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Here’s the thing about Hidaka Hokuto; he is fully capable of writing out a two-paragraph proof on a geometry exam without missing a single theorem, but he can and will layer a cashmere coat over a dark blue turtleneck sweater in thirty-degree weather without consideration for the fact that he can and will inevitably pass out.
That is to say; he is not dumb, but he certainly is stupid.
Tomoya is, for a long time, too starry-eyed by his charming upperclassman to realize this. Hokuto is every bit the charismatic prince he acts onstage, recognizing his mistakes and correcting them flawlessly. He arrives at rehearsals ten minutes early and dives into every script he is given.
“Hokuto-kun’s gonna be late!” Wataru says cheerfully.
Well. Until now, apparently.
“What the fuck,” Leo shouts at his normal volume, which is 160% of what any ordinary person’s voice should be. “Hokku’s never late!”
“The world is ending,” says Tomoya, horrified. “Is he okay? Does he need our help? Did he get into an accident? Is he—”
“Oh, Hokuto-kun is completely fine!” Wataru says, waving his lit-up phone around carelessly. “He was just on a date with his boyfriends and missed the train back!”
A beat of silence.
“What the fuck,” yells Leo again, just as Arashi claps her hands together and goes, “Oh my gosh! That’s so cute!”
“He has boyfriENDS?” Natsume hisses, looking disgusted—not at the prospect of Hokuto having boyfriends, but more for the fact that Hokuto has boyfriends.
Keito flips through the next page of his script without looking up. “Oh. I should tell him congratulations next time I see him.”
Tomoya is flabbergasted. And a little heartbroken, but it was just a small crush anyway. He knows he’ll get over it just fine. “Wha—boyfriends plural? When did—huh?”
Shu scoffs. “His roommates, apparently. They’re insufferable and horribly loud.”
He glares pointedly at Leo, but the other has already wandered off to pester Nagisa, who hasn’t lifted his eyes from his novel once. Tomoya envies that kind of focus.
“Um, Hibiki-senpai,” Tomoya says, coming over to stand next to his upperclassman. “Is Hokuto-senpai alright in the head?”
“Hmm? Whatever do you mean?” Wataru raises an eyebrow at Tomoya, but Tomoya’s no fool. Wataru knows anything and everything there is to know about everyone on campus. He won’t fall for it.
Tomoya makes a face. “Like, y’know.” He waves his hands around in a gesture that doesn’t make sense, even to him. “He’s never really… been the romantic type? I was just wondering if he was okay.”
“He never iS,” Natsume quips. “You remember when he walked into that dOOR, don’t yOU?” A feather boa half-slipping out of the costume accessories box he’s holding falls in his face. He sneezes.
Tomoya remembers very clearly. It involved too much momentum on Hokuto’s part, a door with handles on both sides, and a very distinct PULL sign plastered across the glass that Hokuto, hilariously, did not see.
Wataru laughs. “He’s wonderful, isn’t he? A fine prince both in and outside of the theater!”
“He threw a prop at you yesterday,” Shu reminds him.
“So energized too!”
Shu squints at him.
Wataru pays him no mind. He uses his rolled-up script to tap Tomoya on the head once, twice, three times. “Don’t worry so much about your beloved prince, Tomoya-kun. He’s just in love, is all.”
Tomoya has no choice but to accept that answer, really, since right after that they officially start rehearsal.
Hokuto finally shows up about forty-five minutes in—a worryingly long time frame for a punctual individual like him, and so concerning that Tomoya honestly contemplated dialing emergency services more than once.
There are three other people with him—one he recognizes as Akehoshi Subaru, the brassy, bright aerospace engineering student from the animals club, but the blonde with the gaming hoodie and glasses and the redhead with all the hair clips are unfamiliar.
“I’m so sorry for being late!” Hokuto calls, clearly out of breath and holding several bags. His windswept hair looks horribly charming. “We missed the train, and then the train that we got on afterwards got delayed, and—”
“It’s perfectly alright, Hokuto-kun!” Wataru sings from onstage. “Just grab your script and head over to stage-right!”
Hokuto nods and turns to look at the three boys with him—his boyfriends, maybe?
They all discuss something quickly, with the one in hair clips taking the shopping bags Hokuto had slung under his arm. Hokuto then proceeds to kiss every single one of them on the lips, and yeah, definitely his boyfriends.
Subaru and the others wave him goodbye before leaving the theater. Tomoya’s pretty sure the blonde one and the pink-haired one were holding hands before the doors shut behind them. It was a terribly affectionate display that, admittedly, tugged on Tomoya’s heartstrings a little bit.
Keito taps his script against his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, since Hidaka just got here, how about we take five? Drink some water and make sure to stay hydrated, everyone.”
They all break posture immediately, some stretching as others go to grab their water bottles. Hokuto shuffles on stage shortly after Keito’s announcement, script in hand and coat left to hang loosely over his shoulders.
“Hey, Hokku,” Leo drawls, draping himself over Hokuto from behind. “How come you missed the train?”
“Oh.” Hokuto brings up a hand to hide his mouth, pink rising to his cheeks, and—oh, he’s blushing. “We were… My boyfriends and I were shopping in Yokohama and trying on outfits… they looked really nice, so we kept looking at different clothes… and we lost track of time…”
Oh my god, Tomoya thinks.
“Awww! That sounds so sweet!” Arashi beams. “Oh, maybe I could bring Mika-chan and Ritsu-chan shopping with me next time! We could have a girls night!”
“Hokke-kUN, why are you the way that you aRE,” Natsume says, somehow looking cheerful and annoyed at the same time.
Hokuto buries his face in his hands. “I—in my defense, Mao had found a pastel cardigan that matched his My Melody bucket hat really well… and Makoto tried on earring cuffs for the first time, and Subaru looked really cute in oversized hoodies…”
Natsume walks away. Hokuto coughs loudly into his hand. “A—anyway, enough about Yokohama! Let’s get started on the script! Where were you guys before I got back?”
Nagisa tilts his head. “Yokohama… I believe Hiyori informed me of a museum of cup noodles there?”
Tomoya sighs. Just another rehearsal, he supposes.
Tomoya—and almost everyone else in Dramatica, truth be told—hoped it would end there, of course. That it would just become another part of life. Hokuto has three partners now, Nagisa loves studying gemstones and rocks, Leo is loud, whatever.
In hindsight, it was a little foolish for Tomoya to presume that. Despite Hokuto’s frosty, distant appearance, he is intense, and incredibly, foolishly rebellious. His passion for theater is not to be underestimated, but let it be known that his impulses drive his decisions more than any thought in his head ever could.
(“What made you think he has any thoughts?” Shu scoffs. Tomoya scowls at him.)
“Don’t worry, things will work out!” Wataru exclaims.
“And if they don’t?” Hokuto reads, embracing Ayumu’s role even as he’s dressed in a pastel pink cardigan and dark green sweats that clash horribly with each other. It’s an unnatural fashion choice for him, and knowing the general outfit colors two of Hokuto’s boyfriends favor, Tomoya is suspicious.
Wataru goes to read his next line, but Hokuto lowers his script to check his phone.
Nagisa glances at Hokuto from behind the giant bar prop that has yet to be painted. He looks back down at his script. “Was there blocking with a phone prop I missed? I apologize,” he says sincerely.
Hokuto shakes his head quickly. “No, no, just—give me a moment,” he says, brushing past Nagisa and Wataru both to head backstage. Tomoya stumbles back as Hokuto walks past him, nearly dropping the box of props in his arms.
Yeah, Tomoya is very suspicious.
Behind him, Wataru hums. “Tomoya-kun,” he says, garnering the freshman’s attention. The mischievous grin playing on his lips is concerning. “Go check up on him, won’t you?”
“Oh, yes! Give me just a moment!” Tomoya sets his props box down on the floor and hurries offstage. He most definitely does not trip on an extension cord three separate times on the way there.
The backdoor leading out into the hallway behind the stage is propped half-open, but as Tomoya approaches he hears two voices.
“You’re sure you can’t stay to watch?”
“Mm-mm, sorry Hokke! Ukki and I have to prepare for our upcoming exam!”
“Will you be home later tonight?”
“Mhm mhm! Don’t worry about us! We’ll even bring back some konpeito for you!”
“I appreciate it.”
Tomoya would know those voices anywhere. He’s spent too long in both Dramatica and the animals club not to recognize Hokuto and Subaru’s voices.
He curls his fingers around the door and peeks out from behind it, fully expecting them to be holding hands or hugging. However, when Hokuto plants a firm kiss on Subaru’s lips and Subaru smiles into the loving gesture, Tomoya squeaks and rushes back into the auditorium.
This time he does trip on an extension cord, face-planting on the ground with a hilariously loud slap.
Arashi notices right away and panics, dropping to her knees and rolling Tomoya onto his back. “Are you okay?” she asks frantically, checking to make sure he’s not injured.
From the corner of Tomoya’s eye, he sees Hokuto stumble in with Subaru in tow. Tomoya brings a hand to his aching nose and it comes away with blood smudged across his fingers. Whoops.
“Hokuto-senpai, with all due respect,” Tomoya says, “please don’t sneak out of rehearsal to kiss your boyfriends.”
Leo breaks out into maniacal laughter when Keito bats Hokuto’s head with his script.
The worst part of it is that it continues. Hokuto continually bends the rules that he previously stuck to with a firmness one would be pressed to find anywhere else, much to the increasing frustration of most of Dramatica.
He slips out during dinner breaks to eat with the pink one Tomoya now knows is Isara Mao, sometimes coming back as much as twenty minutes late. The blonde engineering major—Makoto?—will drop in sometimes to watch their rehearsals, and Hokuto ends up dragging him onstage to practice lines with him despite Makoto having never performed theatrically in his life. Subaru passes through the same complex as the theater between his classes sometimes, leading him to sneak in and try to steal a kiss or two if he has the chance.
Tomoya is, in the beginning, not too worried about it. After all, Hokuto’s not the only one in a relationship—Izumi drops in to bring Leo food on occasion. Mika comes to visit Shu all the time, though it’s usually because they’re both fashion design majors struggling through semester projects and not because Mika wants to kiss Shu 24/7.
(He’s very certain Mika wants to kiss Shu all the time, though. It’s clear to anyone who looks at them for more than 0.2 seconds that Mika is very, very in love with him.)
“Where’s Hokku at?” Leo yells from stage-right, his voice reverberating through the auditorium. “I need him for this scene!”
Tomoya glances up from marking his script with new prop adjustments. “Um, I think I last saw him heading to the prop closet?”
Shu sighs in front of Tomoya and the younger startles. “If that fool was irritating before, he’s absolutely intolerable now,” he says sharply as he pivots on his heel to head over to the prop closet just offstage. Tomoya leans forward so he can see just past the curtain, following Shu’s retreating back.
“Hey, Hidaka—”
Shu doesn’t finish his sentence. Tomoya follows behind him, peeking around his arm, and—
Ah. Tomoya feels his face turn a flustered pink.
“Um,” Hokuto starts, but he doesn’t get to say anything else before Shu lets out a string of French cursing and slams the door shut with more force than necessary.
“Is everything alright back there?” Arashi’s voice sounds from back onstage.
Tomoya needs to bleach his eyes. “Hokuto-senpai and Yuuki-senpai were. Kissing. In the prop closet.”
“Oh, my.”
Leo and Wataru’s delighted laughter soon follows. Privately, Tomoya wonders if there’s anything in the world that can faze them at this point. Probably not.
Shu mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I despise teenagers,” under his breath. He only turned twenty a few months ago.
Tomoya, despite being the incredibly old age of eighteen, agrees deeply.
They still have some blocking to do, so Tomoya and Shu just give up and return to the stage to finish their work, but Tomoya does spot Hokuto shoving a guilty-looking Makoto towards the backstage exit.
“I think you’re overreacting,” says Midori after Tomoya lays all his doubts out piece by agonizing piece. Next to him, Hajime sighs.
“That wasn’t a very nice way to phrase it, Takamine-kun,” Hajime chides. Midori, chastised, turns to look out the café window with a depressed huff.
Tomoya frowns at his childhood friend, betrayed. “So you agree with him?”
Hajime averts his gaze to watch the ice cubes in his lemonade instead. “Well,” he says, “you said you were worried that Hidaka-senpai isn’t putting his all into theater, right? Because of his partners?”
Tomoya nods. He looks over at the café counter, where Mao is taking down an order for a black-haired boy that Tomoya recognizes as Arashi and Leo’s friend. That had been a surprise, Mao working here—but it’s a new development, Mao had told him at the register. It… makes sense too, because Tomoya watches as he fights for his life to draw a swan into the latte the other boy just ordered.
“Everyone else is worried too,” Tomoya finds himself saying. “Except Hibiki-senpai and Tsukinaga-senpai. They think the whole thing is funny.”
Midori looks away from the window to take a sip of his drink. “Tsukinaga-senpai is Tsukinaga-senpai and Hibiki-senpai jumps out of blimps without protective gear for fun. He thinks everything’s funny.”
It doesn’t reassure Tomoya in the slightest.
“I just wish he’d tell m— us that we’re still important to him,” Tomoya mumbles, staring at his distorted reflection in his latte. “Maybe like, ‘I finally found love and my place in the world, but I’m not replacing you guys,’ you know?”
“Tomoya-kun,” Hajime starts serenely, “he would not fucking say that.”
“He really wouldn’t,” agrees Midori.
Tomoya lets his forehead hit the table surface with a plunk as he groans. “This feels really invalidating, y’know,” he grumbles.
Hajime softens and reaches across the table to rest his hand on top of Tomoya’s. “He didn’t replace you, you know that, right? Hidaka-senpai is loyal to whatever he sets his mind to. He just has another thing to protect and care for—his relationship.”
“But he’s—being so reckless all the time!”
Midori idly swirls his straw around in his glass. “I think he’s just reckless all the time and you look up to him too much to notice.”
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”
Midori levels Tomoya with a flat stare. “He was arguing with Shinkai-senpai about whether or not the crabs in the marine biology wing were dead last week. Shinkai-senpai.”
Tomoya winces.
“His boyfriends are hardly a good influence on him either. Akehoshi-senpai steals pocket change off the sidewalk and Isara-senpai’s camera keeps dying because he keeps forgetting to charge it. And they keep kissing each other when they think Morisawa-senpai and I aren’t looking.” Midori sighs and buries his face in his hands. “College basketball was a mistake.”
Hajime pats his back consolingly.
The café door swings open, the bell ringing wildly enough that Tomoya, Hajime, and Midori all look up to see none other than Hokuto walk through the doors. Speak of the devil.
Mao, having already waved off the black-haired boy from earlier with a laugh, smiles and flashes a peace sign when he notices Hokuto’s arrival. “Welcome in!” he exclaims.
Hokuto’s response to that, apparently, is to speed-walk across the café, hook his hands in the straps of Mao’s apron, and pull him forward across the counter to kiss him.
A series of surprised faces ripple across the café. Midori and Hajime lift their hands to cover each other’s eyes at the same time.
Mao pulls away first, embarrassed and bright red. When Hokuto frowns at him as if he has no idea what he did wrong—and, Tomoya realizes in horror, that he doesn’t —Mao whacks his shoulder with a to-go carrier.
“How has Isara-senpai not gotten fired yet,” Midori questions.
Hajime just shrugs.
Tomoya doesn’t know either.
“Not bAD, I suppOSE,” Natsume comments as he slips out of his loafers and steps into Hokuto’s dorm.
As he shucks off his ratty sneakers, Tomoya himself finds the place to be rather nice; he’d thought of applying for a suite like this last year after bawling for two hours over being accepted to his top college, but ultimately settled for a double and roomed with Hajime for the sake of his comfort zone.
“I hope you won’t mind my room—my boyfriends being here,” Hokuto corrects himself, and Natsume rolls his eyes almost immediately. “They’ll be studying in Mao and Makoto’s room so they don’t disturb us.”
He points to a door to the left of the common area, bedecked with polaroids and game posters hung up with command strips. Right on cue, Subaru’s laughter echoes from behind the door, and Hokuto’s face visibly warms.
“EuGH.” Natsume shoves past Hokuto and sets his bag down on the table with exaggerated force. “Enough of your lovesicknESS. We have work to dO.”
Hokuto clears his throat. “A–apologies. Right.”
The “work” in question is taking measurements and planning out the design for Hokuto’s costume. Natsume starts pulling measuring tape and a sketchbook out of his bag while Hokuto goes and fills a few glasses of water for them. Tomoya deliberately disregards the scraped-up star stickers tacked onto the cups.
Despite the occasional loud thumps of notebooks falling and laughter that sound from under Mao and Makoto’s bedroom, the three Dramatica members manage to stay largely on task. It’s only about forty-five minutes in, when Natsume is discussing the possible patterns for the suit Ayumu will have, that the peace is broken.
“Hokke!” Subaru shouts, shoving the door open so violently it rebounds off the hinges and clocks him in the side. He yelps and stumbles back into Makoto’s grip, arms flailing up to reveal the… spoons in either hand?
Mao plucks the spoons from either of Subaru’s hands and holds them up. “We, uh, we found those spoons you lost from a few days ago.”
Tomoya blinks. Natsume looks like he’s going to have an aneurysm.
“My… spoons,” Hokuto intones.
Subaru bounces back up. “Yeah! From when you made them in that craft club!”
Hokuto looks between Natsume and Tomoya. For a haunting second, Tomoya thinks Hokuto will accept the spoons gratefully and completely forget their previous task, but—
“Well… while I do appreciate it, Subaru, could it possibly wait until I’m finished working on this with Sakasaki and Tomoya?”
Makoto nods. “Got it! Sorry about that, Sakasaki-kun, Tomoya-kun. Don’t mind us! We’ll head back to studying and let you guys finish up!” He takes Mao’s hand and Subaru’s arm and ushers them back inside, ignoring Subaru’s hollering in his ear about the… spoons.
The door clicks loudly behind them, the rusty hinges creaking.
Hidaka-senpai is loyal to whatever he sets his mind to, Hajime had said. Tomoya beams.
“What has you smiling so muCH, hMM?” Natsume quirks his eyebrows at him, as if Tomoya is incapable of being anything other than mildly stressed or downright miserable.
“I think the spoons are very neat,” Tomoya says.
Hokuto sneezes and knocks over a glass of water.