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“And shave when you get back ! The beard doesn’t fit you !”
The thought jolts Sasaki half-awake, making him realize he's been dozing off and almost drooling on the plane seat. The passenger next to him gives him a mildly dirty look, but for once, he pays it no mind, too agitated about too many things to have the decency of being embarrassed.
He wipes at the drying saliva that gathered on the corner of his lip. His thumb scratches against the stubble on his chin, prickly and rough, like tiny blades of dried grass on the plain, fair skin of his face. He really should shave as soon as he gets home. It’s been a long time since he’s let it get this bad.
Well, actually, he remembers, it hasn’t been that long.
He doesn’t know why, amongst all the thoughts and memories tumbling around, his brain decides to latch on to a particular one. One that happened before Hokkaido, before she started studying for her promotion, before the stalking creep, before he even realized Tayama and Yamada were one and the same. Truth be told, it should have also clued him in back then, and Sasaki has half a mind to smack himself hard on the forehead. But the plane's quiet, the sun is starting to set over the huge, fluffy clouds, and he’s craving a cigarette that he absolutely cannot smoke right now.
So Sasaki decides to indulge.
Several months ago
“Next customer ! Please step forward !”
Sasaki lets his feet drag him forward, Yamada's sweet, cheerful voice his only guide in the haze that is his overworked mind. Despite his exhaustion, he puts his basket on the register as gently as he can, smiling tiredly as Yamada starts to unload its contents to ring them up. Nothing too unusual, a pre-made meal, a bag of mochi chips, and a couple beer cans. He'll buy some real groceries tomorrow.
The final beep of the scan rings loud in his skull, but Sasaki doesn’t waver, handing over his points card and still smiling as Yamada looks up at him, ready to announce his total. “That’ll be-”
She cuts herself off suddenly, so abruptly it almost sounds like a radio being turned off. Sasaki blinks, his card wobbling between his index and middle finger, looking back at Yamada as she seems to be staring at him intently. Though, with the way her smile lifts up her cheekbones, it’s kinda hard to tell, even though her mouth has dropped a little.
“U-um, Yamada-san ?” Sasaki asks, feeling heat spread to his ears and cheeks. “Is everything alright ?”
In a second, Yamada snaps out of it, shaking her head and working her smile back into its usual brightness. “Y-yes ! My apologies, Sasaki-san. Will you be paying with your points ?”
Confused, blushing and embarrassed to be confused and blushing, Sasaki hands over his card with a nod, letting Yamada bag his items. He tries not to look at her face too much, but as he waves her goodbye, he thinks he notices her biting her bottom lip very loosely. He does not linger on that thought.
The next day, Sasaki wakes up late. He’s been graced with two days off in a row, something that he doesn’t even remember happening recently, so he decides to be lazy. He smokes a few cigarettes on his balcony, makes himself a light breakfast with what he has in the fridge that is still fit for human consumption, and spends the rest of the day watching TV, reading the newspaper on his phone, and laughing as Suzuki sends him dozens of messages, clearly in a state of distress over all the work he has to do.
He takes a nap when late afternoon peeks in, originally planning for 30 minutes to an hour. When he wakes up, however, it’s already almost 10. He scrambles, remembering that he was planning to buy more groceries today and completely forgot. If he hurries, he might even be able to catch Tayama at the back for a quick smoke.
Thirty minutes later, Sasaki walks out of Super S, waving Ohno goodbye. He swivels towards the back, anticipation quickening his step in spite of himself. He didn’t see her yesterday, but even then, he would have been too tired to even carry a proper conversation or handle her usual teasing.
“Nice sweater, very old-fashioned.”
Sasaki yelps, turning around so abruptly his grocery bag almost flies out of his hand. There stands Tayama, sporting her usual teasing smile. She’s wearing a dark blue sweater, oversized so it hangs off one of her shoulders. There’s a cigarette tucked behind her ear. The lamppost light glints off her ear studs.
As Sasaki clutches his chest, panting, Tayama only throws up a peace sign. “‘Sup, Sasaki-san.”
“Tayama-san,” Sasaki replies, still breathing heavily, “one of these days, you’re going to kill me.”
“Please, you’re not that old,” she says, laughter in her voice. She grabs the hem of his sweater and pulls him forward. “Come on, have a smoke with me.”
She drags him all the way towards the huge panels and pushes his shoulder so he sits in his usual spot. She takes her seat next to him, the little ashtray he gifted her already dangling off her index finger. Sasaki pulls out his pack and lights up, watching as Tayama plucks the cigarette off her ear. Wordlessly, he directs the flame of his lighter towards her, and she doesn’t hesitate, leans down and takes a long drag, blowing the smoke out into the warm air at the same time Sasaki does.
They smoke in silence for a few minutes, both appreciating the quiet. It’s one of the things he loves about this, too. Of course, he loves talking to her, listening to her bringing up things she wants to discuss, but he likes this as well. They don’t always feel the need to break the silence. There were times where they barely exchanged a couple sentences, and Sasaki always walked back home feeling good. Fulfilled. Tonight seems to be one of those nights, and Sasaki thinks it’d be a perfect way to finish his day off.
That is, until he turns his head and catches Tayama staring at him intently. Scanning his face with wide eyes, her cigarette hanging from her lips, dangerously close to falling out.
Sasaki’s heart starts beating faster. He feels cornered under that gaze. Trapped. Smothered.
And he’s not sure that he hates it.
“T-Tayama-san ?” he asks, holding his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger. “Are you okay ?”
At that, she blinks, seemingly coming back from a trance, and that sly, teasing smile peeks up. “Ah, so the rumors are true.”
“W-what rumors ?”
Tayama laughs, that quiet little snicker that sounds like she knows something Sasaki has no clue about. “Didn’t believe Yamada-san when she told me, but now that I see it…”
Huh ? Yamada-san ? “See what ? What did Yamada-san tell you ?”
Tayama plucks her cigarette from her mouth and ashes it, then slowly looks back at him, fitting a hand under her jaw. “Beard.”
Oh.
Oh no.
Sasaki immediately touches his cheeks, his chin and his jaw, feeling the tiny prickles of a three day-old stubble scratching at his skin.
“Oh no !” Sasaki panics, flinging ash in the air. “I was so overworked these past few days, I forgot to shave ! And I took an outrageous four-hour nap today ! I must have looked so unprofessional…”
He buries his face in his hands, despairing at his own lack of hygiene and discipline. He must have seemed like such a creep, smiling at Yamada as if he didn’t look like a dirty caveman when she was always so put together.
“Did Yamada-san say something ?” he asks, voice meek and feeble.
Tayama just shrugs, taking another drag of her cigarette. “Just that you must have been really tired. She hopes your job isn’t putting you through the wringer.”
Sasaki sighs, relieved. “I’m glad I didn’t put her off too much. I’d hate for her to think I’m that careless outside of work.”
Tayama laughs again, shaking her head as if he’s said something particularly silly.
“S’not a big deal. We all have lazy days. And you’re not working, who’s there for you to impress ?”
Sasaki puts his cigarette out, lights another.
“Well, even if I don’t work, I still want to be presentable. It’s kind of like you and your fashion.”
At that, she glares at him, and he cowers just a little bit.
“I-I don’t mean in a bad way !” he says, waving his hands in surrender. “I guess, you’re always saying that style is important. Wearing what makes you feel good. Shaving is kind of the same for me. It’s my routine, like slicking my hair back for work. I like it.”
Tayama considers it, turning away and taking a long drag of her cigarette. She blows the smoke into the air, watching it thinning out and disappearing with the light breeze of the night.
“Yeah, that makes sense.”
Sasaki smiles, happy that his words came across the way he wanted them to. He takes a long drag of his own cig, leaning his head back to blow the smoke into the air.
Suddenly, he feels something warm at his side. When he turns his head, so abruptly he hears his neck crack, he is face to face with Tayama, watching him with the same intensity as a few minutes ago.
It never truly stops fascinating him, how big and deep her eyes are.
He’s so captivated by her eyes, that he doesn’t notice her hand, the one holding her cigarette, slowly lifting towards his face. When it lands on his cheek, he feels his heart jump. But he doesn’t dare move a single inch.
“Personally,” Tayama says, slowly running the back of her fingers over his stubble, exploring it like one would a field of bladed grass. “I think it suits you.”
Sasaki gulps. “You… really ?”
She nods. “Like the glasses. And the messy hair.”
Sasaki’s fingers are shaking, his cigarette wobbling and dropping ash on the ground. He stays still, though, as Tayama slowly runs her fingers over his cheek, going down, scratching a fingernail past his chin, until finally she lands at his jaw. He can feel the heat of her still lit cigarette rolling over his skin as her thumb gently traces his Adam’s apple, barely pressing, but intense enough that he feels it in his throat.
Then, as quickly as she glided over to him, she snatches her hand out and takes her place back on her usual seat.
“Anyway, it’s no big deal. Nobody’s mad at you for not shaving.”
It takes Sasaki a couple seconds to come back to his senses. He lights another cigarette, and occasionally steals a glance at Tayama. He’s not sure, but he thinks he sees her biting her lip, even with her head down.
He decides not to linger on that thought.
-
Sasaki feels a smile spread over his face as he keeps watching the clouds. There’s not much to feel happy about right now, but nevertheless, as he scratches at his stubble one more time, thumb catching on his Addam’s apple, his heart feels a little lighter.
Looks like Nakajima was wrong about one thing.