Chapter Text
1.
First Dinner
最初の晩餐
Mikey was about to lose it. He was an inconvenience away from screaming bloody murder.
Not only did his dumb ass forget his keys back in his apartment, he didn’t think to wear thicker clothing when it’s winter and the highest temperature is minus 3 Celsius. Now not only was he stuck wandering around, wondering like the miserable man he is, he was either going to die from hypothermia or a hungry stomach first. He looked at his phone, which showed him the time before shutting off when its battery finished.
God dammit, he thought, blinking like it was going to help him. Now what?
His phone was dead, his fingers felt like it was about to fall off, and his jacket did nothing to protect the cold from biting his ass.
He started walking again, because that’s what any do-good citizen of Japan would do instead of committing five cases of assault and battery. But that wasn’t even the worst part of his night.
See, a lot of things happen in the heart of Japan — Tokyo. Specifically, just as Mikey was about to catch a train back home to try to wake his landlord with his terrible singing and maybe some backup music of pots, he saw the road was under construction. That meant he had to take another way — the one that requires him to go through an alleyway. Some days it’s fine. It’s just a cramped, nasty road that’s a bit dark because nobody bothers to pay the electric bills and has some rats scurrying about.
No big deal. He could walk through it while praying he doesn’t get murdered. Then he’d come out in one piece. But it was around this time of the month where partying season was worse because the drunks that found the place thought it was a good idea to start pissing there.
“God,” Mikey mumbled to himself, “if you don’t give me patience, I will need bail money.”
At least he managed to make it out there, but not without crouching to puke from the smell. As he stayed there, dazed and feeling the taste of acid flood his mouth, there was suddenly chatter. Mikey paid no mind to them when suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure approaching from the opposite direction.
“This has to be a joke,” he heard himself mutter out loud.
It was Takemichi — his blond, clingy, and crybaby boyfriend back when he was fifteen. Hell, he didn’t even remember he ever dated someone because of how long ago that was. Plus, he was probably busy eating taiyaki. That’s just how younger him was; a little shit.
But you know who’s even a bigger little shit than him? A man that goes by the name Takemichi Hanagaki, the very same one walking towards him now. The memories were still fresh in Mikey’s mind — the fact that Takemichi beat every one of his friends half-dead, suddenly disappeared, and essentially abandoned him. Even now, he was talking with someone else.
Prick. Now Mikey really wants to punch someone half-dead. Did he mean nothing at all?
His breathing flattered as he felt another puke coming out. He instinctively glanced around, searching for an escape route, but the sudden sea of pedestrians around him left him no clear way to run for it. Guess that leaves Mikey (and Takemichi) with the impending encounter of someone unconscious on the curb. He could work with that.
Takemichi and his companion’s pace was casual, unaware of Mikey that was going through it a few meters ahead of them. As they came closer, Mikey’s head raced. Shit, he was not emotionally made for this. He debated whether he should: a) avoid eye contact and let them breeze by him, b) pretend to not notice, or c) summon the nonexistent strength to run. Before he could decide, Mikey made the mistake of looking up.
Time seemed to slow down as their paths met up. His eyes finally met Takemichi’s, and in that instant, emotions flashed across Takemichi’s face — horror of seeing him in the middle of nowhere, the slightest bit of anger, and most importantly sudden tears.
“Sa… Sano-kun?” Takemichi asked in disbelief.
He looked the most shocked Mikey ever remembered in the ten years they didn’t see each other.
“Sorry, no clue who that is. You must’ve gotten the wrong guy,” Mikey said, immediately looking away. He didn’t waste another second getting up and started walking. He then felt someone grab his arm and he almost threw Takemichi over his shoulder.
“Wait,” Takemichi begged.
“I told you, you got the wrong guy.”
“Please, Manjiro-kun.”
Why was Mikey like this? He could’ve made his life easier by acting indifferent.
He slowly looked back. The seconds stretched into an eternity as they stared at each other, Takemichi’s companion forgotten. Mikey opened his mouth, as if about to say something, but he bit his tongue. The bastard didn’t deserve to expect anything from him. It also didn’t help that there was a flabbergasted guy staring at him too.
“It’s really you, isn’t it?” Takemichi laughed awkwardly at first but it then changed to sheepish. He let go of Mikey. “Man, it really has been a while, Manjiro-kun. Been what? Ten, eleven years? I was just wondering how you were doing. I almost didn’t recognize you in black hair!”
There was a lump that was bitter-tasting at the back of Mikey’s throat, persistent like a fly. He didn’t want to be here anymore. He wanted to go back home.
“S- sorry!” Takemichi exclaimed, letting go of Mikey’s arm. He started wiping at his eyes. “You didn’t- you didn’t do anything wrong! I was just so happy to see you again that I couldn’t help crying! A lot of things must’ve happened since we last saw each other.”
“Yeah, a lot,” Mikey retorted. “Are you done talking yet?”
It was when Takemichi had the balls to smile that Mikey finally snapped. Why were they talking like none of those things happened? Takemichi didn’t care what would happen to Mikey after all. Yet he acts like they were friends. He proceeded with plan D: attempted murder. He grabbed Takemichi by the shoulder and in the next second, the man was on the ground. There was a sickening sound as his spine met the asphalt.
“Don’t talk to me like we’re close!” Mikey snapped. In a split second, he kicked Takemichi in the face. He was aware people were watching him but did he care? Fuck no, caring is for the weak. “You were the one that decided to go off somewhere!”
“Manjiro-”
“Fuck knows where! You never tried to contact or find me after that!”
“Manj-” Takemichi tried again.
“Shut up! I’m angry at you! Do you understand that!?” Mikey demanded.
The guy that was accompanying Takemichi stepped forward with a scary look, probably to shoot Mikey dead, but Takemichi put a hand out to stop them. He wiped the blood off his nose.
“I’m sorry, Manjiro-kun,” he started as he sat up. “I really am.”
Mikey balled up his hands. “So what?”
“I still like you. I want us to get back together.”
“...You think that’s going to make me forgive you?” Mikey scoffed. He spent all those years alone waiting for Takemichi to come back. They were still kids then. Mikey liked him, so it was natural he’d do that. But Takemichi never returned, yet he was acting like he was all high and mighty for giving Mikey a second chance for them to be together again.
That was the final blow.
“You really are an asshole, Hanagaki,” Mikey spat. “I shouldn’t have wasted my time.”
That was the last thing he said before storming off to a random direction. The crowd made way for him. He appreciated that, but he really hoped that nobody saw how his eyes were reddening or the crack in his voice. He sucked in a breath when he felt tears threatening to fall.
The winter air bit into his lungs as he quickened his pace. The lines of the sidewalk and road started blurring. His breath turned white in the wind. He was not going to cry, he told himself.
After all those years, Mikey didn’t know what to feel. At first he thought he was going to be mad, which he was. But at the same time he wanted to believe that Takemichi still liked him. That him leaving wasn’t Mikey’s fault. You could say that it was his insecurity showing.
Mikey didn’t get very far though, stopping to sit on a rusty bus stop bench once the hunger and cold was too much. The place was empty now that it was probably over 1 AM. People went home already. Mikey wished he could but he missed the last train hours ago. He was such a bitch, he thought as he buried his face into his hands to try keep it from freezing over.
He wasn’t surprised when he felt a coat being put on his shoulders. It was warm, traces of someone else’s heat stuck on it. He looked up to see Takemichi standing in just his suit. He didn’t seem cold at all despite the wind being stronger than before.
“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” Mikey said flatly.
“I know, I’m fine with just being near you,” Takemichi said with the same usual softness, catching him off guard. He crouched down in front of Mikey, taking his hands in his own. Mikey wanted to pull them back but Takemichi continued, “At least let me stay until you’re warm.”
That… was surprisingly sweet of him. Mikey didn’t say anything though, watching silently as Takemichi blew hot air over his hands, doing his best to warm it with his gloved hands. Snowflakes continued to fall all around them. They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity until most of the color had returned to Mikey’s skin. By then he was so numb to the freezing cold his hands felt too hot instead.
“Manjiro-kun,” Takemichi’s voice came through the haze Mikey was in, sounding a bit quiet. The man was still holding his hands. “I completely understand if you’re not comfortable with this, but… would you consider having dinner with me tonight? To make it up for you?”
Mikey couldn’t stop the snort even if he wanted to. Somehow this was all very funny in his head.
“Dinner? At 2 AM? That’s just gonna be takeout.” Another scoff. “I’m going home. I’ve talked to you enough.”
“I’ll pay. The place isn’t too far from here and it’s a nice establishment.”
“Then maybe.”
“Please?” Takemichi asked again, kissing the back of Mikey’s hands. “I promise the food’s good.”
This time Mikey actually considered. The Takemichi ten years ago would never do this, much less consider it. He was a little aloof like that. Mikey’s head was feeling groggy from not eating dinner and he knew damn well his wallet was thinner than him.
“...One time,” he said, more to himself than for Takemichi. One time and that was it.
“One time,” Takemichi echoed without much thought, like he was just indulging Mikey, not caring that those dinners later turned to three, to five, and to seven. An alarm was trying to shriek inside Mikey’s head but it was muffled by the cold that numbed his nerves. At the end he let himself get swept away in the waves of fantasy.
In hindsight, Mikey was starting to regret this.
Talking to your ex was one thing, but seeing Takemichi’s car pull up as a long black vehicle with tinted windows and some kind of brand whose price is thrice the debt he’s in was not on his bingo list for the night. It screams money, being flexed on unintentionally, and stranger danger, like everything has been. Especially the tinted windows — Mikey’s probably going to die tonight.
There’s even a chauffeur to open the door for them. At least he didn’t look like he’d carry a gun, unlike the companion that was with Takemichi. Even now he was glaring holes in Mikey’s skull.
He considered giving them his middle finger.
“After you,” Takemichi says with a smile, breaking Mikey away from his thoughts.
He took one look inside the car and sighed before stepping in. If this was how his last night went, then so be it. He hopes to at least die in the expensive-looking car. Anyways the whole car smells heavily of leather when he gets in, followed by Takemichi. It was even darker inside and the seat felt almost icy cold under him.
“To the usual place,” Takemichi told the driver before leaning back. The door closed and the car started moving.
“Are you in a rush, boss?”
“Not at all. Tell them I’m bringing a guest though.”
It felt weird seeing him like that, if Mikey thought about it. In his memories of their youth, Takemichi was a crybaby and somebody you could easily tease. But that’s not the case anymore. Takemichi now looked like a man who has his shit together and actually (thankfully) has better taste in fashion. The gray suit he was wearing blended in with the shadows, but his white shirt was stark against it. It outlined him like some guy on a murder scene.
Takemichi looks so much better, even if Mikey didn’t want to say it, especially with his now-black hair down. No idea why he’d be wearing gloves but it adds a nice touch.
If it was Mikey, he’d look into the mirror and see a clown instead. He’s come to fear clowns because of that.
The shape of the car seat formed a square around a partition which had made Mikey sit on the other side of Takemichi. He was fine with that. As the car bumped along, Mikey tried to discreetly glance across it. In the flashing, slanted lights of malls and street lamps, he could see that Takemichi was already staring at him.
Now see, that was just embarrassing behavior from him. That made him look like a pick-me. Actual cringe. There were more things he could call himself but he was already too tired.
Mikey immediately changed where he was looking. He didn’t do it smoothly enough because Takemichi tilted his head.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“No,” Mikey said almost too quickly. He has never admitted to anything in his life and he was not about to start now. “I was just thinking how long the ride would be.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. The streets are empty so it’ll be quick — I’d say in about ten minutes. Unless you want to go faster, then that’s fine too.”
“Are you always like this?”
“Sorry?”
“You never talked like that.”
But Takemichi was always like that; too accommodating, too nice about it. Sometimes Mikey finds himself pissed at that. He never hesitates to make sure the other party is comfortable first. Maybe it was the fact that maybe Takemichi treats everybody like that makes Mikey no one special. That’s just his insecurity talking again, isn’t it?
“No, forget about it,” he said, staring outside the window. It wasn’t like him to be this fussy. A voice that sounded suspiciously like his sister asked why he was sulking. Mikey frowned. He does not sulk.
At least Takemichi seemed more than happy to be given the cold shoulder.
There are many things Mikey isn’t proud of. Namely his job, letting his manager scold him even if she’s younger, the fact he can’t cook for shit, and the amount of time he’s ever gone to a fancy, high-end restaurant. And no, he was not talking about those kinds of “fancy” restaurants where they serve you western food with barely seasoned food and their prices being the total of his debt, his taxes, and his life mortgage.
Those are the things in life that scammed him, but he was talking about restaurants that looked like a mansion. The one he was in front of right now had chandeliers in the damned entry, hanging over Mikey and the floor below him polished marble with red carpet going everywhere possible. For one thing it looked like it could be twenty storeys tall. Another thing was how out of place he felt with his ratty jeans and t-shirt.
He was not embarrassed to say that stood there with his mouth open, gawking like it’s his business, for at least a minute.
“Manjiro-kun? Are you not going in?” Takemichi asked, standing next to him.
“Do you think I dare to?” Mikey asked incredulously. He was offended that Takemichi thinks he could. He swore he heard the chorus of angels beyond that pale light of the entrance. “Hanagaki, I did not expect a skyscraper with glass chandeliers and a dress code to boot. I am a man that is swimming in debt. I’m also wearing sandals.”
“It’s on me, remember? I wouldn’t make you pay a single cent,” Takemichi giggled. He put a hand on Mikey’s back, gently urging him along. “You’re my guest, they’ll make a pass for you.”
The inside of the restaurant looked even more impressive than the outside. Golden light flooded every vision Mikey was seeing. Some complex structure of light hung above them. The name of the restaurant was written on a golden plate on a marble pillar that read ‘Banquet des Damnés’ . Instead of a restaurant, it looked more like a hotel.
Staircases were everywhere, someone was playing the piano in the center, and there were people gathered on either side of the carpet. As soon as they saw Takemichi, they all immediately bowed their heads low.
“Good work, boss!” they shouted in unison.
You can’t be serious. Mikey made a face. Is Takemichi some kind of bigshot that I’m not aware of?
But to Mikey’s surprise, Takemichi immediately turned flustered at the display. “You- you don’t have to call me that all the time!” he tried awkwardly. “It’s too formal!”
“We don’t mind, boss!”
“Seriously! Stop that! Hanagaki is good enough!”
Somehow Miky was the one that was getting embarrassed watching what was happening. What kind of guy would act like a middle schooler girl when he wasn’t called by his name but a cool title instead? Mikey hasn’t had the slightest idea. He rolled his eyes still.
“Hanagaki-san, the lift’s ready,” a man, whom Mikey recognized to be Takemichi’s companion, said curtly.
“Oh right. Sorry about that, Manjiro-kun, I got carried away,” Takemichi said sheepishly. “You must be tired of waiting, right? Let’s go then. I’ll show you the viewing room.”
As they started walking towards the end, the people yelled again after a few seconds, “We’d like to call you that one day, boss!”
Mikey expected Takemichi to scold them again but he scratched his cheek in embarrassment.
“I can never win against you guys,” he shook his head in defeat. Now that one was a nice surprise. Since when did he act so humble? That was a stark difference when they were delinquents where even the little things got into his head. Guess he did change.
It was only when the elevator doors closed that Takemichi burst into tears.
“Maannjiiro-kun!” Takemichi sobbed. “I don’t understand why they keep calling me that!”
Was Mikey surprised? Of course not. Forget all the times he thought Takemichi looked like someone who was put together. The crybaby in him made him the dork he was twelve years ago.
“Relax, Hanagaki. That’s just you being dramatic,” Mikey deadpanned. He saw that got him a look of distaste from Takemichi’s companion but he ignored them. He watched as the screen above started going up in numbers. “Are you sure this place’s even a restaurant? Why does it have fifteen floors? That’s not even the- there’s basements?”
“Of course there is,” Takemichi said like it was obvious, taking a napkin from his companion to blow his nose, “You can’t come in here unless you have a reservation. Those floors are mostly gambling dens so a lot of customers stay here for an hour or two. The basements are parking lots. You could say the restaurant doubles as a rendezvous spot.”
“Huh,” Mikey said. Now he was worried if he should even be here at all. “Also what’s up with those people earlier? Are you the restaurant’s owner or something? Is that why they call you boss?”
Takemichi sniffed, rubbing his nose. “Well… I guess you can say that.”
There was something about his tone that made Mikey raise a brow, but Takemichi was smiling like nothing was wrong. He must’ve been really desperate to make Mikey forgive him for bringing Mikey to a place like this. Just then the elevator doors opened for them and it greeted them with a room that at first looked like there was nothing.
See, the viewing room was basically what happens when someone decides they wanted to give people with acrophobia consecutive heart attacks. Everywhere Mikey looked there were just the lights of the city, shining almost like jewelry in the nighttime. It felt dizzying from this height — looking down at all the streets of Tokyo. Cautiously, like he was scared to break it, he pressed a hand against the window.
Lights dotted the streets like insects. Mikey then squinted up towards the ceiling but saw nothing but darkness and more of those complex lights hanging. The feeling of the tatami mat dug into the soles of his bare foot (he was forced to take his sandals off).
The place felt ornate, much like a shrine.
“Manjiro-kun,” Takemichi called out, his voice so soft Mikey almost didn’t hear it.
Mikey swallowed. Takemichi almost looked nothing like the last time they met, he realizes. There’s no innocent edge to his jaw, mouth set in a look that held boredom, and his eyes an empty blue for the most part. For a moment Mikey felt like he was being seen though. Then Takemichi broke into a smile, closing his eyes as he did.
“Are you hungry?”
The food was good, more than good, and he wished he could remember more of it. The first dish was modest: silken tofu in neat cubes placed in a pattern topped with bright red pearls of salmon roe. The waitress reached out to pour something into Mikey’s cup. It was clear, the surface gleaming like a sheet of ice when it stilled — sake. Mikey’s never had an eye for fine dining — that’s more to Emma’s forte. He was always happy with the greasy boxed take-outs he always gets when money’s tight.
Here the food was too pretty to touch. He was scared to do anything to it until hunger took over and drove a spoon through the roe. His tofu dish was quickly stained red.
“Don’t be shy,” Takemichi coaxed, like he knew; he always does, “Try it.”
Mikey took his first bite.
It’s good. It was really tasty.
After that, every thought of him wanting to preserve the dish flew right out of his head, downing each spoon of tofu and roe like it’s water. The pearls of roe burst like blood vessels, rich and decadent. The tofu breaks easily under his teeth, the same flesh does under his. The glass was cold under his fingertips when Mikey tipped back his head to drink the sake. It became warm in the throat as it went down.
Takemichi’s gaze was on him all the while, watching, waiting — like he was anticipating his reaction. Mikey’s used to him staring. Just not with that much intent oozing out.
“Are you not eating, Hanagaki?” Mikey asked, setting down his cup, glass knocking against the hard table wood.
“Thanks but no,” Takemichi said, mouth curled in an uncanny-like grin, “I’ve had my fill.”
Time seemed to blur a little, his plate suddenly whisked away and another set before him — a bowl this time, dark and plain, with patterns of sea waves on the side. There was a lid on top to keep it warm. He stared at the lid, anxious to try open it.
“I don’t believe you,” Mikey said, lifting it finally. The heat of the soup hits his nose. “—That we’re just here to eat.”
“Why not?” Takemichi hummed, stirring the contents in his glass, “I’m making it up to you.”
“That’s not enough. I’m still mad at you.”
“Well,” Takemichi takes a sip of his drink, “I don’t expect you to forgive me either.”
Mikey takes the bowl in his hands, lifting it to his lips. The soup was lighter than he expected, flavor delicate with shellfish — something he never thought could taste that good. There was some kind of filling inside it but he easily gulped it anyway.
“I don’t get it,” he continued. He knows Takemichi was probably doing all this because he was that nice, or because he wanted something, but maybe that wasn’t the case. Maybe in the ten years they didn’t meet, he changed. “What do you like about me?”
“A lot of things. Your eyes are one of them,” Takemichi said, tilting his head. “But the rest is a secret.”
“Why the dinner anyway? Other than making it up to me.”
“Are you suggesting that maybe you’d prefer to argue instead? There’s a lot of things we can enjoy doing together, you know. This is one of them. It’s nice, isn’t it?”
His response made Mikey a little pissed. Since when did Takemichi learn to talk coyly like that? He must’ve said that to a lot of girls while they were separated. That’s the only explanation why Takemichi was such a charming guy now. Forget girls, guys would fall head over heels for him too. He’s that easy to get along with.
Seriously, Mikey thinks he shouldn’t even waste time on him. Dick, he blinked bitterly.
Then the dessert came; bowls of different flavored ice cream set neatly on a platter. Some guy suddenly came up to their table to talk to Takemichi, the conversation in hushed whispers. Mikey watched as they left, leaving Takeichi facing the other way, grumbling at his phone. Then, the most intrusive idea that day came to Mikey’s mind.
He reached out and placed a cold ice cream bowl against Takemichi’s neck.
A scream rang out and everyone was staring at them.
“Ma— Manjiro-kun!” Takemichi squeaked, grabbing at his nape. “What was that for!?”
Mikey couldn’t help snort at that. It wasn’t a nice sound either, almost like a mixture of a pig and a wheeze that made him sound like he was dying instead. The pink that slowly appeared on Takemichi’s face from embarrassment made Mikey almost forget about everything.
Takemichi is cute, his mind helpfully supplied. Mikey coughed, a hand coming up to cover his mouth.
Takemichi dreamily (in a dorky way) smiled. “Oh, you laughed.”
“I guess I did.”
But you know what’s the one thing that didn’t change? The way Takemichi’s eyes stayed dull whenever he smiled was still the same as ever. That was the reason for the off putting aura around him ever since they were young. It made him feel ever so slightly unhuman.
Weirdo, Mikey thought, eating another spoon or red bean ice cream.
Still, he will admit that the way the corners of Takemichi’s eyes crinkled as he smiled was cute.
“How’s your nose?” Mikey asked.
“I mean,” Takemichi sheepishly touched the bandaid on it, “it’s alright now.”
The air between them after that didn’t feel so awkward anymore.
“Are you sure I don’t need to send you home?” Takemichi asked once again. They were in the rain station this time. Mikey was already inside the train. “I have a car, I can drive you back.”
“You already sent me off to the train station, I think that’s good enough,” Mikey rejected. And I don’t want you to know where I live, he wanted to add. The sun also rose like 26 minutes ago. If Mikey’s going to get mugged at least there will be witnesses and his phone was also now charged. That was going to be his weapon of choice when that happened.
As if Takemichi knew what he was thinking, he laughed — and his voice sounded like the delicate tinkle of wind chimes. Mikey shook his head. Woah there, since when was he ever this poetic?
He gulped. “That reminds me, I need to give you back the coat.”
Mikey started to take it off but Takemichi immediately stopped him. “It’s okay,” he said quickly, wrapping it tighter around Mikey. “Keep it, I have a lot of those anyways. I’m scared you’ll freeze on your way home. You can always give it back later.”
“I guess… that works.”
“Here.”
A business card was offered to Mikey. “If you still want to return it, this is where I’m usually at. You can find me there.”
“Oh, okay.” Mikey awkwardly took it. Weird wording, but alright. “Thanks.”
“Goodbye, Manjiro-kun,” Takemichi said with a smile. “You know where to find me.”
“Yeah, alright.”
The train doors closed and once Mikey couldn’t see the station anymore, he collapsed on the nearest seat, sighing loudly into his hands. What the hell was that? he asked himself. They were acting so close suddenly, like they were back to being couples.
He then noticed there was another person on the train and they exchanged a quick nod of greeting. Soft rays of sunlight filtered through the windows, flashing as they passed buildings. That’s the great part of using trains in the morning, no one judges you for being on it at dawn. But for an ordinary guy like Mikey, it was just another Wednesday morning.