Chapter Text
Early on a Friday evening - or perhaps not so early anymore - Yokozawa Takafumi hastily riffled through a pile of documents planted on his desk, occasionally looking up to return unread emails with a quick “got it, thanks for your hard work” or “understood, have a nice weekend”. His own weekend, however, still felt impossibly far away; the setting sun peeking through the blinds behind him and the intermittent be-beep! of his laptop receiving new messages seemed to taunt as he wiped a hand over his exhausted face.
Yokozawa had just returned after a days-long business trip to Fukuoka, sent as the representative for the comics’ department, to assist with the opening of a new and very large Animate store. With its prime location in the heart of Hakata’s business district and next to a major train station, Marukawa had gone all in to capitalize on this opportunity, sending employees from marketing, sales, and design for any departments specializing in anime and manga.
Unfortunately for him, his responsibilities back at the Marukawa Tokyo office hadn’t slowed down during his absence. Instead, he was left with a litany of promotional materials and reprint orders to review and of course, send back when said documents weren’t written well or submitted correctly. The majority of his department had cleared out at least an hour before, with a handful of stragglers who followed suit; those who’d stayed were probably catching up after taking time off for the recent Autumn Equinox.
Yokozawa was no stranger to late hours, often singlehandedly tasked with preparations for autograph events and fairs, including the upcoming annual winter fair, but this week was particularly taxing. Not only was he swamped with work, but he was admittedly feeling neglected socially, not having spent time with his partner Kirishima Zen for almost two weeks.
The two had been dating for around a year and a half and rarely struggled with finding time to see each other. Yokozawa’s position in sales lent itself to consistent hours, and with his daughter Hiyori at home, Kirishima set a strict schedule for himself to get out early. Yokozawa typically spent the weekends at the Kirishimas’, on top of coming over for dinner several times a week. But of course, a week before Yokozawa was set to embark on his business trip, Kirishima’s star author had one of his signature episodes at the end of Japun’s cycle. Just his luck.
In his partner’s absence, Yokozawa did take the lead at the Kirishima residence, helping to take care of Hiyori and Sorata. While he did get to see Kirishima the day of his departure, the man had been so drained from work, he could only manage to send Yokozawa off with a measly “take care” and a chaste kiss on the cheek in the genkan before lumbering back to bed, nearly half sleep.
Yokozawa was fortunate enough to catch up with him over email and text, but still felt agitated due to no sort of, well, physical contact. It didn’t help that Hiyori periodically sent him pictures from back home of her father - usually selfies of the two together, but sometimes candid shots of Kirishima looking effortlessly good. And it really didn’t help that Yokozawa was sharing his hotel room with someone. Especially not the timid, introverted type of guy who wasn’t interested in going out during his time off, giving Yokozawa no space to deal with the resulting agitation.
No at the end of the week, he was anxious to get home (or actually, get to the Kirishima home) and make up for lost time. He’d planned to pick up some sweets to share after dinner, on top of the ones he’d brought along today from Fukuoka.
This reminded him that he’d also needed to stop by Marimo Books, not only to do his obligatory check-in, but to pick up a book as well. The book had been recommended by a fellow Marukawa employee during his business trip; the employee, Nishino-san of marketing, was publicizing a manga that’d been adapted from a popular young adult book in the fantasy genre. Something Hiyo might like, Yokozawa thought.
Eager to leave the office, finish his final errands, and see the Kirishimas, Yokozawa raised his arms up in a stretch and let out one final grand sigh before returning to his work, fully engaged.
With the last remaining papers signed off and an empty work inbox, Yokozawa took a final cursory glance over the materials on his desk and closed his laptop. Packing his things up, he checked his wrist watch and decided against picking up dessert; he was cutting it close, and might not even make it in time for dinner. Instead, he determined he’d stop by Marimo Books for his compulsory chat, leave with a book, and just hope his treats from Fukuoka would suffice as an after-dinner snack.
Yokozawa trudged his way from the train station to the bookstore, pulling at his dress shirt to fan himself. It was certainly hot in Fukuoka, but Tokyo’s early October rain made for a constant mugginess which was uncomfortable in its own way. The immediate hit of air conditioning as he stepped into Marimo Books was heavenly and wholly welcomed.
Yokozawa combed a few fingers through his hair to fix it up before heading downstairs to the shojo manga section. He should get work out of the way first and make his purchase upon his exit, Yokozawa supposed.
He scanned the floor, looking for the department manager, but instead was met with a–
“Ah! Yokozawa-san!”
The man striding towards Yokozawa was Yukina Kou, a graduate student and devoted part-timer of Marimo Books, with a passion for shojo manga. He was a grade-A salesman, regularly weaponizing his stunning looks to reel in customers, but his artistic talent was nothing to scoff at either. He often created elaborate displays to highlight his favorite manga, which tended to be Marukawa titles, naturally to Yokozawa’s delight.
“Oh, Yukina. It’s been a while,” Yokozawa greeted, returning an easy smile to Yukina’s radiant grin.
“It has, hasn’t it? I thought you'd been avoiding me.”
“Hardly. I’ve just been away on a business trip,” He replied, waving a polite hand at Yukina’s teasing. Despite his playful way of speaking, Yokozawa found him easy to converse with and was rarely flustered by his banter. He always enjoyed the times they’d get the opportunity to chat off the clock, usually over drinks with their fellow colleagues, even when the discussion departed from the comfortable topic of work.
“Go anywhere fun?” Yukina asked.
“Fukuoka. I’d been before - maybe two years ago. But I was mostly holed up in meetings or setting up the new Animate store, so nothing to write home about.”
“Ah, I see– sounds rough,” Yukina sympathized.
“Just happy to be home. Your manager in?”
“I don’t think so,” Yukina pursed his lips and brought a finger to his chin with a hum. “I believe he headed out about… fifteen minutes ago?”
“Damn– I just missed him,” Yokozawa sighed. He supposed that an update could wait until Monday.
“Is there anything I can help with?”
“Don’t worry about it. Just wondering how things’ve been the past week.”
“Pretty good, if you ask me! We had to place additional orders of Morimoto-sensei’s works twice! I won’t take all the credit, but I think my display really helped~”
That sort of brazen self-congratulation was enough to make Yokozawa shutter, but it certainly fit Yukina’s princelike character, so he never paid it any mind - and of course, Yokozawa was hardly one to turn down free advertising for his titles.
“Thanks for your hard work, your displays are always a great help.”
“You wanna see it? I’ve got some pictures,” Yukina beamed from ear to ear; he seemed to genuinely appreciate Yokozawa’s gratitude. He fished his phone from his jean pocket and brought up a photo, presenting the screen to Yokozawa.
He bent forwards slightly to get a closer look at the phone, eyes widening as he saw the marvel depicted on the screen - a grand display in the shape of a larger-than-life cake with tankoban stacked on each layer; Yokozawa could tell how intentional Yukina was with the design, incorporating the baking theme from the manga’s last chapter, if he recalled correctly.
Thoughtfully placed around the cake were red roses in place of strawberries and white beads, in a variety of shapes in sizes, strung along to look like piped icing. Pieces of cardstock in all shades of pink, hung from the ceiling. Each piece, delicately cut into the shape of a heart, donned its own character, spelling out Morimoto-sensei’s name and the name of her manga.
“Wow, is this all handwritten–?” Yokozawa asked. He was utterly captivated by the intricate detail, especially with the font Yukina chose. He bent down closer, bringing his fingers to the touchscreen to zoom in but– shit, he accidentally swiped to the next image.
“Oh, sorr– huh?”
What was displayed on the screen couldn’t simply be summed up by the word “shocking”, but hell, it was a start.
The next image in his camera roll undoubtedly depicted a probably naked Kisa Shouta - that impish, babyfaced 30-something year old shojo manga editor - sitting between the legs of a probably naked Yukina Kou, their upper halves covered in hickeys and lower halves covered by a comforter, in what was undoubtedly a bed. Yokozawa was suddenly filled with a cocktail of bafflement and that secondhand embarrassment that comes along with seeing something you really shouldn’t have.
“Shit. I didn’t mean to…” Yokozawa trailed off, averting his gaze from the phone. Yukina searched for his eyes with a confused look.
“Huh? Oh– oh.” Yukina turned his screen back and stared blankly at the image. Color drained from his face, then rapidly returned after clicking the phone off and meeting Yokozawa’s apologetic expression, as if his nervous system was deliberating on whether to be afraid or plain embarrassed.
He began to stammer, perhaps in an attempt to explain his way out of this, but hadn’t caught his own train of thought. He scratched his head nervously. “Um, this… I’m… I’m really sorry about this, Yokozawa-san…”
Yukina’s face continued to flush, and Yokozawa massaged his temples at the way Yukina appeared to be on the verge of tears.
“No… it’s really fine,” Yokozawa attempted to placate Yukina; he was never any good at these kinds of things, but if anything, he wanted to avoid making a scene. Comforting emotionally vulnerable people didn’t come natural to him, especially if they weren’t close, and he felt miserably awkward.
If Yukina’d just laughed it off with a flippant apology, he’d probably be reaming him out about not keeping intimate pictures like that so available on your camera roll. But instead, the guy was so obviously filled with shame and anxiety, and Yokozawa could only sympathize, his heart aching at the despair shrouding the Yukina’s face.
“Listen, y’know I’m not going to tell anyone–”
“Oh! Yukina-kun!”
Before he could finish off his second stab at reassurance, Yokozawa was interrupted by the untimely arrival of a gaggle of teenage girls. Dressed in winter seifuku, they huddled around a table of manga and waved enthusiastically in Yukina’s direction. They giggled and chattered in concert as Yukina peered behind his shoulder to acknowledge them with a slight bow of the head.
He paused a few moments, fiddling with one of the enamel pins on his apron, before bowing politely to Yokozawa. “I’m very sorry about all of this. I should get back to work now. Please excuse me.”
Yukina turned to assist the guests, straightening his posture and plastering a forced smile on his face, but it was clear he’d been thrown off his game. He lacked his characteristic high-energy demeanor - obviously unimpressed by Yokozawa’s attempt to ease his worries.
Yokozawa chewed anxiously at the inside of his cheek. Should he just leave and hope the two just forget about this? Or maybe talk to him after his shift to calm him down once and for all?
It wasn’t as if he had any interest in hearing the details of their relationship, even if he was curious as to how those two managed to end up together. In any case, offering to become Yukina’s agony aunt would be a nightmare, and the kind of flowery chitchat that it came along with never really suited him. While he was always glad to know his peers were in rewarding partnerships, he never sought out the particulars, not even with his close friends.
Nevertheless, Yukina was still clearly frazzled by the whole ordeal, distracted and likely thinking about what he should do to mend the situation. Having a star sales associate at this key location lose his charm over something like this would certainly come back to bite Yokozawa in the ass if he didn’t just address this head on.
Yokozawa flicked his wrist to check the time; he was running late for his already late dinner, and hadn’t even picked up Hiyo’s book yet. He took his phone out with a begrudged groan and opened his messaging app to let Kirishima know he wouldn’t be over for a bit due to some vaguely-worded mishap at work.
He waited nonchalantly for Yukina to finish business with his raving fangirls, by flipping through a few titles of shojo manga from a competing publishing house. As the teenagers scurried away to the register, Yokozawa made a calculated effort to soften his features and not peek at which manga the girls ended up purchasing.
“Ah, Yukina– I was wondering if I could get a beer with you after your shift. Talk things over. On me, of course. For all the trouble.”
“...I think I should be buying your silence if anything, Yokozawa-san.”
“I told you, it’s really fine. What time are you off?”
Yukina hesitated for a moment. At his silence, Yokozawa briefly wondered if he was coming off as pushy, but Yukina replied, “...I’m off at eight, if you don’t mind waiting.”
“Nah, I don’t mind. I’ve got my own shopping to do, so I can just meet you outside.”
He gave a short nod in response; Yokozawa supposed that was the best he could offer and started to turn for the escalator, but Yukina called out–
“...Yokozawa-san? Thank you.”
He gave Yukina an encouraging clap on the shoulders.
“See you at eight.”
“Here’s okay?” Yokozawa asked.
The waitstaff of the izakaya had directed them to a table in the corner of the restaurant, next to the kitchen. They settled down in the seats silently, air still tense from before. The walk over was awkward, to say the least. Yokozawa made an attempt at small talk, but avoiding the elephant in the room almost made it worse. He made a deliberate effort to find somewhere close - no public transit, no torturous wait for the train - just some hole-in-the-wall around the block.
“I don’t really mind…” Yukina responded uneasily. “Do you think it’s okay to talk here?”
The izakaya was a cramped place; the walls around them were littered with laminated pictures of menu items and a respectable shelf displaying a variety of sake and shochu bottles. While on the smaller side, it was undeniably busy with steady chatter flowing throughout the venue.
“Everyone’s too drunk or noisy to care about what other people’re saying - but if you’d prefer to go somewhere with a private room…”
Yukina scanned the room and acquiesced, “...No, this should be fine.”
Luckily, there was no one directly next to them. The closest party sat a couple tables down - a group of rambunctious and considerably drunk business women playing some sort of party game. But at this hour on a Friday night, there was no guarantee that another patron wouldn’t be stuck at their neighboring table.
Yokozawa summoned the waitstaff, ordering a couple of beers and a handful of small appetizers. At his departure, Yokozawa wiped his hands with the pre-packaged oshibori and took a deep breath, unsure of how to start this conversation.
“I, uh, invited you out because I got the sense that you’re still anxious about earlier and… well, I didn’t want to leave things on a bad note.”
Yokozawa glanced up at Yukina to gauge his reaction. He nodded his head mildly, as if he was processing Yokozawa’s words and struggling to find his own.
“Yeah. I mean, I guess. I just feel like I just… really fucked up and…” Yukina trailed off. This was clearly hard for him. Then, in a hushed voice, he admitted, “I’m scared.”
“Scared?”
“Well, what if other people find out? If people start talking, he– Kisa-san could lose his job or something and I–”
Yokozawa held out his hands in a pacifying gesture, motioning for Yukina to slow down. He explained, “Yukina. I already told you. I’m not telling anyone. And besides, Kisa wouldn’t get fired over something like that. Emerald’s already already understaffed as is…”
With the way Yukina nervously picked at the side of his nail, it was obvious that this wasn’t all that was bothering him.
“I… don’t want you to think less of me.”
Yokozawa’s breath hitched in his throat, shocked that this idea ever crossed Yukina’s mind. Did he come off as that intolerant?
He opened his mouth to respond, but the waitstaff returned to deliver their order. The gentleman placed two teetering pints of beer on the table, followed by plates of salted edamame and skewers of grilled meat.
Yukina watched as the server bowed and walked away, then elaborated, “I’m not ashamed of myself but… I also don’t want to gross you out. I mean, what if you don’t want someone like me promoting your works…”
Yokozawa pouted slightly. Fuck, this is depressing, he thought.
“It’s not healthy to get stuck in your head like that. I think they call that catastrophizing,” Yokozawa scolded. He took a hardy sip of beer before adding, “I’m not put off or grossed out or whatever the hell you said. And I definitely don’t think less of you. I guess I’m just surprised you’re with a guy like him.”
Yokozawa could tell - this time, his words had real impact. Yukina exhaled a deep breath and a bashful smile dawned on his face.
“You mean Kisa-san..?” Yukina asked, popping an edamame bean in his mouth.
“Yeah, how’d that happen?”
Yukina looked up, taking a big gulp of beer, and Yokozawa realized in retrospect that maybe he shouldn’t have broached the topic.
“Sorry, if that’s too personal–”
“No, no– not at all.”
Yukina rested his face in a single palm, happily reminiscing to Yokozawa about his romance; he recounted how he’d noticed Kisa around the bookstore, how they met incidentally at a cafe, and how he really had to convince him to meet again. Yokozawa laughed incredulously at the notion of the princelike Yukina chasing after anyone, let alone Kisa.
“Actually, you introduced us,” Yukina added.
Yokozawa took a second to think back to that interaction. Ah, he remembered.
“How long ago was that?” he hummed.
“Just over two years ago. We just celebrated our anniversary.”
“Well, congratulations,” Yokozawa offered genuinely. He thought back to his own relationship. They were also sneaking up on that two year mark. Being in a relationship that long, it was no small feat. He’d had to adjust to a new way of life - had to become patient, trustful, and open. He’d become happier, he thought.
“...Things’ve been good?” Yokozawa asked.
“Hm?” Yukina covered his mouth as he finished chewing a piece of chicken from the skewer. He replied, “Oh, yeah. Yeah, it’s been good recently.”
Yokozawa learned that it hadn’t always been that way - that Yukina and Kisa struggled in the beginning with trust and time management. He had firsthand experience with the horrendous work schedule within the Emerald editing department, having to meet Masamune at obscene hours of the night just to have a drink together. Yukina explained that things had become easier with stronger communication, and with his conveniently located apartment, they managed to see each other more often, even if they still didn’t live with each other yet.
Yokozawa let him blather on about his relationship, surprised to find that he was interested in what he had to say. Thankfully, it was mostly innocuous stuff and silly stories - their trip to Kuma Park or the time he came out to his parents, giving Yokozawa a bit of hope. On occasion, only after his second beer and Yokozawa’s first glass of shochu, Yukina would veer into suggestive territory, and Yokozawa had to cast him a cautious glare not to tread further.
The noisy group of business ladies a few tables down gathered their coats and purses and started to shuffle towards the door. Yokozawa realized it’d been quite a while since they’d arrived and winced at the time displayed on his wrist watch. He nevertheless intended to make it to the Kirishimas’ place, so in the natural lull of the conversation, he moved to beckon the waitstaff for the check.
Before he could grab their attention, Yukina proclaimed, “Y’know, Yokozawa-san– I’m really happy you talked to me.”
At Yukina’s genuine voice calling, Yokozawa turned back in his chair, and placed his hands into his lap. Yukina’s face flushed in his slight inebriety and continued, “I was really scared at first to explain anything, but in the end, talking to you about all this…”
He cradled his face in his palms, humming as if he was searching for the right words.
“...It was freeing.”
“Come on, you just told me yourself. Your family and friends support you, and you… y’know… came out to them or whatever,” Yokozawa resisted, humbly waving his hand at Yukina’s suggestion.
“Yeah, but this was different.”
Yokozawa rolled his eyes in casual disbelief.
“No, seriously! With my friends and family, they’re so close to me already. I have this, like, expectation of support from them. But telling someone from work -someone from my boyfriend’s work? That’s a huge leap of faith. Like if my family or friends don’t accept me, they just don’t talk to me anymore, which would be awful, definitely. But with someone from work - with you - there’s so much on the line.”
Yokozawa balled his fists, unmoving. Yukina spoke with such joy, such relief; his words inspired a strange envy to effloresce within his ribcage.
“So when you… when you accepted me, or didn’t judge me, I felt so normal. Like I’m allowed to be excited about this part of my life. That it’s okay to love like this. It really… felt like freedom.”
He sat, still paralyzed. Even his eyes couldn’t break from where they lay staring at Yukina’s fingers, toying with the now-empty beer mug. That freedom - it sounded so nice.
“Sorry, this is so impolite of me. I’m rambling about completely unrelatable things,” Yukina apologized. He whipped his hand around to scratch at the back of his neck, disrupting Yokozawa’s stare.
“Unrelatable, huh?” Yokozawa scoffed.
“I just mean– having also been in relationships with women, it’s a completely different experience.”
Here it was: Yokozawa’s opportunity to leave. To say something like yeah, you’re right. To just smile politely, pay the bill, and not think about this again.
Though recently, it’d become harder and harder to lie about his situation. The casual probing about his relationship status by acquaintances and family members irked him deeply. A bitter taste filled his throat every time Yokozawa said he was single, or didn’t have a girlfriend. Even the concessions and half truths would make him feel as if his esophagus was being wrung out, pushing bile back into his mouth, burning everything in its path.
One more time can’t hurt. One more lie to keep this all under wraps, he tried.
But the alcohol made his body loose; it sat comfortably in the pit of his stomach and would occasionally circulate smoothly to his extremities, as if it was getting up to dance. A novel warmth flowed steadily through him. Yokozawa was flooded with the thought of getting a mere taste of that freedom - the sense of normalcy, the reassurance that you deserve to be happy about the people you love.
He could feel an admission forming on his lips. He could feel Yukina’s freedom viscerally like a joyous premonition. A good omen. So, what the hell.
Yokozawa downed the last of his shochu, leaving the remaining ice to clink gently in the otherwise empty glass.
“I’m gay,” Yokozawa said bluntly. Belatedly, he reflected that his phrasing could use some work.
“Huh?”
“I’m also dating a man,” he clarified. Yukina stared blankly back at him, words processing at a snail’s pace before…
“Ah… Ehhh!?” Yukina cried. He quickly slapped a palm over his mouth in shock. This kind of commotion was exactly why Yokozawa avoided saying anything in the first place.
“...Alright, calm down, would you?” Yokozawa pleaded. Flustered, he ducked his head behind his hands.
“Sorry, sorry–!” Yukina hushed himself. In a more appropriate volume, he asked, “Yokozawa-san, why didn’t you say so earlier?”
“I really wasn’t planning on saying anything,” he answered honestly. He observed in retrospect that those words felt quite foreign to him. Unpracticed or poorly tailored, as if he’d never… oh.
“I… don’t think I’ve ever told anyone,” Yokozawa realized.
“What!?” Yukina squawked, promptly hushing himself again. “Like… you haven’t told your family? Your friends?”
“People’ve approached me about it. Or I guess they’ve picked up on it in the past. But… I’ve never actually said that before.”
A sneaky look emerged on Yukina’s face.
“Well, now you gotta show me,” he said.
“Show you what?”
“Show me a picture of you and your boyfriend.”
“Absolutely not.”
Just because Yokozawa came out didn’t mean he was ready to expose his entire personal life. Besides, with that loudmouth lover of Yukina’s, there was no way he’d tell him about Kirishima-san.
“Why?” Yukina whined. He traced his index finger around the rim of the beer mug and pouted, “It’s not like I know him.”
Yukina glanced at Yokozawa, looking ever apprehensive. He was caught off guard by Yukina’s comment and before he could respond, Yukina figured it out for himself.
“Oh, so I do know him? Well, that makes it easier.”
“H-hold on…” Yokozawa tried.
“Can I guess? It’s gotta be one of two– hm… maybe three people?”
“I’m not telling–”
“Well, I’m gonna guess anyway. Hmm…”
Any semblance of ease quickly dissipated from Yokozawa’s body, and he was instead filled with complete mortification as Yukina began listing off men like suspects.
“Okay, so… First guess,” Yukina tapped his finger against his chin in thought. “The editor-in-chief of Emerald, Taka-”
“Absolutely. Not.”
Yukina threw his head back and let out a great laugh.
“Alright, second guess - editor-in-chief of Japun, Kirishima-san!”
Yokozawa jolted at the sound of his lover’s name, and his face fluoresced with a bright red much too deep to blame on booze alone. There was no way he’d be able to deny it like this.
“...If you say anything to Kisa about any of this conversation, I’ll kill you…” Yokozawa warned.
“Ah! I got it! I’m amazing!”
“Are you even listening to me?”
The momentary embarrassment slowly melted away as Yokozawa confided in Yukina, and at some point, an uncontrollable smile began to seize his face. This declaration, or coming out, was unfamiliar to him, and so was Yukina’s boyish reaction, but the novel sense of weightlessness and abandon nestled close to his bosom, finding home there as if Yokozawa had been reserving space for it his whole life.
“So… who liked who first?”
Yokozawa simply rolled his eyes, shyly covering the radiant curl of his lips with a cupped palm.
Yeah, I guess I could get used to this.