Chapter Text
Nakamura rarely needed his alarm to wake up on time. He had two things far better than his phone blaring his favorite song — because, honestly, he'd rather keep listening to it on repeat without having to associate it with being torn out of sleep.
The first: his internal clock never gave him a day off, not even on weekends.
The second, and his personal favorite: Icchan had adapted to his routine and was kind enough to spend a few minutes awake in the morning keeping him company before drifting back to sleep. The red octopus announced the start of their morning ritual by tapping lightly on the glass — usually with whatever little toy Nakamura had given him the night before. Past experience had taught Nakamura to choose toys that wouldn't damage the tank if Icchan got excited and used a bit too much force.
It had gotten to the point where the alarm felt like nothing more than an extra irritant. He decided his quality of life would be considerably better without it, so he turned it off permanently. It worked out perfectly well for an entire year. It certainly helped with the small, fragile amount of peace of mind he was capable of having.
That morning, both methods failed him spectacularly. A deafening sound from his desk launched him out of bed, feet tangling in the covers and sending him face-first into the floor. His heart was pounding like he was staring down a life-threatening emergency. Getting to his phone and sliding his thumb to silence it felt like it took hours. He yanked the device off the charger. The fact that he'd almost forgotten to plug it in the night before wasn't going to help him much right now.
Sixteen minutes past when he should have been up. And that wasn't even his wake-up alarm — it was the alarm to feed Icchan something light, as a thank-you for being such good company. By this point, he should have already showered, gotten dressed, checked whether he'd remembered to pack his bento the night before, and gone through his bag. He always set aside time to spend with Icchan, and a good chunk of it had already been wasted.
"Okay. There's still... still time." He ran his hands through his hair, strands sticking to his damp forehead, then wrestled himself free of the blankets and turned the light on at its lowest setting.
He could throw himself back into bed and pretend all of this was just a bad dream. For one weak moment, he seriously considered it — the sheets were still warm. He could pull the covers up any which way, as long as they covered him completely.
No. He was stronger than that. He took a slow breath and pretended this wasn't the end of the world. This wouldn't ruin the rest of his day. Definitely not.
"Good morning, Icchan," he murmured, voice still rough with sleep as he approached the tank. "Didn't feel like keeping me company today? Sorry about all the noise."
Even in the middle of his own spiral, all he wanted was for Icchan not to have been frightened by the commotion. The poor guy didn't deserve to get dragged into his owner's mess. He finally looked at the tank, expecting to find the octopus still asleep. The red shape was in the corner, eyes open. Its tentacles were spread across the pebbles with no particular interest in saying hello. How long had he been awake? He always waved to Nakamura.
"Um... Icchan?" He moved closer slowly, tapping gently on the glass. That usually encouraged the octopus to take interest in the movement and mirror the gesture — tentacles pressed against the glass in return. Except he didn't move, even though he was clearly watching Nakamura's fingers.
He was already late. He wasn't even in his uniform yet. If he had any hope of escaping punishment for arriving late, he needed to leave the room right now. He'd deal with the punishment. He crouched down to get a better look at the full tank. Everything was in its place. Icchan hadn't rearranged anything overnight, even though redecorating was one of his favorite activities. His color was a little less vivid than usual.
"Not feeling well? Maybe the shrimp yesterday didn't agree with you. That could be it, but..." He sighed. He'd be even later now; Icchan needed him. Something could be wrong with the water, and he wasn't about to wait until tonight to find out. Nakamura opened his drawer, pulling out the testing kits one by one and laying them out in order. "The teachers are going to kill me. I'll never see Hirose again. Everything we've worked toward is going to be ruined, Icchan. It's so unfair."
Start with the ones that took the longest, finish with the easier ones — same as always. Normally it was a ritual that calmed him down. Check each parameter and talk to his beloved octopus. He liked to pretend that each sucker contraction was a response to his venting.
Or a verdict. Right now, he'd have gladly accepted either.
He lifted the lid, removing the weights and the tape along the sides. The familiar smell of saltwater failed to soothe him, and even the steady sound of the filter running couldn't hold his attention. He usually counted on that noise whenever he needed to study and was struggling to absorb the material — it was reassuring to know that at least Icchan was watching him while he tried to make sense of whatever formulas he'd need for the next test. He filled the little tubes, added the reagents, and organized them carefully so he wouldn't mix anything up. He shook the ones that needed shaking, hands steady.
Waiting for the minutes to pass was unbearable. He paced the entire room, pushed his bangs back in the most haphazard way possible, grabbed his uniform and threw it onto the bed with more force than the poor fabric deserved. When the colors had stabilized, he compared them to the chart twice to be sure, switching on his desk lamp. Ammonia: normal. Nitrite: normal. pH: normal. Same for nitrate. He checked the temperature. Maybe Icchan was just warm. Exactly fifteen degrees — Icchan's preferred temperature.
Everything was normal, except for the tank's resident. Great news, if it gave him any indication of what was actually wrong.
"Infection, maybe. A parasite? Definitely not senescence. You're way too young for that, right, Icchan?" He sounded like he was pleading; checking a third time gave him the same answer.
The second alarm went off, yanking him out of his misery. He silenced that one faster. Time to head out, grab his bike, and get to school — if he didn't want to arrive gasping for breath and run into Hirose while he was still pulling himself together. With any luck, at this hour, he'd find his friend near the corner two blocks from his house... not that he'd built his schedule around that. Or tested the route a few times to identify the best variables.
"Damn. Okay, your food. You'll take a clam, right? It's been a while since I've given you one."
The little container was almost empty. He'd need to order more before it ran out. He picked one up with tweezers, holding the treat out to Icchan. His heartbeat was fast enough that the pulse in his neck was impossible to ignore. This was the final test of just how justified his dread was. Take it, please take it and —
Nothing. No sign of the usual enthusiasm. Nakamura realized he'd been biting his lip when the pain registered. He'd wait there as long as it took, even as his muscles protested the growing tension.
In a movement far too slow — but still a movement — the tentacles curled around the tip of the tweezers, accepted the clam, and carried it to the beak. Nakamura let out a half-choked laugh, his free arm shooting up in celebration. Able to breathe again, he hurried to clear the desk and close the tank after adding a new Lego piece to Icchan's collection (and hopefully, to his happiness as well). He jotted the results down in the little notepad he kept nearby. The fact that his vision had gone a bit blurry didn't stop him.
"Sorry I can't stay. But I'll be back as fast as I can. You're going to be okay, Icchan. I promise."
Nakamura didn't let himself consider that the promise might be broken. For now, all he could do was get ready for school and brace for a lecture about his irresponsibility with time. The fact that he literally had no alarm set wasn't going to do much for his defense. The teachers didn't need to know that detail anyway.
He dared to check the time: over thirty minutes late. Rushing wasn't going to fix much. He rushed anyway. After trying to find the courage to leave Icchan alone, realizing he wasn't going to find it, and having to go regardless.
Pedaling after that much stress that early in the morning was not a great combination. The one upside was that the route to school was far emptier than usual. No one to swerve around; the path was clear. The slight inconvenience was that this was a direct result of all the students already being in class.
The wind hit his damp hair, raising goosebumps at the back of his neck in sharp contrast to the warmth rising in his cheeks. Water droplets rolled from his hair onto his skin, mixing with sweat. The liquid seemed to sting every inch it touched.
He didn't slow down. His health wasn't the priority right now.
The situation stayed grim even after he arrived. He'd chained up his bike and been grateful that at least that hadn't been difficult. Nothing jammed, and his bike hadn't miraculously collapsed the moment he turned his back. Changing into his indoor shoes had also gone smoothly, after he remembered to check which foot was which before putting them on. The fact that they felt tight was less ignorable than he'd like.
If the empty hallways had failed to break him, Niou-sensei accomplished that with twice the efficiency. Of course it was the tallest, broadest sensei on the floor who had a free period — perfectly positioned to sink Nakamura a little further.
"Your excuse for missing an entire period is that... your uniform was wrinkled?" Hearing his own justification out of the man's mouth made the argument sound even weaker than it was. It was very weak.
Nakamura scratched the back of his neck, staring at the floor. The office was small. Not even the window overlooking the trees and the field made the room feel any less intimidating. The harsh fluorescent light overhead, the kind that flickered, did nothing to improve the atmosphere. "Well, I, um... I didn't want to risk a uniform inspection happening today — with mine all messed up."
Niou-sensei pressed a hand to his face. "Nakamura. Inspections are scheduled. You know that. We had one last month."
"They are? Yes, they are. I know they are. Obviously. I just thought that maybe, for some reason, things could have changed. Which would have been bad, if they had. I wanted to make sure I'd be — I'd be prepared. Just in case." His nails scraped harder. He opened his mouth to keep going. The sensei cut him off.
"Breathe." It might have been his brain trying to protect him from feeling even more humiliated, but the man's expression softened. "There's no need to be this anxious. My job is to understand why a student didn't follow the rules, not to terrify them. I'll mark that you were feeling unwell and couldn't make it to first period. Does that work?"
He didn't answer right away. He watched Niou-sensei note something on his file, the pressure in his chest easing just enough to pull in some air. He'd barely noticed he wasn't breathing properly. Out of every possible outcome, landing on a good one had him more frozen than any threat of spending the rest of the week on the worst section of the cleaning roster. He'd already been mentally preparing to convince his sister to look after Icchan, or to track down someone willing. Icchan had never really warmed up to strangers, but it would be better than leaving him alone until Nakamura got back.
"R-right. Thank you."
That was the most gratitude he could manage. He hoped he hadn't offended the sensei. Other students would have handled it so much more gracefully. Hirose would smile and everything would be settled; Kawamura would be nervous but would still manage to act like a functional human being. Even Aokiyama had more tact, and she was constantly trying to drag people into the Occult Research Club. At least he'd never blackmailed anyone with talk of good fortune.
"Glad we understand each other." Niou-sensei stood from his chair, setting the clipboard on the desk and coming around toward him. Maybe for a pat on the shoulder, or to point out that Nakamura's hair was still dripping. He did neither, and Nakamura appreciated the absence of those gestures more than usual today. Niou-sensei simply handed him a slip that would get him into the middle of class. "You're free to go. Your next period is math, if I'm not mistaken."
"It is math, yes," he murmured, not wanting to risk staying quiet and letting things get any more awkward.
"Otogori-sensei is softer than I am. Nothing to worry about."
He nodded, following the sensei's lead and getting to his feet. He bowed deeper than necessary before leaving, forcing his legs to hold a steady pace. His footsteps found the floor in a rhythm that echoed off the walls and rattled around inside his skull. He should have dried his hair; the back of his neck was freezing. The top of his collar was soaked through and clinging to him. He'd given up pulling the fabric away, resigning himself to being smothered and having his warmth steadily drained. He'd have preferred it to be a ghost, because at least that would make for a good story rather than just idiotic consequences.
He walked the rest of the way on autopilot, passing through door after door, up the stairs and on. Everything was where it should be, which included the classroom he'd have to walk into while everyone stared at him. Not even Lovable Lunches had taught him how to make an entrance without drawing attention. Even after reading the available volumes four times.
Determined to open the door slowly and catch as few eyes as possible, he delicately wrapped his fingers around the handle. Nothing could go wrong here. It was a door — the single most predictable thing he'd dealt with all morning. He pulled. It jammed before sliding a miserable few centimeters, wood groaning against the resistance. Otogori-sensei stopped writing on the board, the leg of the X unfinished.
Every single one of his classmates turned with such perfect synchrony that it took very little convincing to start believing he'd genuinely offended the universe and was being punished for it. He stood completely still.
Some of them laughed, most not bothering to hide it. The silence he'd worked so hard to preserve dissolved in seconds. Otogori-sensei didn't reprimand him, just shrugged and went back to the equation as though nothing had happened.
"The door's been stubborn since earlier. Push with your foot at the very bottom and it'll open. Leave your magic pass on my desk and take your seat. Borrow someone's notes afterward to catch up on what you missed."
He put a little more force into it, the toe of his shoe against the lower edge doing most of the work. The resistance gave, if not entirely gracefully — and apparently not being the door's first victim made the novelty wear off fast. Maybe the door had done him a favor.
Without further ceremony, he entered the room and handed over the slip, keeping his gaze down. When he turned to take his seat, though, he couldn't help scanning the room for a certain someone. He was probably working through the exercises, light hair falling across his eyes, writing those adorable little numbers — because everything he did was painfully adorable. Nakamura had memorized the position of that desk so well he could find it from any angle in milliseconds.
The chocolate-and-caramel eyes weren't looking at the paper. They were looking at Nakamura, a little wide.
Hirose was looking at him first.
He didn't look away, even as his cheeks went pink, along with the tips of his ears. Nakamura was fairly certain that spontaneous combustion would have surprised him less. Hirose smiled and waved with one hand. Nakamura waved back, his wrist locking up before he remembered that waving involved actually moving it. He probably waved with too much enthusiasm; Hirose's smile got wider.
There was a chance that this entire day was a dream. A plausible theory. The fact that his wrist hurt from moving it harder than necessary was irrelevant, because Hirose had given him the grace of looking first. Probably only because Nakamura had arrived late and drawn the attention of people who didn't even know his name, but those were just details.
Hirose kept watching, picking up his pace slightly. He looked like he was about to laugh. He could be even more beautiful like that; even more so when he opened his mouth and sent a silent hi across the room.
The spell had to break eventually, which meant his wrist could protest all it wanted. Otogori-sensei would be erasing the board soon and then both of them would have to scramble to borrow someone's notes so they didn't fall behind. Nakamura didn't hate the idea as much as he should, if it meant a few more seconds of Hirose looking at him. Looking only at him. Not at someone behind him, or at him and someone else at the same time. He'd have a full report to give Icchan tonight. The octopus deserved some good news. He'd be feeling better by evening. He was always nocturnal. This morning was an exception and nothing more.
He spent the next few minutes thinking about Hirose and doodling small octopuses along the margins of his notebook. It was the closest he'd come to being as good a drawer as Kawamura. He was proud of the little details, even knowing the general consensus on liking octopuses. Weird. Strange. And the one he hated most: gross. Everyone was wrong.
Hirose was the first person who'd said it wasn't strange, and that the others were just boring. Who had touched a real octopus after Nakamura had. He'd never asked why Hirose followed his lead when Nakamura hadn't even managed to make a good first impression. It was just further proof that Hirose was the living embodiment of perfection — kind and beautiful and absolutely incredible.
And Hirose had looked at him. Hirose. Had. Looked. At. Him.
The tip of his pencil snapped from pressing too hard on a curve. Now the right side of the drawing was thicker. It looked more like Icchan than the others, sitting right beside the last question Otogori-sensei had written. Now that he was paying attention, Otogori-sensei wasn't at the front anymore. In his place stood the biology teacher, explaining tendon connections.
Oh. He had... completely lost track of time. Which meant they weren't that far from the bell for break. Probably. Why were the clock batteries dead at exactly the moment he needed them? That made three things in this school working against him today.
He rested his face on his right hand, fingers near his ear. Tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, opening his notebook to the right page and starting to copy down the current subject. That way, covering his ears wouldn't require too abrupt a movement.
At any moment — during or after the lesson on tendon ruptures, a condition that octopuses were completely exempt from, being far more evolved than creatures capable of simply snapping — his sanity would be tested once more. He'd never understood why the bell had to be deafening. If Aokiyama had gotten to know him better before proposing he join her considerably suspect club, she might have persuaded him with a wristwatch made of a material that didn't make him sweat; one that didn't make him want to tear it off from the constant friction against his skin.
He could raise his hand and just ask for the time. 'I have a chronic condition where I will die if I don't know the exact time right now. This is not an exaggeration. My ghost will stay with you forever and you will regret not answering me. You could check your phone, or go find some batteries. Yes, that would be a fantastic idea, please do that.' For several reasons, he didn't think that was going to land. Taking his phone out of his pocket and risking being seen was out of the question.
He sighed loudly, drawing a few irritated glances. Nakamura sank lower in his chair, hands nearly covering his ears. He wouldn't be defeated. He had to honor Icchan and Hirose, make them proud, prove that he wasn't the kind of person they deserved to be protected by — accompanied by. It was just noise. Everything made noise and he would handle this with complete and total dignity.
His hands drifted close to falling to his lap. A little closer. Just a bit more —
The bells collided, the blast ambushing every cell in his body in the exact moment it took him to regret relaxing. He pressed both hands over his ears with everything he had, muffling as much of the sound as possible, and held. He counted silently. One. Two. Three. He kept going until ten, then lowered his arms.
The room erupted into zippers being unzipped, conversations igniting, students throwing open their bento boxes with such enthusiasm that it was a miracle the lids didn't go flying. No metal crashing against metal.
His whole body nearly melted. He wanted to spread across his chair the way Icchan spread across the tank with all his tentacles. He held it together, because there were already too many people side-eyeing him. He should inform them that it wasn't the subtle move they imagined it to be. It was very obvious; you still had to move the pupil to the side. Honestly, looking straight at him would be less unsettling. He'd have preferred they not look at all. He was perfectly happy with Hirose being the only one who noticed his existence — in the moments when he wasn't shielding himself from noise, that is. He desperately hoped Hirose hadn't seen that.
The teacher assigned homework before leaving. More research, but at least it might be interesting, despite his personal preference for invertebrates. With most of the class being sixteen or under, as Nakamura reached for his lunch, a large chunk of his classmates grabbed their phones with the same frantic energy he'd seen months ago when that popular song exploded overnight. That had been an absolute nightmare of mismatched sounds all playing at once. His ears, however, were not subjected to a repeat disaster.
Kawamura was in the corner with her friends, Hamaoka and Okuda pointing at something on her phone screen. Across the room, Takeuchi, Mukai, and some of the other guys were making similar gestures, though most of them were using their own phones.
This... was the perfect opportunity to go talk to Hirose. Nakamura's lunch wasn't particularly impressive today — he hadn't had time to arrange it the way he preferred — but maybe Hirose would like something from it. If not, he could subtly bring up preferences and just happen to pack that exact food the next day. By pure coincidence.
Everyone was occupied. All he had to do was stand up, not trip or stutter, and talk the way friends talked to each other. Calmly, without continuously staring at each other's mouths. He clutched the bento to his chest. He'd wasted too many chances to let this one slip. He looked up. This was the moment. Nothing could stop him now.
Nakamura stood up and started crossing the room toward Hirose. Hirose stood up. And went in the opposite direction, phone in hand, moving fast enough that it was nearly a skip. Nakamura stopped. Held the bento tighter. Breathed in. Sat back down as though nothing had happened, staring at the patch of peeling wood on his desk. On the bright side, it was the first perfectly ordinary thing to happen in hours. The part where he buried his head in his arms, knocked his forehead against the lid of his lunch for miscalculating, and wanted to scream at the universe — those were absolutely not consequences of what had just happened.
Great. He could add that to his list of failures. Everyone enjoy the new trend. They'd get bored of it in two weeks or less; he wouldn't get involved and everything would be fine. He'd stay right here, perfectly content with his situation.
The window had been so good, too. He groaned into his sleeve. He'd just needed to be a fraction faster. His legs were longer than Hirose's — by all rights, he should have the advantage in speed. But sprinting across the room to catch up would have been, at minimum, weird. Walking over calmly was the most normal option and also the most inconceivable one, given how many times he'd frozen trying to do exactly that.
Footsteps approached his desk, slow and deliberate. He didn't lift his head; the pretense of having fallen asleep was too useful to abandon. He deserved more than a measly six minutes to feel sorry for himself. Whoever it was didn't stop, though they did slow down.
"Um... Nakamura?" A whisper, close to his ear. Who would — "I know you didn't fall asleep in the five seconds since you put your head down. Unless you're ignoring me? Because there are more subtle ways to do that." It sounded amused. Close. Soft. It sounded like Hirose, but Hirose was across the room with his friends.
Nakamura broke protocol and looked up. Pretending to be Hirose was completely unacceptable and —
It was Hirose, who smiled the moment their eyes met. "I knew you weren't asleep!"
It took him a genuine moment to believe the person in front of him was actually real. He stared without answering, mouth opening and closing again, because it was hard to trust that his voice wouldn't come out shaking when his leg had already betrayed him, foot tapping against the floor against his will. That would travel straight up his vocal cords, right? And Hirose was right there, pulling a chair over and setting it next to Nakamura's. He placed his bento on Nakamura's desk, beside Nakamura's bento. The boxes matched. Both rectangular. Both containing food.
He took the seat to Nakamura's left without asking, his leg brushing against Nakamura's restless one — which immediately stopped, as if obeying the contact. It had just betrayed the person who'd been carrying it since before they both came into the world. Nakamura didn't hold it against the leg, and it was a much better reaction than the gut instinct to pull away from the touch that he'd braced for a few seconds later, which never came.
"Hirose. I was just... resting my head. Because of the weight."
"The weight." He repeated it with one eyebrow raised. His eyelashes looked longer up this close. "Have you considered cutting your hair? It would shave off a few grams and then you wouldn't have to hide your face. Your bangs already do enough of that on their own."
"I don't think my individual hair strands weigh that much. I'd have to shave my head to feel any real difference. And I like my bangs."
"They have their charm. They just cover your eyes sometimes, and I..." Hirose was cut off by a cough, turning his face away and covering his mouth before clearing his throat and looking back at Nakamura. He looked a little flushed; it would be particularly cruel to have the two beings he loved most in the world falling ill on the same day. "Anyway! You downloaded the game, right?"
Hirose opened his bento and set his phone beside it. Up close, Nakamura could see exactly what Hirose had packed. As expected, everything was beautifully organized. Even the sauce hadn't dripped onto anything. He expected nothing less from someone so meticulous. His assessment eventually arrived at the last item:
Sausages sliced into octopus shapes, the tips cut into uneven little tentacles that a real octopus would have hated, since they'd interfere with movement and the ability to study objects by touch.
It fit there better than it had any right to. It was an incredible coincidence — as though it had been arranged specifically for him to see. Which was ridiculous, but Nakamura reserved the right to dream. Hirose speared one with a toothpick and raised it to his mouth. The motion seemed to stretch on forever until it reached his lips. There was music somewhere in the background, slow and soft; a celestial light blooming around them, tiny glowing hearts drifting past in a lazy dance. He had an even longer report to file tonight.
Hirose glanced over at him while chewing. Right. He'd asked about a game. Nakamura opened his own lunch so that, hopefully, it would look like he knew the answer and was just taking his time because he was eating. He picked up the tamagoyaki with his hashi. He almost blew on it, but caught himself. He swallowed before he'd chewed it nearly enough.
"Octopus Rush?" It was the first thing that came to mind, and he said it right as Hirose was spearing another little sausage. The toothpick stopped halfway. Nakamura took longer than he'd like to realize he'd gotten it wrong; Hirose was fighting not to laugh and choke at the same time, his face going red from the effort. "It was a valid association. My brain just... went with the closest match to what I was looking at."
"No, no, it's fine, it's just..." Hirose wiped the corner of his eye where a tear had appeared. "You actually had the nerve to tell me that day you didn't really like octopuses that much."
He would have loved the ability to camouflage himself right then. Firing ink would also have done the job. Reality was less exciting; his bangs would have to do the work of hiding the heat spreading from his neck to his face.
"I like them at a normal level."
"Mm-hm. So you like talking about how they have three hearts and a brain in each tentacle and they're super intelligent because you kind of like them." Hirose remembered. He hadn't even brought it up near Hirose that many times, and yet he remembered.
"They also... form emotional bonds. And enjoy puzzles." Nakamura forced himself to stop talking. Break time didn't have enough minutes to cover every interesting point. And Hirose definitely didn't want to sit through a biology textbook while eating.
But Hirose didn't get up. He studied one of the sausages with a quiet smile. "They really are fascinating. I like crabs quite a bit, but I don't know nearly as much about them as you know about octopuses. I think it's genuinely impressive — being that devoted to something you love."
Nakamura was entirely convinced he was in the presence of an angel. His heart could leap clean out of his chest and Hirose could put it back with his singular power of existing so... Hirose-ly. He could cure him completely. Nakamura wondered, briefly, if he might have the same effect on Icchan.
"I really do love them. Always have," he murmured, his hand muffling most of the confession.
"See? Telling the truth isn't so bad."
Hirose unlocked his phone and leaned back in his chair. Their shoulders were close. Nakamura shifted a little to the left, dangerously close to turning the possibility of contact into a reality. But that would be strange, and the last thing he needed was to scare him off — at least until Hirose leaned the remaining distance and angled his phone so they could both see the screen.
He was never moving again. A statue would be livelier than him right now.
"You'll have to show me Octopus Rush later! But I wanted to ask if you downloaded the game that came out yesterday."
"Ah. The one that's possessed the entire class?"
Hirose looked at him with a small frown. For a moment, Nakamura wondered if he had something on his face, or if the bento lid had left a mark on his forehead.
"You hadn't heard? It got really popular. Well, there'd been a lot of trailers already, so the hype was building for a while. You can play co-op and it's the kind of game you can sink serious time into, if you're creative enough." It was rare to see Hirose this animated about anything; he was adorable when he got excited. Nakamura suddenly wished incredible games came out every single day. "You could download it right now! There might even be time to play a bit. We could keep going online later. If you want."
Online. Hirose was inviting him to spend time together after school, and yet...
"I don't know if I can today. I have..." What was he supposed to say? Mention Icchan being sick and he'd seem like a terrible owner — one who couldn't even diagnose his own octopus. And the mood would drop. Hirose would definitely feel awful about a sick animal. "Things. To do."
Hirose's shoulders tensed slightly against his, but he nodded. Nakamura looked away. A golden opportunity had been handed to him and he'd turned it down without a believable excuse. What if Hirose never wanted to make plans again? What if the whole friendship fell apart and Hirose started to hate him?
"We'll make the most of the time we have, then. It's called Irodori Life."
Nakamura nodded, picking up his phone. His lunch had been pushed to the side, but the act of chewing, tasting, and swallowing after turning down the best invitation of his life felt impossible. He navigated to the game's download page.
"A life simulator." He scrolled through the screenshots one by one while the download crawled forward. "Playing a life simulator when we're already out here living a life is... considered fun?"
Hirose relaxed his posture slightly. "When you put it like that, it sounds incredibly dull. Never go into advertising, Nakamura." Hirose tilted his head closer, watching the progress bar. His extremely soft hair tickled Nakamura's chin. "Hey, do you think Otogori-sensei would expel me if I suggested the school invest in better Wi-Fi?"
"I — that..." Hirose used chamomile shampoo. It was the greatest scent Nakamura had ever encountered in his entire life. "You should stay still. I mean, let it go. For safety. In the not-getting-expelled sense."
"Could be an adventure, though." Hirose was smiling when Nakamura risked a glance. His throat had gone dry. His tongue felt dry.
"The adventure of cleaning the school drains for the rest of the year?" He paused, tapping his fingers absently against the side of his phone. "If you were going to try, you'd have to be subtle. Anonymous letters, maybe. Pretend to be a graduate with deep, lingering grievances — someone who had to research something that wasn't in the library, so they resorted to their phone, on a connection so slow it was practically decorative. And that day has haunted you ever since, and you feel a duty to spare every future generation from the same fate."
Tilted the way they were, Nakamura couldn't see Hirose's face. He was limited to the curve of his hair and the line of his neck. It was a lovely view that gave him absolutely no information about whether he'd talked too much, or whether the joke had gone on too long, or whether it had even been funny. Whether Hirose was wearing the expression of someone who regretted choosing to sit with Nakamura.
"That plan is way too polished to have been improvised. I think I just discovered a whole side of you I didn't know existed. I had no idea you were this mysterious."
"Mysterious. That's... good?"
Hirose laughed. Which had to be a good sign. "It means there's a lot left to find out. At least now I know you're good at making plans, on top of liking octopuses."
The sentence looped in his ears like a spiral, turning and turning. Nakamura laughed before he could get his hand in front of his mouth. There was really only one true thing in all of that. "Making a plan is easy. Getting it to actually work — that's a different story."
Hirose turned to look at him. The shift put a sliver of distance between them, and Nakamura had never wanted to take back words faster. Their shoulders and legs were still pressed together. He would find a way to preserve that contact until the end of his days. Buy a second uniform and never wash this one.
"Do your plans usually fail?"
It was a cosmic conspiracy. There wasn't a single doubt in his mind — the whole thing was a joke, and here was Hirose asking about his plans. 'Yes, I've made hundreds of plans to get closer to you. Because you're incredible and I want to know everything you love and be part of all of it.'
"No! All of my plans work. Perfectly. Not a single one has ever gone wro —"
A notification cut him off, the sudden vibration against his palm making Nakamura tighten his grip to keep from dropping the phone. They both looked at the screen at the same moment. In the center of the display, in bold text too large to ignore, it read:
No storage available. Free up 3.6 GB to complete the download.
"Not a single one, huh?"