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Yuki hit the “call,” button, and waited, motionless.
It rung once, drowning out the ticking of the clock on his desk, twice, three times- what if she was busy? He should just hang up- but halfway through the fourth ring, he heard the distinctive click of the phone being picked up.
“Hello?” He asked.
“Yuki.” Machi’s voice was quiet, but it still managed to startle him.
“Yeah,” he said eloquently, swallowing, suddenly completely unsure of how to start the conversation. “How are you?”
“Everything’s fine. It’s good to hear your voice, though.” She informed him, matter of factly. He flushed a little at the comment, but she continued. “The student council’s a catastrophe without you, but we’re managing.”
Normally Yuki would be hanging on her every word, but he barely even heard her. His eyes were fixed on the blank wall in front of him- the texture of the paint seemed to flicker like static.
“... Everyone’s already preparing for our exams, but I haven’t started.” Machi paused experimentally, and when Yuki failed to notice, she addressed him directly.
“Yuki?”
“Ah! Yes? Exams, no, no, right. I’m sure…” He shook his head to clear it. “I’m sure you’re not behind, people like to make others think they’re doing more than they actually are.” He had no idea where the words were coming from.
“Yuki, are you alright?”
“I’m fine.” He said mechanically, and he could almost see the spark of concern in her eyes in the moment of silence.
“Are you lonely? Is that why you’re calling so late?”
Yuki’s eyes flew to the clock- he hadn’t even realised it was late. He gave a shallow sigh, and gathered his resolve.
“No, I’m not. But I do have a reason for calling you.” Machi said nothing, so he went on. “My flatmates invited me to a party, and um-” he gave a short, disbelieving laugh, like he still couldn’t quite believe it. “You know. The normal university experience. So we went, and there was alcohol, obviously, and… a girl got a little carried away and…” He trailed off.
“Go on.” Machi prompted him.
“She sort of… kissed me?” Suddenly, his throat was dry, and his head was throbbing painfully. “I promise I didn’t do anything to instigate it, I really don’t think she had any idea where she was but I still wanted to call you-”
“Yuki.” Machi interrupted, and for a moment it was like they were in the room together. He could’ve sworn he caught her scent, the detergent she uses, through the phone. “Breathe.”
She was right; his breaths were short and rapid. He braced his free hand against the desk to ground himself, and forced himself to breath deeply. When he had recovered, she spoke again;
“Are you okay?”
“Am I okay?” He asked, still a little breathless. “What about you? I know you were worried that something like this would happen-”
“Yuki.” Her voice was especially serious. “Are you okay?” Yuki pressed his lips together.
Before he could register it, he was shaking his head. No. He wanted to say it, but for a sickening moment, he couldn’t reach the word.
“Yuki?” Her voice crackled a little, like something was wrong with the reception.
“N-No.” He forced out, slumping slightly in his chair.
It was true. When she’d first grabbed him, he’d frozen, petrified that he was about to transform in front of a vast crowd, but then nothing had happened, and his mind had caught up with the moment. Which was worse, God, so much worse, because he had nowhere to go, trapped between this stranger’s skin and the living-room wall, and everything about it was wrong, the suffocating scent of perfume nearly overwhelming the sharpness of the alcohol-
“Yuki. You have to breathe.”
“Right.” He gasped. “Sorry.”
Yuki struggled to regulate his breathing for about a minute, clutching the phone to his ear. When his breaths were paced normally again, if a little shuddering, Machi still hadn’t spoken, he wondered momentarily if she’d gone. But no sooner had the thought surfaced that he heard her again, speaking gravely.
“Mogeta’s here.”
“Pardon me?” He replied, a little dizzily.
“The Mogeta you got for me. I have her with me.”
“Mogeta is a girl?”
“She is.” Machi replied solemnly, and Yuki felt himself smile.
“I can’t believe I didn’t know that.”
Ten minutes later, Machi asked;
“Are you feeling better?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry.” He said again, reflexively, pressing his knuckles to his forehead. His skin was alarmingly hot, even to his own touch.
“I’ve been thinking that I should visit you.”
“So soon?” Yuki asked, thinking a little guiltily of the inconvenience of the journey. “I could come to you.”
“I want to see your apartment.” She countered, and after a moment’s thought added; “As long as you mess it up for me before I get there. I couldn’t stand it if the whole place was as organised as you seem to be.”
Yuki turned and considered the spread of assignments, textbooks, and folders engulfing his bed and most of his floor.
“Somehow I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that.” He told her.
The two of them continued to make plans, conversation flowing effortlessly into the early hours of the morning.