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Humans feel a different range and array of emotions all throughout their entire life. Some may feel indifference most of the time, but there were moments they haven’t remembered when they felt as though they were at the peak of the tallest mountain and had achieved everything everyone could ask for. And generally speaking, when you feel something along the lines “happy” and “joy”, it feels good. The happiness that consume you is good.
Too bad for Yotasuke, though, he grew up learning how to contain it. He grew up overcoming that joy and turning it into something “normal”, that people who experience joy out of accomplishments are just people who set low expectations or don’t try hard enough. The concept of success and joy, to Yotasuke, became blurred; everything that he works hard for, he makes sure not to be met with failure. And because he knows it shouldn’t be, there’s no more surprise in getting the highest marks out of every subject imaginable.
If he were to describe it, Yotasuke isn’t particularly “sad”. He doesn’t feel that pang of pain in his chest, doesn’t even want to bawl his eyes out—it’s more like he has numbed out all his other feelings other than indifference and anger that other emotions to him is in between something happy or something embarrassing, with the line so blurry no one can even see it anymore.
And it’s not like he wants to only be able to put a name to certain emotions with negativity. Heck, it’s his own stubbornness that’s stopping him, and being stubborn is negative, right? Even if it’s a case-by-case thing, it is in this situation.
Yotasuke sighs and drops his hand. He stares at the canvas right in front of him, different yellows and greens painted across it. He has been painting for hours on his end now, and his hand has started to hurt.
Deciding that it’s a smart thing to rest and give it up, he stands up, takes his apron off, stretches his body a little, and tidies up his workplace. While it may be a school day, there aren’t much of his classmates around since they are all artists with preferences. It just so happens that Yotasuke prefers to be away rather than being at home. Most of the time, there are a lot of people who show up at school, but when it is a subject where attendance isn’t required, less than a third shows up.
“Yotasuke-kun! Are you done for the day?”
And of course, among those students who show up, there’s always him in the crowd—Yaguchi Yatora.
Yotasuke looks at Yatora blankly, nodding his head a bit as he adjusts his backpack strap. He heads out towards the door, knows that the question is Yatora’s way of asking if they can go home together, and yet Yotasuke pays it no mind because it is a silent agreement between them—an unacknowledged one, even—that if Yotasuke pays attention to that type of question, it’s another way for him to agree to going home together.
So Yatora hurriedly takes his things, walking up to Yotasuke with that very same look of glee in his face and asks, “How are you going with your painting so far?”
“Okay,” Yotasuke answers. He wants to follow it up with, How about you?, but he instead keeps his mouth shut and walks away.
Talking is a pain, he thinks. Fortunately Yatora doesn’t think that way and chatters away.
“Ah, you must be doing well with it…” Yatora trails away, looking down. “So Yotasuke-kun, do you have time?”
Yotasuke throws him a bored look. “Depends. Why?”
Yatora scratches his nape, looking flustered, making Yotasuke grimace. When it comes to Yatora, he doesn’t even know where to begin with reading his emotions when he’s around him. By himself and the other things he is pretty passionate about, it’s easy to identify what he is feeling; frustrated, hurt, excited, pumped up, burnt out—the list can go on. When it all boils down to one thing, it’s that Yatora is easy to read.
And as much as he dislikes thinking about it, seeing Yatora being so open about his emotions such as being overjoyed or being excited makes him feel a tad bit envious.
(Although sometimes he thinks it’s a blessing not to be that open because quite frankly, the people he knows well that are open to their emotions—Haruka and Yatora at that—can be embarrassing sometimes and if that’s what bliss does to a person, maybe he’d rather be in denial.)
“Actually, my mother wanted to know how you were doing, so if you want to… I guess you can drop by at my house?” Yatora offers, hesitant. Yotasuke’s change in expression must’ve been evident, because Yatora then displayed a look of panic and followed it up immediately with, “You can not come, though! I just—she just wanted to know, I can just tell her you said hi or—“
“Yaguchi-san, I didn’t say I wasn’t going,” Yotasuke cuts in, annoyed. He looks away and heaves a sigh when Yatora displays another look of bliss.
“O-Oh, I’m sorry,” Yatora smiles sheepishly. “So, you’re uhh… coming?”
“If it’s just for a few minutes. If she invites me for dinner I’m going home,” Yotasuke replies, sounding more aggressive than he had intended to.
Yatora paid no mind to that, though. Instead, the very same cheerful smile is painted on his lips, replying to Yotasuke’s passive-aggressive statement with a sincere and excited affirmation.
And even though he tries so hard not to, Yotasuke finds himself wondering more as to why Yatora reacts that way around him rather than envying him.
Yotasuke has seen him with their other classmates; Yatora doesn’t act that way when he’s acknowledged by anyone else in their conversations. Sure, the same wave of bliss is there, it’s present, it can be felt, but in Yotasuke’s case, the delinquent just gets happy with everything he says to him, despite his words coated with venom sometimes. He finds himself wondering, and he wonders constantly why the hell Yatora is only that odd around him, but he reaches a blank slate when he racks his brain with possible answers.
And though there’s one, particular voice at the back of his head offering him a possibility that can explain everything, he doesn’t entertain it. He doesn’t want to complicate things now—he’s not well-versed with human emotions. He’d rather have Yatora stay odd, unexplained, than get an answer as to why.
(But another voice, tinier than the one offering him the certain possibility, hopes it to be true.
And it annoys Yotasuke, so he crushes the voice, along with the tiny sliver of hope that came with it.)
━━━━━━━
When they came over to Yatora’s place, the silence greeted them first before Yatora’s mother. They sat in the living room at least a leg’s length apart, Yotasuke awkwardly holding on to the cup of tea offered to him by Yatora’s father who he had only met that day. Seeing him somehow explained Yatora a bit.
It had almost been fifteen minutes since that happened, and Yotasuke’s just itching to go home at this point. It’s no problem for him taking a break every now and then, though hanging out with his “friends” is an entirely new and different concept to him. And if he isn’t mistaken, this situation is supposed to be their cue to—he doesn’t know, maybe play catch or video games? But then there they were, acting like two people on a blind date with the plot twist of them being actually exes.
Wait. What kind of country has that as normal? No—what friends get this kind of situation in the first place, with nothing happening in hindsight to cause the awkward atmosphere?
Thinking hurts, Yotasuke settles. He stands up slowly, setting the cup down. “Yaguchi-s—“
“Oh, Yakkun, I’m sorry I’m so late! Is Takahashi-kun with you?”
Yotasuke sits back down.
“Ah, Mom, Yotasuke-kun is here,” Yatora answers her, standing up to help her carry the grocery bags in hand. He darts his eyes back at Yotasuke, fidgeting in his seat, and offers him a tiny, sheepish smile.
Yotasuke catches himself almost smiling back.
“Ah, Takahashi-kun!” Yatora’s mother exclaims, walking up to him with a blinding smile. Yotasuke notes that Yatora looks like his mother when he smiles. “I’m glad you can come. I was just wondering how you and Yakkun were getting along!”
Yotasuke offers her the tiniest bit of smile he can muster. “Yes, thank you…” he answers awkwardly, avoiding the last part, but still as polite as possible.
“Oh, it was fun the last time Takahashi-san and I went to an art museum. Is she doing well, too?” She follows up, sitting next to Yotasuke. He freezes up.
“Oh, uhm, she is doing well,” he answers curtly, looking away.
“That’s good, that’s great! I wonder, when wil—“
“U-Uhh, Mom!” Yatora suddenly calls out from the kitchen, “Sorry to interrupt, but can you come and help me out with something here?”
His mother looks at him with disdain, clearly unappreciative of his cutting in while she was bubbling with excitement to talk to Yotasuke. The latter feels bad, however didn’t say anything because more than feeling bad, he feels relieved.
That feeling quickly dissipates midair when Yatora looks over to him once more and shows an expression of remorse—or perhaps, sympathy—and smiles tightly. He mouths, “Sorry.”
For what? Yotasuke wants to ask. He contains himself, however, and looks away from Yatora, observing the picture frames hung on the wall. He sees different kinds of pictures, including but not limited to childhood photos of Yatora being covered in mud and his more recent paintings that he’s probably done during his free time. Yotasuke notes that the crab painting looks rather simple, but beautiful.
He looks down when he feels his heart clench. Unconsciously, he crumples the fabric beneath him, making a ball out of his fist as if he is fighting the feeling.
Humans are so complex, he thinks. When they feel something they haven’t felt before, feel emotions so foreign and so new their first reaction is to immediately be afraid of it. He guesses it’s because experiencing the unknown is scary, moreso experiencing it suddenly. To top all that off, Yotasuke doesn’t even want to know what this emotion is, knowing it’s something that Yatora caused again.
And when the voice in his head offers him that possibility and the hope of it being true, his emotions immediately switch back to being annoyed, just as Yatora approaches him.
It’s easier this way, Yotasuke thinks. It’s easier to know what you’re feeling.
And seeing Yatora grin down at him and doing things for his comfort won’t change that. Not now, not ever.
━━━━━━━
It turns out, Yotasuke forgets being assertive when faced with another person like Yatora—namely, his mother.
So of course, he stayed for dinner.
━━━━━━━
“I’m sorry I couldn’t drag you out,” Yatora apologizes the first thing when he guides Yotasuke out of their house. “I couldn’t cut in when my mom was all gung-ho about it.”
Yotasuke grabs his backpack straps a little bit tighter, avoiding eye contact with Yatora. “It’s fine,” he says curtly. “Bye.” He starts walking away briskly, itching to get away from them as fast as he could without making it obvious. However, he is suddenly stopped in his footsteps when a certain someone holds his wrist.
Yotasuke sighs. “Yaguchi-san, what do you want?”
Yotasuke ignores the sound of his heartbeat almost drowning the voices in his head by its very showy display of a drum show.
“I-I’m sorry,” Yatora splutters. “I, uh, just wanted to ask you… something,” he adds.
“Then make it quick,” Yotasuke replies, looking at Yatora. He was taken aback when he saw the latter looking all flustered and shy, and couldn’t even look at him.
Yotasuke doesn’t know why, but a bubbling emotion from within him rises up to the surface, like it had just discovered the most ancient treasure grove and is excited to let people know. Feeling another foreign emotion, Yotasuke backs away instinctively, making Yatora look at him. It triggers another dragon inside him, encircling his entire being. It’s uncomfortable, and it makes him so uneasy, he wants to run away right then and there and throw up.
But he doesn’t. He stays rooted in place, looks at Yatora with an indescribable expression, and just… stares.
They stay that way for a while, that any onlooker could tape the whole thing and put a Korean drama OST and it’d fit just right with the excessive staring. In Yotasuke’s defense, he really just doesn’t know how to deal with this next; he’s already told Yatora that he’ll listen to whatever he has to say, anyway. And he could always look away, but Yatora’s stare felt very calculating. It felt like if he were to avoid his gaze and look away, he’d lose.
Yotasuke doesn’t mind losing. If the easy way out leads to the path of defeat, he’d much rather choose it than go down the path of victory where you end up bloodied and painted black and blue all over. Or he could be ordered to do tricks only a clown would, so it’s much better safe than sorry. The only time he’d ever sacrifice his pride, if ever he’s put in instances like that, is when a situation is much more unbearable to be in if he stays there. As long as he is assured comfort, he’d pick it.
The situation they are in at hand is uncomfortable. If he looks away, he loses, but that promises his comfort. So why isn’t he looking away? Why is he still looking?
“You know, Yotasuke-kun, I’m jealous of you,” Yatora says after a long while. “You have what I don’t, and as much as it pains me, I can’t bring myself to hate you.”
Yotasuke’s face faces into something like that of confusion, although he still looks kind of angry. But that’s what he feels—confused and angry. Maybe hurt, even. Why was he hurt? Maybe he isn’t really hurt. Though—hypothetically speaking—if he were, why?
“And as much as I think it’s easier for me to run after someone admiring them, it still isn’t so easy, too,” Yatora continues, laughing sarcastically as he runs his fingers through his hair. “Yotasuke-kun… can you please tell me you hate me?”
For God knows how many times now, Yotasuke was taken aback by Yatora, except this time he isn’t so sure if it’s because of what he said, or because of how his heart ached when he heard Yatora say that.
For a brief moment, he remembers why he feels jealous of people who are open and who aren’t afraid of their own emotions; the burden Yotasuke has to carry doesn’t go away when he ignores it. In fact, it just progressively gets worse. And worse. And it gets so unbearable, he feels like tearing himself apart inside out.
“What are you saying?” Yotasuke spits out, frowning. “I’m going home. I don’t have time for this.” He turned around, ready to leave once and for all. When he didn’t feel any calloused palms or slender fingers wrapping around his wrist to stop him, he ignores the pang on his chest and the numb feeling around his wrist as he walks away faster, and faster, and let his legs lead him further and further away from Yatora’s place.
Running away from things when it gets unbearable and overwhelming is one of Yotasuke’s bad habits. It always had been his mode of escape, but more than feeling comfort for doing so, he only feels heavy and burdened.
However uncomfortable it is, he basks in it, and lets the pain linger a little, before he crushes it and pushes it at the back of his mind, forcing himself to ignore and forget what happened earlier.
Forcing himself that he hasn’t realized his true feelings. Acting like he is still damn clueless, and that the mystery didn’t solve itself, and that it never really did happen in the first place, because feelings and humans are very complex and things get so ugly when they clash.
━━━━━━━
The next day, when Yatora and Yotasuke saw each other, they reached another silent and unspoken agreement that whatever unfolded last night never happened; that their “hangout” ended with Yatora seeing him off until their porch, and Yotasuke left without saying a word except a short bye, and their night continued peacefully without the air of tension hanging around them.
Except the difference between them is Yatora had successfully pushed it at the back of his mind and decided that he’d treat Yotasuke the same while the latter is bothered and struggling, and that he wants to climb in his brain and find whoever was responsible for putting that scene last night in front seat and beating the hell out of it.
It had been a slow start, but in this way, Yotasuke will have to be bothered enough not to shut the thought down, and that he will allocate a big chunk of time in his day to think about things thoroughly, and he’ll—begrudgingly—accept whatever same conclusion he arrives at.
(And that day isn’t today, and there’s no telling when it will come.)
━━━━━━━
Another typical day ended, and like for the past couple of weeks, Yotasuke follows his routine of going home by himself. While for a few weeks it had been his routine to go home with Yatora instead, that just broke off by itself after the unspeakable happened between them. As much as it pains Yotasuke to admit, he was kind of getting used to that routine, so it does feel lonely from time to time, but he has picked himself back up after that.
Solitude is better, after all.
On his walk towards the station, Yotasuke suddenly notices the tiny details he failed to notice back then, like how the coffee shop closest to school repainted their walls, or how the bookstore’s shopkeeper keeps a cat that’s just sitting conveniently on the counter. He also notes how the sky isn’t covered entirely with blue with half the sky covered in thick gray clouds telling him that the rainy season is starting to settle in. He makes a mental note of bringing an umbrella the next day in case it rains.
Plastered on the wall he passes by is a poster for an art exhibit, which reminds him of the exhibits he went with Yatora in the past—unwanted and sudden. It annoys Yotasuke how the memories he shared with Yatora pops up in his head, however trivial the object that caused the trigger is. If there’s one disadvantage he can list down for having a good memory, it’s when he suddenly remembers something he didn’t need or want to at that moment, but he can’t help remembering because it felt like it just happened yesterday. There isn’t much going on in his life, you see; memories of two or three years ago are always, always bound to bounce back in his mind no matter how much he wants to suppress it.
Putting it like that, though, makes it sound like he hates Yatora. If there is any emotion at all he can use to explain how he feels towards him, it’d be anything but hate.
“Yotasuke-kun… can you please tell me you hate me?”
How he wishes it was hate instead, too.
Yotasuke shrugs the thought away, pries his mind off of the thoughts looming over his head and swimming around. He ignores the whispers, and shoos away the conclusions. After all, the entire ordeal led him to learning and grasping this new emotion; the art of being in denial.
━━━━━━━
Yotasuke is also prone to making mistakes outside of his field of interests, or things he works hard on. While generally not the talker nor the social butterfly, he still does talk to other people outside of Haruka, or Yatora, or his parents, though he generally does not do it nor want to do it. Above all, he values his personal time most.
Which is why there is no logical explanation of him suddenly calling Haruka over, when he knows so well that he can’t stand him.
“How cold, Sekai-kun. You called me over but now you’re ignoring me.”
Yotasuke glares at him. “Why did you even come anyway?”
If by any chance Haruka felt confused by that question, he didn’t let it show on his face. Instead, he grinned at Yotasuke. “Why did you call me, then?”
“Whatever,” Yotasuke huffs. “Just go home. No one here needs you. Bye.”
Genuinely speaking, Yotasuke doesn’t even have a hold on his own thoughts about their weird relationship. Sure, he can’t stand the likes of Haruka and Haruka himself, but it’s not like he hates him, too; though, if he tried hard enough, maybe he would. And it’s not like they became “buddies” because they were well-known in highschool—for Haruka, being famous is just an inherent part of him, while Yotasuke is famous for being insanely good at art all while being smart. He doesn’t get why “being smart” is just an afterthought when you’re good at art. It’s like they’re saying you can’t be good at many things.
And although they both used to go to the same prep school, used to have their works displayed in school festivals and used to be showered with praise for their achievements, it’s not like Yotasuke can consider Haruka a close friend. A friend, sure, but even that’s a rocky description. They’re more like work colleagues, minus the work part—it’s like alone they’re rocky, but together they have a strong hold on a foundation.
But again, there is nothing to hold up, nor are they dependent on each other. They can both carry on with their completely opposite lives well and good enough without the presence of the other, but somehow, they find themselves meeting each other over and over again, like they’re opposite sides of the magnet coming to connect each other.
For all that, though, they’ve never had long and deep conversations.
“Cranky now, aren’t we?” Haruka muses, sipping on the tea served to him. “There’s no possible reason for you to call me… unless it’s human-related problems. So what’s up?”
And this is why. Yotasuke hates how perceptive he is.
“Nothing. I said you can go,” Yotasuke pushes him away, looking at him with a deadpan.
“Is this about Geidai, perhaps?” Haruka ignores him, completely on purpose, making Yotasuke annoyed. “I heard Murai-senpai goes with you, too. How odd, huh?”
“Who cares. Now go.”
“Oh, but if it isn’t about Murai-senpai, and it’s about Geidai… could it be, perhaps, about Yato—“
“You really have no tact, do you?” Yotasuke cuts in. “In fact, are you even a weirdo? I’m telling you to go but you’re still here. Do you do this with everyone? Is everyone around me weirdos?”
“Sekai-kun, you’re going off-character there,” Haruka teases with a sly grin. “I don’t know what happened between you and Yatora, but it seems like your already-odd relationship is curving into an even odder one, hmm?”
Yotasuke looks away. It feels as if he were to look Haruka in the eye, he’d figure him out. “You’re the one who’s odd. Who makes a big deal out of a normal friendship?”
From his peripheral vision, Yotasuke sees Haruka wave his hand around, a gesture that tells him he’s dismissing his statement. “In the lens of an outsider, your relationship is anything but.”
“Sure.”
“Unless Yatora likes you, or is a masochist, he’d probably stop hanging out with you.”
Yotasuke freezes, partially because of the word “like”, mostly at the implication that he has a shitty personality. When someone points that out, he can live with it, but to be told that his “shitty personality” is the reason why nobody would end up liking him platonically made his stomach churn.
Yotasuke turns to look at Haruka. “How nice of you to tell me I’m not nice,” he says sarcastically.
“No, no no, I don’t mean it that way,” Haruka dismisses, shaking his head profusely. “I mean Yatora. He is a rather straightforward person, don’t you think? If he feels someone’s change of attitude, or feels an implication that one doesn’t like him, wouldn’t you think he’d save his energy and avoid them?”
“I don’t dislike Yaguchi-san,” Yotasuke replies rather quickly.
“Hmm? Then why can’t you be more honest?”
This catches Yotasuke off guard, but he quickly recovers. “I like to think I’m blunt. Am I not?”
“Oh, you are, don’t worry about that part,” Haruka waves it off, “but that’s not what I’m looking for. Not what he’s looking for, you know?”
“Hah?”
Haruka’s supposedly harmless smile sends shivers down Yotasuke’s spine. “You know what I’m getting at, Sekai-kun. You’re making an effort to be honest with yourself. Direct that same energy towards him.”
“I-I’m not doing any effort that you’re speaking of,” Yotasuke quivers, feeling scared and intimidated and overwhelmed all at the same time. “I know myself and know my feelings. I… I know what I want.”
“Then act on it,” Haruka counters, rendering Yotasuke speechless. “There’s nothing wrong with pursuing what you want, and you know that. The reparations can come later; just trust in yourself.”
The atmosphere grew heavy, as the both of them went quiet. Yotasuke knows all too well that calling Haruka would be a mistake because he’s right. About everything. And he doesn’t like admitting that he’s right.
Getting a good grasp of new concepts that never crossed his mind before is one factor that made Yotasuke get cold feet. It’s not unlike him to like something, or gain a new hobby, or shower love towards someone; what makes it new to him is he is experiencing it firsthand, with the person on the receiving end just an arm’s length away. Knowing that he’s real, that Yotasuke can talk to him, eat lunch with him, go home with him, and do things with him—it just makes his stomach churn uncontrollably. He thinks that it’s so unlike him, but he isn’t entirely blind about the concept of “like” and “love”, either.
Yotasuke knows that Yatora likes him.
That very same knowledge that made Yotasuke ponder and question is also the reason behind his fright. He doesn’t know a wink about dating or how it goes, because he doesn’t even begin to think about romance in his shoes. Sure, games have romance mixed in sometimes, but is it even a sufficient reference for the real world when games are magical and Yotasuke’s supposed to be a valiant hero in them?
The thought he suppressed for a long time finally consumed him whole, as he began thinking about thoughts and possibilities he shut down. It’s still overwhelming, alright, but if there’s one good thing out of this, it’s feeling like the world’s weight coming off his shoulders.
Acceptance is, after all, a great feeling.
━━━━━━━
“I’m going now,” Haruka announces, grinning at Yotasuke as he waves. “Say hi to Yatora for me.”
Yotasuke slams the door on his face.
━━━━━━━
Nobody generally looks forward to weekdays, especially Mondays, but for some reason, Yotasuke looks forward a little for the weekdays to come. And it’s probably because of the spring in his step, or the slight change of the tone of his voice when he announces he’s going, because he swears he heard his mother utter underneath her breath, “Yota must be in a good mood,” which made the tip of his ears glow red.
Thus on his way to school, he tried—keyword: tried—to not let it show on his face, but with the looks everyone was giving him when he arrived, it must’ve been pretty evident. It would’ve been embarrassing if everyone had already arrived and saw him look that blissful, so with the remaining hours left to wait for other students to come, Yotasuke decided to bury his face on his knees and psyche himself up in the pretense that he’s asleep.
It had pretty much been thirty or so minutes since he did that—and truthfully, fifteen or so minutes of that was poured into him actually falling asleep—so Yotasuke decided to look up. The room was starting to fill up with other classmates, making Yotasuke straighten his back.
“Good morning, Yotasuke-kun.”
Yotasuke feels a jolt run down his spine upon hearing that voice. He turns to his right and sees Yatora wearing an expression mixed between amused and sheepish—probably because the surprise showed in Yotasuke’s face—and feels his heart skip a beat. Now, there’s a downside.
“Morning, Yaguchi-san,” Yotasuke replies as normally as he can muster, looking away.
It must be my mind playing tricks on me, he thinks, as Yatora’s stare burns his temples. It takes every ounce of strength it has in Yotasuke not to face him, because God knows what would happen to him the moment they locked eyes with no words spoken.
Through his peripheral vision, he sees Yatora sigh and look away, like he has just fulfilled something, making Yotasuke heave a sigh of relief. He isn’t so sure if Yatora has caught on, if Haruka snitched, or it’s just his mind making him hyper conscious around the other; whatever it is bothering him and making him stiff like cardboard, he’s pretty sure its root cause is his own feelings.
Yotasuke cringes. God, how low he had reached.
“Yotasuke-kun? Are you okay?”
Not that it’s entirely bad.
“I’m okay,” Yotasuke says in a muffled voice, raising a hand towards Yatora. If he had to guess, he’s pretty sure that by now, Yatora is also frozen stiff and unsure with how to handle the situation and just staring, until Yotasuke looks up and—consciously, with no clear intentions—smiles. This time, Yatora is just flustered.
No, scratch that—they’re both flustered, except Yatora burnt red all over like someone poured a bucket of hot water from his head down, while Yotasuke’s cheeks are flushed with light pink.
They stay that way in silence, neither of them speaking for themselves despite having mountains of things to say and questions to ask. For now, the silence is enough to suffice for the moments they possibly have bypassed which was supposed to be a perfect chance for them to talk it all out; with just a little gesture, they felt like their wavelengths had finally matched.
This also made Yotasuke realize for the first time how long he had liked Yatora. That those times he had spent being aware around him, acting weird when he was mentioned, or feeling a sort of emotion entirely different altogether from what he felt towards Haruka wasn’t just entirely his envy. It wasn’t just him thinking that it’s unfair for a charismatic and smart person to also be good at art, that it wasn’t just him feeling a sense of rivalry towards Yatora. It also included how much he likes him. It also included how those things that he thought he hated about him were the things that led to him liking Yatora.
Hashida: So are you going to confess?
Haruka’s message to Yotasuke a few minutes after their conversation flashed in Yotasuke’s mind. Seeing that message made him wince at that time, thinking it was absurd and that there wouldn’t be any point in confessing. After all, what good would it bring Yotasuke, telling Yatora that he likes him?
Sure, seeing Yatora upbeat and happy feels good, and had Yotasuke realized earlier on and confessed, he would probably be happy enough that even the most skilled writer can’t begin to explain how happy he is. He’d probably drown in bliss that the blue of Shibuya isn’t muted any longer, and it feels light and vibrant, even at four in the morning. Yatora would be so happy, and it…
It actually breaks Yotasuke’s heart.
He wants to see Yatora happy. Hell, he’d give up the world to make him happy! Why does it hurt him so much? Does liking someone entail so much emotions, to the point that the affection is overwhelmingly heavy that it’s too much to bear? Does it mean losing face and pride? Does love bear so much meaning, that Yotasuke can’t even begin to scale how little he knows about it?
In the end, Yotasuke finally came up with a reply to Haruka’s message. It would’ve been weird to suddenly whip his phone out now to reply to a message he left on read for more than 24 hours, so he just imagined himself sending Haruka the message.
Me: Yep.
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Never in his life did Yotasuke ever consider eating lunch and feeling hopelessly and stupidly tense and conscious with the way he ate his noodles. Not until he had his feelings realized and had all that topped off with him eating lunch with Yatora like always, anyway. It’s no problem for him to stay cool and keep calm, eat away like nothing’s chewing on the walls of his stomach each time he swallows his food, and continue keeping up a “cool like a cucumber” facade in front of the person he likes.
Yotasuke almost smacks himself right then and there. I’ll never shut up about this until I let it out of my system, huh.
“Yaguchi-san,” Yotasuke calls out, looking at the person right in front of him who froze. “I need to tell you something later.”
Yatora blinks twice, probably out of disbelief. Yotasuke didn’t say nor do anything, not even grimace; he just waited. Finally, Yatora clears his throat and blushes slightly. “I, uh, also have to tell you… something.”
“Alright. I’ll wait for you later.” Yotasuke stands up and walks away trying to keep himself from losing his cool. He doesn’t have any expectations, truth be told. He might even go home later that day being rejected and feeling his first heartbreak quickly right after realizing what he feels toward someone; he really doesn’t know what to expect, but still gave his expectations a bit of freedom by allowing them to flood his mind and think that Yatora might tell him he likes him, too.
All that Yotasuke hopes is that this decision he finalized on a whim is the correct decision.
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When was the last time he felt like this? Back then, during the entrance exams? When Haruka confronted him about his problem? Earlier, when he made eye contact with Professor Nekoyashiki and he was unable to look away because she gave him a really menacing smile? Yotasuke can’t even think straight now, and is just standing at the shed nearby as he waits for Yatora to come.
Yotasuke would be lying if he said he wasn’t also looking forward to this. Hell, maybe these feelings, whatever it’s called, might even overpower his anxiety. Although he feels like throwing up with countless amounts of thoughts swimming around in his head aimlessly and coming up with what if’s for a situation that didn’t even happen—and God forbid adding the word “yet”—he trusts in himself, and Yatora, a little. The thought of Yatora growing tired of seeking out to him had crossed his mind already, and countless times at that, but Yotasuke decided to push it aside and not think about it.
With no clear foundation and not knowing the reason why, Yotasuke trusts in Yatora.
“Hey, Yotasuke-kun!”
Speak of the devil.
Yatora walks toward him, and although it’s near nighttime, he still shines. It could be that bleached hair, or his piercings, or maybe even his clothes; whatever it was that made him stand out, Yotasuke can’t help but get drawn towards it. For the umpteenth time that day, he cringes at himself. God, emotions.
The thought of how one acts toward another is relative to how they feel toward them and how it isn’t always seen in others always perplexes Yotasuke, because there’s no reason for him to act nice to a person who constantly annoys him and whose presence just generally irks him. If they’re nice to him first, sure, he can answer it with indifference, but if they keep being cocky and display a show of flattery, then Yotasuke wouldn’t even think twice of letting them know that they are uncool.
The concept confuses him now, because it always seemed applicable to people he dislikes and not the ones he genuinely cares about. Could it be his defense mechanism? Quite possibly. But now he just learns how frustrating it can be, being unable to express oneself sincerely.
“Sorry it took longer than I intended,” Yatora appears right before him, his golden eyes shining even under the dull lighting of the street lamp. “Shall we head on now?”
“Wait,” Yotasuke grabs his sleeve, stopping him. He drops his hand when Yatora faces him with a confused look. “The thing I want to tell you…”
Yotasuke feels his heartbeat triple. God, it feels like his entire chest was about to explode, and like he’s about to throw up and cry, and freeze and shake uncontrollably, and so much things that contradict each other at the same time. “…I need to tell you now.”
Yatora visibly pales, a thick bead of sweat going down his temple. “Oh, uhm… I’m not quite ready, hold on,” he says, extending his arm and the other clutching his chest, looking away from Yotasuke.
Yotasuke looks at him oddly. “…take your time,” he replies unsurely, feeling uneasy looking at Yatora’s condition.
A few minutes have passed, and all Yotasuke has managed to say is ask Yatora how he was. It was starting to get frustrating for him, and all he wanted to do was just say it right then and there, but he kept waiting. Yatora had his back on him for a while now, doing whatever and whispering words to himself that Yotasuke can’t make out even if he tried hard enough. By the time Yatora had recovered, the moon was now in full glow and it gave better lighting than the street lamp.
Yotasuke’s breath got stuck in his throat when Yatora turned to face him. Despite a sad look on his face, the moon’s glow highlighted his facial structure and everything beautiful about him, up to his eyes down to his heart. He belongs to the moon, Yotasuke thinks.
“Yagu—“
“Yotasuke-kun, I’m sorry for cutting in but if you already figured out that I like you then…” Yatora inhales sharply, like he was holding in something. “…if you’re going to reject me, please do it gently.”
The words stuck in his throat suddenly dissipated, and all the simulations he ran in his head vanished like it never existed. One thing Yotasuke had never expected with all that mental preparation he did was this—Yatora rejecting himself. Or, put accurately, speaking for Yotasuke by rejecting himself so he wouldn’t have to hear it from Yotasuke’s own mouth. Still, it rendered him speechless and confused. Why would Yaguchi-san think that?
“What do you mean?”
Yatora chuckles emotionlessly. “Don’t play dumb with me, Yotasuke-kun,” he sighs shakily, burying his face in his palms. “I totally understand if you reject me. I figured it’s impossible, anyway. I always knew from the start, but I still couldn’t help but hope when I had nothing to hold on to.”
Yotasuke was about to speak, but then Yatora turns to face him again and continues, “I know it’s… wrong, assuming something that is probably incorrect and speaking for you, but I just… I don’t know. For someone like you, to end up liking someone like me? It’s just absurd, and wrong, and… unreal.”
Yotasuke feels his heart drop to his stomach. He never thought that Yatora would feel this way, more so about himself. It pains him so much to see Yatora self-destruct right in front of him, and he knows that confessing at this timing wouldn’t help at all. Yotasuke will just sound like a jerk trying to coax Yatora, and that’s the last thing he wants now.
He stays rooted in place, not sure of what to do, until Yatora grins halfheartedly. “Sorry for ruining the atmosphere, Yotasuke-kun. What were you about to say again?”
Cat got your tongue?
The phrase suddenly plays in his head. Yotasuke never wanted to punch someone so badly until he remembers a stupid phrase in the middle of a serious moment. But then again, it played in his head for a reason; he suddenly couldn’t speak, so there they were again, stuck staring down at each other at night out in public for everyone to see and wonder what the heck is going on in between them.
The night when Yatora asks Yotasuke to just tell him that he hates him suddenly makes perfect sense. For that long, Yatora has been holding on, even when he doesn’t want to. He keeps hoping, and looking to see something from Yotasuke, even when there isn’t any clear signs that all the time Yatora spent pining won’t go to vain. Through Yatora’s lens, he was no one but just another person in Yotasuke’s book that he can bear a little more than other people, and while that’s supposed to be enough for Yatora, he can’t help but ask for more.
So the thought deeply crushes Yotasuke, piercing deep through his skin down to his bone. He feels it, very deeply, and mourns. His heart cries over his beloved stuck in a rut, for believing in himself blindly knowing full well that the possibility of him hurting is as big as the possibility of them ending up together, and even more.
But Yotasuke is selfish, and he decides that for the last time, he thinks for himself. He breaks eye contact and looks at the moon.
“Yaguchi-san, I like you.”
Saying it out loud feels entirely different than admitting it to himself in his mind; he feels like his head was about to crack, his heart and stomach being squeezed all while feeling like throwing up. His feet and hands are cold, but his body are flushed with heat, his face warmer than a midsummer’s night and a kid being crushed under the thick bedding of his futon. It’s like multiple fireworks were set off, and that he’s standing closest to where it explodes, his heart drumming loudly in his ears he can barely hear the leaves rustling anymore.
And most of all, Yatora wasn’t speaking. He’s silent, had been for a while, and God knows Yotasuke wants anything but to see his reaction. He also knows that despite having confirmation of Yatora liking him back, the possibility of him growing to hate Yotasuke is as big as the possibility of them going out.
So they stood there, in total silence, not a single word with breaths calculated. Oddly enough, the silence was comforting to both of them, and even if Yotasuke could not see it, they were both looking at the moon now. Yatora was also standing a bit closer next to him, and when he least expected it, Yatora’s fingers brushed his a little.
When Yotasuke turns to look at Yatora, he’s still looking at the moon. His eyes were welling up with tears, making Yotasuke’s heart clench, but he had a soft smile. The words he spoke next made all of Yotasuke’s fear vanish, making him wear a soft smile that turned into a chuckle.
“Hey, the moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”
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“Why are you embarrassed now. You had no shame saying it earlier.”
“Yotasuke-kun, you don’t get it, it was… on impulse,”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. I’ve never even read shoujo before!”
“…it’s okay if you do, you know.”
“…”
“Yaguchi-san?”
“Yeah, I do read shoujo—don’t laugh at me!”
“I expected that from you.”
“W-Well, it’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
Yotasuke turns to face Yatora. This catches the latter off guard, especially since Yotasuke smiles at him. “You tell me,” he says teasingly, looking away again. He walks away from Yatora, almost skipping, just to tease him and because he feels light on his feet.
From behind, Yatora is frozen, just looking at Yotasuke with a bewildered expression. He didn’t expect this side of Yotasuke. But he would be lying if he said he didn’t like it. So obviously, Yatora ran after him.
“Hey, wait up!”
Yotasuke didn’t spare Yatora a glance when he caught up to him in a matter of seconds. It reminded him of his tiny stature once again, making it easy for Yatora to catch up. Not that he minds it so much, though.
“Hey, Yotasuke-kun.”
Yotasuke tilts his head slightly. “Hm?”
“Can I hold your hand?”
Only the sound of rustled leaves as the wind blew violently can be heard instead of an answer. The night is young, and things were just starting to make sense for them. It satisfied them both, most of all, as Yotasuke quietly takes Yatora’s hand in his, intertwining their fingers as they continue walking in silence.
Things still don’t make sense to Yotasuke, like how he still finds the words stuck to his throat that’s meant to make Yatora happy. It still doesn’t make sense how it’s still hard for Yotasuke to express his true emotions and put it into words even when he’s already shown his most vulnerable state to Yatora, and yet somehow they both still know what one means when they say things that contradict their intent. It’s still bizarre for him, experiencing this much joy over holding someone else’s hand, like it’s the pinnacle of the world’s most fun joyride.
And maybe some emotions just don’t need a reason for you to feel it. Its beauty is hidden in its mystery and novelty, and figuring it out as you go is the only method to get your answer. You may find yourself wondering why you like someone when you barely look them in the eye, but when the time comes when you can freely do so, you’d realize that it’s because you get so drawn to their honey-covered orbs that you can’t look away. You’ll discover that even if they barely even sleep, the late night dates you both have is still worth giving your rest up. And while there are still things about them you don’t understand, you still love them, anyway.
Finding meaning in things and making it make sense just ruins the beauty of its nature, and while that feels unsettling to Yotasuke, he realizes that maybe, he’ll grow to like it. If that blind faith he has in Yatora is something you call “unconditional love”, then maybe he’ll get used to it.