Chapter Text
They hold the going away party at Koushiro’s place, because he insists, and because Yamato’s not really the type to plan parties.
“You don’t know what you’re getting into,” Taichi warns him, when he first comes up with the plan.
But Koushiro just rolls his eyes and says, “I’ve met your friends. They’re really not that bad. You should see nerds tearing up a convention after-party.”
Taichi doesn’t know what a nerd party gets like, but his leaving bash is a mess with a capital ‘M’. Within about an hour, the girls’ carefully designed “Goodbye Taichi” banner is trailing over the back of the sofa, hanging limply from the wall by one last tack. Most of the food has already been demolished, and empty beer cans are piling up on the kitchen counters.
The music is loud and the laughter is louder. To Taichi, it’s perfect.
He stretches out on a pile of cushions in front of the open balcony doors, which are letting the summer air in and the marijuana smoke out and takes the joint that someone hands to him.
“It’s good weed,” Yamato says, from the cushions beside him.
Taichi exhales and passes the joint on to him. “Koushiro gets the best.”
“Nerds always do.” Yamato clicks his tongue in disapproval, as he flicks at a stray corner of filter paper with a fingernail. “Who rolled this, though?” he asks, before putting the poorly-made joint between his lips.
Taichi watches his best friend smoke, kind of wanting to stare at him as much as he can, before he’s not here anymore, and so suddenly can’t.
It feels like they’re on eggshells around one another tonight. An anxiety about their imminent separation is hanging over them, not something that Taichi really knows how to articulate, but there all the same.
Yamato passes the joint up over his shoulder, to some girl sitting behind them, who’s next in line. Then he points into the crowd of partygoers.
“This guy’s hot,” he says.
They’ve grown up together on the scene. Being out and proud in Tokyo has been easy for Taichi, largely because Yamato has always been by his side. Here, he’s never short of a wingman. New York might not be the same.
Not wanting to dwell on that, Taichi tilts his head, trying to land on the target of Yamato’s pointing. There’s nobody obviously his type here. Unless he means…
“Dude,” he says, laughing. “That’s Jou.”
Yamato blinks, realisation, chased by alarm.
“Oh my god, I’m really stoned,” he says, pushing himself up onto his elbows and sitting straighter.
“I told you,” Taichi says. “He beefed up over summer.”
“He looks like a total gym bro now.” Yamato is squinting, obviously not wearing his contacts again. “Is that gross on him? I don’t know. Maybe it’s not a good look.”
“It was enough to make you take notice.”
Taichi puts his finger and thumb in his mouth and lets out a sharp whistle, which makes Jou and several other people look his way. “Dude,” he calls, beckoning Jou over.
He comes easily, beer in one hand, and makes an awkward job of lowering himself down onto a stray cushion, like he’s not yet used to manouvering all that extra muscle with grace.
They haven’t seen that much of him over the past few years. While Taichi and Yamato both stayed in Tokyo for college, and then for work after that, Jou left to study in Hokkaido at the end of high school and basically never looked back.
Until now. It’s only been a few weeks since a new job brought him back to the city, and tonight is the first time most of them have even laid eyes on him again.
“What’s up, man? You hitting those protein shakes?” Taichi asks, offering his fist to Jou, who stares at it a beat too long before he realises he’s being asked to bump his knuckles against Taichi’s, by which point the moment has kind of passed and the gesture feels dumb.
“Just wanted to get in shape. Get healthy,” Jou says, with a little shrug. But there’s a note of pride in his voice, too, and good for him. “Make it easier to date,” he adds, swigging his beer.
“Well, you’re doing something right,” Taichi tells him. “You just had Tokyo’s most eligible over here checking you out.” He jerks a thumb in Yamato’s direction and watches as Jou’s gaze wanders over to him, lingering a little.
There’s always been a childhood crush there, on Jou’s part, one the entire group ignores by unspoken mutual agreement. It’s shitty of Taichi to draw attention now, but, hey, they’re all adults, and anyway it’s worth it to see how flustered it makes Yamato, who basically still has never learned to deal with most people’s feelings about him.
“Stop,” he snaps, his cheeks turning pink. “Ignore him, Jou. Not that you’re not, you know.” He kicks out at Taichi’s calf. “But fuck off, Taichi.”
Grinning, Taichi rubs at his leg and then twists at the waist, seeking out the joint. “You want a hit, Kido?”
“Oh, it’s- I’m fine,” Jou starts, predictably, but Taichi is already exhaling in his direction, and passing the joint on.
“Don’t be square,” Yamato says. There’s no intensity to his words, but simply the fact that it’s him saying it is enough to make Jou cave.
He takes his hit clumsily and then offers the joint to Yamato, who hands it straight on to Taichi, without taking another drag himself. Yamato looks away, while Jou’s gaze lingers again.
“How’s being back in Tokyo?” Taichi asks him.
“Weird. Like a step backwards, honestly.” Jou turns to look at him. “How are you feeling about going?”
“Pumped,” Taichi says, which is half the truth.
Beside them, Yamato gets to his feet.
“I’m getting a cigarette,” he says, simply, and then steps out onto the balcony, to where a different breed of smokers are gathered.
Once more, Jou’s eyes follow him. “You guys will miss each other, I guess?”
Taichi deliberately doesn’t look towards the balcony.
“Got to cut the cord at some point,” he says, reaching down to tug at a stray thread sticking out from the cuff of his jeans.
He glances back up at Jou. “So, how much are you bench pressing these days?”
*
The party finally winds down around two, when half the guests have already left.
Taichi had been planning to crash on the sofa, but suddenly feels the need to get back to his own place. He’s too drunk, and too sad, to stay.
“I’ll walk you out,” Koushiro offers, standing in the doorway. There’s a slur in his voice and he looks uncharacteristically emotional.
“It’s fine. Let’s say bye here,” Taichi tells him, pulling him into another hug. “I can’t drag it out with every single person, man. It’ll make me lose it.”
Saying goodbye to the girls has been tough enough. Taichi hates seeing anyone in tears, and Mimi and Sora had both been crying.
The only person he lets leave with him is Yamato, because that’s a given. Taichi doesn’t think he knows how to say goodbye to him at all, let alone in front of anybody else.
They take the elevator down to the ground floor and step out into the Tokyo night. Taichi inhales the warm, humid scent of the city air and wonders how long it will be before he’s breathing in this smell again.
The job with the foreign office had been a dream in the first place, only the result of some miraculous string-pulling by his father. And then the transfer to New York was certainly not something to turn down, especially if he wants to go places in this field.
But while the pay’s good, it’s not like Taichi will be able to afford to jet back to Japan every other week, and the reality of that is only just now beginning to truly tug at his chest.
He puts his hands in his pockets and concentrates on walking, trusting Yamato to fall into step beside him, which he does.
“Are you going to be ok here without me?” Taichi asks, not sure if he’s joking.
Yamato tilts his head back and looks up at the night sky. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I feel like I’m going to be a fucking mess without you.”
Yamato hesitates a beat, then hooks his elbow through Taichi’s. “I’ll be fine. And you’ll be fine. The party won’t stop because you’re not here.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of, man. The fomo’s so real.”
“The New York party vibe will be even stronger, I’m sure.”
Taichi highly doubts that. The gay scene in the part of the city where he and Yamato live is centered around a small handful of clubs and bars. It’s a close-knit community, and between them, they know every inch of it. Where to go for the filthiest beats. The best drugs. The most high-end dick.
This is where he feels at home. The idea of leaving it all behind seems suddenly insane.
“The bigger question is, who’s going to vet my hook-ups, if you’re leaving?” Yamato is saying. “Apparently I’m at the point where I need someone to make sure I can tell the difference between hot strangers and Jou Kido.”
Taichi thinks back to saying goodbye to Jou at the party, not attempting another fist bump, but shaking his hand like the adults they are, before tugging him into a hug.
“Take him out. Show him the scene. Nobody more reliable than Jou. He’d fit right in now, looking like that.”
“I don’t know about fitting in. Have you seen how he dances?” Abruptly, Yamato stops walking, his grip on Taichi’s elbow bringing him up short, too. “Hey, I got you something.”
He reaches into the pocket of his jeans, coming up with a small package, too neat to be his own wrapping, probably done by some store clerk.
“It’s stupid. It’s nothing,” he says, as he hands it over.
Taichi tears into the paper, revealing a colourful plastic key ring, the type you get at tourist stands all over the city. This one has a picture of the Rainbow Bridge over Tokyo bay, and the words ‘I love Tokyo’ printed across the bottom. In place of the word ‘love’, there’s a red heart.
“So you don’t forget it,” Yamato says, stern.
“I dig it.” Taichi runs his thumb over the design. “I’ll carry it everywhere and bore everyone I meet explaining what it means.”
“Don’t do that. You’ll never get laid again,” Yamato tells him, and then holds his arms out.
Taichi steps into them, realising as he does so that they are already standing at the entrance to the metro station, which means that this is it. He can see the illuminated sign over Yamato’s shoulder, but squeezes his eyes shut, blocking that out.
They’ve stuck close for so long, just in case. After all this time, the thought of having an ocean between them gives Taichi a queasy feeling in his stomach.
“I can still come to the airport tomorrow,” Yamato murmurs, against Taichi’s neck, obviously wrestling with some feelings of his own.
For the hundredth time, Taichi fights the urge to suggest that, forget the airport, why doesn’t Yamato just pick up and move to the states with him? Because that would be unfair of him. More than unfair. Ludicrous.
“You’ll come visit,” Taichi says, firmly. “And I’ll be back.”
“Like the Terminator.” Yamato says, smiling and pulling away a little, only to have Taichi catch him by the back of the neck and hold him in place, so he can press their foreheads together.
They breathe quietly for a moment, before Taichi feels finally able to let go.
*
It’s a couple of weeks later when Jou gets up the motivation to pick up the phone and actually call.
He does it from the couch in his new apartment, looking out at the view of the city that accounts for probably a good third of the price he pays in rent.
“Hi,” he says, smiling, when the call gets picked up.
There’s a pause, and then Yamato says, “Who is this?”
“It’s Jou.”
Another pause, like Yamato’s trying to make sense of the name.
“Oh God. Hi. My phone doesn’t recognise you,” he says, eventually. He sounds distracted and a little out of breath, like he’s in the middle of doing something strenuous. “Did you change your number?”
“Yeah, probably. A while back.” Jou rubs at the back of his neck. “I guess I haven’t been the best at keeping in touch.”
“No way, that’s not on you,” Yamato says, and then waits. Because, obviously, Jou was the one to call him.
“Sorry, this is so out of the blue, but Taichi said you’d know where to go around here.”
Jou can’t help wincing as he says it, even more so when Yamato doesn’t catch on right away.
“For what?”
“To meet boys.”
There’s yet another pause. And then Yamato laughs. “That I definitely know. Tonight?”
Jou stares at the city, spread out in front of his windows. “Sure.”
“I’ll pick you up at eight. Text me your address.”
Jou opens his mouth to thank him, but before he can get the words out, Yamato says, “Ok, I have to go now. I’m running,” and disconnects the call.
*
Yamato is punctual, which Jou appreciates. He stands in the middle of Jou’s living room, staring around the place with interest.
He’s as handsome as he’s always been, with his big blue eyes, sharp cheekbones and perfect proportions. Age doesn’t seem to have dented his good looks at all. If anything, it’s only made them more startling.
“Nice view,” he comments, as Jou is fumbling around the coffee table, tucking keys and phone into the pockets of his pants.
Jou glances up at the windows, like he had any part to play in fashioning the purple evening sky and gleaming buildings.
“Thanks,” he says, coming to stand a little closer. “Do you know what? I think you’re the first other person I’ve had in this apartment. You know, besides me.”
Yamato turns to look at him, arms folded loosely. “How long have you been back in Tokyo?”
“I don’t know. Six weeks?”
“And you haven’t had anyone else here? Jou, that’s sad.”
“I’ve been busy,” Jou protests. “There hasn’t been time to get out and meet anyone…”
“I didn’t mean dates. I meant where are your friends?”
“Well…” Jou makes a gesture up and down, indicating Yamato, who is standing right there.
“Oh shit,” Yamato says. He runs a hand through his hair, which Jou still recognises as one of his few self-conscious tells. “Right. I guess I should have called you before now, hey? Shouldn’t just have left it up to you to reach out.”
Jou shakes his head, quickly. “That wasn’t an accusation.”
“No, but I should have. I mean, we should have.” Yamato makes a little circular movement with one hand, to encompass all of the rest of their group, who are conspicuously not standing here, in Jou’s apartment. “To be honest, I didn’t think of it. I’m so used to you not being here. And Tai leaving. That’s been…”
“Hard,” Jou supplies, and Yamato levels him with a look that’s difficult to read.
“A distraction,” he corrects. Then, he turns away, his back to the windows, and to Jou, as he surveys the rest of the room.
“This really is a nice apartment,” he says, though it rings a little hollow. He tucks his hands into his pockets. “You want to head straight out?”
Jou feels like he has already put his foot in something. He glances towards the little kitchenette, wondering if this is a good idea at all.
“Let’s have a drink first,” he says, stepping towards the kitchen. “I think I might need it.”
Yamato checks his watch and shrugs.
“Guess it is early.” He looks around, and then lowers himself down onto the cream-coloured leather couch. “So, fill me in. How are things?”
“Um, good?” Jou’s struggling with a corkscrew. “Do you want wine?”
Yamato lays an arm over the back of the couch, twisting to look towards the kitchen.
“Pre-gaming with wine? Don’t you have a beer?”
The cork is already half out of the bottle, but Jou abandons it and turns to the fridge.
“Yeah, I think so.”
He takes out a couple of cans, struggling to pull the second one free from the plastic loops of the holder, and carries them back over to the couch, knocking the refrigerator door closed with his hip as he goes.
“Wine,” Yamato says, as he accepts the cold can that Jou hands to him. “Did you learn nothing in college?”
Jou snaps his can open as he’s sitting down, and has to duck to sip from it quickly, when foam bubbles over the rim.
“I learnt medicine,” he says, wiping at his lips.
“Come on. What am I, your dad?” Yamato pops open his beer, too. “You must have partied at least a little.”
“Of course,” Jou says, not appreciating the judgement. “But not like you and Taichi.”
Yamato doesn’t respond to that. He sips his beer and looks down at Jou’s coffee table.
“Sorry,” Jou says, getting that feeling again, like he’s making some kind of terrible faux pas. “Is that…?”
“It’s fine.” Yamato shakes his head. “I just don’t think I had fully conceptualised what him going away would mean. Until it happened.”
He presses his lips together and looks up at the windows in front of them. The evening light throws shadows across his face. “I do miss him like fuck, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I’m not sure what I’m asking.” Jou reaches to set his damp beer can down. He’s remembering other conversations like this, from when they were younger, when it had felt like they were always on the cusp of getting one another, but could never quite make it. “I don’t think I’m asking anything.”
“That’s good,” Yamato says. “Because I don’t think I want to talk about it.”
Jou nods, processing that. The embers of their shared history are still there, he reminds himself. Yamato gives a good impression of being unreachable and unattainable. But Jou knows that he isn’t.
“Pediatrics,” he blurts, reaching again for his beer. “That’s what I’m specialising in. That’s what the job here is.”
Yamato blinks, as his brain catches up. “Oh man. Dying children. Really?”
“Well, the idea is to not let them die.” Jou touches his glasses, pushing them more securely up onto the bridge of his nose.
Yamato watches the motion and then licks his lips, lifting his can.
“That’s cool,” he says, and sips his beer. “I mean, that’s something important.”
Jou nods, and stares out at his windows, seeing the pale reflection of the two of them, seated together in the middle of his couch.
“Yeah,” he says. “I guess we all want to be important.”