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There are a half of dozen theaters in the city of Musutafu, but only one that plays special viewings of old films and limited-time runs of the sort of niche films Shouta and his friends like. He thought of himself as an old soul in that regard, but his friend Emi always joked that he was really just a thirty year old hipster. That didn’t stop her from joining him though. She’d accompany him to his period films and he would reluctantly join her for offbeat comedies. Somehow, movie nights had just become their Thing. Tonight, they’re seeing a movie that fell in the middle-ground for them both: an animated children’s film that was reported to be just as heartfelt as it was whimsical. “My cousin told me it took the studio like a billion years to get the physics for the hair just right,” Emi comments through a mouthful of popcorn as they ambled down the carpeted hallway towards theatre number 5. “You’re going to finish that before the movie even starts,” he warns. He holds open the door for her to pass through before following suit. “And that’s why I think they should stick to 2D animation instead. It’s an unappreciated medium these days.”She snorts. “Wow, I think I actually saw the gray hairs sprout from your head when you said that, Shouta. What are our seats again?”“E24 and E25,” he recites, eyes already scouring the dimly glowing numbers on the floor of each row as they pass. He hates when Emi picks the seats because she always put them in the center, claiming that it offered the best view. He much prefers the aisle seats where he was less likely to be put next to an obnoxious family of seven. He makes his displeasure known as she drags him to the center of row E, and plops herself down in seat 24. “I hate when you put me in the middle.”She grins, unrepentant. “Oh come on, it’s the best seat in the house! You should be thanking me.”He levels her with the straightest face he can pull. “Yeah, I’ll be super grateful when a loud six year old gets put next to me.”“You love kids,” she shoots back.“Only in a controlled classroom setting,” he says, “and even then it’s only for a few hours at a time.”“Lucky for you the movie is only an hour and a half then, huh?” They continue bickering in hushed tones as the pre-preview commercials play out. Around them, the theater slowly begins to fill as people arrive, and yet, even as the screen transitions to coming attractions, the seats beside Shouta remain unfilled. Hope flutters in his chest.“Hey, big guy, I found them! E26 and 27, right?”The hope is immediately crushed by a stone so heavy that it drops straight to the pit of his stomach. That voice is loud. Even worse, it's recognizable. He considers running to the bathroom, at least until the lights dim, and then sneaking back into his seat. But that would draw more attention to him, and Shouta doesn’t want to be a coward. He settles for angling his body towards Emi and hoping his hair covers enough of his face that he won’t be noticed by their unwanted neighbors. His shifting draws Emi’s attention and she gives him a funny look that he answers with a grimace. Her brows quirk upwards and she opens her mouth to say something, but someone beats her to the punch. “Shouta? Is that you?”His body tenses, and he slowly turns to face the handsome blonde who has taken the seat right next to him. Of course. “Oh, hey,” he says. He’s relieved by how normal his voice sounds. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”He leaves out the fact that it’s because they’ve both wanted nothing to do with each other for a while. That he isn’t keen on hanging out with someone who dumped him not three months prior. And if the way Hizashi sheepishly rubs the back of his neck is any indication, he’s probably come to the same conclusion already. “Yeah,” Hizashi said, drawing out the word awkwardly. “Hey, lemme introduce you to my friend. Yo, Taishiro! This is Sh- Aizawa.”It takes a second for Shouta to realize there’s a man sitting under the veritable mountain of snacks in seat E27. Slurping on a cherry slushie, the man leans forward enough to be seen without toppling over his tray of nachos, and waves. “I'm not sure if you remember, but we actually went to the same middle school.”Blinking in surprise, Shouta leans forward and squints, ignoring the flutter in his chest when he gets a whiff of Hizashi's cologne, searching Taishiro’s face for recognizable features. It’s hard to tell, but something about his toothy smile feels familiar.“If it helps, I was a lot skinnier as a kid,” he supplies. His jaw drops. “Toyomitsu? Toyomitsu Taishiro.” “That's me!” Shouta's smile is genuine when he gives his old classmate a once-over. Despite how different he looks now, he's retained his boyishness in the pudge of his cheeks and his voice is friendly in its warm rumble. “I'm glad to see you again.”He feels a hard poke on his shoulder and turns to find Emi pouting at him. “Don’t be rude! Introduce me to your friends.”“Ah, right. This is my friend Fukukado Emi. We teach at the same school.”She’s beaming, all brightness and charm during Taishiro’s introduction. Then, Shouta reluctantly gestures to Hizashi and mumbles, “This is Yamada Hizashi.”There’s a beat of silence. “Ah,” she says. Her smile is plastic now, painted onto her rosy face. “I’ve heard of you.”Shouta clears his throat, ignoring the way Hizashi chuckles nervously.The dimming of the theater lights saves them all from venturing any further down that awkward path of conversation. Unfortunately for Shouta, that’s just the start of an entirely new level of discomfort. He's seen movies with Hizashi before- first as friends, then as lovers. But never as exes, which is something Shouta never considered as a possibility before. He idly wonders (not hopes, he reminds himself) if Hizashi would fall into the same old habits as before: whispering commentary about every scene, fighting for control of the armrest, and slinging his arm around the back of Shouta's chair instead when the latter inevitably won. He tries not to feel disappointed when Hizashi remains firmly glued to Taishiro's side. Shouta keeps himself rooted in the center of his seat, imaginary blinders keeping his gaze straight ahead at the screen. He wants to be able to give Emi his thoughts on the film afterwards, and he'll be damned if he lets his ex's proximity keep him from upholding his end of their movie-going tradition. It almost works, too.It's just as the child protagonist meets his mentor figure, a centuries old wizard masquerading as a grumpy black cat, that Hizashi leans back over in his direction. Shouta stiffens. Hizashi's breath tickles as it brushes Shouta's ear. He tries his best not to shiver, but his spine still tingles. “That cat is so you,” Hisashi says, pitching his voice low so as not to disturb anyone else. It only succeeds in distracting Shouta. It takes a brain a few sluggish seconds to process what he's being told. Once he understands, he shoots Hizashi an unimpressed look… only to regret it when he realizes how close their faces are. He lets out a grunt that only barely passes as a response and scoots closer to Emi. She glances at him but says nothing. As chatty as she normally is, she makes a rule not to talk during performances of any kind, something that Shouta normally appreciates. Now though he wishes she had something to say, anything to erase the echoes of Hizashi’s voice murmuring into his ear. Perhaps sensing his silent distress call, Emi reaches out and clasps his hand, giving him a reassuring squeeze. She glances at him sidelong and the corner of her mouth quirks upward as if to say, ‘Sucks, don’t it?’He nods once, squeezing her hand briefly in return. Her hand is smaller than his own, and her fingers are chilly from the air conditioning. But her grip is firm, grounding, and he’s grateful for her support. They watch the rest of the movie like this, thankfully with no further incidents. Only once does a particularly funny scene cause Hizashi to laugh loudly, and while the sound does stir up some old feelings in Shouta’s chest, Emi laughs harder than even Hizashi; she even goes so far as to gesture emphatically towards the screen with their joined hands in the midst of her mirth, successfully taking his mind off his ex again.It’s only after the credits begin to roll that conversation can flow freely again. Emi stretches her arms over her head, sighing in satisfaction as her back pops. Shouta rolls his shoulders a few times to work out the stiffness. A stolen peak over his shoulder reveals that Hizashi and Taishiro are already making their way up the aisle without saying goodbye. As rude as it is, Shouta can’t help but feel a little grateful that he’s avoiding another confrontation. “That was so good!” Emi gushes as they gather up their trash. “Wasn’t it, Shouta? Even you have to admit it was charming.”Shouta racks his brain for a detail he can remember clearly enough to discuss. He settles for, “It wasn’t bad.”“Boo, you suck.” She reaches for his cheek to pinch, but he reflexively grabs her wrist and gives her a dirty look. Emi giggles, unphased. It’s familiar banter, routine enough for them that Shouta makes the mistake of letting his guard down. When Emi makes a quick dash to the bathroom, Shouta is left to wait for her in the lobby alone. He pulls out his phone, tapping through the few notifications he missed during the movie. He doesn’t notice someone approaching until they’re right in front of him, reaching out to touch his arm. “Hey,” Hizashi says. Shouta looks around warily. Taishiro is nowhere to be found and Emi is still in the bathroom. “Hey,” he replies. “Listen, I know you probably don’t want to hear this from me, but I, uh…” Hizashi looks down, apparently gathering his thoughts. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head once before raising his head to meet Shouta’s questioning gaze. “I’m glad I saw you today. And if it’s okay with you, I’d like for us to catch up sometime.”As much as his body aches for it, longs to reach out to the man he once knew so well, a self-righteous anger still burns under his skin. “I’m not sure what there is for us to catch up on,” he says curtly. “It’s only been a few months after all.”“Well, yeah, but-”“But what, Hizashi?” Shouta interrupts. He suddenly feels tired, overwhelmed; he doesn’t have the energy to deal with the onslaught of feelings this conversation is unearthing. He does what he always does- directs them outwards, so that he isn’t the only one burning. “Newsflash,” he continues, ignoring Hizashi’s stammering. “I’m the same as I was before. Hell, I’m probably worse now. As it was, you couldn’t stand me.”“I never said that!” Hizashi protests. “Ah, my mistake. What was it you said exactly? I believe you called me a ‘melancholic asshole with a stick up his ass,’ right?”If Hizashi feels guilty, it’s nowhere to be found in his face, which has hardened to the defensive scowl Shouta had seen often during the last month of their relationship. “I only called you that,” he snaps back, “because you kept calling me all sorts of things. Annoying, a pain in the ass, an obnoxious idiot-- remember any of those, Shouta?”“You were being annoying.”“And you were being an asshole.”“You knew what you were getting into when you started dating me,” Shouta points out, glaring at his ex with tired red eyes. “I don’t know what you expected.”Hizashi throws his hands up, exasperated. “I don’t know, maybe some fucking compassion? Or affection? I know you’re capable of it, Shouta, you just had days, weeks even! where you decided not to give it to me.”Shouta clenches his jaw. “I have depression, you bastard. I warned you about my low days-”“And I have anxiety!” Hizashi shouts, drawing the attention of passerby. Both of them are too agitated to notice. “But here’s the thing, Shouta, your mental illness isn’t an excuse for you to treat the people around you like shit.”“And you having a demanding career doesn’t give you the right to just ignore me when I needed your support.”“My job had nothing to do with-”Shouta barks out a laugh, harsh and unamused. “Oh yeah? That’s not how I remember it. Because what I remember is you ignoring my calls when you knew I was alone and miserable. You passing me off to other people when I was upset as if my pain was just a burden to you.”“That is not how it was,” Hizashi argues. He runs both hands through his hair, clutching the golden locks at the scalp and knocking his glasses askew in the process. “You never bothered listening to my side of the story.”Shouta looks away, and it takes a lot of self-control to stop himself from grinding his teeth. “Well I’m not about to start now.”Hizashi drops his hands. Shouta hates that even now, a traitorous part of his brain acknowledges the cuteness of his mussed up hair. “You know what? Fine. I take back my offer. I don’t need to catch up with you if this is what happens.” Hizashi takes a few steps back, and they’re both are struck with a horrible feelings of deja vu. “Call me when you’re willing to do some listening.”Shouta can’t come up with a response to that so he stares silently as Hizashi storms off. Even once his ex is out of sight, the anger is still pumping through his veins, leaving him trembling. He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, clenching and unclenching his fists in sync with his breathing exercises. It takes eleven breaths to stop the shaking, and another thirteen to quiet the buzzing in his brain. When he finally opens his eyes, Emi is standing in front of him, looking worried. “Emi? How long have you been standing there?”She searches his face for something. “A while,” she says carefully. “And how much did you hear?”She hesitates. When she doesn’t answer right away, Shouta opens his mouth to speak again, but she grabs his face, squeezing his cheeks between her palms. He has no choice but to look at her, startled. She says nothing for a moment, only stares at him with a quiet determination that makes his stomach flip. He wonders where she's going with this.“Em-”“I need you to know that I… really like elephants.”“What?” Shouta isn’t sure whether he’s more annoyed or confused. “Where did that come from? What does that have to do with-”“So that means anything not related to them is irrelephant.”He instantly groans. He yanks his head out of her grasp while she bursts into a raucous laughter that’s just as endearing as it is obnoxious. He shoves his hands into his pockets, not bothering to wait for her before walking towards the exit. The day has been full of emotional whiplash and he wants nothing more than to be curled up at home in bed already. She catches up to him in no time, grabbing the edge of his sleeve. “Hey!”“Ugh, can you just drive me home already? I’m exhausted.”“Okay, okay, I gotcha,” she says easily. She tilts her head to the side and quickens her step just enough to make sure he meets her gaze. When she smiles, it seems the most natural thing in the world. “But Shouta? I mean it. Everything else is irrelephant.”A reluctant smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He looks away. “Thanks.”“Don’t sweat it. That’s what I’m here for.”
Shouta falls asleep in the car on the way home, and so he misses the way Emi glances over at his sleeping figure with a frown, harsh lines marring her jolly face. “I’ll keep you happy,” she promises as he sleeps. “That’s what I’m here for.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Hizashi knows he's too quiet. He can feel Taishiro's worried gaze on him whenever the car stops and he hates himself for worrying his friend so much, but any attempts to start a conversation abruptly cut off. He can’t follow any train of thought. In fact, the entire station is a wreck, full of derailed ideas and feelings clogging up the tracks.
I can't believe I said those things, but no, I should be mad at the attitude he had…. but do I really have a right to be the angry one here when I'm the one who- they were holding hands and I didn't know he moved on so fast- but what right do I- and I shouldn't care, it's not my business, it's not my business, it's none of my- how fucking DARE he take no responsibility for (theywereholdingHANDS) his behavior and say those-
“Hizashi!”“Huh?” Hizashi looks up to see Taishiro staring at him in concern, reaching a hesitant hand out towards him. The light turns green though, and Taishiro quickly withdraws to focus on the road. “You were starting to breathe funny,” he explains, shifting awkwardly in his seat. “Are you sure you're alright?”Sure enough, Hizashi can feel how short his breaths are, the rapid inhale-exhale that's a surefire sign he is not alright. He places a hand over his aching chest and takes a long, slow breath. “I just have a lot on my mind,” he says when he's certain his heart isn't going to burst. “Today didn't really go how I expected it to.”Taishiro grimaces in sympathy. “Yeah, I bet. Did you want to talk about it or-?”“Not right now,” Hizashi says. A part of him is still reeling from the jumble of his thoughts. “I need some time to process what went down. Thanks though.” A quick glance out the window reveals that they’re pulling into his neighborhood, and for that he’s relieved. He waits until Taishiro stops the car in front of his building to click off his seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride, big guy!” he chirps, forcing some exuberance into his voice. It works well enough because Taishiro’s returning smile is genuine. “No problem, ‘Zashi. I’ll see you around.”“Seeya.”Once upstairs, it’s a lot easier to take stock of how he’s feeling. Hizashi pulls on his favorite headphones, and within a few clicks has his ‘chill out, bro!’ playlist set on loop. He flops back onto the sofa and closes his eyes. He forces himself to acknowledge the elephant in the room first: the jealousy that hit him like a truck when he noticed Shouta holding hands with that girl in the theater. He knows better than to expect to find any information off social media, but he pulls out his phone anyway, scrolling through Shouta’s account for any mention of her. Jealousy and self-loathing coil in his gut like snakes the farther back he scrolls; when he switches to poke through Emi’s account, the snakes rear up and hiss. As much as he hates lurking, he finds more success in Emi’s posts. She’s clearly a lot more extroverted than Shouta, and much more camera-friendly. Every other post is a selfie, either alone or with friends. The only one with Shouta is dated three weeks back: a blurry photo of her clearly running from him with the caption “Almost caught him smiling this time!” Tears spring into Hizashi’s eyes. “Fucking dammit,” he swears, rubbing at his eyes, “I thought I was over this.”And yet, he knows it was stupid of him to have ever believed he was over this, over the man for whom he had spent three years pining on and off, then another two years dating. Of course he still loved Shouta. How could he not? It shouldn’t have taken a run-in at the movies to make him realize, but he always had been good at distracting himself. He takes a deep breath and blows it back out, puffing his cheeks as he does. Realizing he still loved Shouta didn’t change the way things stood. They were still separated, still arguing. He replays the fight they had over in his mind, examining every word spat, every face pulled in the exchange. It invigorates him in the way only anger can, and this time when he grabs his phone, he opens up a recently used text chat.
[6:18 PM : Call me asap]
At 6:19, his phone rings. He launches into a detailed retelling of what happened that day as soon as he hears Nemuri’s voice, recounting things word for word as best he can recall them. She peppers him with questions whenever he pauses to catch his breath - it’s the only way she’d be able to get a word in - and he answers with equal rapidity. “Hizashi,” she sighs, “I don’t really know what to tell you. I was hoping he would have done some growing up by now, but he clearly hasn’t.”He frowns. “I know. He’s stubborn, Nem. Maybe I’m wrong for trying to-”“Oh no you don’t!” she interrupts, so harshly that even Hizashi has to pull the phone away from his ear. “It took me and Tensei forever to get you to realize that the way Shouta was lashing out at you wasn’t right, and guess what? He’s still in the wrong here. Don’t you dare start overthinking this.”Hizashi runs a hand through his hair, tugging miserably at it. “But I’m no angel either. I should have supported him more. He needed me.”“He had your support, Hizashi, at least as much as you were able to give. But he also needs professional help and a lot of self-reflection, and it’s not on you to get him either of those things. He needs to do that on his own.”“I can help him though!” His voice sounds desperate even to his own ears, but he can’t bring himself to care. Her voice is like ice compared to his passion. “Not if he doesn’t want any help.”That quiets him. He sits in moody silence, picking restlessly at stray lint on his couch cushions until Nemuri next speaks. This time her voice is softer, as though she understands precisely how delicate he is.“Don’t get me wrong, I care deeply about you both. And if things work out for you guys, I’ll be right here supporting you like before, but right now, Shouta has to step up. You have to leave him to it or else you’re going to get hurt again.”His eyes start to burn. “It already hurts,” he whines. He sounds petulant, needy, nothing like the adult he’s supposed to be. “I know.”“A lot, Nemuri. More than I thought it would.”“Yeah.” He can hear the grimace in her tone. “I know.”He recalls Shouta’s cold eyes as he called him annoying… God, had he ever really loved him? It’s hard to recall the warmth they once shared when Shouta looks at him so differently now. He bites his lip to keep himself from asking the question out loud. He doesn’t want an answer. Nemuri wouldn’t be able to give him one anyway. His phone chirps in his hand, signaling another call coming through. He glances at the screen and sighs. “I gotta go. Work’s calling.”“Alright. Take care of yourself, Hizashi. I’ll talk to you later.”“Sure thing, Nem.” He hesitates. “Thanks for listening.”The smile in her voice rings sweetly over the phone. “Of course. Bye!”He accepts the incoming call and musters up some of his usual radio personality charm. “What’s going on, boss? What’cha got for me?”“There’s a local group doing a gig at Manny’s spot Friday night. I want you to scout them out, see if they’re any good to host on the show.”That catches Hizashi’s attention. He loves spotlighting local bands and indie artists. “Awesome! Text me the details and I’ll be sure to check them out.”“You got it, Mic.”They hang up and Mic adds the event to his already colorful calendar, which is jam-packed with a plethora of events and assignments to work on for the next six weeks. He reaches for laptop, deciding to get a head start on answering e-mails.He looks forward to Friday, when he can jam out to some live music while also getting work done-- one of the perks of his job. Hopefully it’ll pull him out of the funk he’s in. His cellphone rings with another call from a co-worker just as the ache in his chest threatens to return.Work, he decides as he lunges for his phone, is a good distraction from heartbreak.