Work Text:
It’s a quarter ‘till ten, and instead of lying in bed, Miyuki fidgets inside of one of the larger metro stations in the city, next to an advertisement for some new skincare product. The girl in the ad flashes a soft, carefree smile, and Miyuki can only interpret it as a cruel mocking of his situation. There’s some weird malice behind the ungodly whiteness of her teeth, and Miyuki stands with his back to her to avoid seeing her grin. Despite the late hour, people continue to pour past him, walking with determination to their next destination, which greatly contrasted Miyuki’s own passive idleness during which he could do nothing more than switch off between glancing at the turnstile and checking the hands of his watch.
Only five minutes have passed, but those short few minutes have felt like hours to Miyuki’s impatient mind. He glances at the gate again. Of course, the source of his anticipation isn’t there. It’s still ten minutes until their agreed meeting time, and another check of his watch confirms as much. Most of the time, Mei’s schedule is so packed, he can barely make it to events on time, let alone show up early. Miyuki shifts his gaze away from the entrance. There’s a lull in the crowd, an indication of a break in train arrivals, and Miyuki uses this rare tranquil moment in the bustle of the city to lean against the wall and heave a quiet sigh. He gives his eyes a break and gently shuts them.
When did he become like this? Miyuki can’t quite pinpoint a specific moment in time when his behaviors took a complete one-eighty and he turned into the lovesick idiot he is today. He and Mei rarely talk to each other now, save for late night phone calls after particularly eventful games or the occasional hang-out planned by one of their mutual friends. Though, Miyuki supposes he wouldn’t even have dragged himself out to half of those gatherings if he hadn’t known that Mei would be there.
The crowd returns, and Miyuki has to bite back another sigh that wants to escape his lips at the thought of Mei. His watch informs him that a whopping two minutes has passed since he last checked, which meant he was two minutes closer to seeing the only person on the planet who could make Miyuki leave his apartment past seven at night. Time fast-forwards a bit when some of his old teammates distract him with a dumb exchange of text messages in their group chat. Once he realizes how quickly the minutes have flown by, he starts to panic at how soon Mei’s arrival approaches. His heart pounds in the cage of his chest, and Miyuki crosses his arms to secure it from falling right out. It’s moments like these when Miyuki realizes just how deeply he’s fallen for Mei.
He forgets during the busier moments of his life, when he’s too focused on maintaining his form during strength training or picking out meals that fit within his diet restrictions. But during the moments of peace, when it’s just him and his own thoughts, his mind reels with unrelenting thoughts of Mei.
Mei sneaking bites of chocolate after his meals.
Mei forgetting to separate his colors from his whites and accidentally dyeing a shirt pink.
Mei finding peace after a busy day, bundled in that fluffy sherpa blanket he loves and watching his favorite TV show.
He craves Mei like one would a cigarette after a stressful business presentation or a chilled glass of water after a long hike on a summer day off. He seeks him out the only way he can: through studying replays of Mei’s games in search of an excuse to give him a call. Just hearing the upbeat cadence of his voice is enough to tide him over for another week or so. But it will never be enough to satiate him fully; eventually, his body will continue to yearn for more.
Miyuki wishes he could turn back time to when Mei was just an unnecessary nuisance he had to face after their Senior League games or a friend who was willing to play catch with him after school or simply just another high school rival. Their relationship has persevered through so many different phases, yet Miyuki still fears it won’t be able to handle another change. He can’t push himself to speak out three simple words and express the truth that he can no longer see Mei as just a friend like he used to.
A group of loud teens approaches him in his periphery, and he looks down at the ends of his sleeve to hide his face. Miyuki plays with the small buttons on his wrists to make himself look busy. They walk by him without a care. One of the boys is wearing a large corduroy shirt with detailed trim similar to his own, and Miyuki suddenly becomes self-conscious at the thought. Naturally, the youth would be wearing something like this. It’s trendy. And how would Miyuki—someone with the social awareness of a recluse—know something like this is currently in style? Well, he saw it in one of the magazines that decorates Mei’s coffee table. In Miyuki’s opinion, the jacket is overpriced for how simple it is, and he initially scoffed at its image on the glossy pages. But then Mei had walked past him and nonchalantly commented that the jacket would complement his style well. Miyuki swears that he had never made such a large, irresponsible purchase so quickly in his adult life as he did that night when he got home.
It had arrived a few weeks ago, and Miyuki hid the box in the back of his closet, far too ashamed of the impulsive purchase to open it until now. Though, Miyuki reckons he should feel some embarrassment for thinking that this short rendezvous warranted a big enough occasion to wear something this expensive. While he’s looking down, Miyuki takes the opportunity to look at the time once again.
One more minute.
Miyuki inhales a deep breath to calm his anxiousness. Out of the blue, regret bounces around his brain and the insane idea of canceling at quite literally the last minute crosses his mind. Guilt swarms around in his chest for dragging Mei out this late. This meeting had been at Miyuki’s request. He had hoped that seeing him and remembering their interactions as friends would help calm his tumultuous feelings and free his rational mind from the clouds of love. Honestly, he feels selfish. Mei is in high-demand, constantly wrapped up in practices, partnerships, and whatever weird outings his friends drag him to (friends such as Miyuki himself.) Miyuki wonders how he can even breathe with how suffocating his schedule is, clamped down tight like espresso grinds in a portafilter with every ounce of goodness extracted from him so as not to waste any of its potential. And, instead of granting him a well-deserved moment of rest, Miyuki monopolizes his time just like everyone else, with no real plans for them past mere small talk.
The hour hand on his watch hits ten, which triggers the alarms in his mind to start blaring. Mei will be here any moment now, and he’s utterly unprepared.
As if hearing his cue, Mei swipes his card on the turnstile and pushes his way through, eyes focused on whatever is on his phone screen. Miyuki’s heart swells at the sight of Mei who wears his usual streetwear, a cap to cover his face, and the expensive sneakers that he owns in ten different colors. He stops to type something out and finally looks up after locking his phone and storing it away safely in the pocket of his jeans. He smiles when he makes eye contact with Miyuki.
They walk towards each other and share a hug. They always do. It’s nothing special.
“How have you been?” Mei asks next to his ear. Miyuki shivers at the heat of his breath, though, even in his excitement, he doesn’t let the tired drawl of Mei’s voice go unnoticed.
“Sorry for dragging you out this late,” Miyuki ignores his question in favor of expressing his remorse as soon as he possibly can.
Mei softly punches him in the chest with a smirk. “Don’t apologize. I want to be here.”
Miyuki takes his arm and guides them toward the train that will take them to a café he is confident will stay open for another few hours. Mei comments on the advertisement Miyuki had been leaning on earlier, complaining that the product felt greasy on his skin and that he had to give it away to one of his sisters.
(Miyuki knew he couldn’t trust the woman in that advertisement.)
Mei stays attached to his arm for the duration of their trip to the café, most likely trying leech off of Miyuki’s body heat as the warmer fall winds begin to surrender themselves to winter chills. Mei always seems to be cold, even when the humidity of summers gets so bad, the air feels thick enough to chew and Miyuki’s sweating so much that he feels less like a man and more like a puddle. In spite of that, he’d still let Mei latch onto him and endure the searing heat of Mei’s calloused fingers burning on his arm.
Once they arrive, Mei orders a latte with confidence, and Miyuki can’t stop himself from asking Mei if he has any other plans after this. If Miyuki drank anything with more caffeine content than a green tea, he’d be wide awake until the next morning. Mei bats his concern aside and reassures Miyuki that he’ll fall asleep the moment he gets home.
Their drinks are served, and they immediately swap and let the other take a sip first. Miyuki winces at how sweet Mei’s latte is and Mei insults Miyuki’s unsweetened chrysanthemum tea for being boring. They gladly switch the drinks back to their rightful owners and continue their sipping while its contents are still hot. The steam fogs up Miyuki’s glasses when he blows at the liquid to cool it down, and he needs to wipe them down after his first drinking attempt. While he cleans his glasses, Mei leans on his hand and grins.
“You should wear your contacts more.”
“No thanks. I find them itchy.”
“Itchy? That doesn’t seem right. Maybe you need new contacts.”
Miyuki shrugs and inspects a speck of dust on his lenses. “Don’t wear ‘em enough to care.”
Mei hums in disagreement. “Give,” he says while reaching out towards Miyuki’s glasses. Miyuki obliges (he’s had a hard time saying “no” to Mei) and hands them across the table. Mei plops them on his own face and blinks at his suddenly blurred vision. His childlike awe at seeing the world in a new way is adorable, and Miyuki has to cover his cheeks with his hands to hide the shades of red that are no doubt blooming on his cheeks.
“You look stupid in glasses.” He lies.
Mei plucks them off his face and glares at Miyuki. “Thanks.” He deadpans. “I’ll take your insult with a grain of salt given that my perfect image was most likely ruined by your own optical flaws.”
Miyuki puts his glasses back on and gazes at Mei. “Nope. My opinion still stands.”
“Asshole,” Mei snorts into his latte. “Well, unlike you, I’m capable of offering compliments. I like that jacket on you.”
Miyuki’s blush returns and he quickly grabs his tea to use as an alibi for his reddened cheeks. “Thanks.”
They chat in the café for another hour or so, sharing surface-level information about each other’s lives that they probably could’ve figured out on their own via a quick internet search. It’s uneventful, and Miyuki regrets that there isn’t more for him to share with Mei.
Or rather, there is something interesting and unknown to anyone else that he could share with Mei, but Miyuki is unable to work up the courage tonight—or anytime at all, really—to let him know.
Far too soon for his liking, Mei is glancing down at his smartwatch and grimacing at whatever is on the screen.
“Ugh, I need to go.”
“Work stuff? This late?”
Mei heaves a big sigh. “Yeah, my manager wanted to talk about tomorrow, and apparently, it was important enough to add to my calendar. Sorry to leave so abruptly.”
“It’s okay, I understand.” Miyuki finishes off the last of his drink. “Let me take you home?”
Mei throws his jacket back over his shoulders and smiles. “Yes, please.”
Miyuki despises that his time with Mei is being stolen away so easily, but he knows that Mei pours his heart and soul into his work and will do anything to reach his goals, even at the expense of his own wellbeing. It’s also why Miyuki can’t just tell Mei how he feels; the chances of rejection are just too high. Plus, he can’t bear giving Mei another thing to worry about.
They link arms and walk back to the metro. There’s two routes that stop at the station nearest to Mei’s condo, and Miyuki leads them towards the one that detours a bit and crosses two more stops. If Mei notices, he doesn’t say anything. Miyuki posits that Mei isn’t really present at the moment as he types furiously away on his phone. It’s odd, but somehow the sight makes him feel more lonely than if he’d just stay’d home by himself. He reads some words off of the screen, like “signing” and “team practice”, but doesn’t pry into Mei’s private conversations. Instead, he leans into Mei’s fluffy hair and closes his eyes, using this opportunity to take a power nap against his friend’s head while they wait.
Miyuki’s slumber continues on the train. He tries his best to stay awake, but all the weight of this week’s work starts to take over him and Mei’s shoulder is far too comfortable to resist. While sleeping, Miyuki dreams of another outing with Mei, one free of technology pinging for Mei’s attention and where Miyuki can feel comfortable enough to express his feelings. He’s playing with the bright pink petals of cherry blossoms that fall near his head on the picnic mat. Mei watches the clouds pass and makes egregiously incorrect declarations of what they’re shaped like. His surroundings are so vivid around him, he forgets that this is all a dream and the true circumstances of his life are much more bleak. Somehow, he’s able to feel the soft texture of the petal between his fingers and the calming scratch of Mei’s hand running through Miyuki’s hair. He yearns to drag this image back to reality, but when he pulls himself awake, he’s greeted with nothing more than the gray steel of the train’s interior.
Mei’s talking to him, spitting complaints about all the chores he needs to do tomorrow, most likely thinking Miyuki’s still asleep and just aimlessly venting out his aggressions towards his busy lifestyle. Miyuki half-listens, barely picking up his words, but instead concentrating on the sweet way his voice lingers in the quiet air of the train car. In a way, it feels like a duller version of the dream he just had. A more realistic one.
Miyuki follows him out of the train and escorts him to the turnstile at which they had met earlier this evening. Mei continues to apologize profusely during their short walk there, and it’s now Miyuki’s turn to shoot down his apologies. Mei expresses that he wished this moment could have lasted longer since they rarely have time for anything outside of work, a comment which Miyuki doesn’t acknowledge, though he knows Mei is right. They likely won’t see each other like this for another month or so.
(Miyuki will see him on the field sooner than that, but, while he loves Mei’s fiendish competitiveness, he’d rather see those bright eyes calm and relaxed in the presence of those he loves instead of electrified by the tension of his rivals on the field.)
Mei gives him one last hug as a parting gift. Miyuki gladly receives him and pulls him close into his chest as if the act of doing so would enable him to absorb all of the love that Mei has to offer. He’ll relish every bit of this short embrace and use it to fuel him until they can next see each other. Of all their quirky little habits, this one happens to be his favorite. Hugs as a greeting. Hugs as a goodbye. He hopes this little tradition continues to repeat itself as long as the two of them are still friends.
Even long after Mei has crossed the turnstile and disappeared into the night to return to his apartment, Miyuki remains next to the advertisement like before and stares at the location of Mei’s entrance and exit. They’d hung out for almost two hours together, but it felt like a mere ten minutes in Miyuki’s love-stricken mind. He wants to heal his heavy heart with a sigh, but swallows it down as he walks back to the train platform that would take him to his own apartment.
The next train won’t be here for a while—an unfortunate consequence of going out this late—so he can’t do much more than idly pace around the platform and think about what had transpired this evening. He hates that he has to wait for this stupid train before he can go home. He hates that Mei is always checking his watch to make sure he doesn’t miss whatever work thing is filling up his schedule. He hates that time has so much power over his life. If he could, he would steal all the clocks in the world and hide them in the deepest ravine known to mankind and liberate Mei from the shackles of the colorful tags flooding his calendar. Only then could Miyuki wrap his arms around Mei and share his love unconditionally, holding him close and living in the moment rather than worrying about what is to come next. He’d capture Mei and keep him close to his heart forever.
Miyuki winces at his own sickenly sweet thoughts. He never wanted to end up like this; in fact, he even took measures to avoid it. Always putting up walls. Always making sure to keep those in his life at a distance. If Miyuki confessed anything to Mei right now, it would feel so out of place. Mei would probably think it’s a joke and laugh it off. Or worse, he’ll look at Miyuki with disgust and shut him out for the rest of eternity. Afterall, how could Miyuki possibly explain that he took every precaution to not fall in love, but still failed and got himself wrapped up in the likes of one very special Narumiya Mei?
He thinks of how Mei is probably already on the phone with his manager as he runs back to his condo for some privacy. He’s panting in between his words and just barely avoiding tripping over the cracks in the sidewalk caused by the natural movements of the earth beneath his feet. When he gets home, he’ll be tempted by the sight of the fluffy green duvet covering his mattress, but he’ll forgo curling up in its warmth for another few hours as he brainstorms ways to fit in every meeting, photo shoot, and practice into his calendar like a cruel game of Tetris.
Miyuki supposes he should send a thank you text to Mei for being willing to carve out a moment in his very busy day for him, even if it was only a small bit of time. He could also use it as an opportunity to bring him some peace of mind knowing that Mei had gotten home safe.
I had a lot of fun tonight. Let me know when you get home.
Are you back yet? I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me.
Thanks for hanging out, hope you got home safely. We should do this more often.
I can’t wait to see you again.
The cursor blinks at the edge of the text, its rhythm matching that of a ticking bomb on the verge of explosion. In the end, Miyuki undoes that text as well and drops his phone back into his jacket pocket. They used to text until the wee hours of the night, chatting about absolutely nothing until one of their phones blacked out from running out of battery. Back then, they had all the time in the world to talk about the smallest of things such as how Mei always seemed to be running out of shampoo or Miyuki forgetting his pencil case in the classroom yet again. He feels like he can’t share the same conversations with Mei anymore and waste his time on such trivial items. Texting Mei has become so difficult, and Miyuki curses the circumstances of Mei’s busy schedule and his own love-driven anxiety which has caused this development.
Things used to be so easy between them. He could lift his hand for a high-five and it would mean nothing more than that. The simple action couldn’t have meant anything more, but now Miyuki can’t seem to interpret it as anything but a grand declaration of love. Now that he thinks back on it, they used to share quite intimate moments as kids. Lying on the grass and staring at the stars, all while grasping at each other's fingers to keep each other warm. Post-game hugs that lasted longer than they probably should have. Mei sitting the middle seat of the car so he could press himself up against Miyuki as their parents drove them home. Miyuki had even placed a gentle peck to the back of Mei’s hand once as a casual mockery of how Mei was dubbed the “prince of Tokyo” for his pitching prowess. Back then, it meant nothing.
Well, it meant nothing to Miyuki back then. Somewhere along the way, Mei had developed some budding feelings for Miyuki and actually had the balls to tell Miyuki as much. At the time, Miyuki hadn’t felt the same way he does now. Miyuki had had his own goals in life, and in order to achieve them, Mei couldn’t be in the picture the way he had wanted to be. There had been a gnawing feeling in his chest when he feigned interest in Mei’s offer to play with him, but he powered through it for his own personal gain.
(But at what cost?)
Mei’s interest wavered a bit after that. As his own aspirations shifted and grew with him, Miyuki became phased out of Mei’s dreams. Like the tragic comedy of Romeo drinking his poison immediately before Juliet awakens, Mei’s disinterest grew around the same time Miyuki’s feelings started to surge. The timing of it all is cruel, and Miyuki sees it as an unjust punishment from whatever higher being is pulling the strings of his life. He continues to pretend he never had any interest in Mei, but with each passing day, it becomes harder to mask his feelings under fake laughter and forced grins.
Finally, the train pulls up and opens its doors for Miyuki. No one walks out at this late hour, and Miyuki has the whole car to himself. He can’t hush the thoughts in his brain that keep veering back towards Mei, so he attempts to drown them out with music. The wires of his earbuds are tangled, and he rushes to undo the knots so he can get rid of the nauseous feeling in his stomach caused by the emotions running amok in his head. His fingers tap towards cheesy love songs that he used to mock his teammates for listening to, and he spends the rest of the train ride thinking about how nice it would be to get to feel the same way these singers do.
He wants to experience that all encompassing glow of new love, one that doesn’t dwindle when he lays to rest at night and flares up when he wakes in the morning and sees his love sleeping soundly next to him. He wants to re-familiarize himself with Mei’s little habits that would go unnoticed by the untrained eye and learn all of the new ones he’s picked up in adulthood. He wants to be consumed by Mei and stay trapped in the addictive sweetness of his love forever and ever and ever.
As Miyuki listens to these individuals flaunt their lovers in song, he feels his stomach twist with an unexpected jealousy. He can only feel this way vicariously through their music. He’ll never be able to experience this with Mei in real life. It’s unfair that every rational bone in his body prevents him from mentioning anything to Mei. It’s unfair that time always seems to be working against the two of them. Most of all, it’s unfair that while Miyuki struggles through all of this, Mei remains completely unaffected. Miyuki sighs in his seat.
That’s all it is.
Unfair.