored out, and the image is— disturbing.
Ookurikara looks back at him.
“Where’s the cat?” Ookurikara asks.
“The cat,” Mitsutada echoes.
“What?”
“What?”
“Is that— I saw something— is Trashmaru there?"
Mitsutada looks up sharply, and Tsurumaru presses a hand against his mouth, shaking his head. This is why he needs to listen to Mitsutada when he tells him to cut his hair. Mitsutada can provide at least sixteen reasons more reasonable than Tsurumaru’s single, ‘Ichigo likes it so’.
Mitsutada laughs, waving his hand dismissively. “Of course he isn’t! You know I wouldn’t let him in—”
Wouldn’t let me in, huh, Tsurumaru mouths, quirking an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest.
“—after what he did last summer,” Mitsutada says through gritted teeth.
“But I saw his hair.” Ookurikara scowls.
“That was— uh, Karna. Yeah! From upstairs. His...kurta. Balcony. It fell into ours. He has white hair too. Yes.”
As much as it embarrasses him to admit it, the days of coming up with excuses to get out of group dates in high school have taught him some great things about scamming people.
“His what?”
“Kurta. What they made us wear for Diwali last year?”
“Oh.”
“Yes.” Mitsutada waves at Tsurumaru over the laptop, smiling. “Not a problem, Karna! See you.”
You smooth fucker, Tsurumaru whisper-shouts at Mitsutada as he opens the front door and bangs it shut. Smoother than Galaxy.
—————
Hasebe wonders if the choices he's made through his life — which he initially thought were pretty decent, considering how he’s still in one piece after coming in contact with an offensive existence such as Nihongou — are why he's holding a bowl of water in one hand and a tin of catfood in the other with Nikkari’s voice in his ears, booming with laughter.
He is still not okay with the small barks and soft purrs functioning as background music to his thoughts, but he realizes that if he does not make eye contact with any moving creature smaller than his copy of The History of Economic Thought, he can breathe better. He is a weak man.
Ishikirimaru comes in after Hasebe has seven and a half breakdowns, and teaches him everything that Nikkari had very efficiently not. Ishikirimaru is such a nice guy, Hasebe wants to be friends with him already. (This is coming from a person who subjected Yagen and Souza and Fudou to acquaintanceship for two years before even remotely entertaining the idea of being friends, so.)
“And pet supplies are sold upstairs,” he explains, “Kashuu’s in charge of everything there.”
“Kashuu?”
“Good fellow.” Ishikirimaru rips open a packet of gummy bears. They seem nice, and the three Chow Chows nearby seem to think so too. “Oh, there was this one time he accidentally sold his hand cream worth half a kidney to a customer instead of scab remedial skin cream. He’s never been the same since.”
Hand cream worth half a kidney instead of scab remedial skin cream.
“Oh,” Hasebe offers awkwardly, rubbing his thumb over the light scratches on his palm that he very graciously received from a Calico a few minutes ago. He also hates to admit this, but the look this cat Lexy (she had a very expensive looking collar and Hasebe was forced to admire her ID tag’s carvings, okay) gave him as he placed the bowl of water near her has scarred him more than the other’s physical assault. The cats here are insanely adorable yet so nasty.
Ishikirimaru hums, offers Hasebe a gummy bear, and continues, “The guys are eccentric, but they’re good. Animals like them, and you can’t gain their trust if you’re not worthy of trust.”
“That’s.” He can’t find the right words. Is this somehow a test? The trust talk? Is he screwing this up already? He has rent and a dance pad to pay for. “Yes.”
Ishikirimaru simply smiles, bless his soul, and shows him around again. He’s so patient and likeable and has a voice Hasebe wouldn’t mind listening to for long periods of time. Hasebe knows that for all the you need Jesus in your life talk he does, he might be the one in need of spiritual intervention the most.
“You’re part timing, so don’t sweat it. We just need you to cover for the guys who have resits at university, and most new customers come in once the holidays begin, so it’s only busy upstairs. Here, it’s pretty chill for now,” Ishikirimaru says, handing him another gummy bear. Hasebe accepts it gratefully.
“Thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you,” Hasebe says. “Nikkari. I don’t know.”
“Ignore it.”
It.
“Right.”
—————
If Mitsutada had to list down five reasons why he wouldn’t live to see the age of seventy, two point six of those reasons would be Ookurikara. It’s not surprising, he guesses, as his short period of contemplation is cut even shorter by the sound of the smoke alarm going off in the flat above theirs.
“What—” Tsurumaru looks alarmed, and Mitsutada shouldn’t be as amused as he is, watching Tsurumaru’s gaze flitting back and forth between Mitsutada and the ceiling. He’d be disappointed if Tsurumaru wasn’t alarmed because that kind of beats the purpose of a smoke alarm then. Also, there are circumstances more heinous than this that Tsurumaru has put Mitsutada through, and Mitsutada isn’t above wanting Tsurumaru to feel what he usually makes others feel.
“That means Arjuna’s on cooking duty,” Mitsutada says.
“Wow,” Tsurumaru says, stops, then repeats himself.
“Yes, wow. You get used to it. And now regarding the animal.”
Tsurumaru laughs, it’s a little different from the one Mitsutada often hears after the kid says ‘are you surprised’ because it’s undeniably precious, and Mitsutada is thankful for the twinge of happiness he feels despite his looming fear of the oncoming consequences of not closing all the windows of their apartment before leaving for class.
“You really don’t like her, do you?” Tsurumaru asks.
Technically, it is the feline that doesn’t like Mitsutada. Mitsutada isn’t the one who goes around glaring at the cat every time Ookurikara isn’t in the same room as them, it is the cat who has taken it as her responsibility to do that. To glare at Mitsutada, that is. Only at Mitsutada. She even hisses at him if he spends more than six seconds looking at himself in a mirror. It’s another issue that Mitsutada counts the seconds he spends looking at himself in mirrors, yes, but that can be dealt with some other time.
It all began that day when Ookurikara had picked up this grey tabby from a cardboard box outside Otegine’s DVD store, which, according to majority of the members of ✮ HOWLING LOINS ✮, was such a clichéd move that it could not even be categorized as funny anymore. The subsequent effects of this four legged creature’s presence in Mitsutada’s life, due to his inseparable friendship and subsequent roommateship with Ookurikara, have been nothing but outrageous.
The feline pretended, right from the first day, to be an angel whenever she was in Ookurikara’s general vicinity, walking between his legs and meowing at him while he was solving that day’s Sudoku puzzle. In hindsight, that might be the reason why she could get his attention then, considering how, when Ookurikara was nine years old and Mitsutada was eight years and nine months old, he’d told Mitsutada that he’d punch everyone who was involved in the creation of Sudoku someday. Mitsutada still doesn’t understand why Ookurikara actually solves the puzzles if he hates them so much, but he never voices that, just like how he doesn’t ask Ookurikara why he gifts Mitsutada T-shirts with English phrases on them that make no sense.
But yes, the cat’s a giant faker. The moment Ookurikara picked her up that first day and scratched her chin, she shot Mitsutada the dirtiest look he’s ever seen a domestic animal — hell, just an animal in general — give. He ignored it, poured some milk for her, and Googled how often cats need baths. He expected the milk to have communicated his feelings of conciliation, for her to have accepted Mitsutada as a being worthy of being asked attention from, but no, oh no. Recalling details only causes him grief, and the point is, it is the cat that does not like Mitsutada.
“She doesn’t like me,” he simply says. “Do we put up posters?”
Tsurumaru looks horrified. “And wait for someone to tell Kuri, ‘I heard you lost your cat, bro, I’ll let you know if I find something’? Yes, let’s do that.”
Mitsutada looks equally horrified. “Then, online?”
“Internet. Good, but—”
“—Kuri.”
“Yes.”
Mitsutada closes his eyes, exhaling, and almost entertains the idea of coming clean. Almost, until Ookurikara’s face comes to his mind and his imagination handles the rest. This is what his nightmares will be made of from now and forevermore.
Twenty minutes, thirty nine open tabs and four phone calls later, Tsurumaru turns his phone towards Mitsutada and whoops, grinning as his eyes crinkle. The Bluetooth speaker has been connected again and Mitsutada has to shout over AH-AH-AH-AH Leopard Eyes but he doesn’t mind.
“PERFECT.”
The smoke alarm goes off above them again.
—————
By the time he helps a very adorable kid, equally adorably named Akita, to not have a midlife crisis at the early age of ten by making him understand that just because his name is the same as a dog breed, it doesn’t mean he will be subjected to wearing dog ears once he turns eighteen as he’d been informed by an older brother, Hasebe has already been working at the store for a week and a half.
Life has been going steady, just the way Hasebe likes it, except Yagen and Souza have been having matrimonial issues for which they seek Hasebe’s advice. He only tells him they need Jesus, whistles, and continues brushing the Pomeranians while avoiding looking into their beautiful, shimmering eyes. He loves the dogs, the dogs love him, and what more does he need. (“The cats, maybe?” Nikkari had offered. Hasebe ignored it.)
And then, exactly six days after he was called a NEET loser by a pompous parrot (which is stupid, because Hasebe is both in education and employment right now) and two days after Dottie gives him a bottle cap that Ishikirimaru said was a sign and Kashuu said was huge crap, a strange man walks into the store.
This man isn’t strange because of the eyepatch that he’s wearing in 2016, no, and he isn’t strange because of his T-shirt that says PLEASE TRUST ME I AM ASSHOLE, oh no, no. The reason Hasebe, a mostly level-headed in-control-of-his-life guy classifies this stranger as strange, is because he has an A5 sized photo of a feline entity that looks entirely displeased with the world, or, rather, with the one taking the photo at that moment, and this strange stranger is holding this enlarged photo of this cat just inches away from Hasebe’s face.
“Please tell me you have seen a cat that looks like this,” the strange stranger says.
“Please take the printed feline out of my face,” Hasebe says.
The strange stranger takes the photo away from his face, and Hasebe is thankful for that. What Hasebe is not thankful for, is the sparkles that accompany the strange stranger’s smile when he apologizes and introduces himself.
“Shokudaikiri Mitsutada, I study drama and live with my best friend around the corner,” the strange— Shokudaikiri Mitsutada says, “also, my life's in danger.”
“I,” Hasebe begins. He doesn’t know where to go with it. Mitsutada is very good-looking. “I see.”
“Yes, I’m glad we’re on the same page here.”
“What— which page are you on?”
“The I must find this cat page.” He holds up the A5 photo, pointing at it redundantly. “This cat. I must find it. My best friend slash roommate will be back in six days, and if I do not find it by then, you will not find me again.”
“I,” Hasebe begins, again. He doesn’t know where to go with it, again. Mitsutada is still very good-looking. “I see.”
“Yes, you seem like a good person,” Mitsutada says.
“Thank you,” Hasebe says.
This isn’t even level-headedness that he’s exercising anymore, he just doesn’t know what seems to be happening here. He should feed Tubbs.
“So, I know you’re probably confused, and that’s okay, Hasebe— can I call you Hasebe?”
Hasebe looks down at his badge, then back up at Mitsutada, nods. What is this, why does he feel like he’s being swept away involuntarily. He should really feed Tubbs.
“Okay, Hasebe.” Mitsutada gestures beyond the chirping, to the purring section of the store. “I’ve had no luck finding this cat, so I’m going to need one that looks just like this.” Here, he holds up the photo again.
“I, um.” Hasebe understands that he’s usually more eloquent than this, but Mitsutada usually isn’t in the picture either. “What do you mean you haven’t had luck finding that cat?”
“I tried looking around, but it was useless. I don’t know what the cat does or where it goes when I’m in class, and a friend and I decided this is our last option.”
This makes sense, in a way. But it also really, really doesn’t.
“And how did this cat go missing?”
Mitsutada groans, asks for a chair, sits down, and explains everything through his point of view. His narrative involves multiple uses of the phrases evil cat, I will die and uuuugggghhhh. It’s refreshing seeing a man wearing a suspicious T-shirt make noises that in turn make the puppies make noises, but Hasebe can clearly see what the problem is.
This roommate to whom the cat belongs sounds problematic, especially if he treated someone like Mitsutada as if he was the plague for three days because he ate the roommate’s leftover pizza. Wait. This is irrelevant. Why was he told this?
“Listen, my man—” — my man — “—you seem dependable and I must find this cat,” Mitsutada is saying when Hasebe realizes that it’s almost time for him to pack up for the evening. He’s twirling a store souvenir keychain around a finger and Hasebe somehow relates to it. Mitsutada has nice fingers.
“Thank you, but see, I’m new here. I don’t think I can be of much help?”
“But.”
“But?”
Mitsutada whispers, “I will die.”
Hasebe doesn’t seem to be exercising any of the level-headedness that he usually takes pride in when he sighs and agrees to help Mitsutada find a cat that sounds like it walked straight out of the seventh ring of hell to assist a demon lord who might murder someone if his leftover pizza goes missing. Hasebe has rent and a dance pad to pay for. He wants to punch himself in the face.
When Hasebe shows Mitsutada the store’s cats, he realizes that a) it is well over his usual leaving time and Kasen will probably be ambushing his LINE right now for missing their Eco group study, b) Mitsutada deals with endearing animals even worse than Hasebe does (which is great), and c) the cats of this place still dislike him.
“Why are they so cute,” Mitsutada hisses for the sixth time in three minutes, and Hasebe, smug that he isn’t the only one affected by the fluff, prattles on about the cats and their traits and likes and dislikes and revels in the admiration with which he is considered.
It’s when he’s talking about Tubbs, the only cat that doesn’t hide its schemes of procuring food from whichever human passes by, that Ishikirimaru calls out Hasebe’s name, running towards him.
“Thank god you’re still here!” He’s pale and pants a lot, so much that it’s borderline worrisome. “Nikkari. Trouble.”
“Oh no,” Hasebe says. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Ishikirimaru admits. “I know it’s nothing serious, but I’ll go anyway. Tell Kashuu to lock up when you guys are done?”
Hasebe glances at Mitsutada and nods. “Don’t worry about it. Take care.”
“Thanks.”
Ishikirimaru runs— attempts to run to the the door, and Hasebe can only wonder what kind of shit Nikkari has fucked up for Ishikirimaru to be this shaken. Ishikirimaru also needs to stop eating all those gummy bears. He is an adult who ran literally only twenty feet to reach Hasebe from his section of the store yet seemed like he was returning from an early morning workout. That is some serious lack of stamina there.
Mitsutada cocks his head to the side, and Hasebe forces the lump that forms in his throat right back down where it came from. He must remain calm in the face of adversity and extremely good-looking people. He pretends to nonchalantly wave off what just happened, and tells Mitsutada about Joe DiMeowgio.
They’re the only ones on the floor and it’s horrible how that information, once it sinks in, makes Hasebe nervous. He— his brain, his heart, his— everything— needs to stop. He should reply to Kasen’s LINE messages, but he also doesn’t trust himself to not freak out about Mitsutada if a keypad appears in front of his eyes, ready and waiting. He should endure. There aren’t that many cats here which resemble the roommate’s cat anyway.
“But they are so cute,” Mitsutada says, again, and shakes his head. “What if I adopt them all?”
“Well, it’s not like you can’t.”
“Wait, no. I’m already plagued by one.”
“Yes.”
“But,” Mitsutada groans. “They’re so cute.”
“I got that,” Hasebe replies, the corners of his mouth quirking up slightly.
“Help me.”
Later, after Mitsutada recognizes Kashuu from some seminar they both attended and ends up exchanging numbers with him, he asks Hasebe if he’d like to grab something from McDonald’s together. Hasebe agrees. He really wants to punch himself in the face.
—————
Mitsutada is going to die. There are only five days left until Ookurikara’s return, and he has found neither the cat nor a replacement. Tsurumaru has been surprisingly helpful, asking around campus when Mitsutada is in class and all, but the disappointing truth stands: they have made no progress. This train of thought then leads him to the pet store employee he met yesterday. What a great guy. He had scratches on his hands and three band-aids in his pocket and delight in his knowledge of the tiny creatures (which are super cute, like it must be illegal to have that much cute in one building) there.
Mitsutada always likes listening to people who speak passionately about things— like Yoshiyuki when it comes to historical battle tactics, Ichigo when it comes to the importance of family, Ookurikara when it comes to his dislike of Sudoku puzzles—
Ookurikara.
Okay, no, the point is this: Mitsutada likes listening to people who have strong feelings about things as they express them out loud. It makes him feel trusted. Like he is allowed to hear something they’ve kept in their hearts and pondered upon for hours. And Hasebe, although having met Mitsutada only that evening, spoke to him about a multitude of things that he was enthusiastic about over fries and coke and more fries.
What a great guy. Mitsutada would be lying if he said he didn’t want them to continue talking although they were done eating. Really, what a great guy. He’s going to drop by to say hi when he’s done with his next lecture.
“Hi,” Mitsutada says, leaning against a wall near Hasebe. He’s too focused on the rabbits in the cage, chewing on his lower lip as his brows furrow. He isn’t even doing anything. He’s simply staring at the rabbits. This makes Mitsutada feel lame. But: “Hi,” Mitsutada offers again.
“What?” Hasebe looks up. The transitions between his expressions is so incredible, Mitsutada wants to document it. It’s hard to understand if Hasebe settles on an expression at last or just decides to give up completely midway. “Oh, hello.”
“Just thought I’d drop by,” Mitsutada says, unsure why this seemed like a good idea in the first place. Mitsutada is in Hasebe’s workplace and he’s working right now. He did not think this through.
“Alright,” Hasebe replies, his expression changing to another that Mitsutada can’t comprehend the meaning of. “Any luck finding the cat?”
Mitsutada shakes his head. God, only five days until the will he made when he was in high school and had nothing better to do during Physics will be used for real. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Right, what about your coworkers from yesterday?”
This is the best face Hasebe has made so far today. Mitsutada laughs, and Hasebe’s frown deepens.
“Yes, let us consider that that never happened. I do not wish to recollect any part of the conversation I had with Ishikirimaru today regarding last night’s events.”
“Perfect. Think you can show me around again?”
And that’s how they stand in front of the cage with a sign on top of it that says POMSKIES. Next to him, he can feel Hasebe vibrating. Or is it Mitsutada himself? He thinks they’re both vibrating. Why do Pomskies even exist, are humans honestly so blessed that they can own Pomskies, who could doubt the existence of god while holding a Pomsky in their hands and looking into its eyes.
“It, they’re.”
“Yes. I.”
“Some— well.”
“No.”
“They.”
Kashuu groans from behind them and thwacks the back of their heads with a rolled newspaper. “You guys are fucking painful to watch.”
—————
Hasebe likes to think that the only reason his level-headedness has not been evident in his interactions with someone as ethereal as Mitsutada since day before yesterday is because Mitsutada is someone so ethereal. He understands that that’s like saying he likes the taste of strawberries because strawberries taste that way. He stops mid-stride, and rubs his temples. Great, he used a simile. Another example of how he’s slowly slipping into being an absolute failure.
When he enters the store, the first thing he notices is Nikkari. The second thing he notices is the pink snake. The third thing he notices is Mitsutada’s shaking hand. The fourth thing he notices is that his feet are slowly taking him backwards. He’s going to call in sick today.
“Oh, Hasebe,” Nikkari calls out as if they’re friends. Why.
“Good evening,” Hasebe responds, walking in cautiously. He’ll just ignore Nikkari as usual, walk past the snakes as usual, and wait somewhere else for Mitsutada to come find him as usual. He glances over at Mitsutada for just a moment, and Hasebe has no words.
“Help,” Mitsutada squeaks as Nikkari laughs and the pink snake remains coiled on Mitsutada’s hand.
Hasebe still has no words.
When Mitsutada is no longer in the presence of reptiles, Hasebe offers him a gummy bear.
“So that happened,” Hasebe says, looking at Mitsutada’s arm. Nikkari is a highly unusual specimen of a human. Sometimes it’s great, sometimes it’s not.
“It was, I don’t know,” Mitsutada admits, taking another gummy bear from Hasebe. There’s a lot left for them now that the store’s employees have collectively decided to keep Ishikirimaru away from the stash. “I mean I agreed to it.”
Hasebe stops chewing. “Why.”
“He— he really seemed like he wanted someone to?”
Mitsutada smiles lopsidedly and Hasebe wants to punch himself in the face. Again. The number of times he has wanted to do this in the past three days is unacceptable. This guy is unacceptable. He held a snake because someone looked like they wanted to be humoured. He disregarded his fear for someone he isn’t even well acquainted with. What the hell.
“Why are you so cool,” Hasebe voices out loud without meaning to, but decides that he did want to say it out afterall, especially when he sees the way Mitsutada gets all flustered and tries to hide it by pointedly avoiding Hasebe and showing paramount interest in the Frisky Bits shelves.
When they’re at Burger King, Mitsutada heaves the longest, loudest sigh Hasebe has ever seen or heard as they go back to the missing cat topic. Apparently Nikkari lectured Mitsutada about how it was his own fault for not being careful enough which led to the cat going missing in the first place. The lecture also included a thorough reprimanding about his methods of finding the cat, which at this point had turned into finding a replacement cat, because what if the original cat ever came back, what if it sees its doppelganger and shit hits the fan, what will happen then, huh.
Hasebe did have these thoughts in his mind when he listened to Mitsutada’s predicament the first time, but due to his terrible self-preservation when it comes to attractive people, got completely sidetracked and led into helping Mitsutada find the cat.
Halfway through their nuggets and a learned discussion about the invention of paper clips, they find themselves talking about the pet store again. Mitsutada is so attentive that Hasebe finds himself revealing things he usually wouldn’t, especially not to a person he met two days ago.
When Hasebe tells him about the dance pad — supposedly a gift from Yagen and Souza that ended up with Hasebe having to pay for it in parts due to their terrible credit card management skills — which is one of the two reasons he even needs a part time job in the first place, Mitsutada asks, “Why don’t you just sell it off?”
Hasebe’s face does a thing it shouldn’t have.
“Oh my god,” Mitsutada says, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face, “you like the dance pad!”
Hasebe throws a fry at him, and Mitsutada ducks instead of catching it. What a nerd. Hasebe, as a staple reaction to Mitsutada, wants to punch himself in the face.
—————
✮ HOWLING LOINS ✮ has been bizarrely quiet recently, and Mitsutada isn’t sure if this is a sign that the end times are upon them or if his friends are genuinely busy. He chooses not to dwell upon it, and continues evading Ookurikara’s Skype calls with excuses even he’s surprised he could come up with while waiting for Tsurumaru to finish with his classes.
Tsurumaru had pestered Mitsutada to introduce him to Hasebe because Mitsutada, apparently, wouldn’t shut up about what a great guy Hasebe is. Which is not untrue, in retrospect, Mitsutada realizes. Although the missing feline does take up a big part of his thoughts, it’s always accompanied by Hasebe, and Mitsutada usually ends up expressing whatever’s up in his mind quite easily, so.
He spots Tsurumaru fist-bumping Ichigo near the Arts building, and feels his phone vibrating in his pocket. It’s an unknown number that Truecaller says belongs to Pet Shop People and his heart literally stops for a second. This hasn’t happened in a while. It— the feeling is intense. He should stop blinking at his phone.
“Hello?”
“Hello, this is Heshikiri Hasebe. Am I speaking to—”
“Yes. Hi, what’s up.”
Mitsutada’s heart is thudding but he will persevere. Hasebe says something like I must before another voice comes through the phone. Nikkari?
“Ah, is this Shokudaikiri?”
“Yes. Is this—”
A new voice says, “Hey!”
“Hi?” Mitsutada is confused. "Yo, we found your cat.”
Oh.
“Oh.”
When he sees the cat, it looks just as much of an asshole as it did four days ago. But still, the fact that it’s alive (in contrast to a disturbing thought that Mitsutada hadn’t allowed himself to think more than once) and still giving him the dirtiest look that it could, makes him drop his bag to the floor and run over to Hasebe.
He takes the feline in his hands and gives it his warmest smile.
“I’m— I’m so happy right now I could kiss you,” he tells Hasebe in a moment of utter bliss and naivety, then freezes.
Hasebe is looking at him in a way he hasn’t before. Tsurumaru facepalms.
There are many messages in ✮ HOWLING LOINS ✮ when he finally recollects his phone’s passcode at night. The first message is Tsurumaru’s which says OH MY GOD YOU GUYS MITSUBOU IS SUCH A LOSER DO YOU KNOW WHAT HE JUST DID, so Mitsutada calmly exits the app, keeps his phone aside, watches the feline glare at him, makes sure all the windows in the apartment are locked this time, and goes to bed.
—————
There is a reason Hasebe doesn’t go out drinking with his friends just like why he doesn’t post selfies on social media. It’s because he’s terrible at it. Not with drinking, no. It’s drinking with friends that he’s bad at. Similarly, it’s not taking selfies he has a problem with, it’s posting them on social media that he can’t do at all. Coming up with captions and reading sappy comments on them is excruciating just as watching his friends descend into a state of utter nonsense while inebriated is the singular most horrible thing on this planet.
Yet, here he is.
“But listen, Hasebe,” Yagen says, darkening the lines of the Heshikiri Hasebe vs. PLEASE TRUST ME I AM ASSHOLE graph that he has drawn at the back of the bar’s menu. “Don’t you think you’re overthinking this?”
“Please, hic, PLEASE TRUST ME I AM ASSHOLE sounds like a nice dude,” Fudou butts in, still continuing his line of thought from three minutes ago.
Souza shrugs when Hasebe looks at him for help. So agreeing to meet his friends for drinks so he could get some advice from them has not been one of his wisest decisions, but then again, what wise thing has he done since Mitsutada’s arrival in his life.
“I’m leaving,” Hasebe says, standing up. “I don’t know why I am friends with the lot of you.”
“You,” Kasen snaps, grabbing Hasebe’s jacket before he could get to it, effectively seating Hasebe right back down. “You abandoned our Economics group study for the Monarch of Hamburg with PLEASE TRUST ME I AM ASSHOLE. You are not leaving.”
“The what?” Souza asks.
Hasebe sighs, massages his temples, sighs again. “Burger King. I went to Burger King with Mitsutada. Also will you all stop yelling when you say ‘PLEASE TRUST ME I AM ASSHOLE’. Wait. Just stop saying it.”
“PLEASE TRUST ME I AM ASSHOLE,” the four assholes say in unison.
“I’m leaving,” Hasebe says.
He does, in fact, not leave. They make him stay until 2 with the promise of returning his jacket if he did, then promptly drop it in an open manhole when a car alarm goes off at the end of the road, and end up crashing at his place for the night.
Surprisingly, they have more advice in the morning when they’re seated on the floor around Yagen’s Heshikiri Hasebe vs. PLEASE TRUST ME I AM ASSHOLE graph. Hasebe listens to everything and summarizes it into: call him, meet him, buy some tea for him, and write him a sonnet.
“I am officially blocking you four from my life.”
They give him some more pep talk, he gives them some more cereal, they take turns using the dance pad that they did not even pay for and give him another push to stop taking things so seriously and to go with the flow. It’s good counsel, honestly, and Hasebe actually wants to listen to them, but he’s— scared? That’s not it. He’s not scared. He hasn’t been scared, not now, not with Mitsutada. He can’t place a finger on what exactly he’s feeling, but he wants it to go away.
If he spends any more time thinking about this, he’s going to be late for class.
—————
Ookurikara does not look happy. It is a universally accepted truth that Ookurikara does not look happy on most days, but he especially does not look happy today, and all of that unhappiness is somehow directed at Mitsutada.
“The cat,” Ookurikara says.
“The cat,” Mitsutada replies, glancing over at the feline that is glowering at him the moment Ookurikara takes his eyes off of her. “Yes?”
“Otegine spoke to me in the morning.”
Oh. Oh. Oh god, no.
“Really? That’s nice,” Mitsutada says, his smile faltering a little. If Ookurikara notices this, he either chooses not to say anything or has already concluded that Otegine’s words were all true.
So when Mitsutada went to the pet store to apologize to or speak to or thank or something Hasebe, he didn’t find the guy. Instead, he met Ishikirimaru, the one Hasebe had said had a huge gummy bear and Nikkari problem and was also their manager. Talking to him had cleared the fact that Hasebe was indeed ignoring Mitsutada by going out on a delivery that he’d usually not offer to do (which still chips at Mitsutada’s insides every time he thinks of Hasebe— which is a lot of thinking there) and that it was Otegine who had called in after finding the missing cat.
The feline had the nerve to actually waddle her way back to the cardboard box outside Otegine’s DVD store from where Ookurikara had picked her up all those months ago. It’s like she assumed she was now on her own, what with Ookurikara packed and gone for a few days, and literally just strode over to her original house with Simple Plan’s ‘Me Against The World’ playing in the background. Not literally, of course, but, well.
So Otegine was their friend. He’d tried Ookurikara’s number first because he remembered everyone in ✮ HOWLING LOINS ✮ laughing their asses off when Ookurikara took the cat home, but the number didn’t get through which is the sole reason Mitsutada needs to believe in the existence of a god, other than Pomskies, of course. Otegine didn’t try calling Mitsutada because, well, who knows. What ultimately happened is that he knew Ishikirimaru who had in turn heard of Mitsutada’s plight and had taken the cat in as if he were Jesus himself.
Mitsutada is blessed.
Except now.
“Otegine told me that something happened to the cat.”
“What?” Is that all he told him? God. Buddha. Jesus. “Nothing happened to the cat.”
“Are you sure.”
“One hundred and ten per cent. She looks a little thin, though?”
Please let this work.
“Yes.”
“Yes. I’m going to get her some Frisky Bits. She likes that, doesn’t she?”
There is a reasonable amount of time that passes between them, and Mitsutada almost fears that although the animal has been found and is still the same fraud that it always was, his death is imminent. He wants to close his eyes and lie down and get ready for whatever is beyond when the bell tolls.
Slowly, Ookurikara nods.
Mitsutada is out of the apartment before the feline can even blink.
The first thing he does when he shuts the door behind him is think of how he can salvage his relationship with Hasebe. Of course it would weird someone out if a person they met less than a week ago told them, albeit while in an imbalanced state of mind, that they’d like to kiss them. It’s not like Mitsutada wasn’t dropping hints about his interest in Hasebe here and there, but this was too stupid and too soon and if Hasebe is still ignoring Mitsutada, he will stake the pet store out until he can properly apologize to Hasebe and un-freak him out.
He’s still thinking of all the ways in which he can go about doing this when he reaches the store. This is it. God. Frisky Bits and Hasebe or nothing.
—————
“Oh my god,” Hasebe laughs, “your shirt says ‘BOOTYFUL’. With a peach below it.”
Mitsutada looks down, then up at Hasebe and back down again. Either he honestly did not know his shirt said BOOTYFUL with a peach below it or hearing Hasebe talk to him was not on his schedule for the day.
“Yes, it does say ‘BOOTYFUL’, with a peach below it.”
“Just so you know, your best friend slash roommate has shit taste in T-shirts.”
“No, yeah, I know that. He even has shit taste in pets.”
Hasebe agrees, but also has to take a moment to breathe in. He continues filling the plastic bowls on the table with Pedigree. “I’m glad you found her though.”
“Me too,” Mitsutada sighs. He’s leaning against a wall near Hasebe and it feels like it’s been awhile since they spoke like this but it hasn’t even been that long since they even met in the first place and this is weird. He’s ignoring what he shouldn’t. What they shouldn’t.
Hasebe is running out of bowls to fill.
Mitsutada breaks the silence by coughing. Hasebe almost snorts.
“I— I didn’t mean to sound creepy when I said that?” Mitsutada finally says, scratching the back of his head. Hasebe has run out of bowls to fill. “It just. Happened. I said it without even thinking about it.”
Hasebe looks at Mitsutada. Like, really looks at him. He has many things he wants to say, but also many things he’d rather not.
“What I’m trying to say is,” Mitsutada continues, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m sorry for being such an idiot. I wanted to go slower than this, but you were holding that horrid cat, and you’re such a great guy, and—”
“Wait, are you confessing to me?” Hasebe cuts in, colour rising to his face. “What the hell, Mitsutada?”
Mitsutada gapes at him. “I mean, I was making it quite obvious that I liked you, wasn’t I?”
“What? No, you were looking for a cat.”
“Wait, wait.” Mitsutada is moving his hands around way too much. Is he— flustered? “So you didn’t even know that I was crushing on you?”
“I thought I was crushing on you.”
“What do you mean, you were crushing on me?”
“Are you even listening to yourself right now?”
“Oh my God.”
Kashuu groans from behind them and thwacks the back of their heads with a rolled magazine. Well, déjà vu. “You guys are still so fucking painful to watch.”
When Fudou finds out what transpired between Mitsutada and Hasebe, he calls the other three, buys way too much alcohol, and shoves them into Hasebe’s flat without his consent. They then proceed to sing the sappiest love songs they know with all their godawful screeching until Hasebe’s neighbours threaten to call the cops.
He’d rather call the cops himself, to be honest.
Mitsutada goes through much worse though, Hasebe finds, now that he’s acquainted with Tsurumaru and thus with all the others in ✮ HOWLING LOINS ✮ who seem to have no qualms expressing how depraved they are. It’s consoling to know that he’s not the only one whose circle of friends causes him despair.
“What are these people,” Mitsutada sighs at his phone when they’re at Dunkin’ Donuts one day. Hasebe shakes his head in understanding.
—————————————————
They’re standing in front of the sign that says POMSKIES with identical agonized expressions and trembling hands. Hasebe has finally paid off the dance pad and has his rent covered. Mitsutada is wearing a shirt that says CRAP YOUR HANDS make noise.
“Would you like,” Mitsutada begins, clears his throat, then continues, “to get a Pomsky with me?”
Hasebe blinks. He’s startled and willing and worried, all at the same time, a skill he has developed over the course of these few weeks he’s gone out with Mitsutada. And now the same guy responsible for him having multiple feelings at one instance of time has asked him to join him in raising a Pomsky. What a time to be alive.
“What a time to be alive,” he says, unthinking. Or rather, thinking, because that’s pretty much what he thought of a second ago. He needs to relax. His heart needs to relax. “I mean. Yes.”
Mitsutada smiles in a way which makes Hasebe want to sit down, close his eyes and practice breathing. It’s getting harder to deal with Mitsutada’s face. With Mitsutada in general. Hasebe does not like feeling like this, yet somehow, really, really does. How much worse is it going to get if there’s a Pomsky environing them at all times. The logistics involved in actually getting one is going to be crazy, seeing how they live in two different places and all, but that can be sorted.
Very lightly, he feels Mitsutada’s fingers tangling with his own, and the touch is so soft yet warm that Hasebe feels tingly all over. Really, he turns into an utter idiot when he’s around Mitsutada, it’s so not okay. He wants to smile at everything, or laugh, or maybe neither; instead, he simply leans into Mitsutada when their shoulders bump against each other.
