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Is it too late to worm my way out of this?
The hell are we even doing here?
An unlikely duo waits in a small park not too far from the Shinjuku Central Hospital. Ramuda kicks a foot back and forth. Hitoya taps a finger against his arm.
He’d been hoping to sneak in and out of Tokyo without incident, but of course luck wasn’t on his side. On the night before the conference he came to town for started, just as he was about to look for a lowkey bar to take a quick drink in—
“A-Amaguni-san, is that you?”
—of course, the second he stepped onto the street he ran straight into Matenro’s beloved corporate cog, who, of course, immediately spilled the beans to Jakurai.
“Oh, what fortunate timing! I’m hosting my former teammates for dinner tomorrow night, you should join us!”
And of course! One thing led to another, and now Hitoya and Ramuda of all people are sitting on a bench waiting around for Jakurai to finish up his shift and escort them to his house.
Can’t that workaholic leave early for once in his life? Hitoya scrunches his eyebrows together, already resolved to complain the second the man appears. I’m stuck here with a guy I’ve barely ever been in the same room as.
“Are Yamada Ichiro and that yakuza on their way?” he says to finally break the silence, when he spots Ramuda checking his phone.
“Hm, I dunno,” he replies, scrolling briefly before locking the screen again. “They haven’t texted in a bit.”
“You four sure are a coordinated bunch…”
Like a lawyer teamed up with a monk and a V-kei singer is in any position to talk…
“Aha! Yep, that’s us!” Ramuda grins sweetly, while Hitoya remains stone-faced.
But hey—it might be fun to mess with him a bit while there’s nothing better to do!
“Say, Hitohito—” That prompts an immediate reaction; Hitoya’s expression twists into a horrified grimace.
“I don’t answer to dumb nicknames,” he cuts him off with a huff.
Knew it!
“Boo, are all 35 year olds such sticks in the mud?” Ramuda sighs exaggeratedly. “No wonder you and Jakurai are two peas in a fun-hating pod!”
Hitoya has never felt all the veins in his head approach the brink of exploding quite so fast.
You’re being played, idiot. Don’t fall for it.
But he has self restraint. Loads of it. Totally. And while Ramuda giggles to himself, he counts to ten in his head. Or maybe twenty. Thirty. Does it really matter? He’s totally, completely composed again, regardless.
“There’s about a million things wrong with that statement,” he scoffs, “but whatever.”
“If you say so, Hitohito!”
“Tch…”
Jakurai, hurry your stupid telephone pole ass up.
Hitoya irritatedly reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes; he knows damn well that Jakurai’s bound to chew him out for it when he finally deigns to appear, but he needs something to take the edge off of this situation. When he catches sight of Ramuda still grinning without a care, his mouth twitches into a sneer.
You ought to learn that you’re not the only one who knows how to push someone’s buttons.
“Oi, Amemura.” He plucks a cigarette out with two fingers, then points his hand toward Ramuda. “Gimme a light.”
“Hm?” Ramuda blinks; his expression falters for the briefest instant before he covers it with another ear-to-ear smile. “Like, a light stick? Listen, I know I’m the world’s cutest idol, but this isn’t a perfor—”
“Light up my cigarette, idiot,” Hitoya interrupts him, shaking his hand at the wrist for emphasis. Ramuda blinks a few more times, then giggles heartily into both hands.
“Hahaha! Oh, Hitohito! As if the lovely sweetiepie Amemura Ramuda would ever carry something like a—”
In one swift movement, Hitoya reaches straight into the pocket of Ramuda’s hoodie and withdraws a simple disposable lighter.
“Thanks!” he says, twirling it between his fingers and plastering a fake smile onto his face.
Huh?!
“W-Wait! Hitohito!” Ramuda nearly falls out of his seat, floundering about while Hitoya nonchalantly lights his cigarette, then quickly hides the lighter between his hands when it’s dropped back into them. “I have a brand image to keep intact, I’ll have you know!” he snaps nervously, swiveling his head from side to side rapidly to make sure no one is watching.
“Better to live more honestly, if you ask me,” Hitoya says after taking a drag. “Plus, all the cutesy perfume in the world can’t hide the smell of cigarettes from me, buddy. I’m sure at least some of your adoring public’s caught on too.”
“N-No way…” Ramuda’s face twitches.
Ugh. This guy’s got a better eye than he lets on.
“Oh well!” he quickly pops back up, bringing both hands to his cheeks. “Little ol’ Ramuda-chan shoulda known he couldn’t keep a secret from a smartypants like you!”
“And you’re back at it already…” Hitoya groans. “Well, whatever. You were teamed up with Jakurai, weren’t you? Didn’t he figure it out?”
“Hmph!” Ramuda huffs with a sarcastic grin. “His nose is so high off the ground that he’d never catch on in a million years!”
“Hah!” Weird—Hitoya actually finds himself laughing from the chest at that. “Maybe being short’s not so bad, then—that busybody’s always loved hounding me.” He rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue. “As if I’m not a grown ass man who can make his own decisions.”
Ramuda sits up a little straighter without realizing it, and clenches his fists intently.
“Ugh, I know your pain!” Odd—for a second it feels like he’s actually lowering his guard. “That geezer always has a lecture ready to go off the dome—really, who does he think he is!”
“Exactly!”
They both find themselves leaning into the conversation.
Maybe I was wrong about you.
And the same unspoken thought echoes between two pairs of ears.
“Well, now that I know I have a keener nose, I’ll have to brag to him about it later,” Hitoya says contentedly with another puff of his cigarette. “Put him in his place.”
“W-Wait…” Ramuda perks up, shaking his hands. “Don’t tell him about that, alright? Pretty pretty please, with a big shiny cherry on top? I don’t need even more nagging—clearly you know how bad he gets!”
“More than most…” Hitoya laughs dryly, then shrugs when Ramuda gives him a wide-eyed pout. “Fine. I guess your secret’s safe with me. But drop the cutesy act first.”
“Alright, alright…” Ramuda sighs. He crosses his arms and tilts his head. “You know, I never thought about it, but you must have had it rough, having known him for so long.” Hitoya freezes where he sits and widens his eyes; Ramuda lifts an eyebrow when he says nothing. “What’s that weird look for?”
“I’m just…” Hitoya blinks slowly. “Not used to getting… sympathy.” He gives a slightly pained laugh, then blows out another cloud of smoke. “The brats and Jakurai’s buddies are always either making fun of me or pestering me for old stories, which… now that I think about it, always circles back to making fun of me.”
“W-Wow, uh. Poor you.” Ramuda winces. “I know the feeling. Gentaro and Dice also like to give me a hard time about Jakurai, so…” He grins weakly. “I guess it’s nice to have a kindred spirit out there?”
“Well. Maybe it is.” Hitoya offers Ramuda a hand, which he shakes with a gentle laugh. “At the very least, we have someone to complain about him with to our hearts’ content.”
“Yeah!” Ramuda pumps his fist when they let go of each other’s hands. “Let’s toast to putting up with Jakurai’s meddling at dinner!”
“Heh—I’d actually prefer it if he didn’t have any booze in the house…”
“Nyahaha! Fair, fair!”
Now the wait doesn’t seem so bad after all; the two of them laugh and commiserate as the evening sky slowly changes color overhead.
“Hey, if you ever want to turn the tables, I’ve got a super embarrassing story about him!”
“Oh, do fuckin’ tell!”
It’s a funny thing, to make an unexpected friend.
“There’s nothing wrong with liking some foods over others! If he gives you shit about that, just call me up! I’ll come to bat for you!”
“Someone who understands!”
But alas, not all good things are made to last.
“And how could I forget! The way he dresses!” Ramuda scoffs, shaking his head sagely. “If nothing else, he’s gotta drop the lab coat when he’s off the clock! I mean, how stuffy can one man be! If he won’t let me style him, then get Hifumin to do something about that wardrobe!” Hitoya looks like he’s about to say something in response, but before he can, a thought occurs to Ramuda and he pulls out his phone. “Take a look at this—he sent me a selfie from some rock concert a while ago. Doesn’t he still totally look like a grandpa?”
Hitoya’s face falls.
“Rock concert?” he repeats in a low whisper. He looks at the phone screen, where a picture of Jakurai in a flashy brown jacket and a ruffled shirt smiles at him, and his eyebrow twitches several times in a row. Ramuda blinks, physically feeling the temperature drop. “I was the one who styled him for that.”
“Huh…?” Ramuda’s eyes blow wide.
Shit, I forgot! He did mention something about an old friend picking his clothes…!
But before he can even take a stab at backpedaling, Hitoya’s back to scowling like before. Actually, it looks significantly worse, like his whole face is twisting in on itself.
“Are you trying to pick a fight here, buddy?!” he snaps, leaning forward and raising a fist threateningly. Ramuda jumps back in his seat.
“N-No, no!” he insists, shaking his hands as he flounders. “I didn’t mean—”
“You’re just jealous that you’re the fuckin’ fashion designer and yet you didn’t get to play dress-up with that asshole!” Hitoya cuts him off with an accusatory point and a sneer. “Well, guess what? Too bad! I’ll cry you a river the next time I doll him up!”
Is this guy seriously in his thirties?!
“Wh-What?!” Ramuda balks, the lid on his irritation already cracking. “There’s literally not a single universe in which I’m jealous about anything, you—”
“Yeah, yeah! Tell yourself whatever helps you sleep at night, pipsqueak!”
Alright, that’s it!
“Tch!” Ramuda bares his teeth, the edges of his vision going red. “As if you’re one to talk about jealousy—you don’t see me mentioning how I beat Jakurai in the second DRB after he beat you!”
“You…!” Hitoya grits his teeth so hard it looks like they’re about to shatter. “Well! Shame on me for being stupid enough to think even for a second that a bigshot winner like you could see eye to eye with a lowly loser like me!”
“Hmph! Right back at you! So much for being a kindred spirit—maybe I should just skip this dumb dinner so I don’t have to watch you geezers be lovey-dovey with each other! Have fun fussing over that meddler!”
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Hitoya laughs smugly. “I saw what you two did at the last DRB! The whole goddamn country did! So don’t you go telling me what lovey-dovey fucking looks like!”
“Th-That…!” Color drains from Ramuda’s face. “Ugh! Who knew you were so awful! I’m glad you’re all the way in Nagoya most of the time!”
“All the fucking same!” Hitoya barks back. “In fact, I can’t wait to get my ass back!”
And so in the end, just as quickly as an awkward silence became friendly chatter, friendly chatter became caustic arguing. Fate is a fickle thing.
“Is that…?”
Eventually, a familiar pair of shoes finally makes its way into the corner of their fields of view, gentle footsteps in sharp contrast to the hisses and barbs being tossed about haphazardly.
“Hitoya, Ramuda-kun—I thought that sounded like you.” Jakurai has a hand to his chin as he approaches; he looks at each of them in turn, though they’re so engrossed in yelling at each other that they don’t return the gesture. “What in the world are you two—” Before he can finish his question, two equally irritated voices snap out at him in perfect unison:
“Buzz off, Jakurai!”
“Ah.”
He chuckles into his hand when they immediately resume their argument, then turns on his heel and walks over to the bench opposite them to take a seat. Knowing them, they’ll work it out of their systems soon enough; he folds one leg over the other, laces his fingers together, and simply waits. A gentle smile spreads across his face as he keenly watches and listens to two dear friends.
I knew they’d get along just swimmingly.