Chapter Text
I never had any friends.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. I had friends, but they always had better friends. I was a person in the background, and I hadn’t realized it until I ended up hanging out with my mom the summer after graduation.
It would have been more accurate to say that I never had any real friends until I met my roommate. When I saw Sugawara’s name on my room assignment, I assumed I’d be another one of his background friends, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.
I thought I would come to regret the day we met and the days that followed, but I never did. I never loved anyone like I loved Sugawara, and even after everything, my feelings never changed. He was my first love, and I knew, as soon as I lost him, that there was nothing more perfect in this world.
That morning started off as I expected it would, with my mother yelling at me to get out of bed.
“Daichi, you’re going to be late if you don’t get up now!” she yelled from the door frame, her face red with annoyance.
I turned my back to her and pulled my pillow closer to my chest. I mumbled something incoherent, hoping that would be enough to satisfy her for a couple more minutes. It wasn’t.
“I already have everything packed in the car. If you’re really that tired, you can sleep on the way,” she said, throwing the blankets off me.
It took about two seconds of cold breeze for me to remember I always slept in my underwear. I bolted to my feet, grabbing the blanket out of her hand to cover myself.
“Did you have to do that?” I asked, shooing her away. “I’m not too keen on you seeing me in my underwear.”
“I gave birth to you. There’s nothing I haven’t seen.”
“That’s not fair,” I said, shuffling around to pick up a spare pair of athletic shorts off the floor. “I have my dignity to uphold.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Honey, you just picked up a pair of dirty shorts off the floor."
“And now you’re insulting me?”
She grinned before walking to the door. “Once you pick out a dirty shirt from the heap, meet me in the car, okay?”
I glared at her, digging through the exact “heap” she’d referenced. “Fine.”
“You’re gonna miss me, you know?”
“Mmmhmm,” I mumbled, letting her go on ahead as I pulled on my socks and tennis shoes. I quickly brushed my teeth and grabbed a bagel, careful not to look back on my way out the door. I was never one to get emotional, but I knew if I looked back, I’d probably get sentimental and start crying.
We had already packed my things in the car the night before, so all that was left was the long three hour drive to my university.
I sank down in the passenger seat, ignoring her disgusted looks as I got bagel crumbs all over my shirt. “My keyboard’s in the back, right?” I asked, my mouth half-full.
“You should swallow before you talk,” she said. “I double-checked and your music stuff is all back there.”
“Thanks,” I said, finishing up my breakfast. “Hopefully, I’ll do well in the program.”
I was never one to get anxious, either. I lived by the philosophy that as long as I’m prepared and confident, it’ll all be fine. It wasn’t until I auditioned for the music program did I realize thinking that way didn’t always work. To my relief, I got in, but I’d never felt more anxious in my life. I’d never doubted myself like that before, and ever since then, I couldn’t shake the feeling.
“You’re talented. If they let you in the program, they believe you can do well.”
“I don’t want to disappoint them.”
“When it comes to piano, you’ve never disappointed anyone. Why would that change?”
It was silent in the car for a moment as I thought about what to say next, the familiar scenes of my hometown flying past us. “Anything can change,” I said. “Even that.”
She gave me the side-eye and raised a brow. “What’s got you like this?”
I shrugged. “Nothing, really. I’m just… nervous.”
“You’re never nervous.”
“Not until recently,” I admitted. “I’m meeting my new roommate today too, so that’s not helping anything.”
“Now, you might actually need to be nervous about that one.”
“What?” I asked, spinning my body around in the seat to face her. “Really?”
“My college roommate was a nutjob. Either he’ll be insufferable or you’ll become best friends. There’s really no in between.”
“I just hope he doesn’t mind some late night practicing.” I rolled down the window and raked my hand through the wind. “From what he said on his profile, he’s a heavy sleeper.”
“When you live with someone else, it’s not that simple. You’ve never been that close with another person before.”
“I live with you and dad.”
“We’re your parents and we don’t live in the same small, cubic room together,” she said. “And you shouldn’t have your hand out the window like that, Daichi. I read something once about a boy getting his arm blown off by oncoming traffic.”
I sighed, making no move to pull my hand back inside the car. “I’m not gonna get my arm blown off.”
She looked over at me and smiled. “I just worry about you, that’s all.”
I stayed quiet for a moment, turning my hand different directions in the wind. It was late-August and the sun was starting to part the morning fog. I always had a love/hate relationship with that time of year. There was a certain air about it that made me nostalgic, but there were always two sides to that coin: a good side and a bad side. I never quite decided which side that day was.
“I know you do. I’m sorry for making you worry.”
“You don’t make me worry. I just do.”
The rest of the ride was abnormally quiet for the two of us with the occasional pointing out the window at something or a song request.
We arrived at about noon, the summer sun high in the sky. After checking in, my mother got distracted.
“I can’t carry all this by myself,” I complained, struggling to close the trunk. “Can you at least take some bags off this arm?”
Her back was to me, and she was striking conversation with another group of parents in the parking lot, completely oblivious to my struggles.
I had my room key balanced between my fingers, so I left her, making my way to the dorm building on the far side of campus.
I knew I looked ridiculous with a string of bags on my left arm, a box of sheet music shoved against my side, a backpack strapped to my back, and my keyboard case slung over my shoulder, but my muscles hurt so bad, I didn’t have time to pay attention to all the amused stares. By the time I reached the door with my key card, I was practically running, knowing that if I didn’t hurry, I’d probably drop everything.
After climbing up to the second floor, I fumbled with my key in the lock, eventually opening the door. I’d forgotten a stranger would be waiting for me on the other side, and when I first saw him, he scared me.
“So you’re the lucky guy stuck being my roommate, huh?” he asked, laughing as I stumbled through the door with my things. “I might as well apologize in advance.”
The first thing I noticed about him was the silver color of his hair and the permanent smile on his face. He had pretty eyes too, the kind I couldn’t seem to look away from no matter how hard I tried.
I stared at him as he placed a cigarette between his teeth and lit it with a black lighter. “You sure pack light,” he said through the cigarette, gesturing to the mountain of stuff I’d carried in.
I laughed through labored breaths, relaxing as he took some bags off my shoulder. “I wanted to be prepared.”
He blew out a puff of smoke and jumped up on his bed, tapping the end of the cigarette into an ashtray. “You must be Daichi, right?”
I nodded, collapsing on my rock-hard mattress. “And you’re Sugawara.”
“That’s right,” he said. “Did you have anyone helping you move-”
“You left me!” my mother yelled from the doorway. “I had to knock on three doors before I found you.”
I lifted my head up off the mattress to glare at her. “It’s not my fault. If I hadn’t hurried over here, I would have dropped everything.”
She ignored me, making her move on Sugawara. “Well, aren’t you handsome!” she said, grabbing his shoulders. “You shouldn’t smoke, though. It’s bad for you.”
Sugawara smiled, taking another hit. “Once you start, it’s hard to stop.”
“Well, my son’s never been much for that kind of thing. Have you, honey?”
I groaned and hid my face. “Stop embarrassing me,” I complained, the words muffled by the pillow.
Sugawara laughed. “I’ll make a smoker out of you by the time this year’s over.”
I rolled over to look at him, smiling at the amusement in his eyes. “You can try.”
By that time, my mother was already throwing clothes at me to organize. “Start folding. And do it right.”
As I folded (and refolded upon my mother’s request), Sugawara shifted through my sheet music, narrowing his eyes in confusion. “How do you read this stuff?”
I grinned, plugging my keyboard into the wall. “Lots and lots of practice.”
“Hmm, I doubt I have that kind of commitment.”
“At this point, I can’t even imagine myself quitting piano. I’ve done it for so long, I’m not sure what I’d do without it.”
“You must really love it, then,” he said. “I’ve never been especially good at anything like that.”
“It’s not like I’m a genius,” I admitted. “I just have way too much time on my hands.”
“I’d say it takes a genius to give that much of yourself into something.”
I paused for a moment to look at him, waiting for his eyes to meet mine, and when they did, I said,“I never thought of it that way before.”
He laughed at my seriousness. “Everyone’s a genius in their own right. Besides, when you have to work for it, it’s a million times better.”
“That’s true.”
“At least you have a thing . I’ve yet to find what I’m a genius at.”
“I bet you’re a genius at a lot of things. That’s the vibe you give off.”
He shrugged. “If you can figure it out, let me know.”
I didn’t want our conversation to end, but my mother was beckoning me to my closet. I’d never talked to anyone like that before, and I soon became addicted to the feeling it gave me.
Hours passed before we finally got all my stuff unpacked and put into place. By the end of the day, I was exhausted, and I knew my arms would be sore for a while.
My mother sighed, stepping back from the closet she’d finally finished organizing. “When I come back to visit, it better be just as neat as it is right now. Got that?”
I rolled my eyes, sitting cross-legged on the bed. “You know that’s not gonna happen.”
She gave me a sad smile. “I should get going now. Your father’s probably home from work already”
I stood up and embraced her, breathing in the familiar scent of home. “I’ll visit every once in a while.”
She pulled away with tears in her eyes. “I know,” she said, digging through her purse.
“Mom, what are you looking for now?” I asked, partly wanting her to leave so she’d stop embarrassing me in front of Sugawara.
“There it is,” she exclaimed, pulling out her camera. “We need to document this moment.”
“No, we don’t,” I said through gritted teeth. “You know I hate pictures.”
“Get in there, Sugawara,” she said, blatantly ignoring me. “You’re part of this too.”
He obeyed and jumped up beside me. “I love taking pictures,” he said, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.
I looked over at him, noticing how silver his hair was and the small freckle under his left eye. He had a certain smell to him I could never describe, even after spending countless days with him. I wanted to say it was sandalwood or Old Spice, but that wasn’t quite right. He smelt like Sugawara, and that was the best way to describe it.
“Smile!” my mother said, pointing her camera at us. I normally hated photos, but I kinda wanted this one. In retrospect, I was grateful for my mother’s insistence that day. If she hadn’t taken that photo, I never would have had a picture of him.
I was still looking at him when the light flashed. The picture printed out from the bottom of the camera, and my mother gave it to me. “Now you have a picture with your first college friend.”
“I guess I do,” I said, staring as it developed. Sugawara was looking at the camera and smiling with one hand wrapped around my shoulder and the other holding up a peace sign. I was laughing, my gaze fixed on him instead of the camera. I put the photo in my desk drawer, a sort of happiness in my chest.
My mother was halfway out the door when she turned back. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
“I always do,” I said, giving her a smile.
She smiled back before disappearing out into the hallway, closing the door behind her.
Once she was gone, I dropped my shoulders and let out a deep breath. “I’m sorry about her. She’s always been that way.”
“She seems like a great mom,” he said, looking over at me.
“She is. At this point, she’s basically my best friend.”
Sugawara opened the window, breathing in the fresh air. It was usually unbearably hot in August, but that evening was different. There was a light breeze blowing into our room as the sun set below the adjacent dorm building, casting an orange filter over his face.
“Why don’t you play me something, Daichi?” he asked, sitting up against his headboard and watching as other college students walked by outside. “I like music.”
“Is there anything in particular you want to hear?” I asked, watching as he pulled another cigarette out of the pack.
He pondered for a moment, flicking his lighter on and off in thought. “Whatever you want to play, I want to hear.”
“I’ll play you a song if you promise to tell me if I’m actually good."
He nodded, blowing smoke out the window. “Honesty is the best policy,” he said, almost amused with himself.
I ended up playing the song I did as my audition for the music program, the motions of my hands almost automatic from practicing it for hours. The soft notes floated through the room and out the window. And even though I’d played the piece countless times, I was scared to mess up in front of him. We’d just met, and I couldn’t help but care what he thought of me.
Once I was finished, he applauded. “You didn’t make a single mistake, did you?”
“Even if I had, would you’ve been able to tell?”
“Absolutely not, but it sounded great,” he said, motioning for me to come over to him. “No wonder you got into the program.”
I walked over to the side of his bed, sitting down beside him. “What are you planning?” I asked, trying to hide my anxious smile.
He seemed so relaxed even though he’d just met me. I felt weird sitting on his bed, his knee inches from mine, but I also felt no desire to move away. I was comfortable with him from the start, and I wasn’t expecting that at all.
“Why don’t you smoke one?” he asked, holding out a cigarette to me. “If you’re going to be my friend, you have to.”
I glared at him. “Can’t I be your friend without getting lung cancer?”
“Afraid not,” he said, a wide smile spreading across his face.
“Smoking’s bad for you, ya know?”
“It’s not like I’ll live long enough for cigarettes to kill me.”
“You shouldn’t joke about things like that.”
“Loosen up, Daichi,” he said, still holding out the cigarette. “My arm’s getting tired.”
I finally took it from him, squinting my eyes in disgust. “This’ll rot my bones.”
“I was only joking. You really don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he assured, laughing to himself at the look on my face.
“Nah,” I said, putting the cigarette between my teeth. “Go for it.”
He grinned as he flicked his lighter. “That’s more like it.”
As soon as he lit it, I pulled it out of my mouth, watching the little trail of smoke float out the window. “So I just… breathe it in?”
“Yeah.”
I brought it back up to my lips and took a short breath in, coughing a little. “I hated that,” I admitted, my eyes watering.
“You have to actually inhale,” he said, taking the cigarette from me and placing it in his mouth.
I watched as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, a cloud of smoke escaping his lips. “You make it look so easy,” I said, taking the cigarette back.
“I’ve been smoking for a long time,” he said, watching me take another hit.
I hardly coughed that time as more smoke filled the room. After a few seconds, I felt a soft buzz in my head, and I couldn’t help but laugh at myself.
I looked at Sugawara. “Why did I wait so long to try this?” I asked, taking another hit.
“It’ll rot your bones,” he said, repeating my own words back to me.
“I think I’m willing to take that risk,” I mused. “It’s not like I’ll smoke every day.”
“That’s how it always starts.”
“You’re not a very good influence,” I said, relaxing on his bed with my back against the wall.
“I guess not,” Sugawara said, that friendly smile of his never fading. I’d noticed his silver hair, the birthmark on his cheek, and his hazel-brown eyes, but my favorite thing about him was his smile. It never went away, even when he was talking.
We traded cigarettes back and forth until we were too tired to smoke anymore. I went to sleep that night with him across the room from me, and it felt almost too natural. I listened to his breathing slow down, and I knew he had fallen asleep.
The window was still open, the only sound being the easy summer breeze ruffling the leaves. No matter how much I wanted to fall asleep, I just couldn’t. I kept thinking about him and what we would talk about the next day.