Work Text:
They say that when you die your last seven minutes are filled with the flashing of every experience in your life, and that these final moments might be the most vivid, real, and terrifying experience of your existence.
Apparently those seven minutes can happen when you’re alive and well, and Nakamura Okuto is the poor soul divinely damned to experiencing it. Or maybe he is dying?
Dying or dreaming. Probably dreaming. I must be dreaming.
Nakamura pinches himself, watching as the reddened skin of his arm slowly fades back to pale. And with the proof that he is in fact not dreaming, he realizes something very, very vital.
He has to respond to Hirose.
It had all started with a simple question.
“Do you want to stay over tonight?”
After all, it can’t actually be true that Hirose was actually asking him to stay over, can it?
“Nakamuraaa-kun!” He watches with horror as Hirose leans further towards his face, tilting his head, brown hair cascading along with the movement.
“Ah- I’m sorry, what was it you asked?” Nakamura stutters out, eyes tracing the lines of Hirose’s nose way too close to his face. The pair were sitting together on a bench outside the school store, hands sticky from ice cream melting in the blazing sun. As if this moment couldn’t get any better, Hirose repeated,
“Do you want to stay over tonight? My—” before he could finish his sentence, Nakamura was already shooting out of his seat, grasping his friend's hand and nodding fervently. He startles upon realizing his shameless reaction, and sits back down, extracting his sticky hand from that of his friend.
“Sorry! If it's not a bother, I would really like that… I’ve never had a sleepover before.” He mumbles the last part, and Hirose’s face lights up in response.
A heart attack would be less deadly.
Death by nerves, maybe that’s it. Is that possible? Nakamura shakes his head at the mental image of a tombstone with those very words.
Hands shaking, he wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans before reaching up to knock at Hirose’s door. He hears the pounding of footsteps behind the thick wood, and tries unsucessfully to peer through the peephole to catch a glimpse of his friend. Hirose throws open the door with a flourish, and Nakamura almost trips over his own feet as he steps back in response.
“You’re here!” Hirose laughs, eyes scrunching as a blinding smile overtakes his face.
“Thank you for having me.” Nakamura manages, smiling back shyly at his friend. He could feel his cheeks burn as he looked back at him, and his heartbeat raced in his fingertips. Hirose moves to grab his arm and drags him past the doorway. His skin tingles addictively where they make contact.
“Nakamura, I have something to show you!” He pauses for a moment to allow for him to slip off his shoes and drop his bag by the door, before continuing his ruthless quest to drag Nakamura further into the home.
As he’s dragged up the stairs and through a narrow hallway, Nakamura frantically tries to memorize everything he sees, catching glimpses of photos of a young Hirose posing with his family.
He was going to need a lot more than a final 7 minutes to fully enjoy this.
Having finally reached their destination, Hirose slows, dropping his grip from Nakamura’s arm. He could still feel the phantom warmth of Hirose’s dry palm as he pulled away.
“Look!” He gestures him over, and Nakamura can’t help but be distracted by the rosiness creeping up Hirose’s face from practically dragging him through the house. He finally turns to see what his friend is pointing to, and it’s a tank— more specifically, a fishtank. But instead of any fish or water within the glass walls, there sat a crab, staring back at its owner with beady eyes.
Nakamura gasps, forgetting his nerves and ducking down to his knees to get to the crabs level.
“A crab? Where did you get a crab?!” He exclaims, a little louder than intended.
“Where did you get an octopus?” Hirose ribs in response. “The pet store of course, isn’t he just adorable!” Nakamura laughs, watching as the crab raises its larger claw to grasp at a decoration littering his terrarium.
“What’s his name?” He turns towards his friend, watching his smile widen giddily.
“Maruchan!” Hirose giggles, hair bouncing in excitement as he whips his face towards his friend.
“Like the ramen?” Nakamura smirks, trying not to get distracted by the close proximity. Hirose nods fervently, turning his head back to face his pet, now skittering around the tank to search for cover from prying eyes. As he coos at the crab, Nakamura can’t help but want to memorize his crush’s sweet voice, etch it into every crevice of his brain.
“What do you think?” Hirose prompts, finally turning back towards him, gaze flitting from one of his eyes to the other. Nakamura pauses for a moment, watching how the light of the late afternoon sun illuminates the brown of his eyes as they move in hypnotic motion.
He stares and stares.
“I love him.” Nakamura simply responds, voiced hushed. Their gazes remain locked, and the room becomes so quiet that Nakamura is sure Hirose can hear his heartbeat pounding almost painfully beneath his chest. They’re so close now, knees brushing from where they sit on the floor. Hirose leans closer towards him, seemingly fixated on the left side of his face. Nakamura instinctively holds his breath.
Hirose is so close now he can make out a small spattering of light freckles dusting his nose, and a small part of his eyebrow where the hairs are out of order. He shuts his eyes tightly as he feels warm breath scatter across his cheeks, all thoughts in his brain drowned to static hum.
He feels a soft finger, gentle in its timidity and touch barely there, brushing the top of his cheek, creating an almost burning path in its wake.
Is he doing what I think he's doing? Nakamura silently panics, heart caught in his throat, silent as not to disturb the moment.
“Got it!”
Nakamura startles, peeking an eye open to see his friend lean away, eyelash proudly decorating the top of his index finger. “Make a wish!” Hirose says, blissfully unaware of the turmoil that he instigated in Nakamura's mind.
At this point his nerves were so frayed, the pounding of his heart was a complete afterthought. There was only so much he could put himself through.
He stares at the eyelash, silently cursing its existence. The eyelash sat unmoving, heedless to Nakamura’s ire.
A wish…
His gaze focuses again on Hirose, with his friend’s eyes almost crossed as he also gazes at the small hair.
If I could just kiss Hirose, I could die happy.
Nakamura thinks, adjusting his legs beneath him and accidentally blowing the eyelash off Hirose’s finger from his close proximity in his movements. Hirose's gaze finally finds him again, and he smiles.
“Hope it was a good one.”
As they spend the next couple hours playing video games in the living room and feasting on pizza and soda, Nakamura could feel the tension and nerves finally loosening their iron grip on his body.
He had long since accepted that this was as close as he could get to Hirose without scaring him off from this newfound fragile friendship. But in moments like these where he can finally relax and enjoy Hirose’s company, he can almost forget his resolve to keep things that way.
Hirose’s eyelashes looked really long bathed in the blue light of the television, tongue poking out slightly as he focused all his attention on finishing the round of Mario Kart. With a refreshing chill to the room Nakamura finally recognizes that the sun has gone down, and glances towards the clock to check the time. The hands clicked forward, reading a time of 11:45pm.
“Your family isn’t home yet?” Nakamura asks, as his counterpart throws his controller onto the couch in frustration of his loss.
“Didn’t I tell you? They’re away visiting my grandparents. I was supposed to go with them, but I had to feed Maruchan!” Hirose flopped onto the couch, lazily turning his head towards him.
With those words, it finally sinks in for Nakamura that the two are blissfully, terrifyingly, alone. He makes a noise of response as he struggles with that thought for a moment, Hirose already moving on from the conversation in favor of grabbing the TV remote and flicking through channels.
He lands on what appears to be a slice-of-life anime, a character with bright pink hair and what seemed to be alien antennas sticking out of the sides of his head illuminating the screen. As one of the on-screen characters leans towards another, lips puckered as to prepare for a kiss, Hirose snaps his attention back to Nakamura.
“Nakamura-kun, have you ever kissed anyone?” At the question Nakamura freezes, eyes glued to the screen out of fear of how he might react if he actually looked at Hirose while thinking about the topic of kissing of all things. Noticing his friend faltering in giving a response, Hirose shifts nervously, and laughs a little under his breath.
“Sorry if that’s too personal, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” Nakamura’s heart flutters at his gentle assurance, not pushing for an answer, but simply curious.
“No…” Nakamura begins, just as gently. Sensing there may be more, Hirose stays quiet for a moment longer. “But I’d like to,” he whispers, sounding scarcely audible over the sound of the TV. “With the right person, of course.” He tacks on quickly, ringing his hands in his lap.
Hirose notices his friend squeezing his hands too tightly, and reaches out with a fragile touch to stop his anxious movement. Nakamura’s fingers twitch in response, but he stops ringing his hands, focusing instead on the warmth of Hirose's palm above his.
“The right person…” Hirose muses, seemingly to himself.
“Have you… kissed anyone?” Nakamura asks hesitantly, not even sure he wants to know the answer. Hirose hums in response, shaking his head no. Nakamarua breathes out a sign of relief at this.
“Hana had asked me to… when we were dating. But I just didn’t feel ready or something. Or maybe it was the wrong person?” Hirose muses, eyes meeting Nakamura’s yet again, before humming and staring off, seemingly lost in thought. His mouth opens in a false start, but he closes it without saying anything.
“Who would be the… right person then, do you think?” Nakamura prompts, barely finding the courage to ask as his gaze falls to where their hands were still in contact in his lap. After a beat, Hirose finally breaks his silence.
“With Hana, things always felt kinda hard. I thought that was just what dating was supposed to be. When she asked to kiss me, I realized that I didn’t want to, and I couldn’t figure out the reason. So, definitely not Hana.” He finishes, hand fidgeting above Nakamura’s, but still not pulling away.
“Then another girl?” Nakamura asks, head tilting to the side as his inflection rises.
“Maybe…. But maybe not, another… girl.” Hirose emphasises, gaze beginning to pierce Nakamura’s own. He had never seen his friend so serious before, and a shiver went down his spine at the intensity. There was something about the way Hirose had responded that begged Nakamura to look further than just his words themselves.
“What about you?” Hirose asks back, and Nakamura feels his heart leap to his throat, mouth bone-dry as he licks his lips.
“Maybe not another… girl for me either…” he responds, voice hushed.
Hirose’s grip on his hand tightens decisively, and he shifts closer to Nakamura, eyes scanning for a reaction.
Just as he had done hours earlier, he leaned towards him, hand raising to brush his cheek. Nakamura curses himself in his mind, assuring over and over as a mantra that this was just a fluke, Hirose was not planning to kiss him.
Warm breath skidded across his cheeks.
God did Hirose make him want to hope.
“If not a girl…” Hirose began, almost close enough now that Nakamura could feel the rumble of his words through his chest. Nakamura’s eyes pleaded with his friend to understand.
The hand that had been lightly brushing Nakamura’s cheek, slowly, centimeter by centimeter, began to descend, moving to cup his jaw. Nakamura’s eyes shut in nerves as he instinctively nuzzles closer into the warmth.
He opens them a crack at the feeling of a warm thumb tracing his bottom lip, gaze snapping to meet Hirose’s in shock, but finding his counterpart’s own gaze glued to his lips.
“Can I…” The words were whispered so quietly that he could barely hear them over the deafening pounding of his heartbeat in his ears.
Nakamura simply pushes impossibly closer in response, noses bumping. Hirose releases a gasp, and Nakamura meets his eyes one last time.
His wish from earlier echoed through every corner of his mind.
If I could just kiss Hirose, I could die happy.
Hirose’s hand stills on his jaw, and he finally pulls Nakamura close enough to close the distance. The first touch of lips is electric, and Nakamura feels that his lips would go numb with the warmth if he wasn’t focused on every single vessel making contact with Hirose. The kiss is laced with giddiness and inexperience, and it feels blindingly good.
They momentarily pull just far enough away to roll their foreheads together, searching each other’s expressions for answers to questions that hadn’t even formed yet.
"Nakamura-kun" Hirose rasped. Nakamura’s lips tingled as his tongue darted out to lick them, flicking his eyes again to Hirose’s own.
In a move bolder than he felt, he grabs the collar of Hirose’s shirt, pulling him close enough for another kiss. This time the contact is more determined and assured, Hirose humming in the back of his throat in surprise. His lips felt impossibly soft, and Nakamura was determined to memorize every inch.
He scarcely wanted to pull back, only for moments to breathe before pressing soft kisses across every inch of Hirose’s lips. His hands were shaking as he held the fabric of his shirt tighter in response, surely stretching out the collar.
With a bold and small nip to his bottom lip, Hirose pulls back from the contact, face blushed fully red. He suddenly giggles, gaze again meeting Nakamura’s, corners of his eyes crinkled in mirth as he laughs.
Nakamura giggles back, unsure even why they were laughing, but his mind felt almost like putty at this point.
Their giggles ramp up in intensity, and Hirose leans forward as they laugh, wrapping his arms tightly around Nakamura.
Their laughter begins to subside, and Hirose pulls back far enough to look directly at Nakamura, muttering:
“The right person.”
Rest in peace, Nakamura-kun.