Chapter Text
Naoto Shirogane wasn’t sure what on earth possessed him to enter Shiroku pub on his first night back in Inaba. Morbid curiosity, perhaps? His grandfather had encouraged him to “rediscover Inaba”, the town where he’d experienced the worst year of his life. But, back on the streets he’d once roamed in a pack of other teenagers, the only thing Naoto wanted was distraction.
He’d debated heading into Junes, the mega department store still running, but just seeing its bright eyes from down the road had unnerved him. For a while, he’d sat on a bench nearby watching, wondering if someone he knew would show up. Would they recognize him? Last time Naoto was here, he hadn’t exactly looked like himself. But he didn’t see anyone, and no one saw him. Naoto wasn’t sure how that made him feel, but he didn’t want to go inside Junes, and he didn’t want to go back home. So Naoto ended up here, at the only other place in town still open by 9:00 PM at night.
Shiroku Pub was a small bar, with a dance floor sparsely populated with locals. It didn’t smell like sweat, not the way certain Tokyo clubs did. Instead, alcohol wafted through the air, loud music blaring against the dark walls. Did the bartender think she was running a small town hangout or a dance floor? Naoto couldn’t tell.
Right now, he was on a bar stool in the corner, his legs dangling embarrassingly off the ground. For the past half hour, he’d been sipping a vodka lemonade through a black straw so skinny, it might as well evaporate into thin air. He was almost done, thank god. Once he was, he’d politely thank the bartender, then head home. She was at the other end, wiping down the wood. Suddenly, she looked up.
“Ay, Vogue. Want your usual?” the older woman behind the bar said.
“Yeah. And can I get an extra drink for the cute guy? Whatever he’s finishing, get him a second one,” a deep male voice said.
There are gay people in Inaba?
Naoto chided himself as soon as he had the thought. Of course there were gay people in Inaba. Just because this was a small, conservative town didn’t mean-
“Your lucky night, sweetheart,” the older woman suddenly said.
Naoto looked up. The older woman was staring at him, her red lips framing a smile as she set another plastic cup in front of him.
“Uh, thanks,” Naoto said, trading her his empty one.
The old lady winked at him before turning back around. He looked in the direction of the voice, the guy the bartender had called Vogue. Sitting across the bar was… the most gorgeous human Naoto had ever seen.
The guy was tall, his knees jammed against the bar. His hair was light brown- bleached enough to be rebellious, but natural enough to look soft. When his eyes met
Naoto’s, he smiled, waving a hand absentmindedly. If anyone else had done that, they’d have looked ridiculous. But this guy, this absolute man was covered in muscles, the kind that subtly flexed with every gesture.
Naoto definitely wasn’t gay, but if he was, watching every muscle in Vogue’s arms ripple as he picked up his barstool, carrying it so that he could sit closer, he would’ve had a heart attack. Maybe he still was going to, his heart fluttering despite the tight binder around his chest.
“Hey,” Vogue said, in a voice that sounded strangely familiar. “Ya new in town?”
“Um, kinda. I’m visiting family for the summer,” Naoto said.
The guy nodded. Why did he look so familiar?
“I’d ask for their names, but I have a feeling ya don’t want them finding out you’re here,” he said, bringing his drink to his lips.
Naoto felt his face grow warm. Were his nerves that clockable?
“Er, not to be rude. Ain’t a lot of guys around here dressed that nice,” Vogue said, turning towards Naoto fully and gesturing.
Now facing the stranger head on, Naoto could make out a line on his forehead. A familiar scar, one that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. No fucking way.
“Shit, do we know each other? Ya look like you’re seeing a ghost,” Kanji Tatsumi said, showing off that oh so familiar dorky smile.
Fuck. He really couldn’t do this. Not now, of all times. Not-
“We were in school together for a year, but I transferred. Got into Gekkoukan High, actually,” Naoto said.
Kanji slammed his cup down. His smile widened.
“Really? I know someone else who goes there! I’m not sure they’re your friend, though. They ain’t exactly the type to sneak into a place like this.” He waved his arms around at the flashing lights.
Naoto knew what the right answer was. To quietly excuse himself, run home, and shut the door on any thought of that starting up again. But he was here for a distraction, and before he could think, the words fell out of his mouth.
“He would do something like this. Your friend. Maybe he’s right here, looking for you.”
Kanji’s eyes widened. He took a long sip of his drink.
“I’ll be damned.” Kanji whistled before speaking again. “If he is, do ya think he’d want to dance? With me?”
“He’d love to.”
Kanji blushed. He rubbed the back of his neck, the way he always did when he was nervous. Usually, Naoto was the one initiating any sort of physical contact. But today, right now, he really wasn’t going to. Maybe Kanji’s courage would end here, and they could never talk again, or maybe…
Kanji stood up, awkwardly kicking over his barstool before extending a hand. His face was bright red. That was one thing Naoto had always found charming about his ex fling.
Although their time together was short, only four months before the world around them caught up, Naoto still remembered everything about Kanji. He was pleasantly surprised at how little had changed. The way his hand still shook when Naoto’s hand met his, the familiar way his eyes lit up when the shorter boy hopped off the bar stool.
“Shiroku’s kind of a safe zone. Er, what happens here stays here, so we don’t gotta sneak around like we used to,” Kanji said, now properly holding Naoto’s hand.
“You ever run into anyone… from the Team here?” Naoto asked.
Kanji chuckled.
“Can you imagine any of them in a place like this? Maybe Rise, if she still lived here.”
At the mention of Rise, Naoto inhaled sharply. She was the last person he wanted to think about tonight. Even if he probably should be.
Out here, surrounded by sweaty bodies, there was no room for distractions, no space for words. No space for any thoughts besides the music gradually rising, foaming together before it crashed down onto the partiers, a wave on the beach.
Cause you are the piece of me, I wish I didn’t need…
Kanji grabbed one of Naoto’s hands, twirling the shorter boy until he was pressed against his chest. Naoto pushed him off gently.
If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy?
They were getting closer now, too close for a good boy, a nice young man, to get to another man. Naoto could feel Kanji’s breath on his neck, could feel…
Oh. Oh shit.
Their lips were touching now, and for a moment, Naoto was both hyper aware of everyone around them and also numb to their presence. Would anyone recognize him? Did he care? The music was rushing around them, beats cascading. He pulled back, the anxiety too much.
If our love’s insanity, why are you my clarity?
As the beat dropped, Kanji wrapped his arms around Naoto’s shoulders. He brought his lips to his, and suddenly the world fell away. The music softened, the lights dimmed, nothing mattered except the two of them, connected for a moment in time.
Kanji pulled away, and the absence of his lips felt suffocating. That catchy chorus kept playing. He took Naoto’s hand again, kissing it gently before motioning for him to lean in.
“I know I fucked up last time,” Kanji whispered. “Let me make it up to ya.”
From there, the rest of the night was a blur. The two young men fell out of the bar and into one room together, in a haze of skin on skin, lips on lips. When the world finally stopped spinning, Naoto found himself staring up at glow in the dark stars, pasted on someone else’s ceiling.
Kanji’s room was a clash of two aesthetics, soft crocheted creations hanging off shelves, next to walls with posters from magazines. While they’d been apart, he’d gotten into fashion, into making clothes for other people. Naoto was tempted to ask for more details. Were people nicer to Kanji than they were two years ago? Is that where his nickname at the pub came from? But doing that would break the illusion that this was all a pleasant dream, some closure for a chapter that had been haunting Naoto ever since that day in the TV world.
Kanji crawled into bed next to him, wrapping his arms around him tightly.
“Er, can I say something crazy?” Kanji asked.
Naoto nodded, still barely processing what he’d just done.
“I know ya probably don’t want to come back here. Probably for the best. But I was thinking, we’ll be in university next year. Maybe we could… get a place together.”
“Together?”
“Yeah. And see how things go from there. I heard it’s easier for, ya know… guys like us in the city. No one would say anything if I took you out for a date,” Kanji said.
Naoto scoffed.
“What? Did I say something funny?”
“No, it’s just… it depends on where you go.”
“But there’s places, right? Places where I could hold your hand.”
Naoto paused. He remembered one location he’d been to, a hole in the wall place in the Kichijoji neighborhood of Tokyo.
He’d been with his boss, Mitsuru Kirijo. She was looking to fund researchers in a new field tied to Shadows, and he’d been brought along to look at colleges. To celebrate, she’d taken him to a late night cafe, a spot called the Jazz Jin that sold both wine and coffee.
It was dimly lit, the tables an old brown and the chairs a faded red. In the corner behind the bar, a rainbow flag sat above a picture frame.
“Yukari and I come in here. I suppose one of her friends found it,” Mitsuru had explained.
On one side of their table was a dance floor, separating them from the stage. The musicians were still setting up, but already there were two men, standing in the middle of the floor. They were dressed plainly, collared shirts and blue jeans. They seemed not to care as the band moved into place, as the sound system crackled to life.
The music started, slow and drawn out. As the song picked up, one of the men whispered something in the other’s ear.
“This song isn’t technically jazz. It’s another American, Elvis Presley,” Mitsuru explained, but Naoto was only half listening.
One of the musicians took the microphone and began to sing, her words drawn out and long. The two men joined hands. Slowly, as the music progressed, the space between them grew smaller. A few other couples joined them, but for some reason, Naoto felt his eyes locked on the two men. They gently swayed across the floor, closer to the tables. It was as if
they were one being, one planet in motion.
As the dancers got closer to Naoto and Mitsuru’s table, he felt a sense of sorrow. There was something these men had, chests pressed together, arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders, that he didn’t have. One of them turned to catch Naoto’s eyes. He smiled warmly, winking at the boy before locking lips with his partner.
When he finished telling Kanji the story, Kanji squeezed him tighter.
“Sounds romantic. Slow dancing, arms linked. Ain’t never done that before, so you have to teach me..”
Naoto playfully smacked the skull tattoo on Kanji’s arm.
“I don’t know if I’m the best person to do that. Besides, I’m so much shorter than you.”
“Er, I’ll have to learn eventually. It might not be possible right now, but… shit, uh, not if they legalized it tomorrow, or even any time soon, just… thinking out loud, I guess,” Kanji trailed off, rubbing his neck again.
“Legalize what?”
Kanji kissed the top of Naoto’s head.
“I think… and I know, I know you’re gonna think it’s crazy. And I know, this is the first time we’ve really talked since ya left, but I… I want you to be my person. Forever.”
I want that- wait.
Naoto’s stomach dropped. Suddenly, everything came back to him. He wasn’t going to stay with Kanji, to take his hand and slow dance to some old American singer in an underground club. His life had a plan, a future laid out perfectly, and it left no room for real distractions.
In an instant, Naoto wriggled out of Kanji’s arms. He flew himself to the floor, gathering his clothes.
“Naoto? Did I do something wrong?” Kanji called out.
He turned around and there was Kanji, fully sitting up. Naoto didn’t know what to say. How could he explain what he’d just done?
“Please. I can’t lose ya again,” Kanji pleaded.
Naoto looked down again. He couldn’t say what he needed to, not with those big brown eyes staring back at him.
“Shit. I… I’m getting married, Kanji. To a girl. A nice one, too. She…”
Naoto trailed off. When he was half decent, he stood up. He’d have to go out the window. Yes, that was the best way to not get caught. Kanji’s room was on the ground floor. And besides, that would be the fastest way to put distance between the two of them, to snuff out any old flame Naoto’s little mistake might’ve reignited.
For a moment, he allowed himself to look at his old flame. Kanji was starting to shake, no longer the tough, muscular guy who’d carried Naoto inside. When they locked eyes, Kanji started to sputter, the way he always did when he was nervous.
“But then- Why would-”
“I’m sorry,” Naoto said, finishing buttoning his polo. “This was never meant to happen. Please, forget this.”
Once his sneakers hit the ground, Naoto ran. He didn’t stop running, not until there was no way he could go where he was tempted to go, not until his home, his safety, his future was back in full view.