[ONESHOT] GOT YOUR BACK
Title: Got Your Back
Genre: general, slice-of-life
Characters: Mizusawa, Kiyama
Rating: K
Word Count: 1828
Summary: Coincidences in the big city are different. They're special.
Notes: Side-story scene to "Some Kind of Mates" (not posted on the LJ yet, but that'd make this post-series and/or AU) and b-day gift to terrierlee!
Years of gymnastics had given Taku Mizusawa quick reflexes and superb balance. Yet for some reason, he wasn't good at riding the trains.
The trains.
For university, Mizusawa had moved to the city. The city had trains. Lots of them. The city was on the shinkansen lines and subway lines that were busy and cramped most of the day.
That afternoon, Mizusawa was stuck toting a very sensitive, very expensive piece of equipment -- a camera that he'd borrowed from a friend in his department. Of course, it was in a case, but he still knew that a big bump, or a fall from any height would do the thing in. Moreover, the case was large and hard to maneuver in a situation that made a sardine tin look roomy.
When riding the trains, Mizusawa liked sticking near the door, because he also wasn't good at pushing people out of the way. That had caused him to miss quite a few stops. In fact, he'd missed enough meetings and had been late to enough classes to convince him that grabbing on to the support pole near the door and weathering the shoves, leers and complaints from passengers trying to get around him was quite worth it.
One such passenger... was a girl in a school uniform, a girl who couldn't have been much into her teens. Texting away on a mobile phone with ten of those charms dangling from it, she looked up only once to sneer at Mizusawa. Between lids caked with dark liner were eyes that carried all the hate and disdain of adolescence. She needed to take it out on someone.
She sighed an annoyed moan, and pushed past him. No, normal people just pushed past him; she charged into him like a football player.
Mizusawa was taken so off guard that his fingers slipped from the bar and he tripped over someone's feet, nearly toppling backwards. And the car wasn't full yet, leaving plenty of space for him to fall to his doom. In the milliseconds before he'd hit the ground, he prayed that at least the camera would be okay. Kind he may be, Sagawa-senpai would probably sue his family if his precious camera was damaged, and his poor father worked hard enough as it was...
But he -- and the camera case -- stopped falling.
Mizusawa wondered for a moment if it was just the warped physics of the crowd that kept him off the floor, but he'd explicitly felt two hands catch him and push him back to his feet.
Unsettled, he grabbed on to the pole again and arranged himself best he could as the river of people poured past him. When he finally settled, he turned around, hoping that his hero of the moment would still be there.
"Hey, thanks a--"
His eyes flew open. Standing in front of him... no, standing practically on top of him... was Ryuuichirou Kiyama. Of all people.
He blinked.
The city had coincidences. Well, there were coincidences back at home too, but they meant so much more in the city. When thousands of people pass through the train station daily, literally bumping into your friend, roommate, and former crush... that was special.
In a cruel, twisted kind of way.
There was another big push to the back of the bus. Mizusawa grabbed on to his precious pole near the door, while Kiyama reached over to one of the handles hanging from the overhead baggage area. Then was a ping and a recording and a few more people shoved their ways past Taku Mizusawa.
Shifting a bit to the side, Kiyama watched curiously as a few more people were shoved onto the car, and the doors finally closed. As the train slid into motion, Mizusawa clung to both the support pole and that case he was holding to for dear life. Kiyama saw that he wasn't the only one glaring at the other man; quite a few riders seemed irritated with the guy who wouldn't move even though he was taking up so much space.
"You're supposed to move with the crowd," he grumbled. "Are you stupid or something?"
Mizusawa found himself nodding, not really paying attention to what the other man had said, or even to the harshness he'd said it with. There was another, much more important fact filling his mind.
They were touching.
Mizusawa tried to push it out of his mind. At that exact moment, he was touching about half a dozen other people just as much. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths; not to compose himself, because he already was composed. He just had to make sure he stayed that way.
He opened his eyes to Kiyama, who looked about as aggravated as the other surrounding passengers. But Mizusawa caught the glances of the taller man to the box he held in his hand.
"It's a camera," he offered, with a tad more enthusiasm than the explanation warranted. "I've got a project for class."
"Ah." This time, it was Kiyama who was nodding.
Thinking to a situation involving photographs that Kiyama was still oblivious to, Mizusawa suppressed a nervous chuckle.
The other didn't seem to notice the gesture. Instead, he shrugged, which was about all the movement he could manage. "I'm going to work."
Again Mizusawa nodded. He couldn't think of anything else to say, and knew that any attempt at smalltalk was doomed to fail. This would usually the part when he'd go find something else to do, somewhere else to be... hell, something else to look at, but the car was so cramped that turning his head one way would give him a nose-full someone's armpit, while the other would give him face-full of that one weird hairstyle? Dreads, or whatever they're called, on a Japanese guy.
The dreads scared Mizusawa.
So he let his eyes fall to a spot on Kiyama's jacket. It was dark blue and looked warm. From underneath poked the collar of a white button-up shirt. It didn't look especially formal, but looked strange with the man's wild hair and disgruntled face.
It suddenly occurred to Mizusawa that he didn't know what Kiyama actually did. It seemed like a big thing, not knowing what his roommate went out and did for hours most evenings. Kiyama's background as a high school delinquent flashed in Mizusawa's mind... but he then remembered that Kiyama was never that much of a delinquent, and always seemed pretty honorable. He was always an upstanding guy... the cutting classes, smoking on campus, fighting in the streets... all that was just a phase. He had his reasons for being that way.
Mizusawa knew bits and pieces of those reasons, but not much. Even after he'd gotten past his silly crush, his curiosity still lingered.
It was okay to want to know more about him, right? As a friend?
That wasn't crossing any lines, right?
Even after knowing him for about a year, actually talking to him and interacting with him like a normal person, Mizusawa still didn't know a lot about him. Even though they lived in the same cramped apartment, Kiyama was still the enigma that he always was. Now, he just happened to be an enigma that took out the trash every other Tuesday. He was an enigma that would offer quiet greetings in the morning, and reminded him to write him a check for the water and power bills. He was an enigma that fell asleep every night in a room not a meter from his own.
Mizusawa barely knew the first thing about Kiyama, though the two were sandwiched against each other, though he could feel his heat and smell his scent...
It was one of those so close, yet so far! kind of deals, in all its glorious irony.
The train... no, his train of thought came grinding to a halt as he suddenly felt very uncomfortable. It was those eyes...
Ryuuichirou Kiyama didn't look at people. He looked into people.
By the time Mizusawa scraped up the composure to match the other's gaze, he was looking off to the side. Damn his height! He had the luxury of looking over everyone else, while Mizusawa could only...
...bury his face in that one guy's dreadlocks. Luckily, they didn't smell as bad as they looked.
Several minutes passed like that. Mizusawa had to contort his face to keep from sneezing. Weird guy's dreads keep brushing against his nose...
Then there was a tone, and the nasal recording announcing the next stop started to play. The train began to slow, Mizusawa adjusted his grip on the support pole, and a ping later the doors to the car flew open.
Again, he felt the shoves from the back. Yet there was also a distinct sensation -- a sharp poke to his side. Mizusawa looked up to see Kiyama on the other side of him, being pushed toward the exit. He was frowning.
"Be careful, will ya? And move out of the way."
And the man was quickly carried off the car. Mizusawa stood on the tip of his toes and tried to call out over the bustle of the station.
"See you--"
Mizusawa was cut off by a fat guy suddenly jumping on the train car and blocking everything from view; about a dozen people had started boarding at the same time. All of them looked to eye Mizusawa as they made their way on the train. They looked as annoyed as usual.
"...later..." he finally mouthed. A salaryman and a woman with several shopping bags pushed further into the train car nearly knocking him over. Mizusawa turned to the side, looking towards the back of the car and sighing. He probably was in the way.
Reluctantly, he let go of the handle and let himself be pushed towards the center of the car. Before he got too far, he craned his head to look out the door one last time. There was no way he could see past all the people now squeezing onto the car, let alone try to spot a certain someone who'd just gotten off.
Somewhere not too far away, the other man had turned around just in to watch his roommate teeter and nearly fall. Again. But it looked like... just maybe Mizusawa was heeding his advice. Kiyama cracked half a smile before he shoved his hands in his pockets and turned back around, joining the crowd walking past the ticket gates.
Genre: general, slice-of-life
Characters: Mizusawa, Kiyama
Rating: K
Word Count: 1828
Summary: Coincidences in the big city are different. They're special.
Notes: Side-story scene to "Some Kind of Mates" (not posted on the LJ yet, but that'd make this post-series and/or AU) and b-day gift to terrierlee!
Years of gymnastics had given Taku Mizusawa quick reflexes and superb balance. Yet for some reason, he wasn't good at riding the trains.
The trains.
For university, Mizusawa had moved to the city. The city had trains. Lots of them. The city was on the shinkansen lines and subway lines that were busy and cramped most of the day.
That afternoon, Mizusawa was stuck toting a very sensitive, very expensive piece of equipment -- a camera that he'd borrowed from a friend in his department. Of course, it was in a case, but he still knew that a big bump, or a fall from any height would do the thing in. Moreover, the case was large and hard to maneuver in a situation that made a sardine tin look roomy.
When riding the trains, Mizusawa liked sticking near the door, because he also wasn't good at pushing people out of the way. That had caused him to miss quite a few stops. In fact, he'd missed enough meetings and had been late to enough classes to convince him that grabbing on to the support pole near the door and weathering the shoves, leers and complaints from passengers trying to get around him was quite worth it.
One such passenger... was a girl in a school uniform, a girl who couldn't have been much into her teens. Texting away on a mobile phone with ten of those charms dangling from it, she looked up only once to sneer at Mizusawa. Between lids caked with dark liner were eyes that carried all the hate and disdain of adolescence. She needed to take it out on someone.
She sighed an annoyed moan, and pushed past him. No, normal people just pushed past him; she charged into him like a football player.
Mizusawa was taken so off guard that his fingers slipped from the bar and he tripped over someone's feet, nearly toppling backwards. And the car wasn't full yet, leaving plenty of space for him to fall to his doom. In the milliseconds before he'd hit the ground, he prayed that at least the camera would be okay. Kind he may be, Sagawa-senpai would probably sue his family if his precious camera was damaged, and his poor father worked hard enough as it was...
But he -- and the camera case -- stopped falling.
Mizusawa wondered for a moment if it was just the warped physics of the crowd that kept him off the floor, but he'd explicitly felt two hands catch him and push him back to his feet.
Unsettled, he grabbed on to the pole again and arranged himself best he could as the river of people poured past him. When he finally settled, he turned around, hoping that his hero of the moment would still be there.
"Hey, thanks a--"
His eyes flew open. Standing in front of him... no, standing practically on top of him... was Ryuuichirou Kiyama. Of all people.
He blinked.
The city had coincidences. Well, there were coincidences back at home too, but they meant so much more in the city. When thousands of people pass through the train station daily, literally bumping into your friend, roommate, and former crush... that was special.
In a cruel, twisted kind of way.
There was another big push to the back of the bus. Mizusawa grabbed on to his precious pole near the door, while Kiyama reached over to one of the handles hanging from the overhead baggage area. Then was a ping and a recording and a few more people shoved their ways past Taku Mizusawa.
Shifting a bit to the side, Kiyama watched curiously as a few more people were shoved onto the car, and the doors finally closed. As the train slid into motion, Mizusawa clung to both the support pole and that case he was holding to for dear life. Kiyama saw that he wasn't the only one glaring at the other man; quite a few riders seemed irritated with the guy who wouldn't move even though he was taking up so much space.
"You're supposed to move with the crowd," he grumbled. "Are you stupid or something?"
Mizusawa found himself nodding, not really paying attention to what the other man had said, or even to the harshness he'd said it with. There was another, much more important fact filling his mind.
They were touching.
Mizusawa tried to push it out of his mind. At that exact moment, he was touching about half a dozen other people just as much. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths; not to compose himself, because he already was composed. He just had to make sure he stayed that way.
He opened his eyes to Kiyama, who looked about as aggravated as the other surrounding passengers. But Mizusawa caught the glances of the taller man to the box he held in his hand.
"It's a camera," he offered, with a tad more enthusiasm than the explanation warranted. "I've got a project for class."
"Ah." This time, it was Kiyama who was nodding.
Thinking to a situation involving photographs that Kiyama was still oblivious to, Mizusawa suppressed a nervous chuckle.
The other didn't seem to notice the gesture. Instead, he shrugged, which was about all the movement he could manage. "I'm going to work."
Again Mizusawa nodded. He couldn't think of anything else to say, and knew that any attempt at smalltalk was doomed to fail. This would usually the part when he'd go find something else to do, somewhere else to be... hell, something else to look at, but the car was so cramped that turning his head one way would give him a nose-full someone's armpit, while the other would give him face-full of that one weird hairstyle? Dreads, or whatever they're called, on a Japanese guy.
The dreads scared Mizusawa.
So he let his eyes fall to a spot on Kiyama's jacket. It was dark blue and looked warm. From underneath poked the collar of a white button-up shirt. It didn't look especially formal, but looked strange with the man's wild hair and disgruntled face.
It suddenly occurred to Mizusawa that he didn't know what Kiyama actually did. It seemed like a big thing, not knowing what his roommate went out and did for hours most evenings. Kiyama's background as a high school delinquent flashed in Mizusawa's mind... but he then remembered that Kiyama was never that much of a delinquent, and always seemed pretty honorable. He was always an upstanding guy... the cutting classes, smoking on campus, fighting in the streets... all that was just a phase. He had his reasons for being that way.
Mizusawa knew bits and pieces of those reasons, but not much. Even after he'd gotten past his silly crush, his curiosity still lingered.
It was okay to want to know more about him, right? As a friend?
That wasn't crossing any lines, right?
Even after knowing him for about a year, actually talking to him and interacting with him like a normal person, Mizusawa still didn't know a lot about him. Even though they lived in the same cramped apartment, Kiyama was still the enigma that he always was. Now, he just happened to be an enigma that took out the trash every other Tuesday. He was an enigma that would offer quiet greetings in the morning, and reminded him to write him a check for the water and power bills. He was an enigma that fell asleep every night in a room not a meter from his own.
Mizusawa barely knew the first thing about Kiyama, though the two were sandwiched against each other, though he could feel his heat and smell his scent...
It was one of those so close, yet so far! kind of deals, in all its glorious irony.
The train... no, his train of thought came grinding to a halt as he suddenly felt very uncomfortable. It was those eyes...
Ryuuichirou Kiyama didn't look at people. He looked into people.
By the time Mizusawa scraped up the composure to match the other's gaze, he was looking off to the side. Damn his height! He had the luxury of looking over everyone else, while Mizusawa could only...
...bury his face in that one guy's dreadlocks. Luckily, they didn't smell as bad as they looked.
Several minutes passed like that. Mizusawa had to contort his face to keep from sneezing. Weird guy's dreads keep brushing against his nose...
Then there was a tone, and the nasal recording announcing the next stop started to play. The train began to slow, Mizusawa adjusted his grip on the support pole, and a ping later the doors to the car flew open.
Again, he felt the shoves from the back. Yet there was also a distinct sensation -- a sharp poke to his side. Mizusawa looked up to see Kiyama on the other side of him, being pushed toward the exit. He was frowning.
"Be careful, will ya? And move out of the way."
And the man was quickly carried off the car. Mizusawa stood on the tip of his toes and tried to call out over the bustle of the station.
"See you--"
Mizusawa was cut off by a fat guy suddenly jumping on the train car and blocking everything from view; about a dozen people had started boarding at the same time. All of them looked to eye Mizusawa as they made their way on the train. They looked as annoyed as usual.
"...later..." he finally mouthed. A salaryman and a woman with several shopping bags pushed further into the train car nearly knocking him over. Mizusawa turned to the side, looking towards the back of the car and sighing. He probably was in the way.
Reluctantly, he let go of the handle and let himself be pushed towards the center of the car. Before he got too far, he craned his head to look out the door one last time. There was no way he could see past all the people now squeezing onto the car, let alone try to spot a certain someone who'd just gotten off.
Somewhere not too far away, the other man had turned around just in to watch his roommate teeter and nearly fall. Again. But it looked like... just maybe Mizusawa was heeding his advice. Kiyama cracked half a smile before he shoved his hands in his pockets and turned back around, joining the crowd walking past the ticket gates.