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The small dog at Makoto’s side whined as it strained ineffectually against its leash, gave a long suffering sigh and turned pleading eyes to its master. Each evening they walked this quiet road, and each evening the boy would linger in the same spot as the streetlights overhead began to flicker on one by one, staring with furrowed brows up at the same dark apartment window.
Though the sun had barely dipped below the horizon, the window was dark, with only the faintest glimmer of wan blue light peeking out from the behind the curtains.
Makoto looked down at his mobile, at the unfinished number blinking on the screen. Taunting him. He frowned. No matter how hard he tried, he could never bring himself to dial the last digit, to complete the call, even though more than anything, he longed to hear the voice of the person on the other end. Truthfully, even if he did work up the nerve to call Youji, he had no idea what to say. “Hey bro! Look outside! It’s me, creeping outside your place. Again.” – or something.
Makoto could remember the day he asked to exchange numbers, acting casual even though heart was beating so hard he was sure everyone could hear it. How stupidly happy he felt watching Youji plug his number into Makoto’s phone. Youji’s expression had been indecipherable as always, with just the smallest hint of surprise in his dark eyes, but he had agreed. His friends had laughed at him, asking why he even bothered associating with such a “cold fish.” The sickly youth had caused quite the buzz amongst the class when he unexpectedly returned after a long absence away, but as time wore on the other students lost interest. Most days he sat apart and ate his lunch alone. When the day ended, Makoto often saw him heading home, head bowed, threading his way through the groups of students, never stopping to chat or exchange farewells. To Makoto it looked incredibly lonesome.
Cheerful and jovial, Makoto never wanted for company. Wherever he went he was surrounded by people, and yet he often tamped down a strange feeling of gloominess that sometimes settled cold and constricting in his chest. Out of all of them, not one could be called a true friend. He was known as the class clown, always with a smile and a joke to spare, and yet no one could guess what painful secrets he kept close to his hear, nor did they care. Truthfully, even when in the middle of a crowd, Makoto never felt more alone. Deep down, though he’d never admit it aloud, Makoto recognized a bit of himself in Youji.
What Makoto knew about Youji was pieced together from gossip and information dragged out of him bit by bit. He was orphaned by a tragic accident at a young age; the only family he had left was an older sister and he lived by himself. Would anyone notice if Youji became bedridden? Did he have anyone who truly cared? Youji was an enigma, one that wore at Makoto like a riddle with no answer. Lately it felt as though Youji was always at the forefront of his mind.
In the beginning, despite his best efforts Youji seemed to resist all of Makoto’s attempts to befriend him. Gradually they began to walk home together, and Makoto found himself looking forward to the time they shared, though the older boy was content to allow Makoto to do most of the talking.
A sharp bark echoing across the deserted streets snapped Makoto out of his wistful reverie. He quickly shushed the dog. “Alright, alright. I get it,” the youth grumbled. “Let’s go.” Makoto tucked his mobile into his pocket and cast one last look at Youji’s window. Youji’s pale face was peering back at him, mirroring the surprise on his own face. “Oh, shit.”
The feeling like he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t washed over him. Makoto was grateful that it was dark now because he was pretty sure his face was beet red. “Ok, you idiot, act casual.” He waved sheepishly. After a moment, Youji lifted a hand and slowly waved back, and he couldn’t stop the goofy smile from spreading across his face.
Youji probably thought he was strange but for some reason seeing him always made Makoto feel happy. With both his thoughts and his heartbeat running wild, Makoto turned and started down the street towards home.
-------
Lunch was over and students were beginning to drift back into the classroom. Makoto was sitting on the edge of his desk, contemplating finishing off his last bag of potato chips when his friend nudged him. “Makoto, let me borrow your notes,” he whispered.
“What notes?”
“The notes for the quiz, dumbass.”
“What quiz?” Makoto answered with mounting panic.
“Today’s quiz of course.” Kamiya-sensei said dryly, standing at the head of the class. “I know all of my students have been studying very hard, correct?”
His friend groaned and slumped over his desk. “Looks like we’re both screwed.”
“Tests after lunch should be outlawed.” Makoto stifled a yawn. “How am I supposed to concentrate with a full stomach?”
“Take your seats, everyone. We’re about to get started.” Idle chatter died down as everyone filed back to their desk, minus one person. Kamiya-sensei’s sharp eyes swept over the classroom, then narrowed. “Has anyone seen Sakiyama?”
Youji had rushed out of the classroom shortly after everyone had been dismissed for lunch, looking paler than usual.
“Sensei!” Makoto leapt up. “I’ll go find him.”
“Fine. Just be quick about it.” With that, he called the class to attention, turning to the board and began writing formulas.
Makoto headed through the empty hall towards the infirmary, the first location that popped into his head. Youji spent a good deal of time there due to his sickness. Inside, the 2nd year resting quietly told him she hadn’t seen anyone fitting Youji’s description, and after checking the lockers and finding nothing, found himself heading towards the boy’s toilets, wondering if maybe Youji had slipped past him and headed back to class. Might as well be thorough, he thought, pushing open the door to the sight of Youji slumped over a sink, splashing handfuls of water onto his face and neck. His sweater vest was disheveled and his tie hung loose around his neck.
“Youji! There you are,” Makoto said cheerfully as Youji turned towards him with furrowed brows. “Uh, Kamiya-sensei sent me. Class is starting.”
“Oh,” Youji said, the word only a little louder than a whisper. He turned back to the mirror.
“Are you okay?” Makoto asked, noticing the flush that tinged Youji’s cheeks, and the way his white knuckled hands gripped the edge of the sink, as if it was taking all his strength just to remain upright. “Maybe you should go to the infirmary?”
“I’m fine,” the older boy retorted. “A little lightheaded. It’ll pass.”
His countenance said otherwise. Makoto could easily read the strain in his clenched jaw and drawn expression. “Maybe you should talk to the nurse. Just in case? You look awful –uh, no offense.”
A sigh hissed between Youji’s lips as he pushed himself away from the sink. “Makoto, stop nagging. I said I’m fine-.“
Makoto started, rushing forward to catch Youji as he swayed on his feet. Head lowered, eyes clenched shut, Youji rested against him. “What did I say? You’ve been pushing yourself too hard again, haven’t you?” He chided, pressing the back of his hand to Youji’s brow. The skin underneath was feverishly hot, as he suspected. As a matter of fact, his whole body felt unusually warm. Makoto could feel it through the thin layers of their uniform shirts. “You’re so stubborn.”
A flush of embarrassment overtook him as he became acutely aware of the extent of their closeness. Youji’s trembling hand gripping his shoulder; his breath fanning Makoto’s skin; the way the water droplets clung to his curls and spiked the lashes resting against the sleek line of his cheeks. Makoto stared at Youji, taking it all in. He looked..delicate almost, fragile and oddly beautiful. A peculiar feeling of mingled longing and panic fluttered in his chest as the arm around Youji’s waist tightened, drawing him closer. Youji’s eyes slid open, meeting Makoto’s lighter ones.
“If someone walked in right now, they might get the wrong idea,” Makoto joked. At that Youji pulled away quickly and passed a hand through his still damp hair.
“Sorry,” he murmured, averting his eyes.
The younger boy rubbed the nape of his neck and laughed. “I’m just joking, bro.” Inside he struggled to tamp down the disappointment he felt at the loss of contact. “But I’m definitely taking you to the nurse now. No arguing! You can’t say you’re okay and then almost pass out in the toilets. Here, put your arm across my shoulders.”
Despite Youji’s continued protests, Makoto dragged him to the infirmary and left him with the on duty nurse, who took his temperature and immediately insisted he lie down and rest for the remainder of the day. Makoto was unceremoniously shooed out of the infirmary and sent back to class.
Try as he might, Makoto couldn’t concentrate on his assignment. The early encounter weighed heavy on his mind. Kamiya-sensei’s lesson faded into white noise as he struggled to make sense of the complicated tangle of emotions growing within him and the growing realization that he might actually had a crush on his older classmate. That day it seemed like the end of the class took an eternity.
--
“Kamiya-sensei is so strict,” Makoto huffed dramatically. “Even though I explained what happened, he accused me of skipping out on class and threatened to give me a bad grade. Unbelievable!”
Youji trailed a half step behind him. “It was my fault. I’ll talk to Kamiya-sensei. You shouldn’t have to suffer because of me.”
“Nah, it’s no big deal. I begged and pleaded for mercy and he eventually agreed to let me make up that damn quiz,” Makoto replied with a wide grin. “Technically you almost fainting was a good, cause now I get an extra day to study.”
As usual they fell into their typical routine, with Makoto’s idle chatter filling the air and Youji mostly listening, though today his silence appeared more contemplative. The events from earlier that day hung between them like an unspoken question, but both were afraid of the answer.
The air was warm, with the slightest hint of a cool breeze. Just ahead was the apartment block where Youji lived. Makoto was in a good mood and Youji looked much better. The loaded plastic bags the younger boy carried in each hand swung in rhythm with each energetic step.
After Youji admitted that he hadn’t had lunch that day, Makoto insisted in dragging him into a nearby convenience store, gathering up a wide range of snacks with all the glee of a kid set loose in a candy shop. The dark haired youth had turned his nose up at the idea of mayonnaise flavored potato chips, but grudgingly agreed to try Makoto’s favorite brand of melon pan. They had purchased several conbini bentos too, because according to Makoto, Youji “needed some healthier things too, I guess.”
“You’re lucky Kamiya-sensei let you take yours home. I guess there are some upsides to being sick, huh? If we study together, there’s no way I’ll fail.” Makoto slowed and peered over his shoulder, realizing that Youji had stopped and was staring up at the gray bricked building with an unreadable expression. “What’s up?”
Youji was quiet for a long moment. “Makoto,” he started, still looking away. “Sometimes I can’t help but wonder what you’re thinking when you stand here each night.”
“What?” Makoto stammered, breaking out in a cold sweat. “I’m not really thinking anything! Uh..my dog likes this area, that’s all.”
“That’s all? But isn’t this a little out of your way?”
“Not really? Geez, since when is it illegal for a man to walk around at night?”
“Oh.” Youji leveled that dark, unfathomable gaze at him and Makoto couldn’t help but feel as though his illicit secret had been found out.” Never mind then.” When Youji shrugged a shoulder, then started for his apartment again, Makoto heaved a secret sigh of relief.
They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence for the remainder of the walk. Makoto shuffled his feet awkwardly as he watched Youji fish his keys out of his pocket and unlock his door, feeling like he should say something, and wondering if he had somehow offended his classmate. He stood at the threshold when Youji stepped inside.
“Aren’t you coming in?” Makoto practically jumped at the words and followed him in.
--
“Whoa, I can’t believe you have this whole place to yourself,” Makoto said, nudging off his shoes and set them by the door. “Must be pretty convenient.”
“It’s not much, but please make yourself comfortable.” Youji took the bags from Makoto and moved deeper inside.
“No need to get all formal.” Makoto looked around, somewhat surprised by how empty and unlived in the apartment felt, with its bare, nondescript walls and utilitarian furniture. He had to admit it was rather tidy for a teenage boy, though he noted with some satisfaction that Youji’s bed was unmade. An aquarium full of small, darting fish brought a bit of life and color to the abode.
They sat down at the low table to do their homework. About 15 minutes in Makoto got distracted by the snacks. Youji attempted to complete his missed classwork, while Makoto provided moral support in between bites of sweetbread.
“Here,” Makoto pushed a round, green colored bun into Youji’s hands and gave him an encouraging grin. “You’ll definitely like this one.” Youji took a tentative bite.
“What is it?”
“Matcha. It’s one of the most popular flavors. Now try this one. Good, right?” Youji nodded slowly. ”I knew you’d like it!”
Youji gave him a strange look. “What’s so funny?”
Makoto shook his head with a wide smile. “This is the first time I’ve been in your house.”
“So?”
“It’s nothing.” Then he added, somewhat shyly. “I’m just really happy. This is going to sound pathetic, but I’ve always wanted to do something like this – y’know, just hanging out and trying new foods with you – for a while now.”
“Your obsession with force feeding me is rather bizarre.”
“Sorry,” He laughed. “I can’t help it. I like sharing food with people I care about.”
“People you care about?” Youji murmured. “What a strange thing to say.”
“Youji?”
“Makoto, tell me the truth. Why are you here?”
“To study, remember? Ugh, but this lesson is so boring I’ve already forgotten most of it.” He gave an uneasy laugh and turned his attention back to his work.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” His cold words raised an alarm in Youji’s mind. “Was it Kamiya-sensei? Did he ask you to keep an eye on me?”
“Of course not,” Makoto frowned. “Youji, what’s this about?”
Youji’s lips thinned and he lowered his gaze to the fists clenched in his lap. Then he lifted his head and gave Makoto a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Makoto swallowed, mouth going dry. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, but you don’t have to pretend anymore. Buying me food, helping me with schoolwork, dragging me to the nurse when I get too sick to walk,” he continued. “I appreciate it, but this must be a huge inconvenience for you, right? You should be out with your real friends, not wasting time with a burden like me.”
“What are you talking about? You really think I’m here because I feel sorry for you?” Anger sparked within hot within him. “You’re not a burden, Youji.”
“I am a burden,” Youji said through gritted teeth, as though even speaking them aloud caused pain. “To sister, my teachers; my classmates; everyone. I see it in the looks they give me, like I’m worthless because I can’t do the things that come easy to other people my age. Why does someone like me even exist? Wouldn’t it be better if I were to just… fade away? I’m sure no one would even notice.”
Makoto surged to his feet, knocking over his chair. “I would notice because I’m your friend and I care about you! Do you really think that poorly of me? Of yourself? ” Youji’s eyes went wide as Makoto continued to shout, all the emotions he had held back now pouring out of him. “I’m here because you’re my friend, Youji. I love-,” he recovered quickly. “-like you, you dumbass. Like, really, really like you. I like you so much that I stand outside your place at night trying to work up the courage to call you because just the sound of your voice makes me happy.” Makoto went quiet. “If you went away, it would kill me.”
“Makoto..,” Youji faltered, then looked away, biting his lower lip. After several minutes of silence Makoto realized that Youji had no intention of continuing.
The younger boy deflated, all his anger draining away at the sight of Youji’s crestfallen expression. He rubbed the nape of his neck, reflexively. “I… guess I should go.”
“I’ll walk you to the door,” Youji rose stiffly and followed a few steps behind. Makoto’s face fell, but he nodded. Avoiding Youji’s gaze, he donned his shoes and pulled the door open. Youji opened his mouth as if to say something, but it went unheard as Makoto slipped outside and shut the door behind him.
--
The night wind snatched at Makoto’s clothes as he pounded down the sidewalk, emotions raw and face burning with humiliation. The weight of Youji’s confession and his outburst sat like lead in his stomach. Overhead, the streetlights began to flicker to life, bathing his figure in a yellow glare.
A familiar sound rang out. His heart pounded in his chest. Makoto slowed, fingers grasping for his mobile. Youji’s number flashed on the screen. His injured pride wrestled with a fleeting hope. With a pained sound, he jammed the mobile back in his pocket and soon the ringing stopped. It took everything in him to keep walking, despite the fact that every atom in him wanted to turn back, to glance up at Youji’s window with the hope that he would see him looking back.
“Makoto!” He stopped as he heard quick footsteps and Youji’s voice at his back. He spun as his older classmate ran up and timidly held out a plastic bag full of food. “You forgot these,” he said between gasping breaths.
“I don’t want them,” Makoto said in a clipped tone, swallowing his disappointment and looking away. He couldn’t meet Youji’s eyes right now. It was too painful.
“You..don’t want them?” Youji’s arm dropped back to his side. “I see.”
“I’m going home,”
“You don’t have to.” The quiet voice at his back froze him in place. Youji stepped closer. Makoto glanced over his shoulder at Youji. The older boy’s chest was heaving but his gaze was unwavering. “I don’t want you to go. Makoto, I like you too.” He gently but firmly turned Makoto to face him and was emboldened when the younger boy didn’t try to pull away.
“I said a lot of cruel things back there. I didn’t know you felt that strongly about me. I feel terrible.”
“How do you think I feel?” Makoto mumbled, giving him a pointed look. “I finally confess my true feelings to you and the only thing you say is, “I’ll walk you to the door.”
“You caught me off guard! I didn’t know what to think,” Youji shot back. He looked at Makoto for a while, head tilted slightly. “What you said, about how I make you happy – is that true?”
Makoto pulled him close, pressing their lips together in a clumsy, but earnest kiss that left them flushed and panting. “Convinced now?” Makoto laughed, resting his forehead against Youji’s and he smiled. “I meant every single word.”
“Makoto?”
“Hm?”
“Thank you.”