you're running scared, i'm chasing a shadow [1/?]
title: you're running scared, i'm chasing a shadow
author: hika_nishi
pairing: masuda/tegoshi
rating: pg-13
disclaimer: I own the computer I typed this on. That's it.
summary: Tonight he was running away. Away from school and the soccer club, away from mother and warm meals, away from a comfortable room and fancy designer clothes, away from flashing red and blue and sirens and blood.
note: it's a little sorter than I wanted it to be, but I wanted to stop it there and if I post something, I'll have more motivation to work on it XD
There's victory in disaster, a masterpiece of dirt
This faith that's in my heart that makes me want to hurt
--charlotte martin, chasing a shadow
On any other day, the vibration of the train would have put him to sleep in a matter of moments. On any other day he’d have a goal, a destination in mind.
Not tonight. Tonight he was restless, his hands couldn’t stop shaking, his eyes were working, but he wasn’t seeing. Tonight he was running away. Away from school and the soccer club, away from mother and warm meals, away from a comfortable room and fancy designer clothes, away from flashing red and blue and sirens and blood.
++++
In a town on the coast, there's a cafe. It sits on the beach, looks out on the ocean, and has a strict policy of hiring good-looking men to serve tables. Not unexpectedly, it has a largely female clientele.
Which is the first reason that the boy who walked in that morning was slightly strange. The second is his wardrobe: a heavy looking black hoodie and a pair of dark jeans, neither of which fit the typical style of your average beach-goer. The moment he stepped inside, he had Masuda’s attention.
Masuda has spent the last two years working behind the counter, taking orders, wiping down the occasional mess left by a bunch of giggly, possibly drunk teenage girls. He’d watched hundreds, maybe thousands of people walk through that door, none of them the way this boy did on this particular morning. He opened the door, stuffed his hands quickly into the pockets of his sweatshirt when he entered. He paused, looked around quickly, cautiously, like the geek at school nervously checking if the bully was sitting in one of the booths. When he starts moving again, it’s quick, straight in Masuda’s direction.
The boy stopped at the counter, face pointed in Masuda’s direction, but never looking him in the eye. “Where’s the restroom?” he asked, Masuda listening more closely than normal trying to find any sort of duress in the boys voice. There was none. There was nothing. He pointed to the left of the counter and the boy left quickly, disappearing through a door.
Another server, Kato, looked at Masuda with a what was that? expression. Masuda just shrugged and when a group of girls wearing bikinis as shirt sat down at the counter, he put on a winning smile and asked for their order.
++++
He bolted quickly through the door with the blue square-like man on the door, checked the stalls for other patrons - empty - and ran to the sink, pulling his hands out of his pockets to turn on the water.
He started scrubbing on hand with the other frantically, he searched for a soap dispenser, momentarily blind to the one right in front of him. The cell phone in his pocket vibrated, he almost didn’t notice it. All he could see at the moment was the discolored water coming from his hands - water that he knew would have been a dark pink had he had the mind to wash them before fleeing onto a train with no intended destination. His chest felt tight, his breath going in and out in short spurts as he desperately tried to clean his hands.
He turned off the water, staring at the last drops of water as they drizzled down the drain, his hand gripped tightly to the side of the sink. The phone vibrated again.
This time he answered it.
“Tegoshi?” a familiar voice said through the speaker. “It’s Ryo. Are you there? Tegoshi? Are you okay? Where are you?” the boy tried to steady his breathing, but it wasn’t working. “Say something! What the fuck happened? Tegoshi? Tegoshi!”
The phone fell from his hand, clinking loudly on the tile floor. The boy sank against the wall, pulling his knees up to his face and he began to cry, the voice on the line still shouting out his name over and over.
++++
The crowd started to pick up as morning faded into afternoon. Between distributing orders, occasional comments from Kato, and awkward, sometimes forced laughs in response to a costumers statements on the food or the fact that he was just so cute, Masuda would sneak a glance in the direction of the restrooms. It had been - what, an hour since that nervous-looking boy had rushed back there.
Eventually, his curiosity turned into concern, and - in the fashion of exceptional customer service they were instructed in at least one or twice a year - Masuda asked Kato to watch his place for a bit and disappeared into the thin hallway.
He knocked gently on the door of the men’s restroom, more out of habit than necessity, and slowly opened the door. “Sir, is there anything I can…” he paused when he saw the boy, curled against the wall between the sinks and the first stall. A phone was lying open on the floor. It was slightly distracting. Masuda picked it up, held it out to the boy. “Sir,” he said softly, “is this yours?”
The boy raised his head, he was pretty, Masuda thought, but he looked sad, hurt. He nodded, took the phone from Masuda, and whispered a thank you.
“Do you want something to eat?” Masuda asked. “I can get you-”
“No,” the boy replied simply.
“Are you from around here?”
“No.”
“On vacation?”
“No.”
“Where are you from?”
This time the boy paused. “Doesn’t matter,” he eventually answered.
Masuda knelt down on the floor beside him. “Do you need help?”
“No one can help me.”
Cheery boy. Masuda thought of leaving, but the sight of that boy sitting there on the floor of the men’s room - which was altogether unsanitary - looking both beautiful and pathetic made him want to offer help. He let out a sigh. “Hey, what’s your name?”
The boy was silent for a moment, as if he were wondering whether it was really a good idea to give his name to a stranger. He finally looked at Masuda, “Yuya.”
author: hika_nishi
pairing: masuda/tegoshi
rating: pg-13
disclaimer: I own the computer I typed this on. That's it.
summary: Tonight he was running away. Away from school and the soccer club, away from mother and warm meals, away from a comfortable room and fancy designer clothes, away from flashing red and blue and sirens and blood.
note: it's a little sorter than I wanted it to be, but I wanted to stop it there and if I post something, I'll have more motivation to work on it XD
There's victory in disaster, a masterpiece of dirt
This faith that's in my heart that makes me want to hurt
--charlotte martin, chasing a shadow
On any other day, the vibration of the train would have put him to sleep in a matter of moments. On any other day he’d have a goal, a destination in mind.
Not tonight. Tonight he was restless, his hands couldn’t stop shaking, his eyes were working, but he wasn’t seeing. Tonight he was running away. Away from school and the soccer club, away from mother and warm meals, away from a comfortable room and fancy designer clothes, away from flashing red and blue and sirens and blood.
++++
In a town on the coast, there's a cafe. It sits on the beach, looks out on the ocean, and has a strict policy of hiring good-looking men to serve tables. Not unexpectedly, it has a largely female clientele.
Which is the first reason that the boy who walked in that morning was slightly strange. The second is his wardrobe: a heavy looking black hoodie and a pair of dark jeans, neither of which fit the typical style of your average beach-goer. The moment he stepped inside, he had Masuda’s attention.
Masuda has spent the last two years working behind the counter, taking orders, wiping down the occasional mess left by a bunch of giggly, possibly drunk teenage girls. He’d watched hundreds, maybe thousands of people walk through that door, none of them the way this boy did on this particular morning. He opened the door, stuffed his hands quickly into the pockets of his sweatshirt when he entered. He paused, looked around quickly, cautiously, like the geek at school nervously checking if the bully was sitting in one of the booths. When he starts moving again, it’s quick, straight in Masuda’s direction.
The boy stopped at the counter, face pointed in Masuda’s direction, but never looking him in the eye. “Where’s the restroom?” he asked, Masuda listening more closely than normal trying to find any sort of duress in the boys voice. There was none. There was nothing. He pointed to the left of the counter and the boy left quickly, disappearing through a door.
Another server, Kato, looked at Masuda with a what was that? expression. Masuda just shrugged and when a group of girls wearing bikinis as shirt sat down at the counter, he put on a winning smile and asked for their order.
++++
He bolted quickly through the door with the blue square-like man on the door, checked the stalls for other patrons - empty - and ran to the sink, pulling his hands out of his pockets to turn on the water.
He started scrubbing on hand with the other frantically, he searched for a soap dispenser, momentarily blind to the one right in front of him. The cell phone in his pocket vibrated, he almost didn’t notice it. All he could see at the moment was the discolored water coming from his hands - water that he knew would have been a dark pink had he had the mind to wash them before fleeing onto a train with no intended destination. His chest felt tight, his breath going in and out in short spurts as he desperately tried to clean his hands.
He turned off the water, staring at the last drops of water as they drizzled down the drain, his hand gripped tightly to the side of the sink. The phone vibrated again.
This time he answered it.
“Tegoshi?” a familiar voice said through the speaker. “It’s Ryo. Are you there? Tegoshi? Are you okay? Where are you?” the boy tried to steady his breathing, but it wasn’t working. “Say something! What the fuck happened? Tegoshi? Tegoshi!”
The phone fell from his hand, clinking loudly on the tile floor. The boy sank against the wall, pulling his knees up to his face and he began to cry, the voice on the line still shouting out his name over and over.
++++
The crowd started to pick up as morning faded into afternoon. Between distributing orders, occasional comments from Kato, and awkward, sometimes forced laughs in response to a costumers statements on the food or the fact that he was just so cute, Masuda would sneak a glance in the direction of the restrooms. It had been - what, an hour since that nervous-looking boy had rushed back there.
Eventually, his curiosity turned into concern, and - in the fashion of exceptional customer service they were instructed in at least one or twice a year - Masuda asked Kato to watch his place for a bit and disappeared into the thin hallway.
He knocked gently on the door of the men’s restroom, more out of habit than necessity, and slowly opened the door. “Sir, is there anything I can…” he paused when he saw the boy, curled against the wall between the sinks and the first stall. A phone was lying open on the floor. It was slightly distracting. Masuda picked it up, held it out to the boy. “Sir,” he said softly, “is this yours?”
The boy raised his head, he was pretty, Masuda thought, but he looked sad, hurt. He nodded, took the phone from Masuda, and whispered a thank you.
“Do you want something to eat?” Masuda asked. “I can get you-”
“No,” the boy replied simply.
“Are you from around here?”
“No.”
“On vacation?”
“No.”
“Where are you from?”
This time the boy paused. “Doesn’t matter,” he eventually answered.
Masuda knelt down on the floor beside him. “Do you need help?”
“No one can help me.”
Cheery boy. Masuda thought of leaving, but the sight of that boy sitting there on the floor of the men’s room - which was altogether unsanitary - looking both beautiful and pathetic made him want to offer help. He let out a sigh. “Hey, what’s your name?”
The boy was silent for a moment, as if he were wondering whether it was really a good idea to give his name to a stranger. He finally looked at Masuda, “Yuya.”