[Arashi] Nameless (1/2)
Nov. 4th, 2014 09:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
neko_kirin3104Title: Nameless
Group/Pairing: Arashi/Tennen Pair (Aiba/Ohno) + Bambis (Sho/Jun)
Prompt: halloween fic
Word Count: 10,124
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Supernatural/Fluff/Horror
Summary: Galeford could’ve been a perfect town: the people are warm and accepting. They don’t meddle, hardly argued, and the crime rate is almost close to zero.
Except for that one day in January, when an entity they had only ever called ‘Nameless’ rises from the dark, vengeful fringes of the town’s young history to claim at least one boy’s life on the eve of the 25th.
And this year, he’s set his eyes on the new boy, Satoshi.
Note: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
je_trick_or_fic 2014. Inspired in part by these | songs. :)
Warnings: mentions of child abuse, character death, drug use
“Last night I saw upon the stair,
A little man who wasn't there.
He wasn't there again today,
Oh, how I wish he'd go away...”
—Antigonish by Hughes Mearns
Satoshi’s mom believed he was a demon and tried to kill him three times.
Though he could hardly remember the circumstances now, and the white, pink, and livid stains they left on his skin had began fading away, he had remained scarred inside. He knew he would forever be.
No one was ever too young to be broken, after all. Just as no one would ever be old enough to get fixed.
He was fifteen when Daddy, having come unannounced to surprise Mommy on her birthday, witnessed for himself what the neighbors had been hinting on for years.
That Mommy was sick.
And that Mommy had never really overcome her hatred of Satoshi, no matter how hard she tried to act otherwise whenever Daddy was around.
Daddy was hardly ever around. The night the old man stayed with Satoshi at the hospital after Mommy dashed the boy’s head to the wall, was the longest they had ever been together in the same room.
Long enough for Satoshi to actually remember his face.
Long enough for the deprived, gratuitous boy to abuse his rights of calling him, “Daddy...” and believe the old man was serious when he said—
“I’ll stay here and watch over you. You don’t have to be afraid anymore, all right?”
He would never again see neither of his parents after this night.
‘Ohno’ was the name of Grandma Rie’s mother, and was also the name Satoshi had had to use since Daddy moved him out of the city into this obscured little town called Galeford, where the people took idling as both a pastime and a profession.
In Galeford nothing much got in just as much that nothing much got out.
They took any news from outside with a nonchalance that would annoy the hell out of any attention-seeking people, but on the flipside, provide the most perfect hideaway for those who wanted to disappear and be forgotten.
Satoshi quickly figured out why he was sent here. In the city, and especially after news of Mommy’s real condition got out, his life would’ve become an unscripted fall season drama that an entire nation previously unaware of his existence, would only be too happy to latch their sympathies on to the very end.
Back there, he would’ve been the poor, pathetic little Satoshi, illegitimate son of former pop icon Masahiro Nakai by the troubled actress, Yukie Nakama.
Right here in Galeford, however, he was just Satoshi Ohno.
He was nobody special. Hardly anybody paid him any heed.
Not that it had ever been any different anywhere else.
Satoshi hadn’t meant to isolate himself from everyone, but perhaps it was really just in his nature to blend into the walls.
Nobody seemed to mind at first. Nor did the kids in school ever whisper among themselves that the new kid with the round face and cautious eyes thought he was better than everyone else.
At least, that’s how it seemed to him. Until a couple of weeks later when the known town troublemaker, Kazunari Ninomiya, purposefully barreled into him and threw him against the lockers.
The dull clutter his books made on the floor reminded him only too well that he was on his own now.
Even his damn books had abandoned him!
And Nino was screaming in his face like what Mommy used to do before either a slap or a kick, or the numbing lick of the belt that Daddy had previously left lying around, struck him hard. Struck him over and over until he was bleeding—
He closed his eyes tight, instinctively putting his arms up to cover his face, stepping back and away from all the screaming and the cheering that had suddenly burst out all around him. He felt Nino’s warm breath against his palm as the kid adamantly challenged him to fight back. He just kept stepping away, shrinking into himself.
“Don’t you even know how to throw a punch! Huh?! Are you really that dumb?!”
Even Satoshi’s breath seemed to have dwindled in fear of Nino’s mockeries. He wheezed when he tripped on his own foot and fell backwards into a pair of strong arms that quickly wrapped him up in a protective embrace, hauling him back to his feet with barely a grunt, before an angry voice that instantly sent his heart racing said, “Lay off! You stupid brat!”
A lengthy arm shot out from behind Satoshi and flicked Nino’s forehead with a swiftness and precision that seemed to have been honed by years of practice.
The startled brat cupped his hands over his forehead, growling, “That’ll cost you more than a week’s worth of lunch money, you moron!”
Now, if Satoshi had been paying attention with more than just a quarter of his brain (the only part of him that had not yet been overwhelmed by basketball super rookie Masaki Aiba’s closeness) it wouldn’t have taken him two days to realize that the whole shoving incident had been nothing but a set up.
While it was true that Nino was infamous for being a brat, he was never an aggressive brat unless provoked. And he had always been more verbal than physical, since his body mass had yet to catch up to the size of his wit.
“That idiot asked me to do it, so he could step forward and play the hero to impress you.”
“What?” Satoshi frowned, only vaguely understanding the words, yet somehow drawing enough meaning from them to let some heat rise to his cheeks.
“Shut it, Nino!” Aiba hissed while at the same time reaching over the table to dump a couple of his karaage into Satoshi’s lunchbox.
“It’s dumb, I know. But, you see, I needed the money for that new Mario game that’s coming out next week. I’m sorry, ne?” Nino nudged his elbow lightly, the boy’s grin more accomplished than apologetic.
Satoshi turned his gaze to his lunchbox, silently willing his heart to keep still. “You could’ve just walked up to me and said ‘Hello’, you know,” he mumbled, trying to look nonchalant by picking at his food.
“Naaah...” Aiba chewed on his chopsticks and pretended to take interest on somebody else’s lunch, the apple of his cheeks turning pink. “That wouldn’t have been half as remarkable, would it?”
A knot formed in Satoshi’s chest, pre-empting the chuckle he had meant to let go. He knew Masaki and Nino’s intentions were harmless, but what they did had also almost pushed him into an absolute emotional meltdown.
He compromised with a smile.”Just... don’t do it again, okay?”
He heard the subtle hitch in Aiba’s breath, like the boy had somehow read a part of his mind and was suddenly aware of the grave implications of what they did. “Okay...” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, Oh-chan. Really, I am...”
Satoshi almost wasn’t able to keep the instinctive sob from escaping his throat. Mommy had also always said she was sorry—
Then again, Mommy had never given him karaage out of her own plate.
He tried to focus his mind back to his bento, at the two extra treats that Aiba had just put in it.
Nino nudged him again. “If you’re not gonna eat those, I’ll—”
“I’ll eat them.” He picked a piece with his fingers and slowly brought it to his lips while meeting Aiba’s expectant eyes. It was as though, in that short stretch of time, they had already gained enough understanding of each other to know what it would mean once the karaage found its way into Satoshi’s mouth.
“Ewwww! That’s just gross, you two!” Nino exclaimed, only breaking the moment briefly enough for Aiba to fling a fishcake at his face.
The karaage finally disappeared behind Satoshi’s lips, following a smile and a reflexive giggle.
It was the best karaage the boy had ever tasted.
Satoshi didn’t mean to give Aiba a hard time. But he also couldn’t just get into a relationship with anyone while all the ugly memories of his past still haunted his dreams at night.
“I understand.” Aiba popped open a can of soda and handed it to Satoshi. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”
Satoshi readily took the beverage, noting how the flitting brush of their fingers hardly made him flinch now. “Thanks.”
“I’ll still keep trying, though,” Aiba said with a determination that was beyond his years as he opened a can for himself. “I hope that’s okay.”
Satoshi turned away and chugged down on his drink, drowning out the words that his heart had always really wanted to say.
Because whenever Aiba smiled at him as though the boy had just plucked the sun from off the sky and slapped it on his face, Satoshi could almost just give in...
“I’ll wait,” Aiba said, this time with a tenderness that spoke directly to Satoshi’s heart, like nobody else had ever dared. “Because you’re worth it. You’re worth it, Oh-chan. I just want you to know that...”
Satoshi’s sixteenth birthday was celebrated in an absolutely fun way. Not too grand, nor too modest. Just loud enough, and memorable enough to make up for all the past ones that didn’t quite turn out right.
He had told Grandma Rie beforehand that if it could be helped, he’d just want to forget about the whole thing entirely and spend the day as normally as he would all the others.
“I’m not particularly fond of my birthday,” he said without thinking, thus giving Grandma Rie an excuse to wrap him up in a tight embrace, his face trapped snugly between her breasts.
“Don’t say that! Oh, you adorable little thing!” she exclaimed. Satoshi could almost imagine the old lady’s bun on top of her head quivering with sympathy. “I’ll still cook something up, okay? And you’re going to invite your friends over—”
“I’d rather not—”
“I’d like at least for that boy Aiba to come over here.” Grandma Rie pulled his face away from her bosom so he could look up and see how serious she was about this. “I believe we’ve got some serious matters to discuss regarding your future, young man.”
“No you don’t.” He gently pulled his face away and tried to get back to his dinner, while ignoring the flush in his face. “We’re not even together—”
“Yet—”
“Maybe, never—”
“Well, all the same,” Grandma Rie slumped back into her chair. “I’d like Aiba to come over so that I can give him fair warning should that crabby, prick-of-a-father of yours suddenly comes rushing over here wanting to shoot off his dick—”
Grandma Rie’s cream stew suddenly took on a bitter aftertaste. “I doubt Daddy would even bother...”
“Listen carefully, Satoshi.” The old bespectacled woman propped her elbow on the table and clasped her hands together in the manner of a grand matriarch commanding both careful attention and sheer respect. “My nephew may be an asshole, but if there’s anything at all that I can be sure of about that man, it’s that he loves you very much.”
Satoshi chose not to say anything more. And Grandma Rie knew better than to push the issue any further.
On the day itself, Daddy did send over a gift that Satoshi didn’t even bother unwrapping. The old man’s words from before, empty and senseless now that they couldn’t even be together, echoed over and over in his head like a heartless mockery to his very existence...
“You don’t have to be afraid anymore, all right?”
Satoshi sighed and set the box aside, making a mental note to give it away, first thing tomorrow, to that drifter he often saw at the park whenever he and Masaki hang out there with their chips and sodas and idle revelries—
“MOU! Grandma Rie’s never changed!” Aiba flopped down beside Satoshi on the couch, a hand protectively cupped over his crotch. “My balls and pee pee are going to have nightmares again tonight!”
Satoshi had already gone past gawking at his friend’s often perverted frankness. He snorted in mock disdain as he tried to block out the mixture of horrified and chortling screams coming from the other side of the room, where Grandma Rie had been terrorizing the rest of the boys in their class with her playful threats of ‘mominucation.’
Although, she never actually groped anybody’s private parts (they were all under-aged and she’s not that depraved), the thrill of the chase was enough reason for everyone involved to take as much fun out of it as they could. There were also a few of the cheekier girls who had joined the chase, while the others watched and laughed and cheered them all on from the sidelines.
“Hey,” Aiba said softly, inching a little bit closer to his side and instantly monopolizing his attention. “Happy birthday...” The grinning boy reached over and pulled up a gift from behind the couch. “This is all I got for you. It’s not much, since Nino’s practically emptied my wallet again.”
Satoshi heard a tiny grunt from behind and knew that they weren’t totally alone in this space. He took the gift and jokingly shook it to see if it would rattle, though it was too flat to even hold anything inside.
Somehow, he could already tell what it was, but still made it a point to gasp and act like he hadn’t figured it out seconds before, when he had finally torn the wrapping paper off of the nine-by-twelve sketchpad that was exactly like the one he had just bought yesterday as a gift for himself.
“I saw those doodles you always did on your notebooks, and I thought I’d buy you this. You know... So you’ll have more space to just let your imagination run free... Or fly free... Or whatever they’re supposed to be doing. I wanted to buy you a bigger one and some of those fancy art pencils, too. But when you’ve got a money-leeching friend always sniffing around in your pockets—”
Nino punched the couch from behind and mumbled some witty wisecrack that Satoshi did not quite catch because he had already started laughing out loud. “I’ve already bought one yesterday, but thank you still, Masaki. This is perfect—”
For a moment, the world seemed to have stopped moving.
They could’ve both missed it. Or at least, Aiba could’ve pretended he didn’t notice it, and Satoshi would’ve easily convinced himself he didn’t just do it. But they weren’t really the type to complicate their lives like that.
“Did you...”
“I think so...”
And they were suddenly laughing over it like it’s the single funniest, silliest, most adorable thing that had ever happened to their lives—
“Maa... Isn’t this unfair, though?” Aiba whined.
Satoshi tried to play it cool. “Hm...?”
“Me, getting the best gift ever on your special day?”
“Call me Satoshi and we’ll call it even.”
Aiba slung an arm on top of the backrest and dared to inch closer until he could almost lean forward and brush his lips on Satoshi’s cheek. “Well, then... Satoshi...?”
“Masaki...?” Satoshi turned his face, so that their breaths were ghosting over each other’s lips like flittering teasers to the kisses they were already thinking of sharing in the not-so-distant future.
Aiba’s brows wrinkled in mild uncertainty. “This is going to stick, right? It’s not just for today? Right...?”
Somehow the thought of all of this moving on to something long-term struck a chord in Satoshi’s apprehensive heart that instantly woke him out of this perfect dream. He almost moved away and broke Aiba’s heart.
But then, Nino started retching from behind the couch.
And Aiba was distracted enough by it to reach over and slap the brat’s head, grab his shirt and call out in a lilting voice, “Oh, Grandma Rie! Someone’s been hiding over here and missing all the fun! I’d be glad to hold him down for you if you still want him!”
“Dick!” Nino screeched before jumping up to his feet and running for his life.
Satoshi and Aiba looked at each other and burst out laughing again, something that they had been doing a lot of these past days.
And Satoshi actually managed not to flinch when Aiba suddenly grabbed hold of his hand, squeezing it like they had already agreed on something permanent without even needing to say the words.
Satoshi had more than once caught the disheveled man staring at them from across the park.
The drifter. Late twenties, maybe thirty? He couldn’t really tell from all that facial hair covering the entire lower half of the man’s face, but he seemed to be tall enough, and grumpy enough to be around that age.
A black baseball cap, tattered and unmarked, shadowed his eyes and gave him a gloomier appearance, apart from his black shirt, also unmarked, black pants, and black sneakers. Everything about the man was black, and just naturally screamed ‘approach at your own risk’. Satoshi always felt a light shiver crawl down his spine whenever their gazes met by chance, even from a distance.
Even with Masaki beside him...
“Oh, that’s Macchan!” the boy told him once. “Don’t mind him. He’s pretty harmless. Just don’t touch his turtle shell.”
“His what?”
“That turtle shell hanging on his side, you see? It’s empty. I don’t know what purpose it serves him, but it really pisses him off when anyone as much as pokes a finger at it.”
Satoshi could clearly see the shell now, hanging like a pouch on the man’s side, probably hooked to his belt by some means e He
that Satoshi could only ever speculate unless he came close enough to examine it himself.
And he did need to come close enough to dump his dad’s unwrapped gift to the grocery cart that Macchan always pushed around, half-full with all sorts of junk that probably meant more to the man than Satoshi could even begin to understand.
He hadn’t told Masaki about this little morning excursion he had planned for himself. He figured it wouldn’t take long anyway—just approach the cart, dump the gift, and walk away. Bothering his day-long special friend for something he could easily do on his own just seemed a little superfluous.
He probably wouldn’t have time to check the turtle shell out today, though. He guessed, he’d just have to do it another time. Masaki would probably also want to take a closer look at it, since they both did have equally curious minds—
“Hey!”
Satoshi, having done what he had come here to do, froze in the middle of a pivot and slowly turned back to the man he hadn’t expected, wanted, to speak to him at all.
“Take something back.”
“What?”
“You put something in, you take something out.”
“No, it’s okay—”
“Take something out, twit. Don’t make me have to shove your face into my cart.” Macchan regarded Satoshi with a look that made the boy want to shrink into his shoes.
He sighed, more to calm his heart than anything else, and let out a breathy, “Oooh-khhay...” while turning back to the cart to choose his unexpected freebie. They only told him to dump whatever into the cart; that it always made Macchan happy (though it hardly showed on his face) to receive anything freely given.
But he was so not ready for something like this! How could he even think of taking anything from a man who clearly didn’t have much to give away? Old shirts. Old shoes. Hole-riddled socks. Half a loaf of bread. A pack of tampons...
Satoshi was thinking he could probably just take the unwrapped gift back to save both of them the trouble, when his eyes suddenly caught sight of a leather-bound journal lumped in with all the seemingly worthless junk.
Before he could even have a chance to re-think it, he had already reached out and grabbed his chosen loot, quickly noting the satisfied grin it brought to Macchan’s face.
“Good choice.” The drifter started rubbing the turtle shell on his side. “Sho-kun would’ve wanted you to have it.”
“Uhm... was the turtle’s name Sho-kun?” Well, he did want to know about the turtle...
“Are you stupid?” Macchan’s patronizing tone made Satoshi cringe. Was this man really crazy? “How could a turtle own a journal, huh?!”
“Right, I’m sorry,” he mumbled, gripping the journal tightly so he didn’t end up throwing it back into the cart. Using the man’s face as a springboard didn’t sound like a bad idea, either. He bowed, nonetheless, properly expressing his gratitude before turning away—
“Sweet dreams, Satoshi...”
Satoshi caught his breath and spun around in a panic. “How did you—”
“I can read, you know.” Macchan pointed to the card attached to the unwrapped gift, where Daddy, at least, had bothered scribbling out Satoshi’s name in his own hand.
“Oh.” Satoshi clutched the journal close to his chest, bowed again and turned around so fast, that he would’ve lost his balance and broke his face on the concrete, if he hadn’t ended up breaking into a run instead.
This was the last time he’d ever dare approach that man on his own!
Reading somebody else’s journal was a truly surreal experience. Especially when it suddenly began sounding like your very own life.
Satoshi didn’t want to crack the journal open at first, having realized how utterly inappropriate his choice had been in the first place. What was he thinking, anyway?
If he did bother keeping a journal himself, he definitely wouldn’t want anybody poking his nose into it.
But this particular journal, bound in chestnut-colored leather, pages yellowed with age, though surprisingly still intact, seemed to want just that.
It wanted to be read. Satoshi somehow knew this the moment he felt it throb against his palm as he was brushing his hand over it, contemplating whether to open it or not.
It was as though whoever wrote the journal was telling him to cast all reluctance and inhibitions aside, and just dive right in.
He did just that. In a split-second, before he could even blink and stop himself, he had already popped the button holding the leather together.
And in the subsequent pages he would read about a boy named Sho, whose life bore a rather alarming similarity to his own—
Living with Mommy...
Daddy dropping by every once in a while...
That white powdery stuff on the table, syringes, foils...
Mommy’s crazy episodes...
Mommy’s hurtful words....
Mommy’s deranged attempts at ending his life—
Satoshi slammed the journal close halfway, tossing it aside while taking deep breaths to compensate for the ones he had just forgotten to take. His chest was burning, his whole body, trembling. He stumbled for the door, but only managed two steps before his mind completely shut down and he collapsed in an unconscious heap on the floor.
He didn’t even notice that his phone had been ringing the entire time...
Sho came to Satoshi for the first time in a dream, on the same night that he was rushed to the town clinic after suffering a panic attack.
In the dream, they had been sitting on the grass, among a cluster of trees, quietly listening to the murmurings of the lake before them. A haunting melody, and yet also such a calming sound, that spoke of both the secrets in its depth, as well as the subtle wisdoms of the olden times.
They remained like this for a while, seemingly unaware of each other’s presence.
It was Sho who broke the ice. “You’ve read my journal.”
“I’m sorry,” Satoshi said reflexively. “I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay...” Sho chuckled, leaning back into a more relaxed slump. “Aaah, I would’ve been more annoyed if you didn’t.”
“What?”
Turning to Satoshi, Sho showed off his chipmunk teeth in a smile that could’ve been yanked right out of the Cheshire cat’s face. “I’ve been waiting for you, you know...”
Not even waking up to find both Masaki and Grandma Rie at his bedside, each clasping his hand and asking him if he was feeling okay now, could pacify the fear that Sho’s words had incited in him—
“You made me worry!” The tears building up in Masaki’s eyes were distracting enough, though. "Don’t ever do that again, okay!”
Satoshi gripped the boy’s hand back, smiled and nodded.
Even when all he saw in his mind were the images of the boy in his dreams, while the fear in his heart lingered on...
Sho came to him again the following night. He had been in his room, then. His face slumped on the Math textbook he had been trying to make sense of for hours.
He smelled the grass before he even opened his eyes. Heard the soft rustle of trees, the now familiar murmurs of the lake...
When he did finally open his eyes, he found himself back in Sho’s world again—
“What am I doing here?” he asked.
“What do you think?” Sho teased. “You’re the one who kept coming.”
“What is this place?” Satoshi looked up and around, trying to remember as much as he could. He wished he could’ve at least brought his sketchpad along...
“You’ll find out soon enough...”
“What?” The creepy Cheshire grin was back on Sho’s face again. Satoshi suspected the boy wasn’t much older than himself, perhaps even younger. It didn’t make him any less creepier, though. “How long have you been here?”
“Too long.” There was an edge to Sho’s voice that Satoshi couldn’t quite place just yet. The grin had also already vanished without a trace. “I can’t wait to leave this place, Satoshi. And I’m so glad you finally came to help me out...”
Satoshi woke up with a start and almost fell over backwards in his chair.
It took him a moment to realize that his phone had been ringing. He picked it up and was relieved to see Masaki’s name on the screen.
“Hey.”
“Satoshi! Are you all right?”
Satoshi chuckled at the overdone panic in his special friend’s voice. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” He felt a tiny throb in his chest, as though his heart had just kicked him for lying.
“Ah, I’m so glad! I just suddenly felt the urge to call you, you know.”
This time, the kick he felt in his chest was milder, teasing. He couldn’t have been more grateful for Masaki’s simple-mindedness. “Thank you...”
“You’ll tell me if anything’s wrong, right?” Masaki’s voice cracked a little like he was about to cry. “You’ll have to tell me, Satoshi okay?!”
Satoshi did feel the urge to just spill it all out, as he did usually have the same simple nature. But he bit his lip against it and opted instead for a noncommittal, “Okay, Masaki.”
“Who are you, really?” Satoshi prodded, on the third time they met, in the same place, under the same circumstances. He remembered falling asleep on his bed, and then waking up to the smell of grass, the relaxing sounds of nature, the sharply contrasting presence of that boy—
“I am Sho. I have always been Sho.”
“Have you always been here?”
“No.”
“How did you end up being here, then?”
“I... don’t know. I can’t remember.”
“Why do you want to leave?”
“Because...” Sho sighed, and for the first time the boy actually looked his age: young, naive, maybe a little helpless, perhaps a little weak, but completely consumed by the simple excitements of youth. “I only want to see my Mommy again... That’s all... I want to see my Mommy.”
Masaki’s birthday was on Christmas Eve. It’s his seventeenth, and all he asked of Satoshi was to spend the entire day together. With no definite plans other than to enjoy and stuff themselves with laughter and junk food. Maybe watch a movie later. Raid Nino’s room and mess up his video games.
Then to cap it all off... Masaki had asked rather politely if he could, at least, maybe kiss Satoshi’s cheek. To which Satoshi had nodded shyly, closed his eyes and pressed the back of his hand as a protective barrier on his lips.
Masaki naughtily kissed the barrier instead. And they were still laughing about it over the phone later that night, when Masaki called to say their customary good nights.
It was the first official date they ever had. It was also the longest.
And Masaki’s sketched portrait was the first serious piece of art that Satoshi had ever worked and poured his sweat and blood on. He felt that seeing Masaki literally jumping up and down in happiness over it had already completed his life.
He would tell Sho about this in his dream...
And he would laugh about everything all over again.
Satoshi felt more and more drawn to Sho with every dream moment they got to share. The boy was actually pretty adorable, charming even when he wasn’t trying to scare the wits out of Satoshi with those smiles. He would also genuinely listen, and laugh boisterously at Satoshi’s stories and jokes.
They never mentioned anything about the journal again. Satoshi, for some reason, couldn’t remember where he hid it. He didn’t think it mattered anymore.
He and Sho had become friends. Even if it’s only a dream, it gave Satoshi an additional sense of comfort and happiness.
He was sure it wasn’t the same kind of feeling he had for Masaki. Although it was also just as special in its own unique ways—
“Who’s that?”
He flinched, the straight line he had carefully been adding to the sketch he was working on ending up in a crooked curve.
When he told Masaki that he could just come up to his room whenever he’s here, Satoshi forgot to mention that he should probably knock first—
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Masaki said, reaching down for the eraser that Satoshi had knocked off his table.
Satoshi took it with a smile. “It’s that boy from my dreams.”
“Hey! Am I not the boy of your dreams, Satoshi?”
Giggling while rubbing out the curved line from his sketch, Satoshi threw Masaki’s pout a glance before saying, “It’s the boy that appears in my dreams.”
“What dreams?”
Masaki didn’t sound like he was kidding anymore. Satoshi flinched at the boy’s edgy voice. “I’ve been having it for weeks now. It’s nothing special, just him and me talking by a lake, on the grass, among the trees. We just talk. And he’s kind of become like a friend—”
“Don’t talk to him anymore, Satoshi.” This time, the edge in Masaki’s voice was sharp enough to nick a surface wound on Satoshi’s heart.
“What? Why? It’s just a dream, Masaki. You have nothing to worry about—”
“What did he say his name was?”
“Sho...”
Masaki gasped with a soft whistle of panic at the end, before grabbing Satoshi’s hand and hauling him off his study desk. “Come with me.”
[continued on next page]
Group/Pairing: Arashi/Tennen Pair (Aiba/Ohno) + Bambis (Sho/Jun)
Prompt: halloween fic
Word Count: 10,124
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Supernatural/Fluff/Horror
Summary: Galeford could’ve been a perfect town: the people are warm and accepting. They don’t meddle, hardly argued, and the crime rate is almost close to zero.
Except for that one day in January, when an entity they had only ever called ‘Nameless’ rises from the dark, vengeful fringes of the town’s young history to claim at least one boy’s life on the eve of the 25th.
And this year, he’s set his eyes on the new boy, Satoshi.
Note: Written for
je_trick_or_fic 2014. Inspired in part by these | songs. :)Warnings: mentions of child abuse, character death, drug use
“Last night I saw upon the stair,
A little man who wasn't there.
He wasn't there again today,
Oh, how I wish he'd go away...”
—Antigonish by Hughes Mearns
~ Mommy ~
Satoshi’s mom believed he was a demon and tried to kill him three times.
Though he could hardly remember the circumstances now, and the white, pink, and livid stains they left on his skin had began fading away, he had remained scarred inside. He knew he would forever be.
No one was ever too young to be broken, after all. Just as no one would ever be old enough to get fixed.
He was fifteen when Daddy, having come unannounced to surprise Mommy on her birthday, witnessed for himself what the neighbors had been hinting on for years.
That Mommy was sick.
And that Mommy had never really overcome her hatred of Satoshi, no matter how hard she tried to act otherwise whenever Daddy was around.
Daddy was hardly ever around. The night the old man stayed with Satoshi at the hospital after Mommy dashed the boy’s head to the wall, was the longest they had ever been together in the same room.
Long enough for Satoshi to actually remember his face.
Long enough for the deprived, gratuitous boy to abuse his rights of calling him, “Daddy...” and believe the old man was serious when he said—
“I’ll stay here and watch over you. You don’t have to be afraid anymore, all right?”
He would never again see neither of his parents after this night.
~ Galeford ~
‘Ohno’ was the name of Grandma Rie’s mother, and was also the name Satoshi had had to use since Daddy moved him out of the city into this obscured little town called Galeford, where the people took idling as both a pastime and a profession.
In Galeford nothing much got in just as much that nothing much got out.
They took any news from outside with a nonchalance that would annoy the hell out of any attention-seeking people, but on the flipside, provide the most perfect hideaway for those who wanted to disappear and be forgotten.
Satoshi quickly figured out why he was sent here. In the city, and especially after news of Mommy’s real condition got out, his life would’ve become an unscripted fall season drama that an entire nation previously unaware of his existence, would only be too happy to latch their sympathies on to the very end.
Back there, he would’ve been the poor, pathetic little Satoshi, illegitimate son of former pop icon Masahiro Nakai by the troubled actress, Yukie Nakama.
Right here in Galeford, however, he was just Satoshi Ohno.
He was nobody special. Hardly anybody paid him any heed.
Not that it had ever been any different anywhere else.
~ Wallflower ~
Satoshi hadn’t meant to isolate himself from everyone, but perhaps it was really just in his nature to blend into the walls.
Nobody seemed to mind at first. Nor did the kids in school ever whisper among themselves that the new kid with the round face and cautious eyes thought he was better than everyone else.
At least, that’s how it seemed to him. Until a couple of weeks later when the known town troublemaker, Kazunari Ninomiya, purposefully barreled into him and threw him against the lockers.
The dull clutter his books made on the floor reminded him only too well that he was on his own now.
Even his damn books had abandoned him!
And Nino was screaming in his face like what Mommy used to do before either a slap or a kick, or the numbing lick of the belt that Daddy had previously left lying around, struck him hard. Struck him over and over until he was bleeding—
He closed his eyes tight, instinctively putting his arms up to cover his face, stepping back and away from all the screaming and the cheering that had suddenly burst out all around him. He felt Nino’s warm breath against his palm as the kid adamantly challenged him to fight back. He just kept stepping away, shrinking into himself.
“Don’t you even know how to throw a punch! Huh?! Are you really that dumb?!”
Even Satoshi’s breath seemed to have dwindled in fear of Nino’s mockeries. He wheezed when he tripped on his own foot and fell backwards into a pair of strong arms that quickly wrapped him up in a protective embrace, hauling him back to his feet with barely a grunt, before an angry voice that instantly sent his heart racing said, “Lay off! You stupid brat!”
A lengthy arm shot out from behind Satoshi and flicked Nino’s forehead with a swiftness and precision that seemed to have been honed by years of practice.
The startled brat cupped his hands over his forehead, growling, “That’ll cost you more than a week’s worth of lunch money, you moron!”
Now, if Satoshi had been paying attention with more than just a quarter of his brain (the only part of him that had not yet been overwhelmed by basketball super rookie Masaki Aiba’s closeness) it wouldn’t have taken him two days to realize that the whole shoving incident had been nothing but a set up.
While it was true that Nino was infamous for being a brat, he was never an aggressive brat unless provoked. And he had always been more verbal than physical, since his body mass had yet to catch up to the size of his wit.
“That idiot asked me to do it, so he could step forward and play the hero to impress you.”
“What?” Satoshi frowned, only vaguely understanding the words, yet somehow drawing enough meaning from them to let some heat rise to his cheeks.
“Shut it, Nino!” Aiba hissed while at the same time reaching over the table to dump a couple of his karaage into Satoshi’s lunchbox.
“It’s dumb, I know. But, you see, I needed the money for that new Mario game that’s coming out next week. I’m sorry, ne?” Nino nudged his elbow lightly, the boy’s grin more accomplished than apologetic.
Satoshi turned his gaze to his lunchbox, silently willing his heart to keep still. “You could’ve just walked up to me and said ‘Hello’, you know,” he mumbled, trying to look nonchalant by picking at his food.
“Naaah...” Aiba chewed on his chopsticks and pretended to take interest on somebody else’s lunch, the apple of his cheeks turning pink. “That wouldn’t have been half as remarkable, would it?”
A knot formed in Satoshi’s chest, pre-empting the chuckle he had meant to let go. He knew Masaki and Nino’s intentions were harmless, but what they did had also almost pushed him into an absolute emotional meltdown.
He compromised with a smile.”Just... don’t do it again, okay?”
He heard the subtle hitch in Aiba’s breath, like the boy had somehow read a part of his mind and was suddenly aware of the grave implications of what they did. “Okay...” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, Oh-chan. Really, I am...”
Satoshi almost wasn’t able to keep the instinctive sob from escaping his throat. Mommy had also always said she was sorry—
Then again, Mommy had never given him karaage out of her own plate.
He tried to focus his mind back to his bento, at the two extra treats that Aiba had just put in it.
Nino nudged him again. “If you’re not gonna eat those, I’ll—”
“I’ll eat them.” He picked a piece with his fingers and slowly brought it to his lips while meeting Aiba’s expectant eyes. It was as though, in that short stretch of time, they had already gained enough understanding of each other to know what it would mean once the karaage found its way into Satoshi’s mouth.
“Ewwww! That’s just gross, you two!” Nino exclaimed, only breaking the moment briefly enough for Aiba to fling a fishcake at his face.
The karaage finally disappeared behind Satoshi’s lips, following a smile and a reflexive giggle.
It was the best karaage the boy had ever tasted.
~ Sunshine ~
Satoshi didn’t mean to give Aiba a hard time. But he also couldn’t just get into a relationship with anyone while all the ugly memories of his past still haunted his dreams at night.
“I understand.” Aiba popped open a can of soda and handed it to Satoshi. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”
Satoshi readily took the beverage, noting how the flitting brush of their fingers hardly made him flinch now. “Thanks.”
“I’ll still keep trying, though,” Aiba said with a determination that was beyond his years as he opened a can for himself. “I hope that’s okay.”
Satoshi turned away and chugged down on his drink, drowning out the words that his heart had always really wanted to say.
Because whenever Aiba smiled at him as though the boy had just plucked the sun from off the sky and slapped it on his face, Satoshi could almost just give in...
“I’ll wait,” Aiba said, this time with a tenderness that spoke directly to Satoshi’s heart, like nobody else had ever dared. “Because you’re worth it. You’re worth it, Oh-chan. I just want you to know that...”
~ Birthday ~
Satoshi’s sixteenth birthday was celebrated in an absolutely fun way. Not too grand, nor too modest. Just loud enough, and memorable enough to make up for all the past ones that didn’t quite turn out right.
He had told Grandma Rie beforehand that if it could be helped, he’d just want to forget about the whole thing entirely and spend the day as normally as he would all the others.
“I’m not particularly fond of my birthday,” he said without thinking, thus giving Grandma Rie an excuse to wrap him up in a tight embrace, his face trapped snugly between her breasts.
“Don’t say that! Oh, you adorable little thing!” she exclaimed. Satoshi could almost imagine the old lady’s bun on top of her head quivering with sympathy. “I’ll still cook something up, okay? And you’re going to invite your friends over—”
“I’d rather not—”
“I’d like at least for that boy Aiba to come over here.” Grandma Rie pulled his face away from her bosom so he could look up and see how serious she was about this. “I believe we’ve got some serious matters to discuss regarding your future, young man.”
“No you don’t.” He gently pulled his face away and tried to get back to his dinner, while ignoring the flush in his face. “We’re not even together—”
“Yet—”
“Maybe, never—”
“Well, all the same,” Grandma Rie slumped back into her chair. “I’d like Aiba to come over so that I can give him fair warning should that crabby, prick-of-a-father of yours suddenly comes rushing over here wanting to shoot off his dick—”
Grandma Rie’s cream stew suddenly took on a bitter aftertaste. “I doubt Daddy would even bother...”
“Listen carefully, Satoshi.” The old bespectacled woman propped her elbow on the table and clasped her hands together in the manner of a grand matriarch commanding both careful attention and sheer respect. “My nephew may be an asshole, but if there’s anything at all that I can be sure of about that man, it’s that he loves you very much.”
Satoshi chose not to say anything more. And Grandma Rie knew better than to push the issue any further.
On the day itself, Daddy did send over a gift that Satoshi didn’t even bother unwrapping. The old man’s words from before, empty and senseless now that they couldn’t even be together, echoed over and over in his head like a heartless mockery to his very existence...
“You don’t have to be afraid anymore, all right?”
Satoshi sighed and set the box aside, making a mental note to give it away, first thing tomorrow, to that drifter he often saw at the park whenever he and Masaki hang out there with their chips and sodas and idle revelries—
“MOU! Grandma Rie’s never changed!” Aiba flopped down beside Satoshi on the couch, a hand protectively cupped over his crotch. “My balls and pee pee are going to have nightmares again tonight!”
Satoshi had already gone past gawking at his friend’s often perverted frankness. He snorted in mock disdain as he tried to block out the mixture of horrified and chortling screams coming from the other side of the room, where Grandma Rie had been terrorizing the rest of the boys in their class with her playful threats of ‘mominucation.’
Although, she never actually groped anybody’s private parts (they were all under-aged and she’s not that depraved), the thrill of the chase was enough reason for everyone involved to take as much fun out of it as they could. There were also a few of the cheekier girls who had joined the chase, while the others watched and laughed and cheered them all on from the sidelines.
“Hey,” Aiba said softly, inching a little bit closer to his side and instantly monopolizing his attention. “Happy birthday...” The grinning boy reached over and pulled up a gift from behind the couch. “This is all I got for you. It’s not much, since Nino’s practically emptied my wallet again.”
Satoshi heard a tiny grunt from behind and knew that they weren’t totally alone in this space. He took the gift and jokingly shook it to see if it would rattle, though it was too flat to even hold anything inside.
Somehow, he could already tell what it was, but still made it a point to gasp and act like he hadn’t figured it out seconds before, when he had finally torn the wrapping paper off of the nine-by-twelve sketchpad that was exactly like the one he had just bought yesterday as a gift for himself.
“I saw those doodles you always did on your notebooks, and I thought I’d buy you this. You know... So you’ll have more space to just let your imagination run free... Or fly free... Or whatever they’re supposed to be doing. I wanted to buy you a bigger one and some of those fancy art pencils, too. But when you’ve got a money-leeching friend always sniffing around in your pockets—”
Nino punched the couch from behind and mumbled some witty wisecrack that Satoshi did not quite catch because he had already started laughing out loud. “I’ve already bought one yesterday, but thank you still, Masaki. This is perfect—”
For a moment, the world seemed to have stopped moving.
They could’ve both missed it. Or at least, Aiba could’ve pretended he didn’t notice it, and Satoshi would’ve easily convinced himself he didn’t just do it. But they weren’t really the type to complicate their lives like that.
“Did you...”
“I think so...”
And they were suddenly laughing over it like it’s the single funniest, silliest, most adorable thing that had ever happened to their lives—
“Maa... Isn’t this unfair, though?” Aiba whined.
Satoshi tried to play it cool. “Hm...?”
“Me, getting the best gift ever on your special day?”
“Call me Satoshi and we’ll call it even.”
Aiba slung an arm on top of the backrest and dared to inch closer until he could almost lean forward and brush his lips on Satoshi’s cheek. “Well, then... Satoshi...?”
“Masaki...?” Satoshi turned his face, so that their breaths were ghosting over each other’s lips like flittering teasers to the kisses they were already thinking of sharing in the not-so-distant future.
Aiba’s brows wrinkled in mild uncertainty. “This is going to stick, right? It’s not just for today? Right...?”
Somehow the thought of all of this moving on to something long-term struck a chord in Satoshi’s apprehensive heart that instantly woke him out of this perfect dream. He almost moved away and broke Aiba’s heart.
But then, Nino started retching from behind the couch.
And Aiba was distracted enough by it to reach over and slap the brat’s head, grab his shirt and call out in a lilting voice, “Oh, Grandma Rie! Someone’s been hiding over here and missing all the fun! I’d be glad to hold him down for you if you still want him!”
“Dick!” Nino screeched before jumping up to his feet and running for his life.
Satoshi and Aiba looked at each other and burst out laughing again, something that they had been doing a lot of these past days.
And Satoshi actually managed not to flinch when Aiba suddenly grabbed hold of his hand, squeezing it like they had already agreed on something permanent without even needing to say the words.
~ Macchan ~
Satoshi had more than once caught the disheveled man staring at them from across the park.
The drifter. Late twenties, maybe thirty? He couldn’t really tell from all that facial hair covering the entire lower half of the man’s face, but he seemed to be tall enough, and grumpy enough to be around that age.
A black baseball cap, tattered and unmarked, shadowed his eyes and gave him a gloomier appearance, apart from his black shirt, also unmarked, black pants, and black sneakers. Everything about the man was black, and just naturally screamed ‘approach at your own risk’. Satoshi always felt a light shiver crawl down his spine whenever their gazes met by chance, even from a distance.
Even with Masaki beside him...
“Oh, that’s Macchan!” the boy told him once. “Don’t mind him. He’s pretty harmless. Just don’t touch his turtle shell.”
“His what?”
“That turtle shell hanging on his side, you see? It’s empty. I don’t know what purpose it serves him, but it really pisses him off when anyone as much as pokes a finger at it.”
Satoshi could clearly see the shell now, hanging like a pouch on the man’s side, probably hooked to his belt by some means e He
that Satoshi could only ever speculate unless he came close enough to examine it himself.
And he did need to come close enough to dump his dad’s unwrapped gift to the grocery cart that Macchan always pushed around, half-full with all sorts of junk that probably meant more to the man than Satoshi could even begin to understand.
He hadn’t told Masaki about this little morning excursion he had planned for himself. He figured it wouldn’t take long anyway—just approach the cart, dump the gift, and walk away. Bothering his day-long special friend for something he could easily do on his own just seemed a little superfluous.
He probably wouldn’t have time to check the turtle shell out today, though. He guessed, he’d just have to do it another time. Masaki would probably also want to take a closer look at it, since they both did have equally curious minds—
“Hey!”
Satoshi, having done what he had come here to do, froze in the middle of a pivot and slowly turned back to the man he hadn’t expected, wanted, to speak to him at all.
“Take something back.”
“What?”
“You put something in, you take something out.”
“No, it’s okay—”
“Take something out, twit. Don’t make me have to shove your face into my cart.” Macchan regarded Satoshi with a look that made the boy want to shrink into his shoes.
He sighed, more to calm his heart than anything else, and let out a breathy, “Oooh-khhay...” while turning back to the cart to choose his unexpected freebie. They only told him to dump whatever into the cart; that it always made Macchan happy (though it hardly showed on his face) to receive anything freely given.
But he was so not ready for something like this! How could he even think of taking anything from a man who clearly didn’t have much to give away? Old shirts. Old shoes. Hole-riddled socks. Half a loaf of bread. A pack of tampons...
Satoshi was thinking he could probably just take the unwrapped gift back to save both of them the trouble, when his eyes suddenly caught sight of a leather-bound journal lumped in with all the seemingly worthless junk.
Before he could even have a chance to re-think it, he had already reached out and grabbed his chosen loot, quickly noting the satisfied grin it brought to Macchan’s face.
“Good choice.” The drifter started rubbing the turtle shell on his side. “Sho-kun would’ve wanted you to have it.”
“Uhm... was the turtle’s name Sho-kun?” Well, he did want to know about the turtle...
“Are you stupid?” Macchan’s patronizing tone made Satoshi cringe. Was this man really crazy? “How could a turtle own a journal, huh?!”
“Right, I’m sorry,” he mumbled, gripping the journal tightly so he didn’t end up throwing it back into the cart. Using the man’s face as a springboard didn’t sound like a bad idea, either. He bowed, nonetheless, properly expressing his gratitude before turning away—
“Sweet dreams, Satoshi...”
Satoshi caught his breath and spun around in a panic. “How did you—”
“I can read, you know.” Macchan pointed to the card attached to the unwrapped gift, where Daddy, at least, had bothered scribbling out Satoshi’s name in his own hand.
“Oh.” Satoshi clutched the journal close to his chest, bowed again and turned around so fast, that he would’ve lost his balance and broke his face on the concrete, if he hadn’t ended up breaking into a run instead.
This was the last time he’d ever dare approach that man on his own!
~ Journal ~
Reading somebody else’s journal was a truly surreal experience. Especially when it suddenly began sounding like your very own life.
Satoshi didn’t want to crack the journal open at first, having realized how utterly inappropriate his choice had been in the first place. What was he thinking, anyway?
If he did bother keeping a journal himself, he definitely wouldn’t want anybody poking his nose into it.
But this particular journal, bound in chestnut-colored leather, pages yellowed with age, though surprisingly still intact, seemed to want just that.
It wanted to be read. Satoshi somehow knew this the moment he felt it throb against his palm as he was brushing his hand over it, contemplating whether to open it or not.
It was as though whoever wrote the journal was telling him to cast all reluctance and inhibitions aside, and just dive right in.
He did just that. In a split-second, before he could even blink and stop himself, he had already popped the button holding the leather together.
And in the subsequent pages he would read about a boy named Sho, whose life bore a rather alarming similarity to his own—
Living with Mommy...
Daddy dropping by every once in a while...
That white powdery stuff on the table, syringes, foils...
Mommy’s crazy episodes...
Mommy’s hurtful words....
Mommy’s deranged attempts at ending his life—
Satoshi slammed the journal close halfway, tossing it aside while taking deep breaths to compensate for the ones he had just forgotten to take. His chest was burning, his whole body, trembling. He stumbled for the door, but only managed two steps before his mind completely shut down and he collapsed in an unconscious heap on the floor.
He didn’t even notice that his phone had been ringing the entire time...
~ Dream Boy ~
Sho came to Satoshi for the first time in a dream, on the same night that he was rushed to the town clinic after suffering a panic attack.
In the dream, they had been sitting on the grass, among a cluster of trees, quietly listening to the murmurings of the lake before them. A haunting melody, and yet also such a calming sound, that spoke of both the secrets in its depth, as well as the subtle wisdoms of the olden times.
They remained like this for a while, seemingly unaware of each other’s presence.
It was Sho who broke the ice. “You’ve read my journal.”
“I’m sorry,” Satoshi said reflexively. “I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay...” Sho chuckled, leaning back into a more relaxed slump. “Aaah, I would’ve been more annoyed if you didn’t.”
“What?”
Turning to Satoshi, Sho showed off his chipmunk teeth in a smile that could’ve been yanked right out of the Cheshire cat’s face. “I’ve been waiting for you, you know...”
Not even waking up to find both Masaki and Grandma Rie at his bedside, each clasping his hand and asking him if he was feeling okay now, could pacify the fear that Sho’s words had incited in him—
“You made me worry!” The tears building up in Masaki’s eyes were distracting enough, though. "Don’t ever do that again, okay!”
Satoshi gripped the boy’s hand back, smiled and nodded.
Even when all he saw in his mind were the images of the boy in his dreams, while the fear in his heart lingered on...
~ Seconds ~
Sho came to him again the following night. He had been in his room, then. His face slumped on the Math textbook he had been trying to make sense of for hours.
He smelled the grass before he even opened his eyes. Heard the soft rustle of trees, the now familiar murmurs of the lake...
When he did finally open his eyes, he found himself back in Sho’s world again—
“What am I doing here?” he asked.
“What do you think?” Sho teased. “You’re the one who kept coming.”
“What is this place?” Satoshi looked up and around, trying to remember as much as he could. He wished he could’ve at least brought his sketchpad along...
“You’ll find out soon enough...”
“What?” The creepy Cheshire grin was back on Sho’s face again. Satoshi suspected the boy wasn’t much older than himself, perhaps even younger. It didn’t make him any less creepier, though. “How long have you been here?”
“Too long.” There was an edge to Sho’s voice that Satoshi couldn’t quite place just yet. The grin had also already vanished without a trace. “I can’t wait to leave this place, Satoshi. And I’m so glad you finally came to help me out...”
Satoshi woke up with a start and almost fell over backwards in his chair.
It took him a moment to realize that his phone had been ringing. He picked it up and was relieved to see Masaki’s name on the screen.
“Hey.”
“Satoshi! Are you all right?”
Satoshi chuckled at the overdone panic in his special friend’s voice. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” He felt a tiny throb in his chest, as though his heart had just kicked him for lying.
“Ah, I’m so glad! I just suddenly felt the urge to call you, you know.”
This time, the kick he felt in his chest was milder, teasing. He couldn’t have been more grateful for Masaki’s simple-mindedness. “Thank you...”
“You’ll tell me if anything’s wrong, right?” Masaki’s voice cracked a little like he was about to cry. “You’ll have to tell me, Satoshi okay?!”
Satoshi did feel the urge to just spill it all out, as he did usually have the same simple nature. But he bit his lip against it and opted instead for a noncommittal, “Okay, Masaki.”
~ One Wish ~
“Who are you, really?” Satoshi prodded, on the third time they met, in the same place, under the same circumstances. He remembered falling asleep on his bed, and then waking up to the smell of grass, the relaxing sounds of nature, the sharply contrasting presence of that boy—
“I am Sho. I have always been Sho.”
“Have you always been here?”
“No.”
“How did you end up being here, then?”
“I... don’t know. I can’t remember.”
“Why do you want to leave?”
“Because...” Sho sighed, and for the first time the boy actually looked his age: young, naive, maybe a little helpless, perhaps a little weak, but completely consumed by the simple excitements of youth. “I only want to see my Mommy again... That’s all... I want to see my Mommy.”
~ Christmas ~
Masaki’s birthday was on Christmas Eve. It’s his seventeenth, and all he asked of Satoshi was to spend the entire day together. With no definite plans other than to enjoy and stuff themselves with laughter and junk food. Maybe watch a movie later. Raid Nino’s room and mess up his video games.
Then to cap it all off... Masaki had asked rather politely if he could, at least, maybe kiss Satoshi’s cheek. To which Satoshi had nodded shyly, closed his eyes and pressed the back of his hand as a protective barrier on his lips.
Masaki naughtily kissed the barrier instead. And they were still laughing about it over the phone later that night, when Masaki called to say their customary good nights.
It was the first official date they ever had. It was also the longest.
And Masaki’s sketched portrait was the first serious piece of art that Satoshi had ever worked and poured his sweat and blood on. He felt that seeing Masaki literally jumping up and down in happiness over it had already completed his life.
He would tell Sho about this in his dream...
And he would laugh about everything all over again.
~ Sketch~
Satoshi felt more and more drawn to Sho with every dream moment they got to share. The boy was actually pretty adorable, charming even when he wasn’t trying to scare the wits out of Satoshi with those smiles. He would also genuinely listen, and laugh boisterously at Satoshi’s stories and jokes.
They never mentioned anything about the journal again. Satoshi, for some reason, couldn’t remember where he hid it. He didn’t think it mattered anymore.
He and Sho had become friends. Even if it’s only a dream, it gave Satoshi an additional sense of comfort and happiness.
He was sure it wasn’t the same kind of feeling he had for Masaki. Although it was also just as special in its own unique ways—
“Who’s that?”
He flinched, the straight line he had carefully been adding to the sketch he was working on ending up in a crooked curve.
When he told Masaki that he could just come up to his room whenever he’s here, Satoshi forgot to mention that he should probably knock first—
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Masaki said, reaching down for the eraser that Satoshi had knocked off his table.
Satoshi took it with a smile. “It’s that boy from my dreams.”
“Hey! Am I not the boy of your dreams, Satoshi?”
Giggling while rubbing out the curved line from his sketch, Satoshi threw Masaki’s pout a glance before saying, “It’s the boy that appears in my dreams.”
“What dreams?”
Masaki didn’t sound like he was kidding anymore. Satoshi flinched at the boy’s edgy voice. “I’ve been having it for weeks now. It’s nothing special, just him and me talking by a lake, on the grass, among the trees. We just talk. And he’s kind of become like a friend—”
“Don’t talk to him anymore, Satoshi.” This time, the edge in Masaki’s voice was sharp enough to nick a surface wound on Satoshi’s heart.
“What? Why? It’s just a dream, Masaki. You have nothing to worry about—”
“What did he say his name was?”
“Sho...”
Masaki gasped with a soft whistle of panic at the end, before grabbing Satoshi’s hand and hauling him off his study desk. “Come with me.”
[continued on next page]
