I Am [Not] a Genius

“What do you mean, you lost Sousuke?”

Kisumi’s tone was even more jarring through the speakers of his phone. Asahi could tell his friend was trying his best to stifle a laugh. It stung — a lot — if he was willing to admit. He couldn’t hide the inevitable cringe that wrinkled his expression. Normally he was the first to find humor in a situation, but for the life of him he couldn’t understand what was so funny.

“We lost him, Kisumi,” Asahi cried, nearly collapsing onto the sidewalk. “I took my eyes off of him for one second because I saw this cute dog walking down the street, and you know how hard it is for me to focus. The next thing I knew, Sousuke was gone.” The tears threatened to spill over. A handful of pedestrians flashed him more than a few curious looks.

Kisumi was no longer holding back his exuberant laughter. It was so loud, Asahi pulled his phone away from his ear. His lower lip trembled as he swept his gaze over the crowd. There wasn’t a casual, dark-haired, teal-eyed man with a big sports bag a head taller than everyone in sight. They were minutes from the station. Minutes. Where could he have gone? How could this have happened?

This wasn’t some sort of joke, was it? Were they being punked? Was Sousuke hiding somewhere, recording their every move simply to laugh about their panicked reactions later when they were surrounded by all their friends?

Please, no.

Crying out, Asahi gave in and dropped into a squat, trying to swallow the fear of mortifying, public humiliation. He was given a pocket of space in the chaos. If it was obvious he was having a mental breakdown in public during rush hour, no one cared enough to stop and comfort him. There were a few disgruntled comments — mostly to express their frustrations as to why someone had to have an existential crisis, here, now, on the sidewalk of all places — but otherwise the majority of commuters meandered around him if they were nothing more than a popcorn stand or a spiritual naysayer preaching some sort of nonsense.

This couldn’t be happening. Why today, of all days, did Sousuke have to up and disappear like this? He and Hiyori were tasked with one job — one — and it shouldn’t have been this difficult. How hard was it to escort a man the size of a house to the station? Tono had even questioned why this was a two person job to begin with, but he tagged along anyway, probably too worried about disappointing Ikuya if he hadn’t.

Turning his attention to the crowd, Asahi searched for his companion. He found Hiyori almost immediately. His mouth parted slightly.

Oh.

Okay, so maybe there was a little humor in the situation.

Next to him, a normally stoic Hiyori was straight up freaking out. He somehow found his way into the human-made pocket Asahi created with his overdramatic meltdown. Though, instead of pulling him to his feet just like any decent friend would, Hiyori was talking into his phone, frantically, in hushed whispers with his eyes trailed above the heads of the bustling mob. It was easy to say he was just as affected as himself over the whole ordeal. Maybe this wasn’t some joke. Maybe they simply lost Yamazaki Sousuke.

It gave Asahi a little comfort, but it was quickly squashed. How in the world did they lose an adult? A ginormous freaking adult?

Bringing his phone back to his ear, Asahi could still hear Kisumi laughing. “Please, Kisumi. I don’t know what to do. I don’t even have Sousuke’s number. What if he walked into traffic? What if he’s been kidnapped?”

“Calm down, Asahi. Don't be ridiculous. It’s not like you’ve lost your nephew. Sousuke is notorious for his terrible sense of direction. He loses his bearings all the time. Why else did they ask you two knuckleheads to make sure he made it to the restaurant in one piece?”

Asahi slowly rose to his feet, caterwauling, “I don’t know, Kisumi! I don’t know!”

There was another lively chuckle before Kisumi replied with a snort, “I’m sorry. I wish I could help, but you’re on your own.”

“Don’t you have his number or anything? Please, Kisumi. My reputation is on the line here.”

“You didn’t get his number?” — another laugh — “You really are a moron.”

Scoffing, Asahi spat sarcastically, “Some friend you are. Fine. I’ll ask someone else.”

“Relax. Geez. I’ll send it over. You might want to tell Rin you’re going to be late.”

“Can’t I call Haru?”

“You know he won’t pick up.” There was a pause, then, “On second thought, maybe you should call Makoto or Ikuya, just so everyone is on the same page.”

Asahi blinked away his tears, feeling the undertow of a challenge brewing within those few words. “Bold of you to assume Haru won’t pick up my call,” he chided before nudging Hiyori on the shoulder. He turned toward Asahi with a testy expression furrowing his brows just above the thick lenses of his glasses. His entire posture screamed a sharp and bitter, ‘what?!’ Shying away out of fear, Asahi quickly stated, “Thanks for the advice, Kisumi.”

There was a heavy sigh. “Keep me updated, genius.”

Asahi clicked his tongue with the sound of the mocking nickname and, admittedly, a little too aggressively, tapped the red ‘end call’ button with his thumb. “Idiot. I am a genius,” he whispered under his breath before meeting Hiyori’s gaze. He was off the phone and flashing him a quizzical look. A little louder to dismiss the thought before Hiyori could ask, Asahi prodded, “Any luck?”

Hiyori shook his head as he scanned the crowd again. “Ikuya told me not to worry about running late. Matsuoka-kun is still in the pool swimming like some maniac. Despite their practices getting even more difficult with the Worlds only a few weeks away, he should know better than to push himself that hard, even on his day off. Sounds like he’s about finished, but you know how long it takes for him to get ready.”

“Yeah,” Asahi grieved, before adding, “At least he’s back in Japan,” as he looked for Haru’s name on his contact list. “I’m going to try Haru.”

“Why? They already know we’re running late.”

“To prove a point.”

Hiyori shook his head, “Don’t bother. He won’t pick up.”

Asahi shot Hiyori a deadpanned look. “That’s the whole point.” Seriously, what was with all the shade today? Clicking his tongue, he brought his phone to his ear. However, it wasn’t long before he began to feel the same doubt shared between Kisumi and Hiyori. The incessant ringing was like a bad omen, heralding in a deep, helpless feeling that reminded Asahi of a dark cloud forming in the west or accidentally choosing a ‘terrible luck’ fortune at the shrine. When his call rolled into Haru’s voicemail, Asahi dropped his hand to his side; his shoulders dipped. “He didn’t pick up.”

“Who do you think Matsuoka-kun is swimming with, you moron.”

“Oh.”

That made sense.

His phone vibrated against his palm. Bringing it around again, Asahi smiled, mostly out of sheer relief, before exclaiming excitedly, “I have Sousuke’s number. I’ll try calling him.”

Hiyori nodded, stepping closer. “Good idea.”

Making sure the call was on speaker, Asahi held the phone out between them. They wanted with bated breath, hoping Sousuke would pick up. After a few rings, Asahi started begging underneath his breath, his grip tightening with each passing second. Even Hiyori was looking nervous, crossing his arms over his chest and tapping his fingers against his biceps.

They shared a panicked glance after the fourth or fifth ring, Asahi couldn’t remember. And, almost as if it was predicted from the beginning, the call rolled into Yamazaki’s voicemail. Feeling the need to cry out a long, drawn-out ‘no,’ Asahi deflated. This was the end. They’d never find him.

Hiyori forcefully took the phone out of his hand, holding it up to his mouth. “Pick up your phone next time, you dumbass,” he snapped before inhaling sharply. He continued with a slightly more calm temperament, “Call us back,” before ending the call.

Asahi looked for Hiyoir’s gaze as he was handed his phone back, honestly a little taken aback from his audacity to leave such an abrasive voicemail. “Dude.”

“Too much?” Hiyori concluded almost abashedly, readjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

Just as he opened his mouth to contend, Asahi’s phone started vibrating. “He’s calling back. Tono, he’s calling back!”

“Don’t just stand there, pick it up,” he replied in a hasty manner.

Fumbling his phone around, Asahi managed to hit the green button before putting the call on speaker. There was a tense beat, then, “Sousuke?”

“Asahi?”

“Yes!” Asahi was rejoicing, drawing gazes once again. He received a stiff elbow in the side by Hiyori as a reminder to reign it in. Clearing his throat, Asahi continued, “Where are you?”

“I don’t know.”

All of his previous excitement fizzled out. Gone. 

Thankfully, Hiyori was quick to find a solution, “Yamazaki-kun, it’s Tono. What’s around you? Are you inside a shop? Are you on the street? What’s the street name?”

“I’m by a Starbucks and a sports store…”

“Okay. Good. I know where that is. Now,” Hiyori quickly switched from his usual inflection into a tone of voice Asahi typically used around his nephew, enunciating every syllable as if he were talking to someone hard of hearing or denser than a load of bricks, “stay there. Don’t move. We’ll be right there.”

“Fine,” was Sousuke’s response. The call ended rather abruptly.

“Really?” Asahi asked, but Hiyori was already on the move. Having to run to catch up, Asahi matched his pace, doing his best to weave in and out of the crowd. He had a rough idea of where Sousuke was located, but it seemed as though Hiyori was taking charge. Not that Asahi minded, but the annoyance was leaching from Hiyori’s core and it was really dampening his mood.

“Where are we going?” he attempted to ask after a moment.

“Keep up.”

If he hadn’t been in shape preparing to compete on the world stage, Asahi was certain he’d be panting breathless at that moment. “Can you slow down a bit?”

Hiyori didn’t even grace him with a reply. Feeling one of his eyes twitch, Asahi huffed. Before Hiyori could take another step, Asahi quickly grabbed his arm, twisting him around so that they were facing each other. “What if we get lost?”

“Pull yourself together, nimrod.” Hiyori yanked his arm out of Asahi’s grip.

He quickly grabbed the other one. “Why are you so grumpy?”

“We need to go.”

“Tell me what’s bothering you.”

“Shiina-kun,” Hiyori warned.

“Tono.” He wasn’t backing down. “This is supposed to be a happy occasion where we celebrate Sousuke’s official release from rehabilitation. You’re about to kill it with that shitty attitude.”

Hiyori’s eyes widened, then softened substantially before he averted his gaze. After a quiet moment, he admitted, “You’re right.”

“Wait, what?” Asahi took a physical step back. Was someone actually agreeing with him?

“This is supposed to be a big day for Yamazaki-kun,” Hiyori continued. “I don’t want anything to go wrong. He hasn’t seen anyone since his last doctor's appointment. I guess I’m worried…” His voice trailed off, his voice disappearing into the hum of the bustle around them.

Asahi dropped his hand on Hiyori’s shoulder. “It’ll be fine. Don’t worry so much about the details. No matter what, they’ll be overjoyed to see him. On time or an hour late,” he reassured. “The point is that he makes it there in one piece, and I’m sure we can handle that. Surely he can’t get into too much trouble.”

There was a long, almost endless pause.

Asahi opened his mouth.

“Don’t,” Hiyori warned, breaking into a run.

It was all Asahi could do to keep up. Seriously, how fast was this guy? But, he understood. He felt the weight settle into the pit of his stomach. Resisting the urge to call Sousuke again to beg and plead for him to remain still and not move an inch, Asahi kept his gaze above the heads of the sea of commuters, hoping to spot him before Hiyori did.

Why couldn’t Sousuke have been rehabilitating his legs? He’d be limited to a wheelchair or crutches, which, honestly, would’ve made him a lot less difficult to lose. Sighing exasperatingly, Asahi followed Hiyori around the corner, down another street. Pausing at a red crosswalk, mostly to catch his breath, they were back to sprinting the second the light turned green.

“It’s just up ahead,” Hiyori called as they rounded another corner. 

Asahi just then realized each step was taking them closer and closer to the station. Geez. Seriously? He wished someone would’ve given him a little warning about Sousuke’s unexpected…tendencies. He would’ve borrowed Akane’s backpack leash she used for Tsukushi or something instead of being the butt of Kisumi’s jokes. Once everyone caught word of what happened, they’d all be laughing at them.

He could take a joke as well as the next guy, but he really wasn’t looking forward to it. At this point, all Asahi could hope for was that they could laugh it off at the end of the day.

Hiyori slowed to a stop. They were deep into an alley that ran under the train tracks, that could’ve scared anyone away come nightfall. How in the world did Sousuke end up here of all places? “He shouldn’t be far.”

“Sousuke!” Asahi called out. Turning to the nearest person he could find, he blurted, “Have you seen my friend? He’s about 180 centimeters tall and has a terrible resting bitch face? He can’t help it. I tell him to smile more or he’ll get frown lines but—”

“Shiina-kun.”

“—he never listens to me. It’s not like he cares about stuff like that. He’s deviously handsome and ridiculously tall. He attracts everyone like a magnet—”

“Shiina-kun—”

“—he can’t help it. I always say it’s because he’s dripping with good looks, because he’s a swimmer, you see. He’s dripping with water all the time, get it—”

“Asahi!”

Turning on his heels, Asahi came face-to-face with a very annoyed Hiyori and one flabbergasted Yamazaki Sousuke. He blinked, taking in the sight of him before it sank in. “Oi! Sousuke!”

“My deepest apologies for my friend here,” Hiyori apologized to the stranger Asahi nearly had in a death grip. She waved him off, but scampered away much too quickly, clutching her purse against her chest as she disappeared from sight.

“Sorry!” he called after her, but she was well out of earshot. He turned around, grimacing. “Whoops.”

Hiyori shook his head. When he spoke, Asahi could feel the embarrassment in his voice, “Let’s just go.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, swallowing dryly while aggressively sending a message to Kisumi: 

“You’re such a spaz,” Hiyori concluded, eyes on his own phone. “Looks like the next train will arrive in five minutes. If we hurry, we could probably make it and possibly still beat Matsuoka-kun to the restaurant.”

“Wait,” Asahi slowed Hiyori to a stop. “We can’t go too fast. What if we lose Sousuke again?”

Hiyori sighed, muttering, “Fair enough. Stay with us this time, Yamazaki-kun, okay?”

They turned to look at him, searching for an answer neither of them could provide, but instead of Sousuke, they found an empty space beside them. For a minute, they stared in silence.

And then another.

Asahi couldn’t even find it in him to breathe.

He blinked.

No.

No, no, no. Not again.

“You have got to be kidding me!” Hiyori was yelling, his frustration palpable.

Asahi dropped to his hands and knees, utterly defeated. A sob erupted from his throat. So much for that plan. Now he really wished he would’ve borrowed his sister’s backpack leash. Could this day get any worse?

No. He shouldn’t be asking that. It would only get them into more trouble.

Dragging his phone out of his pocket, he sent a pathetic text to Kisumi:

It was all that needed to be said. Not even a second ticked by before he felt his phone vibrate.

Well, Kisumi was right about one thing: He was not, in fact, a genius. Not at all.