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There’s a routine that Nakamura has established, as an adult, which he loves.
He wakes up early, feeds Yaki-chan, brushes his teeth and checks that his hair is in place—much easier now that he’s comfortable enough with people looking at him to wear it shorter—and heads out the door to the aquarium.
“Hi there, Nakamura,” greets coworker after coworker. “Good morning.” And Nakamura has learned how to greet them, how to be friendly and professional even on days when he’s feeling unsure and like he would rather hide away alone. There’s even some of them he trusts to mean it, to be glad to see him in the morning—he especially likes the older janitor who wanders the place, and sometimes he and one of the tour guides will grab lunch and gossip about manga and anime. After a few years at Yokohama Hakkeijima Sea Paradise, he’s faring much better than his first day, where he mostly wanted to commune with the sea life. He’s found the city, as loud and intimidating as it is, to be easier to hide away in than a small town, where everyone always wants to speak with you. Even his sister lives nearby, now, so they still can get together and torture each other easily. Even Kawamura lives near enough to the city that he sees her once a year or so, their friendship extending past highschool.
“Oh, Nakamura,” one coworker greets, “I’m glad you’re here. Okami is looking a little slow this morning, would you have time to check on him and make sure he’s alright?”
“Of course,” he bows, “I’ll get to it right away!”
“So diligent!” she smiles, and waves, and continues on her way, before she pauses. “Oh, may I ask another favor? We have a tour group coming in later… a ton of school kids. Would you be able to talk to them?” She continues, apologetic, “Himari is sick today.” Nobody picks Nakamura first when looking for public speakers.
“Yes, I’m happy to,” Nakamura agrees, lying. He’s learned that sometimes at work, you lie, but only about nice things. At least nobody forces him like the clubs used to at school.
“Thank you!”
In the typical rush of work duties, it’s easy to forget his promise. It’s harder, to ignore the hot tremble that runs through his stomach when he spots chestnut hair under the wavering blue of the aquarium lights.
Lots of people have chestnut hair, he tells himself, before the figure turns around, and yes. His instincts were honed. He should never have doubted them. Standing before him… is Hirose Aiki.
Ten years have been kind to Hirose Aiki, who Nakamura lost close touch with sometime between second and third year of university. They’d still texted, on occasion, mostly Hirose with funny memes or quick updates, for another year or two. But they’d chosen universities in different cities, and sometimes—sometimes it hurt, to be so close to Hirose and not be close in the way he longed for. Loss of contact took pressure off the bruise on his heart. So he let it happen, once it seemed like Hirose was on the path to happiness at university.
And surely, he should feel it less now? No matter how much he’d sworn and pledged his love—he’d been a teenager then. So now it should—
Hirose turns, looks his way. His heart thunders in his chest. Those expressive eyes do exactly what he’d imagined they might, very late at night, and widen with recognition and joy.
“Nakamura? Hey, Nakamura!” He wanders over, at pace befitting an adult. His hair hasn’t changed much, but his looks have—he has on professional clothes and a nametag, his shoes warm brown leather. “It is you! What are the chances?”
“Hello,” he says, helpless to stop the smile that is breaking across his face, “Hirose. It’s been a long time.”
“Don’t act like a stranger!” Hirose throws an arm around his shoulders. “Wow! To think I’d see you here!”
“I live in Yokohama now,” Nakamura reveals.
“No way, me too!” Is enthused back at him. “Right after college! Man, have we been living nearby and just missing each other? We’ve probably passed each other on the street.”
No, Nakamura thinks, I would’ve noticed. This is the first time.
To calm himself, he does the inevitable. Hirose looks even happier than he always did as a youth. He’s probably living a normal life now—he could be married. In fact—
“Hey, Sato,” he calls to a teenager slouched by the eel exhibit, “hold down the fort as class rep for a bit, will you?”
He has a son, comes to mind irrationally, even though he knows the kid is too old. Just because that one isn’t his doesn’t mean Hirose, charming Hirose, doesn’t have a family yet. Nakamura has struggled with dating because he’s Nakamura—Hirose is nothing like that.
“You’re—visiting the aquarium today? Who’s visiting with you?” He needs to be more careful than before, readier to break his heart so it doesn’t shatter.
Grinning, Hirose leans forward. He’s taller, if not by much. It only brings those eyes ever-closer to Nakamura’s unprepared heart. “My class is here on a field trip. Almost brings me back to that one time in Chinatown, you know? Do you remember that? Oh man, it’s been years!”
His class. Hirose, despite the near perfect preservation of his youthful looks, cannot possibly still be in school. So—“you’re a teacher,” Nakamura realizes.
“Yeah!” He beams, mischievous. “Hard to believe when I’m such a prankster, I know, I hear it all the time. But I promise I’m a good role model to the kids. Better than our teachers, definitely. Did you know I convinced Mr. Otogiri to friend me on my gaming apps? So what’ve you been up to, Nakamura?”
A teacher. It makes so much sense. He’s probably playful with the kids but still responsible; he listens when he needs to and teaches as much as he can.
“That’s so perfect for you,” Nakamura murmurs. “That’s amazing. Um, as for me—“
“Mr. Hirose, Suzuki’s lost her wallet again!” comes the plaintive call of an adolescent.
“Oh, great, okay,” he spins around, “coming!” Then back to Nakamura, looking up from beneath his perfect lashes. “I have to be a responsible working adult right now, but we should hang out. I saw there’s a movie theater and ramen place across the street—want to meet back up there tonight? At six? If you’ve got time?”
Nakamura would kill a man to do it. “Sounds great,” he squeaks, the picture of cool. “See you there.”
Several hours and one panicked videocall to his closest friend, a fellow veterinarian from university, where he waves his entire closet in front of her face as she assures him his clothes are stylish—yes, he is allowed to wear the same outfit he wore to one singular date with a guy he met the first and only time he’s made it out to a gay bar—Nakamura please lower your voice I’m having trouble understanding you—
He’s ready to go. To soothe his nerves, he religiously reads the teaser summary for the movie he’d selected, a rom-com with great reviews. Last time had went fine, years ago—he can do this again.
This time, though, when he arrives early, he entertains the idea that Hirose may be early too. Stupidly, he hadn’t gotten Hirose’s number—he’s too scared to text the old one. What if it isn’t the same anymore? Also, he avoids their message history if at all possible, the ache it gives him in his stomach never worth it.
He finds him, perched on a bench, one leg lazily crossed and foot tilting easily back and forth as he types a message into his phone. Nakamura can do this, he thinks, looking at his silhouette. He’s donned a hat again, and casual clothes that aren’t sweatpants, but it can’t hide those familiar features from Nakamura.
“Hirose,” he calls. “I found you.”
He turns, slow, beams. His visage nearly sparkles; Nakamura wishes he had sunglasses. When he saw Hirose every day, he must have been more accustomed to this feeling, more immunized. “You made it! I realized after I left I didn’t even get your number, I was worried you wouldn’t show and we’d lose each other in the city. I’d have to haunt the aquarium to ever find you again, stand right next to the octopus tank until they kicked me out.” He makes a small, spook-like gesture with his hands. Nakamura wants to take them in his own.
“I wouldn’t have passed up on the opportunity to see you.” And, well… “I lead a relaxed life, I had nothing to do tonight but hang out with Yakichan.” He ducks his head as Hirose moves to stand next to him. “That’s my pet octopus.”
“Aw,” Hirose hums, “what happened to Icchan?”
“They only live a few years, if you’re lucky,” Nakamura shrugs. He’s discovered that crying in public isn’t very accepted; he avoids it as much as possible, now, but it still comes out in the wobbling of his voice.
“Oh, hey, I’m sorry,” and a hand is on his shoulder. “You loved that little guy. He was so sweet to me too. It’s too bad I won’t be able to remeet him.” Great. Nakamura sees Hirose again and gets to go out to dinner with him, and the first thing he does is force Hirose to comfort him over his dead pet. “You know, the first thing I did when I graduated was go get a dog? And I’m too impulsive, everyone says, so I grabbed one from the shelter with a bad eye and a little limp just because I liked him. But he was already older, so I lost him last year. I was heartbroken, not gonna lie. But I feel you.”
“I’m so sorry,” Nakamura breathes. “Um, what was his name?”
“Kani,” Hirose grins. “Of course.”
“Of course.” Hirose’s hand is still on his shoulder; Nakamura isn’t sure what to do besides pat over the top of it, to empathize in return. Clearly it’s okay, because Hirose did it. Hirose makes everything feel natural. “It’s really thoughtful,” Nakamura says. “Most shelter dogs that are older really need a place to call home. When I was training I worked in a lot of places like that; I’m sure you made the end of his life the best part of it.”
“Hah,” says Hirose, still smiling, very small. “Nakamura, you always know what to say.” Nobody has ever thought this of Nakamura before, for very good reason. He doesn’t speak well at all. “Anyway, I’m starved. Ready for ramen?”
It’s a slow day for this place, and Nakamura is privately grateful they’ve chosen a location he’s familiar with, so he doesn’t have to contend with his nerves about the menu, the booth, a new waitress.
“Hello, Mr. Nakamura,” she greets. “Your usual booth, yes? How is my angelfish today?” It’s her favorite. People are easier to remember when they have a favorite aquatic creature that he can talk about.
“She’s doing much better,” he assures her. “She just needs to not try and eat any more pebbles.” For some reason, she laughs at this. “Can we have the menu?” She nods and smiles again, and heads off.
Head resting in one palm, Hirose says, “it seems like I’m not the only person that’s changed over the years.”
“What?” Nakamura startles.
“You’re so much calmer,” Hirose notes, warmly. “I dunno, sometimes in highschool it was like a breeze was going to give you a heart attack. It was cool, though. Nobody could ever say you weren’t passionate, or having a good time. And it was even more admirable when you were brave in those circumstances! It only freaked me out when you got all quiet.”
“Oh,” he looks down at the table. “I worked hard at it. I’m still pretty jumpy. Less has probably changed than you’d think.” Sometimes he feels exactly the same. Especially right now. “Sorry if I’ve changed too much.”
“Don’t be silly,” Hirose says, relaxed. “You’re awesome.” Nakamura hides his full-body resulting shiver. “Okay, do you remember when you—“ he’s breaking down into adorable chuckles “—that time with the octopus in home ec—and that time with those bikers in the street, when you showed up and were soaked—“ He slaps the table, nearly at the point of tears in his eyes. “Oh my god, Nakamura, high school was such a good time.”
Nakamura has had a lot of people laugh at him. It’s always nice to have people that laugh with him, that appreciate him. He smiles despise his nerves, has to laugh because it’s infectious. “I remember. I’m surprised you do.”
“Really?” he tears at the straw sleeve for his drink with his white teeth, which the waitress brings over, and pops it in. “I liked hanging out with you. If we’d gone to the same university, I bet we’d have never stopped.” Nakamura feels his whole body tightening. Probably not. “You always made me feel emboldened to be myself.”
“That’s interesting,” Nakamura hears himself say, “I would’ve said the same about you. You were my first friend.”
Hirose doesn’t move or speak, for a moment. “Really,” he says, thoughtful.
“Have you decided?” comes the waitress, out of nowhere, and Nakamura nearly jumps through the ceiling.
“Oh! I’m so sorry, no!!”
It’s a fantastic dinner for Nakamura, for many reasons.
“So,” Nakamura says, absorbed entirely in drinking up every detail of his crush’s life that he has missed, “why did you decide to become a teacher? I don’t recall you mentioning it in high school.”
“Oh, in the early years I had no clue!” Hirose agrees, easily. He fiddles with his straw, stretches out his legs under the table. Nakamura notices, because their knees brush, and he feels electrified; but then they return. “Hm. Well,” Hirose finally admits, staring upwards, “initially I started looking into it just because I admired Mr. Otogiri so much. I was such a thoughtless kid, but I had a huge crush on him at one point. Some parts of that admiration stuck with me. Luckily the less embarrassing parts.”
Nakamura freezes. “A crush on… Mr. Otogiri?” he feels like he’s regressed about 10 years. He’s lost all ability to speak.
“Yeah, of course,” Hirose concludes, easily, and tilts his head. “I guess I was less obvious about it than I remember being. I was pretty lacking in self-awareness at the time.”
“I just mean,” he squeezes his eyes shut, uses all the breathing tactics he’s learned from years of regulating his socially anxious body. “Mr. Otogiri was a man?”
Hirose just blinks at him, that casual smile still tracing his lips. “Oh, geez, did you forget? Not to answer your question with a question.”
Floundering, Nakamura blurts, “of course I remember our homeroom teacher was a man—“
“I came out to you as gay and everything,” Hirose is laughing. “Right after my first girlfriend dumped me. Don’t you remember? Ahh, I was so scared you would tell then. And it turns out you didn’t even notice! That’s so funny.” He leans back in the booth, swirls his straw in his drink. “I guess you were pretty sheltered. And it was a smaller town. You seemed so chill about it when we were that age, I figured it was just that you were such a cool guy. That you didn’t care about that sort of thing. Did I get it wrong? You don’t mind that kind of thing, do you?” His eyebrows are quirked into casual vulnerability, almost apologetic.
Mind? His entire body is exploding. But he’s trained for years to appear more like a regular human man, at least in public, and all so that here he can handle things maturely and confidently as a gay man living his truth out of the closet—
“I’M SHY AND GAY!” Comes out as a half-scream from his wavering throat. Well. He ruined it.
“Whoa—ahahha,” and he’s laughing. Nakamura had spilled his own drink in the outburst, and still was red as an East pacific red octopus, and despite now having to sop up the expanding spill with numerous napkins, Hirose is laughing uncontrollably. “You are so hilarious, dude. Well. I’m glad to have that officially confirmed. You had me feeling so insecure there for a sec.”
Nakamura frowns, instantly uncertain. “May I ask… why you were insecure?”
“Oh,” Hirose says, lobbing the now-balled-up paper towels into the nearby trash-can like a basketball, “because I thought we’d gone on at least one date in high school, you know?”
Nakamura has no singing experience, but his voice manages to cross at least 4 octaves. “You thought we went on a date, okay, I see, of course, yeah.”
His beautiful Hirose’s face is now contorting, angelic cheeks even perkier with mirth. “It’s cool if you didn’t know, or if we didn’t at all. I probably didn’t even really know, either, I was in such a weird headspace at the time. Figuring yourself out is a lot of work, whew.” He taps the side of his chestnut head, all that soft hair, a few times. Then takes a long sip of his still remaining drink, fearlessly gazing off into the restaurant; Nakamura has no such luck, his drink is all gone. So he’s left staring, helplessly. “Anyway, that was a long time ago. I’m different now, more true to myself! Like we always talked about. I’m just stoked that we get to catch up. So what’s new with you?”
HIROSE AIKI WENT ON A DATE WITH YOU, his fearsome internal monologue is foghorning. HE WENT ON A DATE WITH YOU AND YOU DIDN’T EVEN NOTICE, YOU FILTHY INGRATE. WHICH DAY WAS IT? HOW DID IT HAPPEN? CAN WE MAKE IT HAPPEN AGAIN?
Quiet, he argues it into submission, by force. He needs to be present. He’s an adult. He may always be in love with Hirose Aiki but that doesn’t mean he’s still that shy gay highschool boy who never had any friends. So like an awkward but adult person, he calmly says: “I work at that aquarium now as their resident veterinarian, and I really love it.”
“Whoa, that’s so perfect for you,” Hirose approves, eyes wide. “I figured you worked there when we ran into each other, but a veterinarian! You always were smart.”
“Haha, not at all,” he smiles at the table. “I think I just had more time to study than some other people.” He had friends, yes, but preciously fewer. Not everyone found Nakamura to be their cup of tea, but when they did, they were to be treasured. “And I love animals like octopodes, so, it really is my dream job. Studying for that was nothing.”
“That’s admirable,” comes sweetly, “but octopodes? What’s up with that?”
He flails. “Well, you see, the root word is Greek for octopus—“
“Hah, no way!”
The table is sticky between them. Hirose still leans on it, across it, like he used to across Nakamura’s desk. Like he wants them close. And Nakamura has had crushes since then, had been relieved to have crushes after Hirose. He wasn’t someone incapable of loving anyone else; he could have a life, no matter what Hirose chose to do with his, whatever brought Hirose happiness. Maybe Nakamura could have happiness too, is what it meant then.
But watching Hirose now, years later, he realizes: shit, I’m still in love with Hirose Aiki.
“I’m glad we could catch up! I missed you, Nakamura,” Hirose declares, after an hour of walking the streets talking about the movie. The streetlamps have come on; they’ve ended in a park not too far from Nakamura’s apartment. Someone by the swings is calling their dog to come back and come home. “I can’t believe how many years it’s been. My bad for not keeping up better. Don’t hold it against me, okay? But I have to make lesson plans for tomorrow, so I probably have to head out.” The glow is gentle; the fireflies are starting to peek out. Hirose is leaving, and Nakamura can’t manage to put a single reasonable thought together. But Hirose leaves very slowly. Then, with his mouth twisted almost mischievously, “well, are you going to make me be the one to ask again?”
“Huh?” says Nakamura, dumbly.
“Ack, come on,” Hirose grumbles, and pulls out his phone. “At least you weren’t running away this time. Is your number still the same?”
“Oh!” Nakamura half screams. “Oh yes!! Yes! My number’s the same!”
“Mine’s not. Here,” and Nakamura dutifully inserts the info. “I totally had my phone dropped into a river by my first class of troublemakers, I lost everything. Such a pain. I’ll text you,” is the promise that comes next. “See you around?”
“Absolutely,” Nakamura says, deathly serious. “I look forward to it more than anything.”
And Hirose, with a sparkling flick of his eyes up to Nakamura’s, a likely-imagined blush—leaves.
But Nakamura’s phone lights up.
So fun to run into you and get to hang out again. Let’s do it again soon!
Nakamura does the incredibly reasonable thing and texts back before he can even register it.
Yes, it was very fun. I feel lucky I ran into you again. Do you want to make it a date next time?
Oh, shit. Shit. Even in the gentle glow of the streetlamps and the warmth of knowing Hirose has always been a good friend, an understanding friend--and apparently, a gay friend-- Nakamura is overwhelmed by anxiety. He turns his phone off, turns in the direction of home, and sprints.
After sobbing in bed for probably half the night, because being in love with Hirose Aiki apparently just means crying over Hirose Aiki even ten years later, he turns his phone back on. Luckily his sister isn’t here to bear witness or listen to his resulting shriek. The beauties of adulthood.
I’d like that, Nakamura. Thanks for asking. I wasn’t sure if you were feeling it too.
When are we having this date?
Also—I like your new haircut.
He closes out of his messaging app. He reopens it. The messages remain. He turns his phone off and on. The messages remain.
“Yakichan,” he whispers, “I think I am going on a date with Hirose Aiki.”
His octopus wiggles her tentacles. Her tank bubbles.
“I,” begins on a whisper that crescendos to a room-shaking shout, “DID IT!”
It is only then that Nakamura must stop and consider what he’s done. He is going on a date with Hirose Aiki, the man he has been in love with since first year of high school.
Nakamura has only gone on bad dates with random gay men that led nowhere (and that one really, really confusing time where Matsumura declared over text two years after the fact that it was a date and Nakamura hadn't noticed). He wants this to lead somewhere—he needs this to be the best first date ever, to be so impressive that Hirose never wants to date anyone else again. He needs—
He needs to marry Hirose Aiki. Well.
New goal acquired.