Work Text:
Like most great ideas, it started from a random epiphany.
Maki was hard at work ignoring his history of theatre assignment in favor of scrolling through Instagram. He had just liked the tenth Jack Russell Terrier reel from his mom when the dorm door swung open with a bang.
“Jesus Christ, break the door, why don’t you,” Maki said, clutching his phone to his chest. A huffy Taki stood in the doorway, two bags bursting at the seams in his hands.
“We should combine our closets so we don’t have to do so much fucking laundry all the time.” Maki blinked at his roommate as he tossed the laundry bags onto their respective beds. A rolled up pair of boxers fell out of Maki’s bag pathetically.
“Don’t we already share closets, lowkey? You’re wearing my shirt,” Maki pointed out, pulling away from his desk to put the boxers back. Taki puffed up his chest, poor Joseph Joestar’s peeling face getting stretched even further.
“You told me I could have it. That’s not really sharing. I mean, you have a lot of clothes.” Taki continued, completely ignoring Maki’s offended scoff as he sits on his bed to sort his clean clothes. “I have… not as many clothes. We could totally maximize the cost per use and marginal utility.”
Maki frowned at Taki.
“You’re insufferable.”
Taki wags a finger at him, shaking his head.
“No, no, I’m smart and can apply economics lessons to real life situations and am totally going to pass my test tomorrow,” Taki said. Maki threw his boxers at him, earning a squawk in response.
So that’s how it started. Contrary to Taki’s claims, upon doing a full inventory at Maki’s insistence, they have more or less equal amounts of clothing. In fact, his collection of funky socks far outnumbers Maki’s. They set loose ground rules around stains and got into another disagreement over whether or not Maki’s threadbare sleep shirt even counts as a shirt anymore. (They had to go three floors down to Jo and Harua’s room for a tiebreaker.) It helps that he and Taki share similar tastes in clothing and are close enough in size.
It’s been close to a year since Maki opened his wardrobe to his roommate. There have been good times (discovering how much he likes cargo pants while not having to spend a single cent on them) and embarrassing times (“Taki, you’re an ex-bisexual?!” Harua’s bewilderment and Jo’s poorly concealed giggles are drowned out by Taki’s aghast “Maki!”) but for the most part, it’s been fun.
Maki is also not fooling himself. He gets a kick out of seeing Taki in his clothes. It’s like playing dress up with his sister but instead of a four-year old in a tutu, he’s face to face with a nineteen year old in a henley. Sometimes, he can get away with putting Taki in the most ridiculous clothes like his Project G/R hoodie or the occasional graphic tee with an obscure reference. Other times, he gets a funny tickle in his chest when he happens by Taki in the library, typing away at his computer while practically swallowed up by a coat.
Clothes-sharing also comes in handy for special occasions.
“Hey Maki, do you have anything nice I can borrow tomorrow?” Maki glances up from his solitaire spread to Taki fidgeting with his phone.
“Define nice. Are you going to the opera?” Taki chuckles, a squeaky thing.
“No, uh, I’m going out. For drinks. On a date.” Maki finally registers the nerves on his friend’s face. Oh. Ohhh.
“Where are you going?” he keys in the name into the Instagram search bar. It’s a casual joint, warmly lit, the servers in dark t-shirts and jeans, and featuring a special Mexican-Japanese fusion menu. Very nice.
“Yeah, totally. I should have a couple polos in there.” Maki pauses, fingers drumming on the cards in his hand. “Don’t you want to wear your own clothes though? Wouldn’t that make you feel more comfortable?”
Taki hums, scratching his belly in thought, like it contains all the answers. Given how much time Taki spends in the kitchen for his hospitality classes, it probably does.
“I… Your clothes smell like you. Helps with the nerves. I might feel like you’ve got my back, literally.” Taki’s voice comes out soft, like he’s uncertain how Maki will react. Honestly, Maki isn’t sure how he should react because his stomach swoops. He feels toasty on the inside despite their AC blasting.
“Oh,” Maki squeaks before clearing his throat. “Sure, dude, whatever helps, right? Go right ahead. Mi closet es su closet.” Maki wants to thunk his head on the wall but Taki, ever gracious and easy to please, laughs.
“Thanks, Maki. Means a lot.”
Maki finds out that the date goes well because Taki comes back to their room with a sugary smile and a caramel brown stain on his light blue shirt. He apologizes to Maki, saying something about a pudding accident. Maki waves him off, directing his attention to soaking the shirt in cold soapy water.
On Date #2, Maki lends Taki a t-shirt that reads “My cat is a rockstar!” above a photo of his pet Pandy. They’re going for humor and wit appropriate for a night of bowling. Taki invites Maki but he has callbacks the next morning and can’t afford to lose his voice screaming at bowling pins. The Pandy shirt makes it back to him in one piece, freshly laundered and folded in his cabinet.
Maki loses count—and frankly, interest—after Date #5. Taki hadn’t borrowed anything for that one, figuring he’s got it in the bag. He came home with blood stains on his collar and a split lip because he’d taken a nasty tumble down the stairs. After ensuring Taki’s wellbeing, Maki and Harua teased him relentlessly about Maki being his lucky charm while Jo tended to his wounds like the good nurse he is going to become.
Taki goes back to wearing something of Maki’s after that, a fact Maki tries very hard not to preen at.
*
Saturday morning practice is a bane and boon. On one hand, Maki gets the whole room to himself, free to run through blockings and emote without fear of an audience. On the other hand, he becomes too acutely aware of his pitchy tones, his stumbles, too dialed in on his mistakes and how his clothes cling to his form. By the time his noontime alarm rings, Maki can’t get out of there faster.
"Yo, Taki, they're serving abura soba for lu--"
Maki returned to his room with the intention to drop off his script and knee pads only to be stopped by Taki exiting the bathroom, half-dressed with rivulets of water dripping down his back. Taki gained a lot of muscle over the months, his gym discipline motivated by his coursemates lugging sacks of flour through the halls on their way to culinary labs. Sometimes, Maki catches his eyes wandering while they’re mid-session, a little awed by Taki’s diligence, a lot amazed by the definition around his arms.
“Are those my boxers?” Maki calls out, pointing at the black band peeking out from Taki’s jeans. One of the only firm rules to their arrangement is that underwear is off-limits so Maki is confused by the sight of red lettering against Taki’s slim hips. Taki stops in front of him to look down.
“They are?”
“Since when have you worn Chrome Hearts boxers?”
“Oh. Yuma got me a pair as a gift,” Taki says, only for his mouth to snap shut with a grimace. Maki’s eyes widen, so wide that they feel like they’re going to fall out of his head.
“Yuma’s the guy you’ve been going out on dates with for months?! Our trainer’s cousin Yuma? Does he know? Is this why you’ve been hitting the gym more often?”
Taki groans, pushing past Maki to grab a plain black shirt out of his own closet, the hem falling just past the offending waistband.
“He’s not Fuma’s cousin. Their families are neighbors.”
“That’s basically the same thing!”
“And Fuma was the one who set us up. Kinda. We’re seeing how things go.”
Maki cocks an eyebrow at him. Taki frowns in response.
“So you’re dating.”
“You sound like my sister. Also why is this a big deal to you?” Maki wrings his hands in his hoodie pocket. It shouldn’t be but Maki can’t tamp down his surprise at the news. There’s also a bitter taste at the pit of his stomach he’s trying to ignore. It’s probably just stomach acid from the coffee he downed earlier.
“I just… never expected it. You guys argue every time we’re in the gym with him.” It’s very much like a cat and dog situation except the dog in this case just squirms and whines when Yuma goes poking at him while Taki works at the machines. Fuma’s never paid them much mind aside from the occasional dissuading noise when he thinks someone’s in danger of falling over or whacking themselves on the head.
Taki runs a hand through his hair, scratching the back of his neck.
“Well, he’s a nice guy. He’s a good gym buddy too.”
“But I’m your gym buddy,” Maki can’t help but mutter under his breath. Taki turns to him with wide eyes and a timid smile.
“Aww, Maki, is that what this is about? Dude, you’re always gonna be my main gym buddy. My gymothy. But you’ve been so busy with your show, I don’t wanna take you away from that!” Taki croons, taking Maki’s hand and swinging it back and forth between them. Maki lets him tangle their fingers together.
“Do you want to come with us? We’re just going to the arcade before watching the new Blue Lock movie. I’m sure Yuma wouldn’t mind. I've missed hanging out with you,” he continues.
With his sophomore production well underway, Maki hasn’t had much free time to hang out with Taki, including sticking to their biweekly workouts. He’s in and out of rehearsals and coming back to their dorm room late. He’s probably seen Taki awake for a grand total of 10 hours this entire week.
Maki shakes his head, patting Taki on the hand so he can let go and step back.
“I’m good, thanks. You guys have fun though!” he says. Taki gives him a wary once-over which he meets with a big smile and thumbs up before exiting the room.
Maki was going to head back to the practice room but instead, he finds himself taking a 10-minute walk out of campus through side streets out to the nearby arts district. It’s surprisingly quiet for a Saturday, probably no thanks to the simmering heatwave. Maki quickly ducks into a familiar shop front.
“Hey there, Troy Bolton.”
Maki and Nicholas met during a costuming workshop the latter hosted last year. A fashion graduate from the same university, Nicholas was good friends with Maki’s upperclassmen and had been part of the costume department on a few university productions. They’d played basketball together a few times—hence the nickname—and became fast friends. Nicholas is funny, speaks the same languages, and really empathetic.
“What problem brings you to my humble store?”
The humble store houses Nicholas and his friends’ up and coming fashion lines, along with a couple other brands. It’s sleek and modern but not intimidating, soft jazz and R&B pouring from the speakers and out into the street. There’s a coffee station, powerful AC, comfortable seating; very apt for the indie vibe of the whole area.
Maki sighs, taking a seat by the bar counter-slash-check out.
“No problems, just dealing with a lot on my mind. The show and all.”
Nicholas hums from across him as he sorts freebie stickers into a tray.
“Right, so does “all” include any love trouble?” Nicholas is no mind reader but he is damn perceptive.
Maki is about to retort when the bell behind Maki rings and he has the misfortune of watching Nicholas’ expression melt in real time.
“Hey, Maki, you good?” Euijoo dabs him up on his way to the counter, balancing a hefty box labelled “BEANS” in his other arm. He pecks Nicholas on the cheek as he passes behind him.
“Where’s my kiss?” Maki jokes. Bemused, Euijoo blows him a kiss.
“You didn’t answer my question. Everything okay?” Euijoo says as he wipes down the espresso machine. Despite his boyfriend not being much of a coffee drinker, Euijoo runs the cafe part of the shop on top of his interior design job in the studio a few floors above. It delights Maki that he’s seen Euijoo go from being unable to pull a decent shot to having his own custom blend. His latte art could still use some work though.
“Maki’s having love problems,” Nicholas pipes up from where he’s fixing the mannequins up front. Euijoo grins.
“Taki?” Maki blinks owlishly at him.
“Ew, what are you two, telepathically linked?” Maki whines, joining his pinkies together.
“No, just an intelligent guess based on the fact that’s not your last name on the back of your shirt,” Euijoo remarks before the steamer drowns out Maki’s sputtering as he turns to try and look behind him.
To his horror, Euijoo’s right. Maki changed into whatever shirt was in his practice room locker before heading home. It was soft and smelled like cotton which was all he wanted at that moment. Now, faced with the cleanest mirror he’s ever seen in his life, Maki can see the faded emblem of Taki’s old dance team. TAKAYAMA stretches across his back and Maki is bright tomato-red.
“You didn’t tell him?” Euijoo says to Nicholas who has reappeared in the mirror, whistling a low tone.
“I figured he was making a statement. Dude, Maki, are you breathing?” Nicholas puts a hand on his back and Maki wheezes. Euijoo, as if tending to a spooked animal, puts a gentle hand on Maki’s shoulder.
Maki should say he’s fine. That he simply didn’t realize what was printed on the shirt but it’s fine because he and Taki have been sharing clothes for a while now. Doesn’t he look great in it? Nicholas and Euijoo should see Taki. Maki is fine.
“Taki’s seeing this guy and I think I’m jealous.”
That’s not what he was going to say. He doesn't even know where it came from. Maki’s mouth is a traitor and he’d very much like to tear it off his face because his friends are now looking at him with funny smiles and seem to be having a conversation with each other through eye contact only.
“Do you know the guy?” Euijoo finally breaks as he starts to prepare Maki a drink. At least that’s what Maki hopes he’s doing. Hopefully Euijoo gets the mental message and adds a whole bottle of liquor into it.
“Yeah. He’s our gym trainer’s cousin or something,” Maki says, tearing into a bag of nuts Euijoo slid over to him. “He seems cool. Like indie rock and piercings kind of cool. He has a belly tatt.”
“He sounds like my kind of guy,” Nicholas chirps unhelpfully.
“Okay, but you’re cool too,” Euijoo says as he pours from the milk jug. “You’re a great singer, you speak multiple languages, you’re fit.”
“Euijoo, I am right here,” Nicholas pipes up again. He’s really not supplying much to the conversation apart from commentary and Euijoo knows it, judging from the shooing hand motions directing Nicholas toward a new customer.
Euijoo puts a mug in front of Maki. Its foam is decorated with a poorly drawn smiley face made of chocolate syrup.
“Is this how you serve all your drinks?” Maki says before destroying the foam with a teaspoon. Euijoo snorts in reply.
“Only to non-paying customers who need love advice.” It’s a raspberry-cinnamon hot chocolate. Delicious and seasonally inappropriate given it’s April, but Maki won’t complain out loud.
“I think I’m just sad over the fact Taki and I haven’t spent much time together beyond our joint closets. This semester feels like it’s gone by in a blink and now we’re a month away from sophomore year being over with even less time to ourselves. He’s got summer electives here, my family’s taking me to Europe. I just miss him, y’know?” Maki rambles, taking a huge gulp of his drink when he finishes. Euijoo watches him with his big, bright eyes.
“You’re worried about being replaced, huh?” Maki coughs on a swallow.
“It sounds pathetic when you put it that way,” Maki wheezes. Euijoo passes him a napkin from underneath the bar.
“It isn’t. Not to me, at least. I think it’s fair to miss each other even if you live in the same space,” Euijoo reassures him, replacing the mug with a glass of cold water.
“It feels like our clothes-sharing agreement is the most we get to talking nowadays. Did I ever tell you he would wear my clothes on his dates to help him with his nerves? Who does that?” Maki can hear himself getting whiny so he digs into the nuts again while Euijoo moves away to ring up purchases.
As Euijoo punches in codes, Maki watches as the light catches on the silver ring on his index finger. Nicholas, packing the bag, has the same one on his left hand. They work in tandem until they’ve handed off the receipt and shopping bag, waving the customer good bye before turning their attention back to Maki.
“Do you like Taki?” Nicholas asks with all the tact of a freight train. Euijoo nudges him with his hip. “And I mean like as in romantically, none of this of course I like him, he’s my roommate bullshit.”
Maki puts his face in his hands with a groan, fingernails digging into his forehead.
“I don’t know. Can we change the subject yet?” Euijoo lets out a soft “aww” and Maki once again wonders if he seems like a pet or little brother to them.
At least another hour and a glass of a delightful peach lemonade pass in the shop before Maki decides it’s time to make his exit. He hands the couple tickets to the year-end show in May. He buys Taki a pair of frameless glasses as payment for his drink leeching, even though Euijoo says he doesn’t mind. Nicholas packages the glasses nicely, unnecessarily humming a love song under his breath as he does so.
What a loser. How does Euijoo put up with that guy?
On his way back, Maki is about to pop into his favorite burger joint when he gets a text.
Movie’s over! LMK if you want to grab dinner with us :) Yuma doesn’t mind
We’re getting burgers at the mall
Damn Taki and his Maki senses.
Duuuuuuude how’d you know [.jpg]
LOOOOOOOL of course
I know everything about you
Maki swallows around the lump in his throat. Does he? Does he know Maki better than Maki knows himself?
So are you down?
Maki sends him a grinning dog sticker in response before changing course to the bus stop.
Dinner is fun. Yuma, as it turns out, is a riot. He’s wicked smart—guy’s a biostatistics major at a downtown university and teaches gymnastics for kids?!—and unexpectedly sweet. He loves Hunter x Hunter and creme caramels, and is deathly afraid of bugs. He’s so well-accessorized, he kind of jingles as he bids them goodbye and walks away toward the metro.
Yuma is cool, daring, and pretty cute. Maki can totally see why Taki’s taken by him.
It doesn’t help settle the weird feeling in Maki’s gut. That doesn’t go away the entire bus ride back to campus, Taki knocked out against his shoulder, smelling like jasmine instead of his usual citrus. Maki turns Euijoo and Nicholas’ words over in his head while he showers until he feels sick by the time his head hits his bed.
The next morning, Taki sidles up next to him in line for breakfast. He loads a few mini sausages onto Maki’s tray while Maki passes him a cup of soup. They’re a few bites in when Taki breaks the reprieve.
“Can I bring Yuma to see your show next month?” Maki freezes, his spoonful of rice hovering just outside his mouth. Taki pushes it in so Maki is forced to chew and swallow before he can answer.
“Yeah, of course. Why’d you ask me?” Taki shrugs.
“Just wanted to make sure it was cool with you. I know how much work you’ve been putting into it.”
Maki watches Taki poke at his food, unable to put a finger on why this conversation feels so loaded, why there’s a tension and where it might be coming from. But it’s not even 8 in the morning and Maki cannot be bothered to figure this out right now so he just nods.
“Bring whoever you want. I’d appreciate you being there,” Maki says, bumping their shoulders together.
Weeks of rehearsals pass. When the show finally opens, Maki’s cast portrait hangs outside the theatre. His friends send him their selfies with it and tag him in their Instagram stories, calling him “our Romeo Mak-tauge”. They surprise him with flowers and chocolates in the hallway after the show. Yuma gives him a set of throat spray, Taki next to him beaming with pride.
Selfishly, Maki takes comfort in the fact Taki’s Commes des Garcons shirt, artfully rolled up at the elbows and two buttons popped, is his. The weight in his gut finally gives and it makes way for an all-encompassing warmth.
*
The semester is over in a flash and suddenly, Maki and Taki find themselves sitting on their floor, trying to sort through clothes to bring home, donate, and toss. Taki is going on a two-week trip to Enoshita before his summer electives start and the dorm reassigns him to a single room for the period.
“Who am I gonna split clothes with now?” Taki sighs as he folds jeans into his luggage. Maki pats him on the knee placatingly.
“You’ll manage. I’ll leave you a crop top to wear.” That elicits a chuckle out of Taki who passes Maki a stack of his gym shorts.
“Excited for your #eurosummer?” He actually says “hashtag” and puts up the sign with his fingers, the absolute loser.
“Yeah. I don’t really know where we’re going after Berlin and Hamburg, but it should be fun. My parents and older brother are the ones doing most of the planning,” Maki replies before rolling three balls of socks to Taki’s side.
“Bring me back a souvenir from each place, yeah?” Taki tosses a worn out tank top into the disposal pile. “One of those really ugly tourist t-shirts.”
Maki snorts.
“You have enough t-shirts. Look at all this,” he says, gesturing at the pile in front of them.
“Ah but how will I know you haven’t forgotten me if I don’t have anything tangible to show for it?” Taki bemoans, putting a hand to his chest in mock misery. Maki bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling.
“What about you, any summer plans with Yuma?” Maki diverts with a cheeky eyebrow wiggle. Taki flushes instantly.
“We aren’t seeing each other anymore… Sorry, did I forget to tell you? It happened a week after we watched your play.”
“Oh. Taki, I’m so sorry. I never noticed,” Maki says but Taki waves him off.
“No worries, we weren’t officially dating or anything. I actually initiated it and it turns out he was on the same page so it was a really friendly split.”
“But I thought you liked him?”
Taki hums, picking at a loose thread on his shorts.
“I did. He’s a great friend and all but we both wanted different things and ultimately, different people. The dates felt more like hangouts—which is awesome—but I always felt like I was looking out for someone else during them,” Taki mumbles. He finally looks up from his lap to meet Maki’s gaze. It’s steady, bright, and a little misty. Taki’s eyes go all over Maki’s face before settling behind him. That’s when Maki notices his shirt, a dark blue jersey with the number 14 on the front—Maki’s number.
The next moment unfolds like they’re suspended in time. Maki scoots over to the spot next to Taki. He puts a tentative hand on Taki’s bouncing knee. Taki turns to look at him, lower lip between his teeth, and Maki feels drawn in by how brown Taki’s eyes are before they slide shut when their mouths meet.
It’s over as quickly as it starts, their noses touching and the fabric on Taki’s shoulders scrunched up under Maki’s hands.
“I like you,” Maki whispers and he can feel the small gust of air leave Taki’s lips when he laughs.
“I still want my novelty shirts,” he says before pulling Maki in one more time.