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The thing is that Harua is good at taking care of other people.
He’s the sort of person who will drop everything to help someone in need. Most of the time, he likes doing it, enough that he’s majoring in psychology to make a career out of it. He believes kindness, as a whole, is a strength.
He’s trying really hard to remember that right now, when he’s checking his phone for responses to his request to meet for the group project due tomorrow. They’re supposed to make a poster to accompany their paper on the five senses, and it’s already 9 PM. Harua stares down at the empty piece of posterboard and chokes down his panic. Nobody’s responding… he shouldn’t have waited. It looks like he’ll have to do the whole thing himself.
Well. At least the library is open 24/7.
“Harua?” someone says softly, and Harua turns around.
“Oh, hey Jo!” Harua says, smiling despite his current mood. Jo’s in his intro to literature class— no group projects there, thank god. Harua wouldn’t say that they’re friends, as they don’t talk outside of sitting next to each other in lecture, but Harua wishes they did. Jo seems so nice.
“Ah, I thought it was you,” Jo says, running his hand through his hair. So nice, and so awkward. “Do you mind if I sit here?”
“No problem,” Harua says, trying to move the posterboard out of the way.
Jo double takes, noticing the posterboard and art supplies for the first time. “What’s the poster for?”
“It’s for my intro to psych class,” Harua says. “The poster’s due tomorrow, but my group project mates are… um, they’re busy, tonight. So it’s just me.”
Jo furrows his brow. “Are you telling me that they left you to do this on your own?”
“I’m sure that they had their reasons,” Harua says, trying to bat away the vaguely homicidal urges that accompany the sentence. “It’s fine.”
“No way,” Jo says. “That isn’t right. I’m helping you.”
“What?” Harua laughs. “No way, I’m sure you have your own work, you don’t have to do that—”
“I’m going to help you,” Jo says. His tone leaves no room for argument.
Harua chews his lip. If Jo is set on it, then help would be appreciated. Harua opens his laptop, clicking on Google Drive, and starts explaining. “It’s a poster on the five senses,” he says. “We already wrote the paper for it, the poster is supposed to be a visual way to communicate the same information.”
“Did they at least do any of the writing for the paper?”
Harua shrugs.
Jo looks outraged, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he shares the document with himself and starts reading. Harua divides the posterboard into sections with his pencil, lightly outlining where he wants everything to be and writing down the information in bullet points. Once Jo is sufficiently caught up, he picks out a black marker and inks over Harua’s penciled words, except Jo makes them beautiful.
“Are you a human printer?” Harua asks in disbelief, staring at Jo’s flowing script. “Do you have fonts programmed into you like Microsoft Word?”
“I just know a little bit of calligraphy,” Jo says modestly.
Apparently, it isn’t just calligraphy Jo is good at it, but art in general. To illustrate the five senses, he draws a hand, eye, nose, mouth, and ear. Jo is like the Picasso of poster-making or something, because by the time they complete it at 1 AM it looks like it belongs in the Met.
“Thank you so much,” Harua says, eyes shining. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“Ah, no problem,” Jo says. He’s still holding a marker even though they’re finished, his hand flexing around it like a nervous habit. The pads of his fingers are stained in various colors, just like Harua’s.
“I feel like I should write your name on this,” Harua says. “You did like, half of it.”
“It was really no problem,” Jo says. “But you should cross off your group mates’ names. They didn’t do anything.”
Harua shakes his head. “Ah… it’s okay,” he says. “I don’t know their lives are like. I’m not going to ruin their grade.”
Jo tilts his head. “Okay.”
Now that the project has finished, the adrenaline leaves Harua’s system and he sits down heavily on his chair. Jo’s gaze skitters away, looking somewhere at a spot behind Harua’s left shoulder. “What do you major in?” Harua asks.
“I’m in studio arts,” Jo says. Oh, that explains the poster skills so much. “I have an art class right after our history class that’s all the way across campus… that’s why I’m always packing up so fast.”
“I see,” Harua says.
Jo’s always out of the lecture hall before Harua even finishes zipping up his bag. It always disappoints Harua a little because well, some part of him wants to walk with Jo out of the lecture hall, get to know him a little better. Not romantically. Or maybe a little romantically, sue him! Maybe Harua sneaks a few glances over at Jo when he’s supposed to be reading the lecture slides, because it’s a 9 AM class and Jo’s side profile also belongs in the Met. Is it fair for the artist to also be art? That’s something that Harua would like to know.
“Where’s your dorm?” Jo asks.
“I’m in Melody Hall,” Harua says. “You?”
“Oh, I live nearby,” Jo says, a bit shy. “We can walk together, if you want?”
Harua nods. They pack up and head out of the library, Jo holding the door open since Harua’s carrying the poster under his arm. It’s autumn, the moon full and round, and the night air feels fresh after being in the library for hours. Harua takes a deep breath. There is nothing in the world more healing than being outside.
At his side, Jo is quiet. Most of Harua’s friends like to talk, and Harua doesn’t mind, he likes listening, but this is nice. Comfortable. He looks up and over at Jo, and it turns out his side profile is even better in the moonlight, which must be illegal.
It’s Harua’s first year at university. He knows that at eighteen years old, he should just ask someone out if he finds them attractive. He doesn’t really know how to do that, and when he tries to imagine explicitly asking Jo to go on a date he remembers his awful senior year of high school and feels like he has no right to do that. But Harua’s good at being polite, good at being sweet, and he hopes that after tonight he will at least have made a new friend.
“Thank you for helping me with the project.” Harua asks. “Do you want to hang out sometime?”
Jo nods. “I would really like that.”
“Okay, give me your number,” Harua says, passing Jo his phone. They’re outside Melody Hall now, the brick siding illuminated by the streetlights. Jo keys in his contact info and passes Harua his phone back.
“See you,” Harua says.
“See you,” Jo says, with a small wave. “Good night.”
Harua pushes the door open and walks inside. His phone beeps, a message from a group project mate asking Harua if he’s already finished the poster or if he still needs help. It makes Harua roll his eyes, but somehow, it doesn’t ruin his mood at all.
---
He and Jo do become friends, making a habit of studying together. Jo likes trying random snacks just as much as Harua does, and his snack opinions are generally valid except that he likes barbecue potato chips the most when clearly nothing beats the original. Harua takes a break from highlighting his textbook to check his phone, and sees that Yuma has texted him.
Harua says, “Apparently my friend has the plague.”
“What?” Jo says.
Harua shows Jo his phone screen, where Yuma has written I HAVE THE PLAGUE!
“Oh,” Jo says. “That’s… not good.”
“Definitely not,” Harua agrees, texting Yuma to ask if he wants soup.
Yuma responds, if you have time >.<
Unfortunately, this is when Harua realizes that he has no idea where to get soup around here. His dorm doesn’t have a kitchen, and he hasn’t been on campus long enough to get familiar with the restaurants in the area.
“Hey,” Harua asks Jo, who is a sophomore and has more experience with this kind of thing. “Do you know any good soup places around here? Preferably the kind of soup to eat when you’re sick?”
Jo looks thoughtful. “Hmm. There’s a Thai place that does a good Tom Yum. It comes with a really nice pat of rice, too.”
Harua laughs. “A nice… pat of rice?”
“Yes,” Jo says seriously. “The rice is in an upside-down dome shape and it has good consistency.”
“Not that I don’t trust you or anything,” Harua says. “But are you sure the soup is good, or you just really liked the rice?”
“No, no,” Jo says, ears turning red. “The soup is good!”
Harua laughs again. “Well, sorry to cut the study session short, but I have to go get soup for my friend,” he says. He looks regretfully at his splayed-out textbook with its last section left to read, and closes it. “I mean, you could come with me if you wanted, but I’m pretty sure you don’t.”
Jo shrugs. “Why not,” he says. “I could use a break.”
They walk outside. It’s a nice day, the sky a lovely shade of blue. Students are out on the lawn talking and laughing and playing Frisbee.
“So, who’s your friend that you’re getting soup for?” Jo asks.
“His name’s Yuma. We grew up together,” Harua answers.
Privately he thinks that Yuma is unlucky. Yuma is the kind of person who drinks medicinal teas to take care of his health, while Harua eats convenience store snacks and Taki once licked a rock on the side of the street just because he thought it looked tasty, yet it’s Yuma who gets sick the most.
“There’s a Yuma in my math class,” Jo says. “Does he have piercings?”
“Yeah, that’s him,” Harua says.
“He’s really smart,” Jo says. “One time he corrected the professor.”
“Yeah, that’s definitely him.” Yuma: smart and contrary and currently suffering from the plague.
They find the restaurant which is called Fire Wok and head inside. Harua scans the menu while he waits in line, looking for things he might want to try in the future. “Ooh, Thai tea,” he comments.
When it’s his turn to order he steps up to the register and asks for a take-out Tom Yum. “What level of spice?” the cashier asks, and Harua has enough life experience to know that Thai levels of spice do not operate like regular levels of spice, so he asks for the lowest one and pays. He steps out of line and expects Jo to do the same, but Jo doesn’t move.
“Can I get two Thai teas?” he asks.
“Of course,” the cashier says, punching in Jo’s order. She’s blushing.
Honestly, same.
“Did you… get me tea?” Harua asks hesitantly.
Jo shrugs. “You’re getting your friend soup, I figured I’d get you tea,” he says.
“I don’t know if that’s logical. I can Venmo you if you want?” Harua says, and Jo looks deeply unimpressed. “Okay, nevermind. Um. Thank you.”
The tea arrives before the soup. Harua sticks the straw in his mouth— the tea is way too sweet to be healthy, which is exactly how he likes it. Harua is struck by the thought that in the future, this Saturday afternoon will be a good memory. Somehow mundane tasks are fun with the right company.
“See you!” Harua says, heading off to Yuma’s apartment. “Thanks again for the tea!”
“No problem,” Jo says, heading off in the opposite direction.
Harua walks to Yuma’s apartment. He’s let into the front entrance by someone exiting the building, and he takes the elevator up to Yuma’s floor and heads to his little studio unit. Yuma doesn’t let him in, texting him thx for the soup but I don’t want to get you sick , which is fair enough.
Harua gets a Venmo notification that Yuma has paid him back for the soup, and it suddenly occurs to Harua that delivery apps exist. He’s never used one and he’s willing to bet that neither has Yuma, but they probably exist for this kind of purpose. Oh, well. Harua doesn’t mind going out of his way for a friend.
hey , Harua texts Yuma. do you know someone named jo asakura?
yeah i had calc with him last year, Yuma sends back. he’s good looking and bad at math.
Harua hits the call button.
“What?” Yuma says, picking up. Oh, geez, his voice sounds awful.
“Everybody is bad at math compared to you!” Harua huffs, and hangs up.
Yuma texts him a string of question marks and laughing emojis. Harua regrets everything.
---
The problem with Jo is that as Harua learns more about him, he somehow gets even more attractive, which should be impossible, yet here they are. Harua wonders if his taste is really so mainstream— Jo is tall and handsome and he gets admirers left and right, and it makes Harua even more certain that Jo will only ever see him as a friend.
It’s fine, though. Because Harua likes being Jo’s friend. It’s safe to be Jo’s friend, and Harua likes having access to facts about Jo that most people don’t. He likes knowing that Jo used to hate being so tall but now he’s grateful for it, because it compensates in a way for his shyness; that Jo enjoys but isn’t very confident at creative writing, and hopes to improve someday so that he can write comics. He likes knowing that Jo works wonders with a standard #2 pencil, which is useful when art supplies are so expensive, and his most prized possession is a box of Tombow dual-ended markers that his friend Fuma got him for Christmas.
And he likes knowing that Jo also doesn’t mess around when it comes to his friends’ birthdays. Harua’s like that too. Jo keeps track of all the dates in his Google Calendar, while Harua notes them down in his planner.
“I feel like I’m always the point of contact for surprise parties,” Harua says, when the two of them are getting lunch in the dining hall one day.
“Ooh, really?” Jo says, impressed. “I helped out with a few surprise parties, but mostly I was in charge of decorating lockers. I would show up early before school with a pack of markers and post-it notes.”
“We didn’t do that at our school,” Harua says, regretful. “That sounds so fun.”
“It would have been fun if you were there,” Jo says, and Harua nods. He would have loved to show up early before the bell and been part of the locker-decorating committee with Jo. Too bad there aren’t any lockers in university.
“You know what’s funny?” Harua says. “Even though I love celebrating other people, I don’t really know what to do when the attention is directed at me.”
“Me too,” Jo says, and Harua’s chest warms with the solidarity. Nobody else has understood this aspect of him before. “When it’s my birthday, I don’t really mention it to anyone… ”
“I see,” Harua says. “Too bad, though, because when your birthday comes up next I’m going to make such a big deal of it.”
“You better not,” Jo says calmly. “Or else I’ll make an even bigger deal of your birthday.”
“Wanna bet?” Harua says, pretending to square up. They both realize the hilarity of the situation at the same time and crack up. Jo types May 1 into his phone and Harua notes down July 8 into his planner. He realizes with dismay that his own birthday comes first, and wonders if Jo will really make good on his promise to celebrate. Somehow Harua is looking forward to it.
“Oh,” Jo says. “My friend Kei’s birthday is coming up this weekend.”
Harua automatically recognizes the name. Jo’s talked about Kei quite a bit. Harua knows that Kei’s a senior, a business major, and a marathon runner. Kei is really good with people, Jo had said. He’s as good with people as I am bad with people. And Harua had protested, I don’t think you’re bad with people, and Jo had shrugged.
Harua hadn’t lied. Jo is definitely the most introverted of all of his friends, but that isn’t a bad thing. Jo seems to prefer hanging out one-on-one so Harua is still figuring out how to introduce him to the rest of his friends, but even if that never happens, Harua likes Jo’s company on its own just fine. Harua can’t explain it, but he really likes Jo’s specific brand of awkwardness, the way it lacks any malice. Maybe it’s because Harua recognizes himself in it too.
“He’s having a party at night, do you want to come with?” Jo asks him.
“Will he be okay with that?”
Jo waves a hand. “Anyone can come, and anyway, Kei wants to meet you.”
Harua tries not to read too much into that. “Cool. Should I bring a gift?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jo says, and Harua discreetly makes a note to pick something up after class when he has time. “I’m bringing cake. Do you want to stop by the bakery with me beforehand? You don’t have to, I just figured you might like bakeries.”
“I love bakeries,” Harua says fervently. “Count me in.”
It turns out that Jo is someone who has a car on campus, which is inconvenient for Jo as he has to pay for parking but very convenient for all of Jo’s friends. Come Saturday evening, Harua exits Melody Hall and finds Jo idling in the parking lot of his dorm. Harua unlocks the door and slides into the passenger seat, looking out the window into the gold of the setting sun. Jo steers onto Main Street, driving past storefronts that Harua rarely goes far enough off campus to see. The local station plays on the radio, a Top 100 song that Jo hums along with under his breath.
Jo pulls into the parking lot of the bakery, ‘Dropkick’ written on the storefront in loopy font. They walk inside, and Harua is immediately grateful that Jo decided to bring him here. They both stare at the glass case of pastries, deep in thought. There’s a chocolate roll cake topped with coffee beans, a vanilla roll cake topped with chunks of strawberry, and a matcha roll cake with bits of red bean. Harua decides that he is going to have to come here again. He has to try all of these at some point.
“What kind of roll cake do you want to get for Kei?” Harua says.
“I don’t know,” Jo says. “I’m experiencing decision paralysis.”
“Understandable. What does Kei like?”
“Anything.”
“That… doesn’t narrow it down,” Harua says. “How about the chocolate one?”
Jo nods. “Sounds good. Thank you.”
They leave the bakery with the roll cake, and Jo drives to Kei’s apartment. There’s music filtering out the door of his unit. Jo knocks, and Kei swings open the door; Harua peeks inside to see that the inside of the unit is full of people.
“Happy birthday, Kei,” Jo says, looking overwhelmed. His voice is so soft that it’s hard to hear over the music. “This is Harua.”
“Thanks for coming, Jojo!” Kei says, giving Jo a hug. He has no trouble speaking over the music.
Jojo? Harua thinks. He wonders if he can get away with calling Jo that too.
Kei releases Jo. “And you’re Harua!” he says. “Jojo’s talked about you before. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Jo’s talked about you before, too,” Harua says, except he didn’t mention that Kei was even taller than him. Harua’s feeling a little dazed here. “Happy birthday, Kei.”
He holds out his gift. It’s a scented candle, because Jo had mentioned that Kei liked those. Kei looks shocked and delighted. “What— you really didn’t have to, thank you,” he says. “And is that roll cake? You guys are too much! Give me a second, I’ll go bring it into the kitchen.”
Harua, who had been fully prepared to leave the apartment if Kei didn’t want him there, is shuffled into the unit along with Jo. Several people cheer at the sight of cake. Kei moves several bottles of alcohol aside to make room for it, and Harua looks at Jo to see that his fingers are flexing nervously at his sides. Harua doesn’t even think, it’s only natural. He reaches out to give Jo’s hand a squeeze.
Jo looks surprised. Then grateful. He takes out his phone and texts Harua. sorry… i’m not really good with crowds.
Harua texts back, kei seems happy you came. you’re a good friend.
Jo smiles at him.
---
So Harua meets Jo’s friend Kei at a party. When Jo meets Harua’s roommate Taki, it’s in a much more unfortunate set of circumstances.
To be fair, nobody could have really seen those circumstances coming. It’s 11 PM and Harua’s getting ready to go to bed when he gets the call from Taki.
“Hello?” Harua responds, flummoxed.
“Rua,” Taki wheezes. “I fell down the stairs.”
“WHAT?” Harua says, standing up. He flashes back to ten minutes ago, when Taki had walked out of the room with his overflowing laundry basket. “Where are you right now?”
“I’m in the basement,” Taki says. “I think someone spilled detergent on the floor, it was all slippery. Be careful.”
Harua heads out the door and takes the elevator down to the basement. He opens the door to the stairwell, where Taki is sitting on the floor with his face twisted in pain and his empty laundry basket by his side. The stair steps are covered with various pieces of clothing.
“Are you okay?” Harua asks.
“Everything hurts,” Taki groans. “I should have taken the elevator.”
“Did you hit your head on the way down?” Harua says. He helps Taki up, who winces when weight is put on his left leg.
“Um…” Taki says. “I think so. Also I think that maybe my ankle might be messed up.”
“Okay, we’re going to the hospital,” Harua says. He tries to figure out how to get there. The buses run infrequently at this point at night, and he isn’t sure if Taki’s in good enough shape to walk to the required stop. Then he remembers that Jo has a car. “I’m calling my friend. Sit down for now.”
Jo picks up on the third ring. “Hello?” he says.
“Hey, Jo,” Harua says. “Are you doing anything right now?”
“Just reading,” Jo says. “What’s up?”
“My friend just fell down the stairs,” Harua says. “Can you drive us to the hospital?”
There’s a shuffling noise in the background. “I’m on my way. Be there in fifteen.”
The call disconnects. “He’ll be here in fifteen,” Harua tells Taki, who nods.
In the meantime, Harua grabs the laundry basket and heads up the stairs, picking up the pieces of clothing. There are ten steps, which Harua cannot imagine would have been fun to fall down. When he reaches the first floor landing, he touches the floor and grimaces— Taki was right. It’s slick with what appears to be liquid detergent.
“I can’t believe whoever spilled it didn’t have the decency to clean this up,” Harua says, outraged.
“This would be a great idea for a TidePod commercial,” Taki muses.
Harua groans. “I can’t tell if you’re concussed or if that’s just your regular sense of humor.”
Harua makes a trip back to their room to drop off the laundry basket, and sends a quick email to his floor’s RA that there’s detergent spilled on the stairwell. Then he goes back to where Taki is still sitting in the stairwell. “Okay, let’s get you out of here,” Harua says.
Harua and Taki take the elevator up to the first floor, and then Harua helps Taki limp his way to the parking lot where Jo is waiting. Harua sits shotgun while Taki sits in the back. “Thank you so much for driving me,” Taki tells Jo. “Also, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Taki, Rua’s twin.”
“Rua…” Jo says quietly, as if to himself. “Um, it’s nice to meet you too, Taki. Although it isn’t nice that you’re injured. That part isn’t nice.”
“Taki is not my actual twin,” Harua interjects. “We are not actually related.”
“He’s lying,” Taki says. “We’re so related.”
Harua rubs his temples. “I am begging you not to say that to the doctor.”
The hospital is only a short drive off-campus. Jo drops Taki and Harua off at the entrance while he goes to park. At this point, Taki can walk on his own, and Harua takes a seat in the lobby while Taki gets set up with an appointment.
Jo comes in shortly after, taking a seat next to Harua.
“I’m really sorry,” Harua tells Jo. “This probably isn’t how you expected your night to go.”
Jo shrugs. “What are friends for?”
“I feel like you’re always seeing me in some kind of situation or other.”
“I don’t know,” Jo says, not making eye contact. “It’s a bit charming.”
Harua fights down a blush. “Hey, do you think there’s free coffee around here?” he says, changing the subject. “I feel like in movies, hospital lobbies always have free coffee.”
“I don’t know,” Jo says thoughtfully.
They go around and look. There’s none, but that’s alright.
He wonders how long they’ll be here. The TV in the lobby is playing The Great British Bake Off, and he and Jo sit around watching and commenting as if they could do any better. An hour passes, then another. Harua’s getting sleepy, going flat in the recycled hospital air.
“Hey, Jo,” Harua whispers, although he isn’t quite sure why he’s whispering. “Wanna know something?”
Jo nods.
Harua smiles. “You’re my partner in my crime.”
“I’m honored,” Jo says. “But what crimes have we committed?”
Harua counts them off on his fingers. “Bringing Yuma soup when he was sick. Buying cake for Kei on his birthday. Driving Taki to the hospital after he fell down the stairs.”
“Ah,” Jo says sagely. “So partners in the crime of being nice people.”
“Exactly,” Harua says.
They break into laughter. It’s 2 AM and things are starting to feel a little unreal. Harua doubles over wheezing, tears squeezing out the corners of his eyes, and Jo almost falls out of his chair.
“Whoa,” Taki says, at the lobby entrance. “What joke did I miss?”
“Nothing,” Harua gasps. “Sorry. Are you okay? Do you have a concussion or anything?”
“I probably don’t have a concussion and my ankle is only sprained, not broken,” Taki says. “The doctor says the next few days will be a bit miserable but after that I should be fine. Thanks for waiting, I know it’s really late.”
As if on cue, Harua yawns. “Yeah, let’s go,” he says, standing up.
Jo drives them back. Harua swipes himself and Taki back into the dorm, where they take the elevator back up to their room. Harua opens the door to their room, where the sky is dark outside their windows, and Harua turns on the lights. Taki’s laundry basket is sitting on his desk where Harua had dropped it off, containing all his dirty clothes.
“Goddamn it,” Taki says, sounding defeated. “All this and I still have to do the laundry.”
“That’s a tomorrow problem if I’ve ever heard one,” Harua says tiredly. He climbs into his bed and closes his eyes. “Wake me up if you feel like anything is wrong, okay? I’ll do my best to help.”
“You’re the best,” Taki says, but Harua is already asleep.
---
Fortunately, Taki’s fall doesn’t lead to any lasting damage. He’s back to normal after a week and demands that Harua bring Jo around more often, which means that Jo is also officially introduced to Yuma, Maki, and Nicholas. Jo’s started to call him Rua now, with the rest of his friends, which Harua takes as implicit permission to call Jo, Jojo.
Harua’s crush is just getting worse and worse. Nicholas is the first one to pick up on it, which is hilarious because Harua looked at Nicholas with stars in his eyes for two whole years back in high school and Nicholas was none the wiser. But Harua supposes he should feel lucky that it wasn’t Yuma, who would be insufferable about it, or Taki, who can’t keep a secret to save his life, or Maki, who…
Well, senior year of high school was the worst year of Harua’s life, and he still doesn’t know if he’s fixed things with Maki completely.
Of Harua’s friends, Jo gets along with Nicholas the best, and Nicholas is happy that he has another underclassman to spoil. Nicholas runs into Jo and Harua on the campus green the same day of their lit midterm, and once Nicholas hears that they’ve just been in an exam he takes them to the student union and buys them boba.
“Are you sure?” Harua says apologetically, hands wrapped around his cup of coffee milk tea.
“We can pay you back,” Jo says, already opening up Venmo.
Nicholas waves a hand. “You guys deserve it!”
“Okay,” Harua says, and takes a sip of the tea, tapioca pearls zooming satisfyingly through the straw. “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” Jo echoes. “So… Nicholas, what’s up with you?”
“I was just hanging out with Euijoo,” Nicholas says. “He finally finished one of his building models for class.”
“Oh, I know Euijoo,” Jo says, surprised. “He’s an architecture major, right? He’s talked about you before. You’re his boyfriend.”
Nicholas’s eyes actually light up. “Yes, that’s me.”
Harua isn’t a sarcastic person. However, if he were, he would say that Nicholas would prefer his state ID to read “Euijoo’s boyfriend” rather than his given name. As it is, Yuma is a sarcastic person for him, and once performed a statistical analysis where he showed that Nicholas brought Euijoo up with the same frequency most people reserved for talking about the weather.
“Euijoo says that you guys have dated for about a year now,” Jo says.
“Yes, we…” Nicholas trails off, eyes widening. “No.”
“You haven’t been dating for a year?” Jo asks, confused.
“No, we have,” Nicholas says, horrified. “Holy fucking shit. I forgot our anniversary.”
“When is it?” Harua asks.
Nicholas is scrambling for the zipper on his bag, taking out his phone. “Tomorrow.”
“How can you forget that?” Harua says, exasperated. Actually, he can believe it— Nicholas loves his friends, but he’s the worst when it comes to remembering birthdays. Harua checks his watch. “Okay. It’s 3 PM, you have nine hours to figure something out.”
Jo’s already on Google Maps. “The local mall closes at 6. There’s a bus arriving in five, if you run you can make it.”
“Thank you so much, bye!” Nicholas says, and he’s on his feet and out the door.
Harua and Jo stare after him.
“Wow,” Harua says. “You just saved his life.”
“I’m sure he would have remembered eventually,” Jo says.
“Yeah, but the mall would have been closed by then.”
It’s a nice day, so he and Jo take their bubble teas outside and walk around. Now that Harua thinks about it, Euijoo probably wouldn’t care if Nicholas had forgotten their anniversary. He doesn’t think that Euijoo puts stock in those kinds of things. But Harua does, so it’s for the best that Nicholas never liked him back. “Those two are really perfect together,” Harua comments.
“Nicholas and Euijoo?” Jo says.
Harua nods. “Yeah. It’s crazy, they have this epic love story. You should ask Nicholas about it sometime, I’m sure he’d be happy to tell you.”
“Hmm,” Jo says. “Do you want an epic love story, Rua?”
This feels like a dangerous topic, but fortunately Harua’s poker face is perfect. “No,” he says. “An ordinary love story is just fine with me.”
“Yeah,” Jo says quietly. “Me too.”
Harua thinks about how ordinary things always feel interesting when he’s with Jo. He thinks about how he wishes he could be brave, but… he feels like he has no right to be.
Back in high school Maki had been in love with him. Harua didn’t know what to do with it, that love so vast and deep that he felt like it could swallow him whole. He didn’t know how to return it. It was senior year when Maki confessed, and Harua couldn’t say yes but he couldn’t say no, either.
It was awful because it wasn’t like they were fighting properly. But their friendship was strained, like a rope pulled taut until it hung on by its very last fraying thread. Harua felt so guilty. Before that, Harua had considered himself someone who would do anything for his friends. Really. He would go to the ends of the earth for them. So why couldn’t he just love Maki back?
It still makes Harua feel like a monster sometimes, that he had been the one responsible for breaking his best friend’s heart. He’s terrified that Maki resents him for it.
“Hey Rua,” Jo says. His fingers flex, as if around an imaginary pencil. “Are you interested in anybody right now?”
“No,” Harua says.
Jo smiles at him, wry. “I am.”
Harua realizes that his bubble tea is down to ice and tosses the cup out. He walks around with Jo for a bit longer, and then heads back to his dorm to do homework. He wonders who Jo is interested in. He prays it isn’t him. Deep down, Harua knows that what happened with Maki wasn’t his fault— it wasn’t anyone’s fault— but he still hurts. He still needs time.
---
Nicholas tries to encourage Harua to go for it, but backs down when Harua tells him to stop. Unfortunately, that’s around when Yuma also figures it out. Yuma is so annoying in that he doesn’t say anything to Harua outright, just makes all sorts of funny faces at him to let him know that he knows. And if both Nicholas and Yuma know… then, either Maki will figure it out soon or he already has.
Well. At least Taki is oblivious.
Things are good with Maki these days. Harua’s grateful. Maki invites him to one of the parties hosted by someone from the theater club, and it’s like high school in how he introduces Harua to all of his theater friends but also different in that he doesn’t stay by Harua’s side the entire night. Someone invites Maki to play beer pong, and Maki looks at Harua with a question in his eyes. Harua smiles and says, “Go ahead, I’ll be okay.”
Maki gives a little wave, and leaves. Harua thinks that maybe Maki is learning to breathe a little bit easier, too.
Harua has a good time. He talks to people that he knows, plays a card game where someone else drinks for him, grabs a handful of potato chips from the large chip bowl set at the counter. He spends half the time hanging out with Maki and half the time not.
At about midnight he taps Maki on the shoulder and says, “Hey, I think I’m good to go. If you wanna stay longer I can head back by myself—”
“Ugh, Rua,” Maki says, laughing. He’s drunk, his cheeks flushed. “I’m not going to invite you to a party and then not walk you back. Let’s go.”
They head out of the house. Maki hums a pop song, perfectly on pitch even while inebriated. Harua stuffs his hands in his pockets and stares down at his sneakers. It’s near the end of the year now and the night wind has a certain bite to it, the stars icy pinpricks in the night sky.
He almost misses it when the humming stops.
“I wanna ask you a question,” Maki says.
“Go ahead.”
“Do you like Jo?”
Harua turns his face to look at Maki. There’s something gentle about the way that Maki looks right now, even though he has that inquisitive glint in his eyes that comes with one of his usual questions. Harua knows that it be the worst sort of betrayal to lie right now, so he doesn’t.
“I do.”
“I knew it,” Maki says sagely. “You had this vibe. I was like, I see. He likes him.”
Harua swallows. “I’m sorry.”
“What— no! Don’t say that,” Maki says. He shakes his head and kicks a stray pebble on the sidewalk. “Don’t apologize.”
Harua doesn’t say anything.
“Seriously, I just asked because I feel like he likes you too,” Maki says. “You should go for it.”
“Really?” Harua says.
Maki sighs. Rubs a hand across his face. “I hate when you apologize to me because I always feel like I should apologize to you… I feel like I ruined everything. And I know it’s not my fault, but I’m just. Trying to be a normal best friend. You know? I want to get to the point where we can talk about these things.”
“I want to get to that point, too,” Harua says softly.
“I just, I want you to be happy,” Maki says. His eyes are suspiciously shiny. “I’m really sorry that I ever made you feel like I only wanted you to be happy if it was with me.”
“No,” Harua chokes out. “You didn’t— that isn’t it.”
They keep walking. Harua thinks that someone needs to build a time machine and shoot whoever invented unrequited love, because seriously, why the does it exist? Why does it break everything that it touches? He and Maki are still trying to piece their friendship together, knowing that it will never be exactly the same.
“I’m doing well these days,” Maki says. “I like university, I like performing, I like my friends… I got set up on a couple of dates, actually, and they were fun. And I know that you’re always taking care of other people. Taking care of me. But god, Rua. Do me a favor and take care of yourself.”
Harua tilts his head up, blinking furiously. “Stop, you’re going to make me cry.”
“Yeah, I don’t know, I was just trying to tease you a little about Jo but now we’re here,” Maki says. He sniffles. “I think I’m drunk.”
“You’re definitely drunk. Drink some water before you go to bed.”
“So typical,” Maki says, voice watery.
They walk the remaining few blocks to Maki’s apartment. Harua manages to curb his tears before it gets any further but Maki isn’t as successful, crossing to the point where his sniffles are now accompanied by some hiccuping. When they reach Maki’s dorm, Maki pulls him into a hug. “You’re my best friend, Rua,” he says. “I hope nothing ever changes that.”
“Yeah,” Harua says, hugging him back. “I hope so too.”
---
Even though Harua feels a lot better after his conversation with Maki, he doesn’t do anything about his crush on Jo. He has now reached that inconvenient point with Jo where he doesn’t want to risk ruining their friendship with his feelings. But Harua’s pretty happy with where they stand already; they might not be dating, but they’re partners in crime, and that’s infinitely cooler.
At this point it’s just common knowledge that Harua has a thing for Jo (actually, maybe Taki doesn’t know, bless his soul) but his friends don’t push it.
It’s the beginning of February, pink and red decorations creeping across the landscape in preparation of Valentine’s Day. Nicholas gets an internship after months of searching and declares that he wants to celebrate with a few of them at this nice restaurant downtown. Harua is all too happy to comply, as that restaurant has been on his to-try list for ages, but he’s never had a reason to go.
There’s a bus line connecting his dorm to the downtown area, and he, Taki, and Yuma decide to take it there together. Yuma heads over to Harua and Taki’s dorm beforehand to hang out. “I don’t think our room was built to contain more than two people,” Harua comments.
“Good thing Yuma’s short and doesn’t take up too much space,” Taki says, and shrieks when Yuma headlocks him.
They’re all supposed to dress nice to go to the restaurant. Harua’s never been great with styling himself, and Yuma is in a particularly fussy mood today, so Harua lets Yuma ransack his closet to coordinate an outfit. At Yuma’s direction, Harua puts on a soft pink cashmere sweater over a white button down, and navy blue slacks.
“Ay, you look good!” Taki says, giving him a thumbs up.
Yuma eyes Harua critically. “You look nice,” he says. “Do you have any makeup?”
Harua hands him his makeup bag, almost exclusively made up of stuff given to him by Nicholas, who works part-time at Sephora. Yuma takes out a brown eyeliner pencil and a tube of peach lip gloss, and instructs Harua to close his eyes. Once Yuma is done, Harua looks at himself in the mirror. Yuma’s a pro at makeup; Harua’s eyes are sharper, his lips fuller. Back in high school, he would have done something like this in hopes that Nicholas would notice him. Right now, he just looks at his reflection and feels happy.
“Are you gonna do my makeup?” Taki says, batting his eyelashes.
Yuma takes out a tube of mascara and uncaps the wand much like one might draw a sword. “Are you really sure that you trust me near your face after that height comment?”
“You wouldn’t kill me, you like me too much,” Taki says.
While Yuma and Taki are doing whatever, Harua takes out his phone to check the bus app. They have about twenty minutes before the next bus comes, and then they’ll meet Nicholas and Maki at the restaurant. Yuma finishes up Taki’s makeup, drawing a little angry face on his cheek with lip gloss as revenge for the height comment.
“Thanks,” Taki says cheerfully, wiping the lip gloss off his cheek. Then, his eyes widen comically. “Oh. Oh, no.”
“What?” Yuma says.
“Don’t we have that paper for world history?” Taki says. “The one about the fall of the Roman Empire?”
“Isn’t that due next week?” Yuma says, checking his phone. He looks up, horrified. “FUCK. I wrote down the wrong date. It’s due tonight.”
“You guys,” Harua says, not sure if he should laugh or cry. “How long is this paper?”
“Ten pages,” Taki says. He’s moving toward his desk, stuffing his textbook and laptop into his bag. Yuma’s scrambling as well. “Hey, Harua, tell Nicholas we’re sorry that we can’t make it, okay? Have fun at the dinner!”
And Yuma and Taki are out of the room. Harua watches as the door closes behind them, shaking his head in disbelief. He texts Nicholas and Maki, Yuma and Taki are having an academic emergency, they can’t make it.
oh no!! Nicholas sends. you’re still coming though right ;-------;
Harua texts, yeah, on my way to the bus stop right now, see you guys there.
Harua’s only been downtown once or twice. It’s a smaller city so there aren’t any skyscrapers or anything, but the sit-down restaurants are way nicer than what they have on campus, and interspersed with pretty boutiques and cute bookstores. Harua follows the sidewalk until he gets to the restaurant.
He stands under the awning and texts Nicholas and Maki, Hey, I’m here! Where are you guys?
“Rua?” someone says.
Harua looks up. “Jojo?”
He’s so relieved that his voice comes out normally, because Harua has never seen Jo dressed up before and it’s a lethal experience. Jo’s wearing a fitted blazer over a white button down and his pants make his legs look a mile long.
“You look nice,” Jo says carefully.
Harua keeps his face neutral. “So do you.”
“It’s great to see you. What are you doing here?”
“Nicholas got an internship so he said we should eat somewhere nice,” Harua says, gesturing at the restaurant. “I’m waiting for him and Maki right now.”
“Oh, what a coincidence,” Jo says. “Kei just got early acceptance into a master’s program and said we should celebrate. I’m waiting for him and Fuma right now. It’s cool that we’re both eating here tonight.”
“Yes, very cool,” Harua says slowly. “Excuse me for a second.”
He texts Nicholas and Maki, just making sure. are you guys coming? He looks up and sees Jo texting someone as well, a little frown on his face. Then Jo glances at Harua, shrugging.
“Did you drive here?” Harua asks, making small talk.
“Ah, no, I took the bus, finding parking around here is impossible,” Jo says.
Harua’s phone beeps. I AM SO SORRY! Nicholas texts him. my sister has a piano recital today that I totally forgot about… I’m actually on my way there now. i’m gonna cancel my reservation.
Harua doesn’t even deign Nicholas’s text with a response. Instead he looks over at Jo with an awkward smile.
“You ever want to kill your friends?” he says.
Jo looks up from reading a text on his phone. “You know, I do think about it sometimes,” he says. “On a completely unrelated note, Kei can’t make it. Neither can Fuma.”
Harua sends a private message to Maki.
i’m guessing you’re not coming either.
nope, Maki responds. it turns out that the student auditorium is showing the frozen musical tonight with idina menzel herself performing, and it is starting in 10 minutes!
Harua sighs. you get 5 points for creativity, he writes.
hell yeah i do. and hey rua? Maki texts. have fun, okay?
A small smile creeps across Harua’s face. He pockets his phone. Jo’s ears are bright red, and he’s texting furiously. Eventually Jo pockets his phone as well and offers Harua a helpless look. “I think our friends set us up,” he says. “I didn’t know anything about this, I swear! ”
“I believe you,” Harua reassures him.
“Do you wanna eat dinner with me?“ Jo says awkwardly. “Kei made the reservation under my name, and I didn’t think anything of it then, and we’re already here, and—”
Harua says, “I’d love to.”
They head into the restaurant. Jo asks for a table under Asakura, and when Jo and Harua are lead by the waiter to a table for two the waiter looks alarmed when Jo puts his head in his hands and Harua heaves a deep sigh. Still, they take their seats, and accept the menus when handed to them.
Jo opens his menu and holds it up. “I need to tell you something,” he says.
“Go ahead.”
“I like you. My friends all know that,” Jo says, attempting to obscure his face with the menu. “I think that’s why they did this. I’m sorry.”
“My friends also all know that I like you,” Harua says. “That’s why they did this too.”
Jo closes the menu a little bit, eyes wide. “Really? I thought— you said you weren’t interested in anybody— I had no idea.”
“I lied,” Harua admits.
“Oh,” Jo says. “Can this be a date then?”
Harua blushes. He nods.
“Can I get you guys started with something?” the waiter says, coming over. At Harua and Jo’s looks of panic he quickly adds, “Or do you need a little bit more time?”
“Yes, sorry,” Harua says, nodding his head in apology, and the waiter retreats. Jeez. Harua hasn’t had restaurant etiquette this bad since he was three. He and Jo hastily open their menus to read and figure out what to order, both of them settling on the house special of beef soup with rice.
When the food arrives, both of them don’t speak because they’re too busy eating. Besides the soup being delicious, Harua is eating dinner way later than expected with all the confusion. Once he’s slowed down, he tells Jo about the crazy excuses that his friends came up with to ditch— now that he thinks about it, Yuma would never write down the wrong due date in his planner, what the hell. Jo laughs so hard that he nearly cries, but recovers in time to beat Harua to footing the bill.
“I’m getting it next time,” Harua says, and Jo looks at him like okay, you can try.
After Jo has paid, they head out of the restaurant. It’s nighttime, and the stores have turned on their neon lights. They walk around, passing a few specialty stores and then a flower shop.
“Oh,” Jo says, disappointed. “It’s closed for the day.”
“Do you want to buy flowers for someone?” Harua says, and then promptly realized. “Oh.”
Jo scuffs his shoe on the sidewalk. “Yeah. I always thought, if I ever got the courage to ask you out… I’d do it with flowers.”
Harua wants to scream. “You can do it next time.”
“Okay.”
“And I’ll pay the bill next time,” Harua says.
Jo shrugs. Harua goes to hit his arm, but somehow Jo is fast enough that he catches Harua’s hand so that they’re holding hands instead. Jo is probably blushing so hard right now but Harua is too embarrassed to check. One day this gentle warmth will be normal to him, but it’s the first time he’s feeling it so it burns him up.
It’s getting late, so they take the bus back to campus. Jo gets off at Harua’s stop at Melody Hall. Harua’s trying to gear himself up to say goodbye when he realizes that he doesn’t actually know where Jo lives. They always hang out in other places. “Where’s your dorm?” he says.
“I live in Countdown Hall,” Jo says.
“Huh? But that’s all the way across campus,” Harua says. “I could have sworn you said that you lived close by.”
Jo shakes his head. “I don’t.”
Harua thinks back to when they first really talked, after Jo helped him out with his project and walked him back to his dorm. Oh, I live nearby, Jo had said. Harua bites down a smile. He stands up on his tiptoes and kisses Jo on the cheek. “Good night.”
Jo’s expression shifts, dazed. “Night.”
Harua goes back into his room. It’s empty, Taki still out. Harua wonders if he actually has a paper to write and shakes his head, laughing to himself. He loves his friends, for real, even if they drive him crazy sometimes.
Harua thinks about how Jo had asked if he had wanted an epic love story, and how Harua had replied that he just wanted an ordinary one. And it’s true. Because whenever he’s with Jo, the mundane becomes exciting, and the everyday becomes lovely. Harua believes in being kind with no expectation of repayment, but meeting Jo, and falling for him— it feels like hot soup when you’re sick, like roll cake on your birthday, like flowers for a date. It feels a lot like a favor or a gift.
It feels a lot like a kindness returned.