“The answer you could have.”
He would never register to these strangers’ minds and they really won’t occupy a part of Aoi’s own, and in this impersonality was a sort of closeness he couldn’t exactly explain.
✖
Tokyo usually never got this chilly at the start of December. And needless to say, Aoi was surprised to feel the cold surface of a snowflake rather than the white, wooly substance that he thought it to be as stretched his palm out towards the skies. He smiled to himself as passersby directed their gazes heavenward to see what it was he was silently fussing about, sitting back down on his bench to watch them get excited by the second while more snow fell down. Aoi felt as if he was the indirect source of happiness for the strangers here and for a moment he felt genuinely happy, but that’s just him trying to distract himself from the growing wintriness and the stagnant cold that he really felt.
Still it stays that people were much more interesting to watch rather than the falling snow; his eyes trained on each face despite the fact that their images would fade in no more than a few seconds. And the snow looked the same, white and fleeting, but the way it decorated shoulders and window sills and even the ground that he was stepping on was something quite extraordinary. He would’ve thanked the gods for the early animate picture of a pure world if he wasn’t so bitter inside.
“Coffee.”
His musings were disrupted as he felt a soft nudge on his shoulder, his downcast eyes greeted with the sight of two lidded paper cups being held up by Uruha. Aoi took one of the still steaming cups and held it with both his hands, relishing on the comforting warmth it granted his cold skin with. He muttered a small thanks, unsure if the other already heard it and immediately opened the lid immediately anyway, taking in the scent of strong coffee.
“How’d you know I’m here?” Aoi pushed the lid back on and brought the cup higher, resting his lips just over the small slit.
“You frequent this place.” The response didn’t come as slow as Aoi expected; he thought Uruha would be a bit more hesitant to actually answer. “I see you go to this direction during lunch breaks. Actually I pass by here too but make sure to walk behind the benches,” Uruha turned back to point behind him and Aoi followed the gesture, “Just so you won’t see me.”
One sip from Uruha but Aoi has already consumed a fifth of his.
“There aren’t many restaurants around here so I was curious,” the younger explained himself, “Then again, the likes of us aren’t supposed to eat, right?”
Aoi’s lips stretched into a lopsided smile in reply, bottom lip stained with a small amount of coffee he just drank. He would’ve said something in his defense, but his eyes had already strayed to the numerous shoes taking different gaits and then eventually to the people themselves. Uruha simply let Aoi watch in silence, observing how the older kept his cup against his mouth all the while, Adam’s apple bobbing in small gulps.
The air was still until Uruha broke the silence again. “Why do you like watching them?”
The question was startling and out of the blue, to be quite honest.
Actually, Aoi was just a person who didn’t like to be ignored. Going out of his way, preferring to skip over a meal simply to watch people pass him by was something out of his character, and yet he felt an insane sense of being welcome. He would never register to these strangers’ minds and they really won’t occupy a part of Aoi’s own, and in this impersonality was a sort of closeness he couldn’t exactly explain. He knew that they would never know who he actually is but knowing that their presence would always be there, regardless of whether he was or wasn’t at that very same bench felt better than staying in a room with people who probably exchanged fame for friendship. It wasn’t as if he didn’t do the same either, and subconsciously he probably was, but part of being Aoi was never admitting his shortcomings; at least, not until somebody comes to point those out to him. And even by then, admitting that he actually had shortcomings would take a bit.
When it’s almost time to go, that comforting feeling of being just another one in the crowd would give him a sense of elation that would last until he steps inside the recording room. It was just like sipping on a pleasant cup of coffee then abruptly realizing you already drank it all.
Just like now.
Aoi stared on the ground for a few good seconds before finally taking the small cup away from his still coffee-stained lips, running his tongue over them to appreciate the last bittersweet drops. He raised a brow once he finally shifted his gaze towards Uruha.
“What are you doing?”
Uruha merely shrugged as he withdrew his tongue back to his mouth, tasting a bland flavor in his mouth. “Just wanted to know how the early snow tasted.” He looked at the already crushed cup in between Aoi’s hand. “You can have mine if you want.” Uruha had already taken the empty cup from his hands and shoved the half-filled one into the older’s hands before he could even protest.
“This is like kissing you indirectly.” But Aoi brought the cup up to his lips anyway and Uruha only smiled.
“I don’t have germs.” A small laugh bubbled at their throats but neither of them let those out; Aoi turned his eyes back down and Uruha leaned against the metallic backrest. Only the sounds of their gentle breathing and the faraway swish of people going around lingered in their ears.
For a longer span of time the air continued to be still until Aoi finally decided to answer.
“Warmth.” His voice was almost inaudible. “It’s for warmth.”
Aoi lifted his head a little, enough to see each figure walking past but not enough to recognize their actual forms, and then turned his head. From the expression on Uruha’s face it seemed that he didn’t get what the older was talking about, but Aoi didn’t want to elaborate on something even he couldn’t even explain himself.
“I’m glad I brought you coffee, then,” was Uruha’s innocent answer, “You always did look cold whenever I saw you.”
Aoi was thankful that Uruha didn’t press on. “Coffee’s not really enough,” still he couldn’t help but add. But the coffee was already cold.
“Why didn’t you just say so,” Uruha shot back, and then lifted his arm to pull the other by the shoulder.
Aoi curled his calloused hands tighter around the already cold drink and then looked up to the other, noticing the flecks of snow starting to stick to Uruha’s hair and clothes. He raised a hand to remove them but decided that the younger didn’t need to be rid of it now. And maybe it was better, to look at Uruha with the pristine snow on him.
How it was possible to be so comfortably warm amidst that chilly, December afternoon even with the people’s forms blurring in his vision, Aoi didn’t know, but decided that perhaps, it really was possible anyway.
✖
The reason why I wrote this one is to first and foremost, dedicate this piece to three people out there. They know why, ahah. Anyway, the other reason is that I wanted to challenge myself. Earlier today I went out with my friends granitemouth and asahisuperdry and told them about which of the boys was easiest and hardest to write for me. My answers are Uruha and Aoi respectively, but the reason for that is a story for another day. Going back; when I got home I decided I wanted to write about them but in a different way than usual. The way I usually write Aoi is him being all open and Uruha the opposite, which is how I normally see them. But in this piece I banked on the aloofness that Aoi must feel -- that is, being left out -- as based on his various interviews, and Uruha's dorkiness.