Chapter Text
«Пожалуйста, повторите, почему мы постоянно делаем это именно здесь?»
«Потому что в доме Сейты приятнее атмосфера, чем в нашей квартире».
Так уж получилось, что друзья Хару были поклонниками атмосферных посиделок. Старомодный стиль с ноутбуком, включенным фильмом ужасов, ведёрком чего-нибудь хрустящего и обсуждением последних университетских событий их больше не устраивал. Обожавшие приятную атмосферу домика Сейты (и его милые речи, проистекающие из того факта, что у него не было собственного транспорта, и он просто не хотел тащиться в Токио по выходным), теперь они хотели всего того же, но с более «приятной атмосферой времяпрепровождения».
Хару намеревалась когда-нибудь понять странности Ю, который именно так охарактеризовал место Сейты. Но сейчас этого явно не произойдёт.
Настроение Сэйты напрямую зависело от его вдохновения, а ему — студенту второго курса факультета классической живописи — оно было постоянно необходимо. Он определился с направлением своей жизни еще в средней школе, поэтому сразу после окончания учебы родители подарили ему собственный дом в небольшой деревне в получасе езды от Токио.
The house was small but neat, pleasantly finished and furnished. And also cozily lived-in by its finely organized owner.
Haru admitted that hanging out in nature all weekend away from the noisy city had a completely different atmosphere, but he was also fine with the apartment he shared with Yu and Hyui.
"Don't be a bore," Hyui said, handing him leather gloves.
"I wouldn't be if we didn't go out of town every single weekend…"
In fact, Haru had another reason for making excuses to avoid the trip.
"Staying cooped up in the studio won't help you figure out the project any faster," Yu repeated for the umpteenth time. "A weekend in the fresh air will help you clear your head."
Yes, that was exactly it. The damn dance composition project. A creative assignment for which the teacher had split them into pairs. The students in each pair had to exchange their dance styles for a month and put on a corresponding dance performance.
Everything would be fine if Haru hadn't ended up paired with Naoko, a sweet girl from his course who had been dancing contemporary since childhood.
Out of the dozen types of dance taught at their university, Haru was lucky enough to be paired specifically with a contemporary dancer. Thank goodness Naoko didn't do ballet — if she did, Haru would have dropped out.
"How is fresh air going to affect my imagination, which isn't working in the direction of contemporary?" he asked a perfectly logical question.
"If the fresh air doesn't help, we will," Yu smiled, clapping Haru on the shoulder. "And maybe a little wine from Seita's cellar."
They basically settled on that, because half an hour later, three bikes were already speeding down the forest-lined highway. Despite the asphalt being wet from a recent downpour, Hyui surged a bit ahead. Haru only managed to keep him in sight thanks to a neon Hello Kitty sticker on the rear side of the white bike. Usually measured and calm in everyday life, Hyui always became unstoppable and sharp when it came to his favorite pursuits, whether it was riding a motorcycle or composing music.
Haru and Yu rode side by side at a modest speed, managing to trade remarks.
"Honestly, I really don't want to get up early in the morning just to avoid being late for university," Haru said. "We live a five-minute walk away, while Seita has a fifty-minute drive."
"We'll head home Sunday evening," Yu replied casually.
"You say that every Friday, and yet every Monday your alarm still goes off at seven in the morning."
"I promised my parents, so this time we're definitely leaving," Yu shrugged, narrowing his eyes slightly at the road ahead.
Up ahead, something... strange was happening. Twilight had fallen, and they were riding along a highway without a single proper street light, yet a few hundred meters away, something was glowing white and red. No headlights, even on the coolest sports bike, could shine that brightly.
"That's not Hyui," Yu voiced their shared thought.
"I get it," Haru nodded slowly. "Let's speed up."
The white and black bikes accelerated simultaneously, closing the distance in a matter of seconds. Haru strained his eyes to make out what on earth was going on, because it made no sense.
A deserted highway by the woods. Not a single street light around. A suspiciously intense glare of unknown origin that, with every meter passed, began taking the shape of car headlights and hazard lights.
And then there was Hyui…
"Why did he stop?" Yu asked.
Haru also wanted to know why Hyui had suddenly decided to dismount his bike, parking it near a black luxury SUV. Or rather, just near its rear end, since the car's front wheels had slid into a ditch, catching a few thin trees along the way.
As Yu and Haru took in the full scene, they could finally see what was happening. Besides the front of the SUV being stuck deep in a ditch, its hood was smashed against the thick trunk of a cedar tree. A massive dent had clearly been left at the point of impact, which didn't seem to bother the people who had gotten the car into this state at all.
There were three people entirely unknown to Haru. A short-haired guy with a sweet, almost boyish face stood a little to the side with his arms crossed over his chest, looking skeptically at his friends and letting out a chuckle during particularly amusing moments.
The second guy kept tossing back the blue hair that fell into his face, laughing the loudest of them all as he diligently searched for new angles to catch the best shot on the old vintage camera in his hands.
The subject of the photoshoot was the third one, who looked perhaps the most flamboyant of them all: an acid-blue sweater, huge oversized pants and a t-shirt, messy black hair, chains around his neck, and an eyebrow piercing with two shiny beads. Matching his photographer's energy, he struck the most defiant poses possible while sitting on the trunk of the wrecked truck.
No one, it seemed, was bothered by the pathetic state of the car. A photoshoot at the crash site was far more important.
Though, since the black-haired guy suddenly broke away from his professional posing to look right past his photographer's shoulder, he didn't seem to care all that much about getting the best shots anymore.
He was far more interested in the approaching stranger.
"Yuhi?" Haru noticed his friend suddenly freeze, even though a moment ago he had been marching toward the trio with total confidence. The brunette in the bright sweater, on the other hand, got all worked up. He waved his hand in front of his face in a silent plea for the photographer to stop blinding him with the flash, and hopped down from the trunk of the car. "Komori Yuhi?"
"Do you know him?" Yu asked quietly.
Haru shook his head in silence. That meant Yu didn't know him either. It was strange, because they thought they knew everyone in Hyui's circle, and it wasn't like Hyui had a hundred friends.
And this guy was clearly more than just a casual acquaintance. No random acquaintance would know Hyui's real name, which he never used to introduce himself anyway. Even Haru and Yu had only found out about it recently — and even then, they had never actually called him that, since even the university professors called him Hyui.
This was clearly an old acquaintance, one who knew the real Komori Hyui very poorly.
"Hey, it really is you!" the black-haired guy went on. "Damn, I didn't even recognize you at first."
"Tomoya, what's going on here?" Hyui inquired tonelessly, taking half a step back as the guy tried to close the distance between them.
The one named Tomoya apparently didn't expect such a blunt question, so he blinked a couple of times and turned to his friends, looking for an answer. The fair-haired guy standing a bit further away was the first to find his voice:
"A photoshoot?"
"Yeah, a photoshoot," Tomoya nodded eagerly. However, he quickly lost interest in the matter, brushing past Hyui anyway and reaching his bike in a couple of strides. "No way, Yuhi, you ride a bike now? Can you get a ride..."
"Don't call me Yuhi." Such an unyielding tone from a guy who was usually very obliging and soft made Haru's blood run cold. Beside him, Yu also stared in shock at their friend's back. Then, Hyui added more quietly: "Please."
"Still as polite as ever... And still obsessed with Hello Kitty."
Honestly, it was the first time Haru had ever seen this Tomoya, but Hyui's reaction to him boded nothing good. Tomoya probably would have kept talking, and the three of them would have just kept ignoring it, but something else caught everyone's attention.
A loud, rhythmic siren in the distance, and red lights bouncing off the trees.
"Geon, did you call the police?" the fair-haired guy asked anxiously, stepping closer to the others.
"Would I really be taking photos so calmly...?" the blue-haired guy shrugged blankly. It became obvious — Geon hadn't called the police.
"Who cares who called the cops. Geon is screwed if he gets caught. We need to split."
Haru understood perfectly well that the police were definitely not part of their plans tonight—much like leaving the apartment in the first place, but still. However, it was Hyui who coordinated their moves. He quickly mounted his bike and, with clear reluctance, looked back at Tomoya, gesturing to the seat behind him.
Yu just as quickly pulled the guy with the boyish face by his arm. Right in the middle of the brewing chaos, the guy thought it necessary to introduce himself as Yuki. Yu then took his place on his black sports Yamaha.
"Ever ridden a bike before?" Yu asked, keeping his cool.
"Mmm, no, never had the chance," Yuki replied, just as unfazed.
"It doesn't take much brainpower to sit in the back, don't worry. Just hold on tight."
And the moment Yuki did as he was told, Yu bolted forward, with Hyui and Tomoya tearing after him.
"Haru, mounting his motorcycle, turned to Geon. The guy was standing right at the edge of the ravine, his eyes examining the extent of the damage that he hadn't cared about just a minute ago. Was it really necessary to fuss over an expensive truck right when the police were already coming for him...?
"Get over here," Haru snorted, revving the engine as he pulled up to the slow-moving Geon and practically hauling him onto the seat behind him.
Feeling that the blue-haired guy was settled securely enough, Haru immediately dumped the clutch, tearing the bike from its spot. Hyui, it seemed, had turned onto a narrow, unpaved forest road. It led straight to Seita's house, but the trio had never ridden on it before, because it was easy to slip on the dirt. It was much more pleasant to bypass the residential area along the smooth highway and hold unauthorized races among themselves there.
As soon as they flew under the thick canopy of the suburban forest, Haru noticed in his rearview mirror that Yu was confidently heading straight down the main clearing on his bike. But Haru reacted faster. He prudently leaned into a sharp turn and veered onto a narrow, barely noticeable trail after Hyui, taking Geon out of the police's line of sight. Judging by Yuki and Hyui's worried tone, getting caught by the cops and spending the night at the station clearly didn't bode well for the guy.
Yu was moving too loudly and openly — the cops would surely go after him. Haru needed to hide his passenger, since Hyui had volunteered to help.
The very second the motorcycle left the shoulder, Geon wrapped his arms tightly around Haru's waist without any ceremony. His palms slid slightly higher, confidently stroking his ribs and stomach. The raging adrenaline subsided, and now Haru was acutely aware of the other guy's touch.
It took his breath away, and it had nothing to do with the dangerous speed. As a dancer, he was used to touch in the studio, to the technical tactility of partners and instructors correcting his posture. But these hot palms, which had sneaked under the thin fabric of his jacket, made his heart skip into a frantic, ragged rhythm, fueled by the blare of sirens behind them. There was no foolish childishness in Geon's movements: his grip was deliberate, strong, and subtly, completely unassumingly bold.
To hold onto a bike rider, even while racing at such a high speed, there was no need to slide your fingers under their jacket and literally count their ribs. Or their abs. Or the lint on their t-shirt — Haru no longer knew what on earth the cheeky guy was trying to feel out there.
"Wow," Geon said quietly but clearly right into Haru's ear, cutting through the roar of the engine. Completely out of his mind — he could perfectly well see that Haru was starting to turn the handlebars to weave between the trees, yet he butt in with chatter during a dangerous maneuver. His hot breath brushed against Haru's neck, making him flinch. "You're in great shape. Are you guys actually dancing in that department, or do they just make you do crunches for hours?"
Haru nearly dropped the handlebars in shock. Dancing...? How did he know?
"Keep your hands to yourself," Haru muttered over his shoulder, trying to hide just how much this guy was throwing him off balance with his bluntness, his actions, and that voice carrying hot breath against his skin — such a sharp contrast to the cold wind. "Do we know each other?"
"Personally — no. Not yet," the other replied calmly and a bit softer, pressing even tighter against his back, so that Haru could feel the curve of his shoulder with the back of his head. "But I see you often in our uni's central atrium, and sometimes we have classes in neighboring lecture halls. I'm Geon, studying computer graphics. And you, if I'm not mistaken, are Haru." The guy ran his fingers along the hem of Haru's t-shirt, his fingernails almost brushing the skin near his waistline. Goosebumps ran down his neck once again — was it really from the piercing wind? "So, Haru. If I let go of you right now, we'll both fly into the nearest ditch. You'll just have to deal with it."
Haru remained silent, gritting his teeth and gripping the handlebars. A flush of heat rushed to his ears. In just a couple of minutes, this Geon had managed to completely shatter his personal boundaries, find out his name, and turn all his thoughts upside down.
He was... strange. Zero anxiety about a pack of cops chasing him. Zero panic during a rather reckless bike ride as a passenger with a completely unverified driver. Zero rationality when he had heard the sirens and just kept foolishly staring at the wrecked car, having been busy doing a photoshoot on the intact trunk right before that.
And then there was that provocative chain gleaming under the collar of his leather jacket against bare collarbones, the slightly raspy voice chattering into his ear during a getaway attempt, and fingers that were clearly poking around where they didn't belong.
Behind them, somewhere far beyond the trees, the sirens were still wailing, but they were already fading, losing the track of the six guys. They managed to shake them off almost at the very approach to Seita's house. Yu announced that he was going to pop into a shop for some beer and, without really caring about Yuki's opinion, simply veered off the path. The tension from playing tag with the police was rapidly subsiding, giving way to another kind — something sticky and confusing that Haru felt toward the one who still hadn't pulled his hands back, continuing to brazenly explore his torso.
"The owner of that car is going to bury you alive," Haru spat, nodding back toward the highway they had left behind. The truck was definitely indecently expensive — the kind of vehicle whose price tag could support an ordinary student comfortably for life. A car like that would take years to pay off if Geon had taken it without permission from someone powerful. Then again... why did he even care?
"He won't bury me," the guy chuckled. And again — right by his ear. "I'm my father's only son, there'd be no one else to pass the business down to."
"But you're definitely going to catch hell for the ride, Geon, don't deny it," Hyui snorted, hopping off his bike ahead of Tomoya, his sharp movements making it clear he was trying to get away from him as fast as possible.
Хару поднял взгляд на парня, сползающего с пассажирского сиденья. Казалось, он собирался присоединиться к Томое, но внезапно остановился и уставился на Хару. Под покровом ночи глаза Геона казались очень темными и глубокими, а в свете полумрака и едва мерцающих звезд в них отражалось странное, почти аналитическое любопытство. Он смотрел не просто с интересом — Хару физически ощущал, что его изучают, словно Геон пытался прочитать его скрытые мысли сквозь мрак, те, до которых он не дотянулся во время побега, чтобы рассчитать траекторию его действий и оценить, как далеко он готов зайти или не зайти.
«Я разберусь с этим, когда придет время», — пожал плечами Геон. Он начал отходить в сторону, но внезапно громко хлопнул Хару по плечу. «Отличная поездка. Сделаем это еще раз когда-нибудь?»
Какая прямолинейность… Этот парень, который всего несколько минут назад смело оценивал свою спортивную фигуру, теперь так легко флиртовал, даже не пытаясь это скрыть. Хару цеплялся за эту непринужденность; это казалось необычным. Геон только что разбил дорогую машину отца, скрылся от погони на чужом мотоцикле, а теперь вел себя так, будто они просто быстро съездили в ближайший магазин. В этой абсолютной свободе от страха осуждения было столько бунтарской детской искры, что Хару почувствовал, как безопасные границы, которые он пытался построить в лесу, неумолимо тают.
Вместо них появился едва заметный, но пылкий интерес.
В ответ на вопрос Хару импульсивно произнес: « Только если в следующий раз мы обойдёмся без полиции », — но вовремя прикусил губу. Вместо этого Хару собрал всю свою волю и последние остатки самообладания, которые не удалось у него отнять дикими выходками Геона, и сдержанно ответил:
«Посмотрим».
В ответ Геон лишь тихонько усмехнулся, явно раскусив его притворную отстраненность. Он знал, что после того, что тот вытворил, оставаться равнодушным невозможно. Прежде чем окончательно уйти, он на секунду заговорщически прищурился и коротко, невероятно выразительно подмигнул Хару.
В одно мгновение всплыло воспоминание о том, как уверенно ладони Геона лежали на его рёбрах всю дорогу. Это откровенное прикосновение от парня, которого он знал всего двадцать минут, казалось совершенно неправильным, запретным и разрушительным для всех его личных границ. Но в то же время… в глубине души Хару должен был признать, что это было настолько нехарактерно для него, что заставляло его слишком часто об этом думать.
Он остался стоять у мотоцикла, не отрывая взгляда от удаляющейся фигуры Геона. Томоя тут же наклонился к нему, и они вдвоём, весело болтая на ходу, неторопливыми шагами направились к крыльцу Сейты. Хару смотрел им вслед, чувствуя, как в нём медленно поднимается адреналин.
Было непонятно, что потрясло его больше: внезапно возникшая потребность скрыться от полицейской погони или короткий разговор, который пробудил в нем что-то странное.
Или просто полчаса — слава богу, всего полчаса — проведенные в этой дикой компании?
«Что, чёрт возьми, только что произошло? Кто эти ребята и почему мы им помогаем?» — спросил Хару, всё ещё следя взглядом за новыми знакомыми. «И почему, чёрт возьми, они не вызывают такси, а вместо этого идут в дом Сейты, как будто он их хозяин?»
«Предчувствие Хару подсказывало, что что-то здесь не так. Ладно, Геон — по крайней мере, он учился в их университете, так что вполне возможно, что Сейта его знал. Но второй, Томоя… Хару видел его впервые, и всё же это вызвало у Хюи такую сильную и странную реакцию. Хару прекрасно помнил, как растерянно выглядел его друг на мгновение там, у обочины, в тот момент, когда они остановились возле разбитой машины. Словно Хюи увидел призрака. И сейчас очевидная подавленность друга вызывала у него глубокую тревогу».
Хюи стоял, обняв себя за плечи, и наблюдал, как за Томоей закрывается дверь дома. В его позе чувствовалась отчетливая, мучительная уязвимость.
«Мы с Геоном и Сейтой учились в старшей школе», — тихо и неохотно ответил он, едва шевеля губами. «А Юки… я тоже не знаю Юки. Какой-то мальчишка».
«А как же тот парень, который ехал с тобой?» — продолжал расспрашивать Хару, всматриваясь в лицо друга и пытаясь поймать его взгляд.
Хёи тут же полностью отстранился, отвёл взгляд и выдавил из себя фальшивую улыбку, которая получилась совершенно натянутой.
«Мы раньше жили в одном многоквартирном доме. Слушай, только не зацикливайся на этом, Хару», — Хюи покачал головой, уклоняясь от вопроса. — «Пойдем внутрь».
Хюи поспешила к дому, оставив Хару наедине с полным недоверием к этому странному бывшему соседу своего друга — человеку, который явно не вызывал у него никаких теплых, ностальгических чувств.
Одновременно с этим в нем зародилась мысль: он понятия не имел, чего ожидать от конца этого безумного дня.