Gift fic for praghufanfic/delhinerd
To: praghufanfic
From: trivialaffair
HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
Title: Making Sense of Things
Pairing/Group: Ryo/Shige
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Minor references to jwebs.
Notes: For praghufanfic. I wasn’t sure what to write, but I hope you like this anyway. Happy holidays!
Summary: Shige tries to make sense of the random things in his life, and when he says that, he really means he tries to make sense of Nishikido Ryo. Who is random. And a thing in his life.
----------
Shige remembers awkward days, days upon days of awkwardness infused into every fiber of their beings and every word that parted from their lips. Shige remembers, will never forget, hateful spiteful words spat at him like bullets. He can recall moments alone sitting limp in the back of the dressing room, trying so hard to keep his tears in after a barrage of insults, of glares, of everything that could possibly shatter Shige’s once almost heady confidence into a downright mess. He thinks of Nishikido’s scoffs at Shige being in the same space with him, breathing the same air, singing the same songs, sharing the same stage.
Shige will never forget any of these things, though sometimes he wonders if Nishikido already has. He wonders, because lately, Shige often finds himself trying to figure Nishikido out. He tries, though Shige has learned, quite quickly, that the endeavor is anything but easy. Nishikido is hot and cold at the same time, soft and hard, strong and weak: an infinite number of polar opposites wrapped into one petite body.
It confuses Shige. And Shige hates being confused.
So he continues to think about it; almost every time he sees Nishikido he thinks about it. He comes up with theories, ideas, thoughts that he will never share with anyone, because really, to be this invested in trying to understand Nishikido is almost a little embarrassing.
For example, after careful consideration, Shige is nearly sure that the reason Nishikido was so awful to him wasn’t because he particularly disliked Shige. If anything, it seemed more like he hated everything about NEWS, about this weird hodgepodge of boys, of being torn from his previous group. It just happens that Shige was a constant reminder of that separation, so by default, of course Nishikido would lash out at him. He thinks that Nishikido never really hated him because he recalls with vivid memory one moment when he was feeling like his presence alone was bringing NEWS down and he started sobbing incoherently in the middle of the dressing room. Shige remembers Nishikido being the first one to try and comfort him, to sit down beside him and not say anything as he cried. Years later, Shige can picture perfectly in his mind Nishikido’s tightly drawn lips and sympathetic eyes. He can recall his own immense surprise that Nishikido wasn’t cackling into his face at Shige’s tear-stained cheeks and shuddering breaths, and can feel the unsaid reassurance that spread throughout his body and made him calm once more.
But that is just one of Shige’s numerous theories. Shige can speculate all he wants, but when it comes down to it, a part of him knows he’ll never get any definite answers. Nishikido is the epitome of elusive to Shige, always just out of grasp, someone he’ll never be able to get.
----------
What Shige does know is that now they’re friends. Sort of. Shige isn’t really sure how, but somehow the two of them grew up and something in their dynamic just…changed. Shige is still the kouhai and Nishikido the sempai, but somewhere along the way, Nishikido decided that paying attention to Shige would be a good decision, that getting closer to his bandmate would be a nice idea. Not that Shige minds. Most times.
Their relationship is odd by anyone’s standards.
Nishikido’s still a jerk to Shige, but the vindictiveness that used to be laced in every word seems to have vanished. Instead, he just acts like a ten year old, which, now that Shige thinks about it, really doesn’t surprise him. Nishikido steals random objects from Shige’s backpack and hides them around the building, forcing Shige to go on impromptu treasure hunts. Or he gives Shige’s bento to innocent Juniors and then makes Shige scrounge around for food come lunch time. Sometimes he messes around on Shige’s phone: changing numbers and names in the address book, or even outright deleting the people he doesn’t like. He does all of this with an unmasked glee, with a brilliant smile that Shige sees less often than he would like, which may be the reason he continues to let Nishikido do it. That’s what he tells himself, at least, because clearly Shige isn’t a pushover. Clearly.
However, Shige will admit that sometimes Nishikido can go overboard. Once, when he was drunk out of his mind after a concert, Nishikido wrote nonsensical sound words on Shige’s balls when he was asleep, and for days after, Shige could still see the kira kira glint mockingly on his ball sac. To this day, Nishikido claims he took no part in that, but Shige knows better, and still flinches when he hears that sound. After all, who else could it have been?
While those pranks aren’t so much as annoying as all hell, and while there are still times when all Shige wants to do is strangle Nishikido, Shige can acknowledge that the happier times are starting to outweigh the unpleasant. Shige can only marvel at the Nishikido who now bumps into him laughingly on set, or chats with him happily about anything and everything. It amazes Shige that he’s actually hanging out with Nishikido Ryo on a semi-regular basis, which, just a short year ago, seemed impossible. Sometimes, he takes Shige out to dinner or for drinks. Sometimes Nishikido treats him, and sometimes they go Dutch. Koyama thinks it’s cute that Nishikido pays, even offers to pay, for dinner, but Shige doesn’t know how to tell him that he wishes they would go Dutch all the time, because it makes Shige feel more like an equal. Which is stupid, because clearly he isn’t.
When it comes down to it, it doesn’t make sense, his relationship with Nishikido, and Shige wonders if it ever will.
----------
Sometimes Nishikido, after a late night dinner, will invite Shige over to his Tokyo apartment, and sometimes, for reasons beyond Shige’s own understanding, he agrees. On those occasions, the two of them sit quietly in the cab, maybe talk briefly about the cute girl standing at the stoplight or about really wanting some ice-cold beer, but usually the cab is filled with silence. Refreshing silence, calm silence: just the two of them and their semi-drunken thoughts. Sometimes Shige wonders what Nishikido thinks about. Wonders vaguely if Nishikido ever thinks about him.
When Nishikido invites Shige over, he never bothers to clean his apartment, just lets Shige in silently and doesn’t even try to apologize for the mess. Shige laughs at and teases Nishikido about the complete bachelor-pad feel of the apartment, but really, Shige likes the mess that only Nishikido could make. He thinks it’s more real, walking into an apartment that looks lived-in instead of prettied up and pristine. His eyes rove over the magazines scattered every which way on the coffee table, at the dishes set out to dry, at scripts and pictures and letters strewn across the kitchen countertop. Shige likes that though the apartment is fairly sparse, with few decorations adorning walls or strategically placed throughout, it still feels like a home. Nishikido’s home. Nishikido’s.
They do this on the rare occasion when Nishikido feels like spending more time with Shige, and Shige hates the way he wishes this could become a frequent occurrence. Shige wants to be able to know where things are in Nishikido’s apartment, to know where he keeps the chopsticks and which switch is for each light. He wants to know these little things about Nishikido’s place, about Nishikido, but it isn’t like Shige can invite himself over on a whim (Shige has heard that Nishikido does all the time, but Shige is certainly no Nishikido). So instead he waits, for that magical moment when Nishikido turns to Shige and asks him to join him for another round of drinks at his place.
On one such late night, the two of them sit drunk in Nishikido’s living room, because they are always drunk in the end, with Nishikido lying haphazardly on the couch and Shige spread languidly on the rug. It’s a nice rug, a pretty rug, soft and fuzzy, Shige thinks. When he tells Nishikido so, Nishikido doesn’t really answer, just swipes his fingers at Shige’s face and asks for more booze.
They never really do anything special, or important, but somehow Shige feels like being there is better than anything he could want. They drink and they drink and they drink. Nishikido tells embarrassing stories that neither he, nor Shige, will remember in the morning, stories that Shige is sure aren’t one hundred percent true, but it doesn’t matter because Nishikido’s embellishments always make them more interesting (and who cares? They’re drunk, after all). Between Nishikido’s stories, Shige tries to spell out how he feels about their relationship, even though he knows he should just give up because he doesn’t even know what to think when sober. Not that Nishikido would care about Shige’s constant analysis of their relationship anyway.
Their shared night goes on like this until Shige’s eyes droop and he just can’t keep them open any longer. As much as he wants to, desperately wants to, his body refuses to cooperate. So, with a sigh, he resigns himself to sleeping on Nishikido’s beige sheepskin rug.
When Shige wakes up at an ungodly time of morning to go back home before school, he doesn’t register that he’s shirtless until he gets into the bathroom and sees the NEWS smiley face drawn on the soft skin of his belly in the mirror. With a frown, Shige tries to rub off the lettering, but sighs when it barely smudges. Permanent marker. Of course. He knows that Nishikido likes to draw in his free time, but he doesn’t get why Nishikido has so much fun drawing on Shige; it’s not like this prank is particularly exciting or new. It does, however, remind him that he needs to start working out again. He pokes his belly and it jiggles at him. Definitely time to hit the gym. He wonders if Nishikido would go work out with him, though Shige doubts that will ever happen.
Before he leaves, Shige finds the permanent marker Nishikido used and pulls Nishikido’s shirt up. He writes his name in big black permanent letters, Kato Shigeaki, on the smooth hard planes of Nishikido’s abs. As Shige walks out the door, he thinks it’s pretty pathetic if this is the only way he has to get Nishikido to remember him. Then he thinks it’s more pathetic that he wants Nishikido to remember him so badly, and the train ride home is excruciatingly long as he tries to will himself to stop being so pathetic. It doesn’t work.
It takes six days for the smiley face to wash off completely, and Shige is horrified when he finds himself a little sad to see it go. And he still doesn’t get why.
----------
We’re doing a duet, Koyama says one night, as the two of them slurp smoothies in the park outside of Koyama’s apartment. Ginza Rhapsody. Something about a hostess breaking up with her customer. Shige doesn’t really know, because frankly, he’s not paying much attention. Instead he thinks about Koyama’s blossoming relationship with Yamashita. Thinks about the fact that they’ve been hanging out a lot now, going to the onsen, to dinners, to each other’s apartments. Thinks that it isn’t fair that Koyama and Yamashita seem to be getting closer and closer with each passing day while his relationship with Nishikido is crawling at a snail’s pace. Shige wants to argue that it’s because Nishikido is busy, but hell, Yamashita is probably even busier.
When Koyama notices Shige’s frown, he laughs. Don’t be jealous. You’re still my best friend, he says, clapping Shige’s back teasingly. Though Koyama speaks with twinkling eyes, Shige knows he means every word, so Shige just shakes it off and tries to pretend that that’s the reason he’s upset. Part of him wants to tell Koyama what he’s thinking, really he does, but he knows Koyama. Knows Koyama has a heart of gold and will fret about Shige’s emotions constantly. Knows Koyama will misinterpret whatever it is Shige’s feeling, and he doesn’t want that, because even Shige doesn’t know what it is yet.
Besides, he’s pretty sure Koyama would be offended if Shige had responded with something nearer to the truth. With something like But it’s not you I want to be closer to right now. It’s Nishikido. Somehow, Shige doesn’t think that would go over very well.
Later that night, Shige curses when his phone lets out a whimsical tune and Nishikido’s name flashes bright on the screen. For a second, he contemplates not answering, but then he figures answering now would be safer than not answering at all (Nishikido has been known to get moody when ignored), so with a sigh, he picks up, dread pooling in the pit of his smoothie-filled stomach.
When are you going to invite me to your place? is the first thing Nishikido asks, as if he’s been expecting an invitation all along. Shige can feel his mouth drop open at Nishikido’s impatient tone, and in his shock, he nearly forgets to respond. It takes him a couple of seconds to remember not to blurt out the first thing that pops into his head, which is the fact that actually, he’s been thinking of asking Nishikido to his new apartment ever since he first moved in. Instead, he gives Nishikido his address with bated breath, hating the way his heart races with anticipation.
That night, Nishikido shows up at Shige’s apartment with a six pack of Kirin and a-well, Shige isn’t sure, but it’s big and rolled up and for some odd reason, Shige recognizes it. Shige takes the beer and watches in disbelief as Nishikido lugs whatever it is into his living room and dumps it on the floor. A rug. And when he looks closer at it, he realizes the reason it looks familiar is because it is. It is Nishikido’s old rug.
Shige thinks he will never understand the way Nishikido operates.
The rug lays open and soft on Shige’s floor, and Shige tries desperately to find the stain that Nishikido claims is there and claims is the reason he doesn’t want the rug anymore. Nishikido drinks beer calmly as Shige searches, and Shige only gives up three more beers and a massive headache later.
Watch Ryuusei no Kizuna, Nishikido demands, words spoken late into the night and into the quiet space between their lolling heads, and Shige, too drunk to make up an excuse, just says Okay.
----------
Shige will never get why Nishikido does things the way he does, why he turns to Shige at the most random of hours, on the most random of occasions. He will never understand Nishikido’s constant need to poke at Shige for both silly and serious moments. Will never understand why Nishikido sometimes spends minimal time with Shige, while on other days wants to spend the whole night drinking in dimly lit living rooms. He will never comprehend why Nishikido can act like Shige is nothing to him, and then make Shige feel like the most important man in the world.
Shige wonders all these things all the time, but he knows that deep down, no matter how hard he tries, he’s never going to get any answers when it comes to Nishikido Ryo.
Nishikido wakes up the next morning around the same time Shige does, and when he turns to Shige with sleep-ruffled hair and a smile and a cuff on the shoulder, Shige feels something inside of him twist. He’s not so sure whether that is a good or bad thing.
Let’s do this again sometime, Nishikido whispers, before groggily sitting up and gathering his things.
It doesn’t make sense, Shige thinks. Not at all.
But then Shige acknowledges, as Ryo turns at the door and flashes him a lopsided smile, maybe it doesn’t have to.
From: trivialaffair
HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
Title: Making Sense of Things
Pairing/Group: Ryo/Shige
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Minor references to jwebs.
Notes: For praghufanfic. I wasn’t sure what to write, but I hope you like this anyway. Happy holidays!
Summary: Shige tries to make sense of the random things in his life, and when he says that, he really means he tries to make sense of Nishikido Ryo. Who is random. And a thing in his life.
----------
Shige remembers awkward days, days upon days of awkwardness infused into every fiber of their beings and every word that parted from their lips. Shige remembers, will never forget, hateful spiteful words spat at him like bullets. He can recall moments alone sitting limp in the back of the dressing room, trying so hard to keep his tears in after a barrage of insults, of glares, of everything that could possibly shatter Shige’s once almost heady confidence into a downright mess. He thinks of Nishikido’s scoffs at Shige being in the same space with him, breathing the same air, singing the same songs, sharing the same stage.
Shige will never forget any of these things, though sometimes he wonders if Nishikido already has. He wonders, because lately, Shige often finds himself trying to figure Nishikido out. He tries, though Shige has learned, quite quickly, that the endeavor is anything but easy. Nishikido is hot and cold at the same time, soft and hard, strong and weak: an infinite number of polar opposites wrapped into one petite body.
It confuses Shige. And Shige hates being confused.
So he continues to think about it; almost every time he sees Nishikido he thinks about it. He comes up with theories, ideas, thoughts that he will never share with anyone, because really, to be this invested in trying to understand Nishikido is almost a little embarrassing.
For example, after careful consideration, Shige is nearly sure that the reason Nishikido was so awful to him wasn’t because he particularly disliked Shige. If anything, it seemed more like he hated everything about NEWS, about this weird hodgepodge of boys, of being torn from his previous group. It just happens that Shige was a constant reminder of that separation, so by default, of course Nishikido would lash out at him. He thinks that Nishikido never really hated him because he recalls with vivid memory one moment when he was feeling like his presence alone was bringing NEWS down and he started sobbing incoherently in the middle of the dressing room. Shige remembers Nishikido being the first one to try and comfort him, to sit down beside him and not say anything as he cried. Years later, Shige can picture perfectly in his mind Nishikido’s tightly drawn lips and sympathetic eyes. He can recall his own immense surprise that Nishikido wasn’t cackling into his face at Shige’s tear-stained cheeks and shuddering breaths, and can feel the unsaid reassurance that spread throughout his body and made him calm once more.
But that is just one of Shige’s numerous theories. Shige can speculate all he wants, but when it comes down to it, a part of him knows he’ll never get any definite answers. Nishikido is the epitome of elusive to Shige, always just out of grasp, someone he’ll never be able to get.
----------
What Shige does know is that now they’re friends. Sort of. Shige isn’t really sure how, but somehow the two of them grew up and something in their dynamic just…changed. Shige is still the kouhai and Nishikido the sempai, but somewhere along the way, Nishikido decided that paying attention to Shige would be a good decision, that getting closer to his bandmate would be a nice idea. Not that Shige minds. Most times.
Their relationship is odd by anyone’s standards.
Nishikido’s still a jerk to Shige, but the vindictiveness that used to be laced in every word seems to have vanished. Instead, he just acts like a ten year old, which, now that Shige thinks about it, really doesn’t surprise him. Nishikido steals random objects from Shige’s backpack and hides them around the building, forcing Shige to go on impromptu treasure hunts. Or he gives Shige’s bento to innocent Juniors and then makes Shige scrounge around for food come lunch time. Sometimes he messes around on Shige’s phone: changing numbers and names in the address book, or even outright deleting the people he doesn’t like. He does all of this with an unmasked glee, with a brilliant smile that Shige sees less often than he would like, which may be the reason he continues to let Nishikido do it. That’s what he tells himself, at least, because clearly Shige isn’t a pushover. Clearly.
However, Shige will admit that sometimes Nishikido can go overboard. Once, when he was drunk out of his mind after a concert, Nishikido wrote nonsensical sound words on Shige’s balls when he was asleep, and for days after, Shige could still see the kira kira glint mockingly on his ball sac. To this day, Nishikido claims he took no part in that, but Shige knows better, and still flinches when he hears that sound. After all, who else could it have been?
While those pranks aren’t so much as annoying as all hell, and while there are still times when all Shige wants to do is strangle Nishikido, Shige can acknowledge that the happier times are starting to outweigh the unpleasant. Shige can only marvel at the Nishikido who now bumps into him laughingly on set, or chats with him happily about anything and everything. It amazes Shige that he’s actually hanging out with Nishikido Ryo on a semi-regular basis, which, just a short year ago, seemed impossible. Sometimes, he takes Shige out to dinner or for drinks. Sometimes Nishikido treats him, and sometimes they go Dutch. Koyama thinks it’s cute that Nishikido pays, even offers to pay, for dinner, but Shige doesn’t know how to tell him that he wishes they would go Dutch all the time, because it makes Shige feel more like an equal. Which is stupid, because clearly he isn’t.
When it comes down to it, it doesn’t make sense, his relationship with Nishikido, and Shige wonders if it ever will.
----------
Sometimes Nishikido, after a late night dinner, will invite Shige over to his Tokyo apartment, and sometimes, for reasons beyond Shige’s own understanding, he agrees. On those occasions, the two of them sit quietly in the cab, maybe talk briefly about the cute girl standing at the stoplight or about really wanting some ice-cold beer, but usually the cab is filled with silence. Refreshing silence, calm silence: just the two of them and their semi-drunken thoughts. Sometimes Shige wonders what Nishikido thinks about. Wonders vaguely if Nishikido ever thinks about him.
When Nishikido invites Shige over, he never bothers to clean his apartment, just lets Shige in silently and doesn’t even try to apologize for the mess. Shige laughs at and teases Nishikido about the complete bachelor-pad feel of the apartment, but really, Shige likes the mess that only Nishikido could make. He thinks it’s more real, walking into an apartment that looks lived-in instead of prettied up and pristine. His eyes rove over the magazines scattered every which way on the coffee table, at the dishes set out to dry, at scripts and pictures and letters strewn across the kitchen countertop. Shige likes that though the apartment is fairly sparse, with few decorations adorning walls or strategically placed throughout, it still feels like a home. Nishikido’s home. Nishikido’s.
They do this on the rare occasion when Nishikido feels like spending more time with Shige, and Shige hates the way he wishes this could become a frequent occurrence. Shige wants to be able to know where things are in Nishikido’s apartment, to know where he keeps the chopsticks and which switch is for each light. He wants to know these little things about Nishikido’s place, about Nishikido, but it isn’t like Shige can invite himself over on a whim (Shige has heard that Nishikido does all the time, but Shige is certainly no Nishikido). So instead he waits, for that magical moment when Nishikido turns to Shige and asks him to join him for another round of drinks at his place.
On one such late night, the two of them sit drunk in Nishikido’s living room, because they are always drunk in the end, with Nishikido lying haphazardly on the couch and Shige spread languidly on the rug. It’s a nice rug, a pretty rug, soft and fuzzy, Shige thinks. When he tells Nishikido so, Nishikido doesn’t really answer, just swipes his fingers at Shige’s face and asks for more booze.
They never really do anything special, or important, but somehow Shige feels like being there is better than anything he could want. They drink and they drink and they drink. Nishikido tells embarrassing stories that neither he, nor Shige, will remember in the morning, stories that Shige is sure aren’t one hundred percent true, but it doesn’t matter because Nishikido’s embellishments always make them more interesting (and who cares? They’re drunk, after all). Between Nishikido’s stories, Shige tries to spell out how he feels about their relationship, even though he knows he should just give up because he doesn’t even know what to think when sober. Not that Nishikido would care about Shige’s constant analysis of their relationship anyway.
Their shared night goes on like this until Shige’s eyes droop and he just can’t keep them open any longer. As much as he wants to, desperately wants to, his body refuses to cooperate. So, with a sigh, he resigns himself to sleeping on Nishikido’s beige sheepskin rug.
When Shige wakes up at an ungodly time of morning to go back home before school, he doesn’t register that he’s shirtless until he gets into the bathroom and sees the NEWS smiley face drawn on the soft skin of his belly in the mirror. With a frown, Shige tries to rub off the lettering, but sighs when it barely smudges. Permanent marker. Of course. He knows that Nishikido likes to draw in his free time, but he doesn’t get why Nishikido has so much fun drawing on Shige; it’s not like this prank is particularly exciting or new. It does, however, remind him that he needs to start working out again. He pokes his belly and it jiggles at him. Definitely time to hit the gym. He wonders if Nishikido would go work out with him, though Shige doubts that will ever happen.
Before he leaves, Shige finds the permanent marker Nishikido used and pulls Nishikido’s shirt up. He writes his name in big black permanent letters, Kato Shigeaki, on the smooth hard planes of Nishikido’s abs. As Shige walks out the door, he thinks it’s pretty pathetic if this is the only way he has to get Nishikido to remember him. Then he thinks it’s more pathetic that he wants Nishikido to remember him so badly, and the train ride home is excruciatingly long as he tries to will himself to stop being so pathetic. It doesn’t work.
It takes six days for the smiley face to wash off completely, and Shige is horrified when he finds himself a little sad to see it go. And he still doesn’t get why.
----------
We’re doing a duet, Koyama says one night, as the two of them slurp smoothies in the park outside of Koyama’s apartment. Ginza Rhapsody. Something about a hostess breaking up with her customer. Shige doesn’t really know, because frankly, he’s not paying much attention. Instead he thinks about Koyama’s blossoming relationship with Yamashita. Thinks about the fact that they’ve been hanging out a lot now, going to the onsen, to dinners, to each other’s apartments. Thinks that it isn’t fair that Koyama and Yamashita seem to be getting closer and closer with each passing day while his relationship with Nishikido is crawling at a snail’s pace. Shige wants to argue that it’s because Nishikido is busy, but hell, Yamashita is probably even busier.
When Koyama notices Shige’s frown, he laughs. Don’t be jealous. You’re still my best friend, he says, clapping Shige’s back teasingly. Though Koyama speaks with twinkling eyes, Shige knows he means every word, so Shige just shakes it off and tries to pretend that that’s the reason he’s upset. Part of him wants to tell Koyama what he’s thinking, really he does, but he knows Koyama. Knows Koyama has a heart of gold and will fret about Shige’s emotions constantly. Knows Koyama will misinterpret whatever it is Shige’s feeling, and he doesn’t want that, because even Shige doesn’t know what it is yet.
Besides, he’s pretty sure Koyama would be offended if Shige had responded with something nearer to the truth. With something like But it’s not you I want to be closer to right now. It’s Nishikido. Somehow, Shige doesn’t think that would go over very well.
Later that night, Shige curses when his phone lets out a whimsical tune and Nishikido’s name flashes bright on the screen. For a second, he contemplates not answering, but then he figures answering now would be safer than not answering at all (Nishikido has been known to get moody when ignored), so with a sigh, he picks up, dread pooling in the pit of his smoothie-filled stomach.
When are you going to invite me to your place? is the first thing Nishikido asks, as if he’s been expecting an invitation all along. Shige can feel his mouth drop open at Nishikido’s impatient tone, and in his shock, he nearly forgets to respond. It takes him a couple of seconds to remember not to blurt out the first thing that pops into his head, which is the fact that actually, he’s been thinking of asking Nishikido to his new apartment ever since he first moved in. Instead, he gives Nishikido his address with bated breath, hating the way his heart races with anticipation.
That night, Nishikido shows up at Shige’s apartment with a six pack of Kirin and a-well, Shige isn’t sure, but it’s big and rolled up and for some odd reason, Shige recognizes it. Shige takes the beer and watches in disbelief as Nishikido lugs whatever it is into his living room and dumps it on the floor. A rug. And when he looks closer at it, he realizes the reason it looks familiar is because it is. It is Nishikido’s old rug.
Shige thinks he will never understand the way Nishikido operates.
The rug lays open and soft on Shige’s floor, and Shige tries desperately to find the stain that Nishikido claims is there and claims is the reason he doesn’t want the rug anymore. Nishikido drinks beer calmly as Shige searches, and Shige only gives up three more beers and a massive headache later.
Watch Ryuusei no Kizuna, Nishikido demands, words spoken late into the night and into the quiet space between their lolling heads, and Shige, too drunk to make up an excuse, just says Okay.
----------
Shige will never get why Nishikido does things the way he does, why he turns to Shige at the most random of hours, on the most random of occasions. He will never understand Nishikido’s constant need to poke at Shige for both silly and serious moments. Will never understand why Nishikido sometimes spends minimal time with Shige, while on other days wants to spend the whole night drinking in dimly lit living rooms. He will never comprehend why Nishikido can act like Shige is nothing to him, and then make Shige feel like the most important man in the world.
Shige wonders all these things all the time, but he knows that deep down, no matter how hard he tries, he’s never going to get any answers when it comes to Nishikido Ryo.
Nishikido wakes up the next morning around the same time Shige does, and when he turns to Shige with sleep-ruffled hair and a smile and a cuff on the shoulder, Shige feels something inside of him twist. He’s not so sure whether that is a good or bad thing.
Let’s do this again sometime, Nishikido whispers, before groggily sitting up and gathering his things.
It doesn’t make sense, Shige thinks. Not at all.
But then Shige acknowledges, as Ryo turns at the door and flashes him a lopsided smile, maybe it doesn’t have to.