Deja vu
Title: Deja vu
Pairing: Nakamaru Yuichi x Ueda Tatsuya
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: If the world is infinite, there is an infinite chance for something to happen. In five different worlds Nakamaru Yuichi is having the worst day of his life, and there is only one link between them, a man named Ueda Tatsuya.
Author's Note: Written for hurstville for je_otherworlds.
deja-vu[dey-zhah voo, vyoo; Fr. dey-zha vy]
Psychology . the illusion of having previously experienced something actually being encountered for the first time.
Nakamaru Yuichi often eats out at restaurants on his own. His friends find it strange and tell him so, but he replies that sometimes he just appreciates the break from cooking his own meals and washing his own dishes. He’s a busy man, albeit with a meagre job filing paperwork at a newspaper office for not enough money and the truth is that today, he just doesn’t have any clean dishes left to use. Housework has never been his strong point.
He leans back in his seat, a once almost overflowing but now empty ramen bowl sitting on the table in front of him. The waiter comes over and asks him if he’d like another drink, and he confirms that he would as the man clears his dishes away.
The other’s hands are so rough that he can’t help but stare, and after a moment he realises what he’s doing and turns his gaze away, ending up looking right up at his face. It doesn’t fit, he thinks. His hands are rough, but his face is pretty - some might say beautiful. He has a strong jaw line and his eyes are large and round, he has dark blond hair tied loosely behind his head with an elastic band. It’s only when the waiter returns his gaze and gives him an awkward smile that he realises he’s staring again.
“I’m sorry,” Nakamaru mutters, lowering his gaze again, eyes passing over the name tag attached to the man’s uniform. His name is Ueda.
“Let me get you that drink, okay?” Ueda smiles, waving off the apology as if he’s used to it, and then he’s gone. Nakamaru watches him leaving and finds himself wondering about the difference between his face and his hands.
He’s still thinking about it when Ueda returns with a full glass of beer on a tray. He makes a final step towards him and then before Nakamaru can even begin to wonder how someone so clumsy got a waiter job, the glass is hurtling towards him. Ueda reaches out in a panic as he realises what is happening, but as it hits the edge of the table, its contents spill on his customer’s shirt and jeans.
The two men gasp at almost exactly the same time, and all conversations in the restaurant stop as the glass finally reaches the ground and smashes to pieces. Ueda’s eyes widen. Nakamaru’s hands fly to the napkin on his table as he feels the liquid seeping through the fabric onto his thighs.
“I am really sorry,” Ueda says apologetically. “I’m so clumsy. Here, let me help you clean it up,” he offers, and reaches for the napkin just as Nakamaru’s hand takes it, causing their hands to collide.
“I’m sorry,” the waiter says again, at the same time as Nakamaru apologises for touching him. Nakamaru is starting to blush because he can’t stop thinking about this man’s hands and that face. The rest of the restaurant’s customers have returned to their meals and this is now a private moment between the two of them.
“Oh - oh, it’s okay,” Nakamaru manages to speak as he glances down to see a puddle beginning to form beneath his feet, and the scent of beer is emanating from his jeans.
Ueda is hovering and not entirely sure what to do. Nakamaru is thinking that he knows that it isn’t entirely Ueda’s fault he’s in an unfortunate occupation, but that these are brand new jeans and he doesn’t know if the smell will ever come out. He wonders whether, if this man had not looked the way he did, he would have raised his voice by now.
“You kind of made a mess of my jeans,” Nakamaru finally says awkwardly, the only way he seems to be able to project his annoyance at the situation.
“I know, I’m so sorry,” Ueda apologises again, suddenly bursting into life again, and suddenly he’s on his knees beside the table. “Please don’t tell the manager, I really need this job. I’ll pay for your jeans to be dry-cleaned...” he begs, and looks up at the other man. Nakamaru think his eyes resemble an innocent puppy’s.
His own eyes staring back soften a little. “It was just an accident,” he shrugs. “I’m not going to tell anyone, and I’ll just wash my jeans when I get home,” he reassures him, but Ueda is back on his feet almost immediately and shaking his head.
He reaches out and takes Nakamaru by the hand, trying to smile at him. “It’s the least I can do. Come with me and you can wipe yourself down in the bathroom while I fetch you some money.”
Nakamaru is about to protest again but the other seems so determined that he pulls back his chair and stands up, letting the other hold his hand in his own rough one, and Ueda begins to lead him through the busy restaurant, stopping only momentarily to respond to a customer asking for another drink. Nakamaru finds himself wondering how many dry cleaning bills Ueda might be paying today.
The waiter lets go of Nakamaru’s hand at the bathroom and as he pushes open the door, the waiter tells him he will be right back with his money. The damp patch is quickly spreading through his jeans, and hoping no other customers will walk in, he unzips them and pulls them off swiftly, holding them under the hand dryer. He hopes that he can at least stop it looking like he has had an entirely different kind of unfortunate accident, while he makes his way back to his apartment to change.
His jeans are halfway towards being dry when he hears the door of the bathroom creaking open, and he looks up, concerned about what he must look like standing there pant-less, until he realises it’s just Ueda. Then he realises that ‘just Ueda’ is still another stranger seeing his slightly worn white boxers and his pale skinny legs, black socks with a hole in one big toe area, and he looks downwards awkwardly, feeling a little self conscious.
“Nice legs,” Ueda comments, and Nakamaru thinks for a moment that he must have misheard, but when he meets the other’s eyes, there is a mischievous and amused sparkle to them.
“Wh-what?” Nakamaru stutters, thinking this is quite unlike the humble apologetic Ueda that was begging on his knees. “You didn’t do this on purpose did you?” he asks, beckoning to the jeans in his hands.
Ueda shakes his head with a laugh. “Oh, no no no, you just looked so awkward I guessed I should break the ice, but I suppose I already did that by drenching you, didn’t I?”
Nakamaru frowns a little, and reaches over to put his jeans back on. Pretty as this man is, he feels like he is being made fun of, and he doesn’t like it. “Did you get my money?” he asks as his lips form into a somewhat childish pout, although still can’t make his voice sound anything but soft, and Ueda nods and pulls a couple of bills from his pocket, handing them to the other.
Once his jeans are back on, now almost dry but still smelling of beer, Nakamaru pushes the bills into his pocket, and walks past Ueda to the door of the bathroom. He looks back momentarily, partly out of this inability to stop glancing at the man, partly to give him a piece of advice:
“You know, you really should get a job that doesn’t involve you carrying fragile items.”
Ueda smiles and thanks him, and then Nakamaru is gone.
Somewhere, Nakamaru’s glass makes it onto the table full and intact.
--------------------
Nakamaru Yuichi is heading home to change his clothes. He smells like an alcoholic and is looking forward to getting out of a still damp pair of jeans and stained shirt. He tells himself he needs a treat after an annoying and somewhat traumatic lunch break, and as he passes a convenience store, he steps inside and heads straight to the candy aisle.
To his left are two ten year old children alone trying to count how much they can buy with a small pile of cash in their hands. To his right is a mother with a toddler in a stroller, and she is picking him out something to eat. He feels somewhat out of place, but reaches forwards all the same and picks out his favourite chocolate bar.
At the register, he pulls out his wallet to pay just as a short, hooded man falls into the queue behind him. Before he even really knows what is happening, the stranger reaches forward and snatches the wallet out of his hand, and dashes out of the door before Nakamaru can even think about beginning to run after him. He freezes for a moment before following the man, stopping in the doorway.
Ahead, a figure is pushing his way through the shoppers on the street. His hood has fallen away from his face, and all Nakamaru can see as the man disappears into the crowd, is a flash of blond.
Later, reporting the incident to the police, he is told that the suspect is a repeat offender they have been trying to catch up with for a while; his name is Ueda Tatsuya.
--------------
Nakamaru Yuichi doesn’t visit laundromats on principle; he has his own washing machine in his apartment and even though it is yet another chore to add to the list, he doesn’t like to waste his money. However this isn’t his money (although right now, it is the only money he has) and this is a nice pair of pants that need to be cleaned after an unfortunate accident and so he pushes open the door of the building and is greeted by the familiar scent of detergent and general cleanliness.
He steps up to the counter, sets his jeans on the top, and looks up into the face of the man who will be serving him. The one behind the counter is short but well built with dark blond hair framing his face, and a pair of thin wire framed glasses covering large round eyes. He is wearing white overalls which are so bright they make him a walking advertisement for the laundromat, and Nakamaru can’t help but fall for it. The man’s name-tag reads ‘Ueda Tatsuya. How can I help you?”
“How can I help you?” Ueda asks, echoing the tag, and Nakamaru is so dazzled by the outfit and the tag and the man’s appearance in general that it takes him a few moments to answer.
“Ah, I need these cleaning,” he manages eventually, and pushes the pair of jeans closer to Ueda’s side of the counter. He watches as Ueda takes them in his hands which Nakamaru notes are rougher than the rest of his appearance, and then the man looks up at him.
“Did you have an accident?” Ueda asks curiously, lips curved upwards in an amused smirk, since the jeans are still just a little damp.
“Yeah,” Nakamaru admits, and then realises how that sounds and shakes his head frantically. “Oh, no, not that kind of accident!” he corrects the man.
Ueda chuckles a little as he unfolds the jeans and looks them over, and then he meets the other’s eyes once again. “You can come back for these in a couple of days,” he tells him, and Nakamaru grimaces a little. This place is a little out of his way and he doesn’t really want to waste another day coming back for them.
“You know what, just put them in one of the machines, I’ll wait,” he decides. Since he’s here, he might as well save himself the effort doing it at home. Ueda nods, and comes out from behind the counter and sets Nakamaru’s jeans to wash.
At some point, Nakamaru drifts off to sleep in an uncomfortable plastic chair beside the line of machines and it is only when he is suddenly tapped on the shoulder that he jerks awake and finds himself looking into two brown eyes. “There’s a problem,” a soft, slightly nervous voice speaks, and his jeans are thrust in his face. His eyes are still slightly blurred with sleep, and he blinks a few times but realises that he isn’t seeing things; his jeans are about half the size they were when they went in.
He jumped to his feet and snatched the jeans away, placing them against his waist. It seems he now owns a pair of jeans that only a child could wear. “What... what happened?” he asks in disbelief. A glance at the clock on the wall tells him he’s been there a lot longer than expected. Ueda has clearly let him sleep a while.
“I’m so sorry,” Ueda bows. “I must have put them in at the wrong temperature. I’m new to this job and I didn’t learn all the settings yet. I really am sorry.”
“It’s -” Nakamaru begins, his voice full of weariness, and it isn’t just because he has just woken up. He feels like he’s been apologised to far too much already today. But before he can even get more than one word out, Ueda is interrupting him.
“Of course, I won’t charge you for the cleaning, and here is a voucher for free dry cleaning,” Ueda offers quickly, as if trying to intercept the customer before he started complaining.
Nakamaru takes one look at his jeans against his waist again, and glances at the slips of paper in the other’s hand. “I won’t be needing them,” he speaks a little harshly, and decides that in the future his own washing machine will be getting a lot of use, because it’s there, and because it doesn’t shrink his clothes.
--------------------
In one world, Nakamaru Yuichi crosses the street alone and safely mounts the sidewalk at the opposite side. Somewhere, he crosses in front of a business man, and a motorbike storms round the corner and knocks him off his feet. On one street, Nakamaru’s world goes black.
He opens his eyes after what he thinks at first is a normal night’s sleep. Once he can see through slightly blurred vision though, he realises he is staring up at not only the sky, but into a pair of soft concerned eyes. He is quickly greeted by a sparkling, relieved smile from a stranger who looks to him like an angel. “Am I dead?” he asks worriedly.
The stranger laughs and sits back a little, and Nakamaru realises it is the sun behind him that was causing the other man to shine, but he can see why someone might mistake him for being a heavenly being. His skin is pale, almost blond hair framing his face, and his eyes are large and sparkling with worry. “No,” the other speaks in a soft tone, and the stranger takes his hand in his own. “My name is Ueda Tatsuya. You’ve had an accident. The ambulance is on its way,” he explains, giving the hand a reassuring squeeze.
“An accident? What happened?” Nakamaru asks, trying to remember how he could have ended up in this kind of position. He’s lying on concrete, is the next thing he realises, and there is a small crowd gathered. He can vaguely feel blood above one of his eyes, and that the arm the other doesn’t have hold of is throbbing painfully, broken, he assumes.
The smile on Ueda’s face turns into an apologetic frown, and he glances back at a motorbike lying on its side nearby. “I was delivering pizzas and I turned the corner too fast. I’m really sorry,” he says, and starts to move his hand away from the other’s, but Nakamaru grips it tighter.
“I bet the pizza is worse off than I am, right?” Nakamaru laughs weakly, and Ueda turns to look at his motorbike again. The bag containing the pizzas he had been delivering is on the ground beside it, and the boxes, some lying open, have spilled their contents into the street, making the whole situation seem like a massacre, complete with tomato sauce blood.
“Yeah, they kind of are,” Ueda replies, his lips curving in a slight smile himself now he realises that Nakamaru is being amazingly lighthearted about his predicament.
Nakamaru turns his head to glance in the same direction as Ueda had been, and sees the massacre for himself. “Aren’t there customers waiting for those?” he asks, and it’s clear Ueda hasn’t thought about this. But the man doesn’t seem worried about it.
“They’ll understand,” he tells him, although he doesn’t sound sure. He squeezes Nakamaru’s hand as the pair of them hear sirens approaching. “I feel so guilty, look at you,” he frowned, gaze moving from the man’s eyes to the cut above his head. He picks up Nakamaru’s cellphone from the ground beside him, scratched but intact, and opens it, inputting his number into it. “This is my number, call me when you’re feeling better and I’ll take you out to dinner to apologise.”
Nakamaru isn’t quite sure if this is an apology, or if Ueda is trying to take advantage of the situation, but as he is approached by two ambulance crew, he gives the man who caused his accident a nod, and another smile. “Deal.”
In one world, a romance is beginning to blossom. In another, war is beginning to rage.
-------
Nakamaru Yuichi isn’t really a fan of hospitals.
They smell weird, and they’re full of sick people and everyone just looks so sad and exhausted, even the staff. He makes a great effort to avoid them, but this time it wasn’t exactly his fault. He doesn’t even drive, and yet he has managed to get himself involved in a road accident. He is still having difficulty remembering entirely what happened. He passed out again on the way to the hospital, and now everything is blank again.
He spreads out on the uncomfortable bed as much as he can given that his right arm is strapped up against his chest, and lets out a sigh. This isn’t exactly how he was planning on spending his evening.
The curtain is pulled aside, and a nurse steps inside, wheeling a trolley alongside him. “Hi,” he smiles brightly, and Nakamaru thinks he might just be the happiest person in here. The nurse has dark blond hair tied back nearly with a black hair-tie. His eyes are framed by thick lack-rimmed glasses. His smile is infectious, and Nakamaru finds himself giving him a pained one in response.
“My name is Ueda,” the man tells him in a soft tone. “How are you feeling?” he asks.
Nakamaru glances down at his injured arm pointedly, not saying a word, and one corner of Ueda’s lips curve into a half-smirk.
“Silly question, I know,” Ueda responds, and tugs the trolley closer to the side of the bed. “Lets get that arm bandaged up for you,” he adds, and Nakamaru lets him work.
Nakamaru watches Ueda as he skillfully plasters his arm and he watches his hands, hands that are rougher than those he would expect from a nurse. His eyes narrow a little as his gaze then falls upon his face. Ueda notices him staring out of the corner of his eye, and hesitates in his work for a moment to look back.
“What?” he asks him curiously.
Nakamaru looks embarrassed that he has been spotted and immediately turns his head away. “Oh, nothing , I… it just feels like I’ve met you somewhere before,” he tells him.
Ueda lets out a low chuckle, and shrugs a little as he returns to his work. “That’s what they all say,” he tells him softly, and lowers his gaze to concentrate on his work again.
-----------
Nakamaru Yuichi is not known for his punctuality, and once again is running late but today everything has been against him and he thinks that this time at least, he may have a good excuse. In one hand is a plastic bag containing a pair of jeans that no longer fit him. His other hand is useless and in a cast up to his elbow, protected against his chest with a fabric sling. His head is slightly hazy from a bang to the head and strong pain medication.
Outside his apartment block, he climbs out of a taxi, and pays the driver with a random selection of bills he has acquired during the day and not used. He unlocks the door of his apartment and pushes it open with one foot, and sighs with relief as he steps inside and the door swings closed behind him. “I’m home!” he shouted into the building, and a moment later, there is the padding of footsteps across the wooden floor, and a figure appears in the doorway.
Nakamaru’s boyfriend is shorter than he is, but doesn’t have those thin muscle-less arms and legs that he hates in himself. His hair is dark blond, and he’s bunched the long fringe on top of his head with an elastic band. He’s wearing only a pair of sweatpants, and is sweating like he’s just been working out.
His smile is warm and reaches his eyes, but as he spots the stitches above his boyfriend’s swollen eye, and the injured arm, and that smile fades. “Yuichi, what happened to you?” he asks, and in a flash he’s close to the man, arms wrapped around him, as if letting go would cause him to disappear.
“It’s a long story, Tacchan,” Nakamaru replies, and rests his head on the other man’s shoulder. “Involving beer, pants and pizza,” he laughs lightly, and then leans back a little and presses a kiss against his lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll live,” he reassures him.
Ueda insists that Nakamaru go straight to bed, and as they lie there under the covers, curled up with each other, he suddenly remembers something. “Ah, I have some news,” he tells him. “I got a part time job, as a waiter in a restaurant,” he reveals proudly, and is surprised when Nakamaru laughs a little.
“You really should get yourself a job that doesn’t involve you carrying fragile items,” he tells him in an amused tone, and somehow, in another lifetime, another world, he seems to recall saying those words before.
Pairing: Nakamaru Yuichi x Ueda Tatsuya
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: If the world is infinite, there is an infinite chance for something to happen. In five different worlds Nakamaru Yuichi is having the worst day of his life, and there is only one link between them, a man named Ueda Tatsuya.
Author's Note: Written for hurstville for je_otherworlds.
deja-vu[dey-zhah voo, vyoo; Fr. dey-zha vy]
Psychology . the illusion of having previously experienced something actually being encountered for the first time.
Nakamaru Yuichi often eats out at restaurants on his own. His friends find it strange and tell him so, but he replies that sometimes he just appreciates the break from cooking his own meals and washing his own dishes. He’s a busy man, albeit with a meagre job filing paperwork at a newspaper office for not enough money and the truth is that today, he just doesn’t have any clean dishes left to use. Housework has never been his strong point.
He leans back in his seat, a once almost overflowing but now empty ramen bowl sitting on the table in front of him. The waiter comes over and asks him if he’d like another drink, and he confirms that he would as the man clears his dishes away.
The other’s hands are so rough that he can’t help but stare, and after a moment he realises what he’s doing and turns his gaze away, ending up looking right up at his face. It doesn’t fit, he thinks. His hands are rough, but his face is pretty - some might say beautiful. He has a strong jaw line and his eyes are large and round, he has dark blond hair tied loosely behind his head with an elastic band. It’s only when the waiter returns his gaze and gives him an awkward smile that he realises he’s staring again.
“I’m sorry,” Nakamaru mutters, lowering his gaze again, eyes passing over the name tag attached to the man’s uniform. His name is Ueda.
“Let me get you that drink, okay?” Ueda smiles, waving off the apology as if he’s used to it, and then he’s gone. Nakamaru watches him leaving and finds himself wondering about the difference between his face and his hands.
He’s still thinking about it when Ueda returns with a full glass of beer on a tray. He makes a final step towards him and then before Nakamaru can even begin to wonder how someone so clumsy got a waiter job, the glass is hurtling towards him. Ueda reaches out in a panic as he realises what is happening, but as it hits the edge of the table, its contents spill on his customer’s shirt and jeans.
The two men gasp at almost exactly the same time, and all conversations in the restaurant stop as the glass finally reaches the ground and smashes to pieces. Ueda’s eyes widen. Nakamaru’s hands fly to the napkin on his table as he feels the liquid seeping through the fabric onto his thighs.
“I am really sorry,” Ueda says apologetically. “I’m so clumsy. Here, let me help you clean it up,” he offers, and reaches for the napkin just as Nakamaru’s hand takes it, causing their hands to collide.
“I’m sorry,” the waiter says again, at the same time as Nakamaru apologises for touching him. Nakamaru is starting to blush because he can’t stop thinking about this man’s hands and that face. The rest of the restaurant’s customers have returned to their meals and this is now a private moment between the two of them.
“Oh - oh, it’s okay,” Nakamaru manages to speak as he glances down to see a puddle beginning to form beneath his feet, and the scent of beer is emanating from his jeans.
Ueda is hovering and not entirely sure what to do. Nakamaru is thinking that he knows that it isn’t entirely Ueda’s fault he’s in an unfortunate occupation, but that these are brand new jeans and he doesn’t know if the smell will ever come out. He wonders whether, if this man had not looked the way he did, he would have raised his voice by now.
“You kind of made a mess of my jeans,” Nakamaru finally says awkwardly, the only way he seems to be able to project his annoyance at the situation.
“I know, I’m so sorry,” Ueda apologises again, suddenly bursting into life again, and suddenly he’s on his knees beside the table. “Please don’t tell the manager, I really need this job. I’ll pay for your jeans to be dry-cleaned...” he begs, and looks up at the other man. Nakamaru think his eyes resemble an innocent puppy’s.
His own eyes staring back soften a little. “It was just an accident,” he shrugs. “I’m not going to tell anyone, and I’ll just wash my jeans when I get home,” he reassures him, but Ueda is back on his feet almost immediately and shaking his head.
He reaches out and takes Nakamaru by the hand, trying to smile at him. “It’s the least I can do. Come with me and you can wipe yourself down in the bathroom while I fetch you some money.”
Nakamaru is about to protest again but the other seems so determined that he pulls back his chair and stands up, letting the other hold his hand in his own rough one, and Ueda begins to lead him through the busy restaurant, stopping only momentarily to respond to a customer asking for another drink. Nakamaru finds himself wondering how many dry cleaning bills Ueda might be paying today.
The waiter lets go of Nakamaru’s hand at the bathroom and as he pushes open the door, the waiter tells him he will be right back with his money. The damp patch is quickly spreading through his jeans, and hoping no other customers will walk in, he unzips them and pulls them off swiftly, holding them under the hand dryer. He hopes that he can at least stop it looking like he has had an entirely different kind of unfortunate accident, while he makes his way back to his apartment to change.
His jeans are halfway towards being dry when he hears the door of the bathroom creaking open, and he looks up, concerned about what he must look like standing there pant-less, until he realises it’s just Ueda. Then he realises that ‘just Ueda’ is still another stranger seeing his slightly worn white boxers and his pale skinny legs, black socks with a hole in one big toe area, and he looks downwards awkwardly, feeling a little self conscious.
“Nice legs,” Ueda comments, and Nakamaru thinks for a moment that he must have misheard, but when he meets the other’s eyes, there is a mischievous and amused sparkle to them.
“Wh-what?” Nakamaru stutters, thinking this is quite unlike the humble apologetic Ueda that was begging on his knees. “You didn’t do this on purpose did you?” he asks, beckoning to the jeans in his hands.
Ueda shakes his head with a laugh. “Oh, no no no, you just looked so awkward I guessed I should break the ice, but I suppose I already did that by drenching you, didn’t I?”
Nakamaru frowns a little, and reaches over to put his jeans back on. Pretty as this man is, he feels like he is being made fun of, and he doesn’t like it. “Did you get my money?” he asks as his lips form into a somewhat childish pout, although still can’t make his voice sound anything but soft, and Ueda nods and pulls a couple of bills from his pocket, handing them to the other.
Once his jeans are back on, now almost dry but still smelling of beer, Nakamaru pushes the bills into his pocket, and walks past Ueda to the door of the bathroom. He looks back momentarily, partly out of this inability to stop glancing at the man, partly to give him a piece of advice:
“You know, you really should get a job that doesn’t involve you carrying fragile items.”
Ueda smiles and thanks him, and then Nakamaru is gone.
Somewhere, Nakamaru’s glass makes it onto the table full and intact.
--------------------
Nakamaru Yuichi is heading home to change his clothes. He smells like an alcoholic and is looking forward to getting out of a still damp pair of jeans and stained shirt. He tells himself he needs a treat after an annoying and somewhat traumatic lunch break, and as he passes a convenience store, he steps inside and heads straight to the candy aisle.
To his left are two ten year old children alone trying to count how much they can buy with a small pile of cash in their hands. To his right is a mother with a toddler in a stroller, and she is picking him out something to eat. He feels somewhat out of place, but reaches forwards all the same and picks out his favourite chocolate bar.
At the register, he pulls out his wallet to pay just as a short, hooded man falls into the queue behind him. Before he even really knows what is happening, the stranger reaches forward and snatches the wallet out of his hand, and dashes out of the door before Nakamaru can even think about beginning to run after him. He freezes for a moment before following the man, stopping in the doorway.
Ahead, a figure is pushing his way through the shoppers on the street. His hood has fallen away from his face, and all Nakamaru can see as the man disappears into the crowd, is a flash of blond.
Later, reporting the incident to the police, he is told that the suspect is a repeat offender they have been trying to catch up with for a while; his name is Ueda Tatsuya.
--------------
Nakamaru Yuichi doesn’t visit laundromats on principle; he has his own washing machine in his apartment and even though it is yet another chore to add to the list, he doesn’t like to waste his money. However this isn’t his money (although right now, it is the only money he has) and this is a nice pair of pants that need to be cleaned after an unfortunate accident and so he pushes open the door of the building and is greeted by the familiar scent of detergent and general cleanliness.
He steps up to the counter, sets his jeans on the top, and looks up into the face of the man who will be serving him. The one behind the counter is short but well built with dark blond hair framing his face, and a pair of thin wire framed glasses covering large round eyes. He is wearing white overalls which are so bright they make him a walking advertisement for the laundromat, and Nakamaru can’t help but fall for it. The man’s name-tag reads ‘Ueda Tatsuya. How can I help you?”
“How can I help you?” Ueda asks, echoing the tag, and Nakamaru is so dazzled by the outfit and the tag and the man’s appearance in general that it takes him a few moments to answer.
“Ah, I need these cleaning,” he manages eventually, and pushes the pair of jeans closer to Ueda’s side of the counter. He watches as Ueda takes them in his hands which Nakamaru notes are rougher than the rest of his appearance, and then the man looks up at him.
“Did you have an accident?” Ueda asks curiously, lips curved upwards in an amused smirk, since the jeans are still just a little damp.
“Yeah,” Nakamaru admits, and then realises how that sounds and shakes his head frantically. “Oh, no, not that kind of accident!” he corrects the man.
Ueda chuckles a little as he unfolds the jeans and looks them over, and then he meets the other’s eyes once again. “You can come back for these in a couple of days,” he tells him, and Nakamaru grimaces a little. This place is a little out of his way and he doesn’t really want to waste another day coming back for them.
“You know what, just put them in one of the machines, I’ll wait,” he decides. Since he’s here, he might as well save himself the effort doing it at home. Ueda nods, and comes out from behind the counter and sets Nakamaru’s jeans to wash.
At some point, Nakamaru drifts off to sleep in an uncomfortable plastic chair beside the line of machines and it is only when he is suddenly tapped on the shoulder that he jerks awake and finds himself looking into two brown eyes. “There’s a problem,” a soft, slightly nervous voice speaks, and his jeans are thrust in his face. His eyes are still slightly blurred with sleep, and he blinks a few times but realises that he isn’t seeing things; his jeans are about half the size they were when they went in.
He jumped to his feet and snatched the jeans away, placing them against his waist. It seems he now owns a pair of jeans that only a child could wear. “What... what happened?” he asks in disbelief. A glance at the clock on the wall tells him he’s been there a lot longer than expected. Ueda has clearly let him sleep a while.
“I’m so sorry,” Ueda bows. “I must have put them in at the wrong temperature. I’m new to this job and I didn’t learn all the settings yet. I really am sorry.”
“It’s -” Nakamaru begins, his voice full of weariness, and it isn’t just because he has just woken up. He feels like he’s been apologised to far too much already today. But before he can even get more than one word out, Ueda is interrupting him.
“Of course, I won’t charge you for the cleaning, and here is a voucher for free dry cleaning,” Ueda offers quickly, as if trying to intercept the customer before he started complaining.
Nakamaru takes one look at his jeans against his waist again, and glances at the slips of paper in the other’s hand. “I won’t be needing them,” he speaks a little harshly, and decides that in the future his own washing machine will be getting a lot of use, because it’s there, and because it doesn’t shrink his clothes.
--------------------
In one world, Nakamaru Yuichi crosses the street alone and safely mounts the sidewalk at the opposite side. Somewhere, he crosses in front of a business man, and a motorbike storms round the corner and knocks him off his feet. On one street, Nakamaru’s world goes black.
He opens his eyes after what he thinks at first is a normal night’s sleep. Once he can see through slightly blurred vision though, he realises he is staring up at not only the sky, but into a pair of soft concerned eyes. He is quickly greeted by a sparkling, relieved smile from a stranger who looks to him like an angel. “Am I dead?” he asks worriedly.
The stranger laughs and sits back a little, and Nakamaru realises it is the sun behind him that was causing the other man to shine, but he can see why someone might mistake him for being a heavenly being. His skin is pale, almost blond hair framing his face, and his eyes are large and sparkling with worry. “No,” the other speaks in a soft tone, and the stranger takes his hand in his own. “My name is Ueda Tatsuya. You’ve had an accident. The ambulance is on its way,” he explains, giving the hand a reassuring squeeze.
“An accident? What happened?” Nakamaru asks, trying to remember how he could have ended up in this kind of position. He’s lying on concrete, is the next thing he realises, and there is a small crowd gathered. He can vaguely feel blood above one of his eyes, and that the arm the other doesn’t have hold of is throbbing painfully, broken, he assumes.
The smile on Ueda’s face turns into an apologetic frown, and he glances back at a motorbike lying on its side nearby. “I was delivering pizzas and I turned the corner too fast. I’m really sorry,” he says, and starts to move his hand away from the other’s, but Nakamaru grips it tighter.
“I bet the pizza is worse off than I am, right?” Nakamaru laughs weakly, and Ueda turns to look at his motorbike again. The bag containing the pizzas he had been delivering is on the ground beside it, and the boxes, some lying open, have spilled their contents into the street, making the whole situation seem like a massacre, complete with tomato sauce blood.
“Yeah, they kind of are,” Ueda replies, his lips curving in a slight smile himself now he realises that Nakamaru is being amazingly lighthearted about his predicament.
Nakamaru turns his head to glance in the same direction as Ueda had been, and sees the massacre for himself. “Aren’t there customers waiting for those?” he asks, and it’s clear Ueda hasn’t thought about this. But the man doesn’t seem worried about it.
“They’ll understand,” he tells him, although he doesn’t sound sure. He squeezes Nakamaru’s hand as the pair of them hear sirens approaching. “I feel so guilty, look at you,” he frowned, gaze moving from the man’s eyes to the cut above his head. He picks up Nakamaru’s cellphone from the ground beside him, scratched but intact, and opens it, inputting his number into it. “This is my number, call me when you’re feeling better and I’ll take you out to dinner to apologise.”
Nakamaru isn’t quite sure if this is an apology, or if Ueda is trying to take advantage of the situation, but as he is approached by two ambulance crew, he gives the man who caused his accident a nod, and another smile. “Deal.”
In one world, a romance is beginning to blossom. In another, war is beginning to rage.
-------
Nakamaru Yuichi isn’t really a fan of hospitals.
They smell weird, and they’re full of sick people and everyone just looks so sad and exhausted, even the staff. He makes a great effort to avoid them, but this time it wasn’t exactly his fault. He doesn’t even drive, and yet he has managed to get himself involved in a road accident. He is still having difficulty remembering entirely what happened. He passed out again on the way to the hospital, and now everything is blank again.
He spreads out on the uncomfortable bed as much as he can given that his right arm is strapped up against his chest, and lets out a sigh. This isn’t exactly how he was planning on spending his evening.
The curtain is pulled aside, and a nurse steps inside, wheeling a trolley alongside him. “Hi,” he smiles brightly, and Nakamaru thinks he might just be the happiest person in here. The nurse has dark blond hair tied back nearly with a black hair-tie. His eyes are framed by thick lack-rimmed glasses. His smile is infectious, and Nakamaru finds himself giving him a pained one in response.
“My name is Ueda,” the man tells him in a soft tone. “How are you feeling?” he asks.
Nakamaru glances down at his injured arm pointedly, not saying a word, and one corner of Ueda’s lips curve into a half-smirk.
“Silly question, I know,” Ueda responds, and tugs the trolley closer to the side of the bed. “Lets get that arm bandaged up for you,” he adds, and Nakamaru lets him work.
Nakamaru watches Ueda as he skillfully plasters his arm and he watches his hands, hands that are rougher than those he would expect from a nurse. His eyes narrow a little as his gaze then falls upon his face. Ueda notices him staring out of the corner of his eye, and hesitates in his work for a moment to look back.
“What?” he asks him curiously.
Nakamaru looks embarrassed that he has been spotted and immediately turns his head away. “Oh, nothing , I… it just feels like I’ve met you somewhere before,” he tells him.
Ueda lets out a low chuckle, and shrugs a little as he returns to his work. “That’s what they all say,” he tells him softly, and lowers his gaze to concentrate on his work again.
-----------
Nakamaru Yuichi is not known for his punctuality, and once again is running late but today everything has been against him and he thinks that this time at least, he may have a good excuse. In one hand is a plastic bag containing a pair of jeans that no longer fit him. His other hand is useless and in a cast up to his elbow, protected against his chest with a fabric sling. His head is slightly hazy from a bang to the head and strong pain medication.
Outside his apartment block, he climbs out of a taxi, and pays the driver with a random selection of bills he has acquired during the day and not used. He unlocks the door of his apartment and pushes it open with one foot, and sighs with relief as he steps inside and the door swings closed behind him. “I’m home!” he shouted into the building, and a moment later, there is the padding of footsteps across the wooden floor, and a figure appears in the doorway.
Nakamaru’s boyfriend is shorter than he is, but doesn’t have those thin muscle-less arms and legs that he hates in himself. His hair is dark blond, and he’s bunched the long fringe on top of his head with an elastic band. He’s wearing only a pair of sweatpants, and is sweating like he’s just been working out.
His smile is warm and reaches his eyes, but as he spots the stitches above his boyfriend’s swollen eye, and the injured arm, and that smile fades. “Yuichi, what happened to you?” he asks, and in a flash he’s close to the man, arms wrapped around him, as if letting go would cause him to disappear.
“It’s a long story, Tacchan,” Nakamaru replies, and rests his head on the other man’s shoulder. “Involving beer, pants and pizza,” he laughs lightly, and then leans back a little and presses a kiss against his lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll live,” he reassures him.
Ueda insists that Nakamaru go straight to bed, and as they lie there under the covers, curled up with each other, he suddenly remembers something. “Ah, I have some news,” he tells him. “I got a part time job, as a waiter in a restaurant,” he reveals proudly, and is surprised when Nakamaru laughs a little.
“You really should get yourself a job that doesn’t involve you carrying fragile items,” he tells him in an amused tone, and somehow, in another lifetime, another world, he seems to recall saying those words before.