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As Okuyasu follows Josuke off the airplane they’d been trapped in for the past fourteen hours and down the shitty hallway that feels just as much like the inside of a metal tube, he decides he hates flying.
Actually, he’d decided that before they’d even left the tarmac back in Japan, but being on solid ground again is only now solidifying how much he thought he’d dislike being 20 million miles in the sky.
Okuyasu never understood his brother’s fascination with airplanes when they were younger, but he understands it even less now. It just ain’t natural. He’d much rather travel by train or car or fucking walk, but there’s kind of a whole ocean between home and America, and Josuke had shot down taking a boat. He could have squeezed the extra guilt cash out of his dad for a luxury cruise or some shit, easy, but Josuke probably didn’t want to spend a week throwing up over the side of the railing, which, fair enough.
Okuyasu’s legs are stiff from sitting for so long and when he rolls his neck against his shoulders it makes a sound like when you crack open a crab to get at its meat. Behind him, he hears Yukako ushering Koichi along in that awful, lovey-dovey tone she saves just for him.
“Oh, honey, give me your jacket. You’re going to overheat when we get outside.”
Okuyasu shudders at both the pet name and the nervous, high-pitched giggling that follows. There’s a wet smorch sound that tells him Koichi and Yukako have started kissing in the middle of the fucking walkway.
He hurries his stride to get away from what’s probably about to become a crime scene to catch up with Josuke, who’s got his nose buried in his phone and is pulling his big metal suitcase behind him almost like an afterthought.
Okuyasu slings the fraying strap of his second-hand duffle bag over his shoulder as he reaches his friend, tapping his elbow with the edge of his bag.
“Dude, it ain’t too late to leave the shrimp and his parasite behind,” he says, jerking his thumb back toward their friends, assuming they’re even still behind them and Yukako hasn’t dragged Koichi into a dimly lit bathroom stall to suck out all his nutrients.
Josuke hums, distracted. He doesn’t even look up from his phone. He taps his thumb on the little touchscreen keyboard while he walks, his sharp brows drawn inward.
Okay.
He’s been like that since they landed and were allowed to take their phones off airplane mode; Okuyasu’s sure he heard at least a dozen pitchy dings coming from Josuke’s pocket while they were waiting for all the pinch-lipped jackasses in business and first class to get off the plane.
Okuyasu’s pretty sure he knows why.
Because it’s not just the four of them taking the scenic route to California for Josuke’s music festival. No. Josuke’s boyfriend of eight months is coming with them too.
Okuyasu told Josuke he didn’t want to be a fifth wheel back when he first mentioned the trip, but like, what the hell is he supposed to do? Ditch his best friend on his birthday? All Josuke had to do was pout and bat those stupid big eyelashes at him and Okuyasu was agreeing to go before Josuke could even reassure him he wasn’t going to ignore him.
It’s a choice he’s already regretting. Okuyasu wishes he had the balls to say no to Josuke, like, ever. But he doesn’t, and he’s here and it’s too late to turn around and go home.
He considers checking his own phone, but he’s not as good at multitasking as Josuke is and he doesn’t want to bump into anyone. Navigating his way through the crowded airport is anxiety-inducing enough without also trying to check his messages. He’s pretty sure nobody would have tried to reach him anyway, the only person who regularly texts him is right next to him.
They all packed light enough that none of them had to check any bags - both Josuke and Yukako had put up a bit of a stink about it and brought the largest suitcases they could fit into the overhead bins - so they breeze by the luggage pick-up area and head outside to be rudely greeted by a choir of honking cars. The sheer volume of it has Okuyasu wincing and pressing a hand to his ear. It’s nothing like the dinky little airport back in Morioh, which had been silent as a damn tomb when Tomoko had dropped them all off yesterday morning.
Koichi appears at his side with ruffled hair and without the light jacket he’d been wearing on the plane. Okuyasu doesn’t see any new hickies on his neck, so he and Yukako probably hadn’t made a pit stop. She’s a pretty big fan of marking her property.
As embarrassing as their relationship is for literally everyone around them, Okuyasu is kind of jealous.
Finding out that Koichi had started dating before him, hell, before even Josuke, had been a shock. Sure, Yukako is absolutely batshit, but however their weird little relationship works, it is working. They’re just so damn happy together. They’ve been dating for almost a decade and still have trouble keeping their hands to themselves.
It must be nice to be wanted that badly.
Okuyasu looks back at Josuke.
He’s still staring down at his phone. His plush lips are pressed together in a concentrated frown, but the little wrinkle between his brow has smoothed flat into the rest of his pale skin. From this angle, Okuyasu can tell he’s not texting anymore. Instead, he’s scrolling through brightly colored pictures of food dishes from nearby restaurants on Yelp.
Okuyasu’s stomach rumbles. Real food sounds so good right now, even something stupid and gimmicky as that hipster avacado toast that Josuke’s hovering his finger over. The in-flight meals had more in common with a hockey puck than anything you might find in a kitchen, and they’d only been given two of them for the whole sixteen-hour flight. He’d scarfed down five bags of those shitty airplane peanuts to hold himself over, and those mostly tasted like stale air and left him no less hungry than if he’d been chewing on styrofoam.
Josuke’s phone dings again with an incoming text message, his boyfriend’s name popping up at the top. There’s a sparkling heart emoji beside the name. He taps on it immediately to open the message.
Josuke ignoring him just a minute earlier but eagerly responding to Kenta puts a sour taste in Okuyasu’s mouth, irrational as it is. It’s enough to get him to look away, not actually wanting to see if they’re exchanging I love you’s or anything else that makes the pit in his stomach open up.
Okuyasu turns to Koichi on his other side. He’s leaning his back against Yukako’s front, and her arms are wrapped tight around his waist like he’s the squishiest teddy bear she’s ever had, her chin resting on the top of his head. It can’t be all that comfortable since she’s considerably taller and has to bend down to do it. Her pointy chin is probably stabbing all the soft spots on his skull.
Koichi smiles, love-stupid, up at her.
Ugh.
Okuyasu decides the best place to look is straight ahead.
There’s a line of ugly yellow cabs idling along the curb, all waiting for someone in need of a ride. One of the drivers is resting his elbow against the open window and sucking on a fat cigar like he’s trying to outdo a chimney. Another one’s got a dog in the front seat, who barks and growls at everyone who walks by, the sharp sound echoing against the concrete, loud over even the roar of engines and people talking. All the noise is starting to make his head hurt.
A single, blaring car horn cuts through it all.
Okuyasu whips his head toward a dark SUV in the outer lane that’s slowly inching forward through the line of traffic. The driver doesn’t let up on the horn, letting it scream for a good couple of seconds like an absolute jackass.
“S’that a Volvo?” Josuke’s breath is warm against his ear.
The back of Okuyasu’s neck breaks out in gooseflesh at the feel of it, their sudden closeness, Josuke’s shoulder pressing warm against his own. Okuyasu forces himself not to fall into the habit of putting his arm around Josuke’s waist and nods. “Yeah. That our ride?”
The Volvo’s passenger window rolls down and there’s Kenta alright, with his tanned skin and dark eyes hidden behind darker, designer sunglasses. He finally lets off the horn and flashes a toothy grin their way.
Okuyasu may not be the brightest guy in the world, but even he’s noticed that Josuke’s got a type. Classic movie-star handsome. Lots of disposable income. Kinda douchey.
He only met Kenta once before, when he came to visit Josuke in Morioh for a whole week back when they’d only been dating a few months. Josuke had been MIA most of the week, but had prodded Okuyasu into going out drinking with them in S-City one night, promising he’d play wingman for him. Okuyasu spent most of that night sitting in a booth and nursing a singular rum and coke while he watched Josuke, off his shit, dance with Kenta. Okuyasu didn’t even get to take anyone home because when Josuke eventually tired himself out, he’d poured himself into the booth seat next to him and hung off his shoulder, scaring away any potential bed partners who came over to chat by jokingly telling them that they weren’t looking for a third.
Kenta had dragged Josuke’s drunk ass home not too long after, and Okuyasu hadn’t felt much like staying any longer either.
Okuyasu’s surprised they’ve lasted this long. Josuke has a history of short-term dating, usually no longer than six months or so, save a few exceptions. With Kenta, it’s especially strange since he lives full time in the States, which means they only sustainably keep in touch by talking over the phone or facetiming or whatever. Josuke’s just so… physically affectionate, and clingy as hell, Okuyasu has a hard time imagining him being okay with only seeing his partner in-person every once in a while.
When Josuke had first told him about Kenta, the super cool guy he’d met during a trip to visit Mr. Joestar, Okuyasu had given them–maybe a bit unfairly–a month, tops.
It’s been eight.
Still, Okuyasu isn’t so sure it’s going well. Josuke barely ever mentions Kenta anymore. Even when he’d said Kenta would be coming along on this trip with them, it felt kind of like an afterthought. An ‘oh yeah, by the way’, instead of a ‘this trip is happening because I want to see Kenta.’ Okuyasu doesn’t have anywhere near as much experience with relationships as Josuke, but he thinks that might be a bad sign.
Not that Okuyasu has been thinking about it a lot, because he hasn’t.
They load their shit into the overly spacious trunk and climb into the SUV. Josuke nabs the front seat only on the merit of the car being his boyfriend’s, while Okuyasu slides into the back with Yukako and Koichi. The interior’s got the acrid smell of plastic and rubber, like Kenta had just driven it off the lot. Okuyasu’s too used to working with cars for it to bother him, but he sees Josuke scrunching his nose up as Kenta leans over the center console to kiss him.
Okuyasu looks out the window so he doesn’t have to see it.
He hears the wet smack of them separating, and then Kenta says: “Hey guys! How was the flight?”
“Long,” Josuke and Yukako say at the same time Koichi says “it wasn’t too bad.”
Okuyasu glances toward Josuke when he hears his following heavy sigh. He slouches down in the passenger seat, looking worn out and grouchy from the plane ride.
Okuyasu can’t blame him, ‘cause he’s feeling it too. He really wants to lay face down in a soft bed and pass out for ten hours, but he’s not gonna get the chance ‘til after they’ve driven through at least a couple states.
He’d never been on a plane before, or gone out of the country, but he’s been on plenty of trips across Japan that went on for what felt like way too long. All those trains and buses, Keicho not speaking to him unless it was to tell him to get up, move over, grab your bag. Their dad spoke even less, lost in his head, irritable and unfriendly.
Okuyasu had asked Josuke why they couldn’t just fly straight to California and save themselves some time, but Josuke said that Kenta had insisted on driving, going on about how Josuke had to see somewhere other than a big city, that America had so much else to offer, blah blah blah. Okuyasu’s pretty sure the guy had only said that shit when he hadn’t known Josuke was bringing three extra people with him and they weren’t gonna get to make love under the stars or whatever the hell was going through his head.
Okuyasu doesn’t feel even a little bad about being a cockblock. In fact, as Kenta gets them onto the highway and tries to talk to Josuke, who is too tired to respond to him with anything more than little half-hearted hums, Okuyasu definitely gets a kick out of it.
They don’t stop for breakfast until they’re out of the big city, which, with all the fuckin’ traffic, takes nearly two hours; by the time they’re being seated on a rustic patio at some overpriced bistro, Okuyasu is seconds away from gnawing on the untreated wooden table.
Their waitress comes around to take their orders before he can get that desperate, so at least he doesn’t have to worry about picking splinters out of his teeth. Okuyasu orders a black coffee and a spinach and goat cheese omelet because it’s the least expensive thing on a menu that’s clearly been designed to stress him out, even at twenty goddamn American dollars.
Once the waitress leaves, and Okuyasu tries not to spiral about how he could make the same omelet for less than five bucks back home, Kenta rests his elbows on the table and leans forward like he’s sharing a secret with them all. He flips his designer sunglasses up to rest on the top of his head, a look that Josuke pulls off much better.
“You guys are gonna love this place,” he says, as if he knows what kind of food any of them like beside Josuke. “I come down here with my sister all the time, seriously cannot get enough of it.”
Across the table, Yukako rests her chin in one hand and gently scratches the back of Koichi’s scalp with her other.
“It’s delightful,” she agrees. Traitor. “So many options.” And she says it like she hadn’t just rattled off an insane list of all the things that cannot, on pain of death, come into contact with Koichi’s order. Blueberries, plums, ricotta cheese, oat milk, oats, shelled peanuts (unshelled is fine), almonds, oyster crackers, raw fish, cooked fish, fish eggs. Et fucking cetera. The poor waitress’s easy smile had gone tight and strained after the first four items and was completely gone by the time Yukako reached the end of her list. Koichi’s still pink in the face from it.
Okuyasu sips his ice water in an effort to get his stomach to stop growling so angrily at him when he feels Josuke lean against him, the skin of his bare arm pressed warm against his own.
“I’ll cover you,” Josuke says, voice low in an attempt to keep the conversation between them.
Okuyasu doesn’t answer right away, swishing the too-cold water around his mouth. It makes his teeth ache.
Josuke knows him too well. He knows Okuyasu doesn’t like to throw his cash around unless he absolutely has to. Still, Okuyasu can’t help the little spark of irritation he feels. Like Josuke thinks he hadn’t brought any spending money on a trip abroad, like he wasn’t prepared to actually spend it. And yeah okay, maybe he wasn’t, really; maybe he’s kind of metaphorically white-knuckling his wallet already over this breakfast, but Josuke already covered his plane ticket (well, his dad did, technically) and it’s not even Okuyasu’s birthday.
“S’cool.” Okuyasu crunches an ice cube and tries to keep the edge out of his voice. “I got it.”
Josuke hums like he’s unconvinced, but doesn’t push it. Okuyasu glances at him.
Josuke’s not drinking his own water, just kind of dragging his fingers over the condensation that’s built up on the outside of the glass, leaving clear streaks in the fog, his fingertips damp with it. He looks haggard from the plane ride, his hair pulled back in a low ponytail, some flyaways escaping from his scrunchie to frame his face. It’s the most imperfect Okuyasu’s seen him in awhile. He looks like he needs to take a twelve hour nap.
He still looks good, despite it.
“Suit yourself.” Josuke says, flicking his blue eyes Okuyasu’s way. “You better let me try a bite of that omelet though.”
“Pfft,” Okuyasu snorts and sucks on another ice cube. “No fuckin’ way, man. Should’a ordered your own if ya wanted one.”
Josuke sticks his bottom lip out in a pout that sends a crack right through Okuyasu’s brittle resolve. He tears his eyes away from Josuke’s mouth to stare into his water instead.
“What kinda shit is that to say to your best friend? It’s my birthday you heartless bastard,” Josuke huffs.
“It ain’t your birthday for two more days!”
Josuke jabs him in the side and calls him a dickhead.
Okuyasu guffaws and tries to squirm away when Josuke does it a second time, stabbing the ticklish spot between his ribs. He raises his hand to retaliate, prepared to dig his fingers into Josuke’s knee, where he’s most ticklish.
He doesn’t get the chance to retaliate, because Kenta peers at the both of them from over Josuke’s shoulder.
“You can have some of mine, babe.” Kenta says, shooting Okuyasu a look over Josuke’s shoulder. He slips his arm around Josuke’s waist, creating a clear barrier between him and Okuyasu, and Josuke turns toward him with a laugh.
Okuyasu lets his hand fall and splits the ice cube in his mouth with his teeth.
When their food comes, Okuyasu doesn’t bother pretending to have good table manners. As soon as that first bite of warm, fluffy egg hits his tongue it’s like it’s possessed him. It’s good, maybe not on Tonio’s level but definitely somewhere in that ballpark. He still doesn’t think it’s worth twenty dollars, but the sting of the price lessens as he practically inhales it.
Josuke perks up a bit more after a few bites of his own lemon and ricotta pancakes, and it doesn’t take long before he’s waving his fork around and loudly telling Kenta all about their extremely long plane ride.
“–Like, how fuckin’ stupid are you? The flight attendant had to come over to help him get his bag in the bin. She literally just turned it sideways and slid it in. And the guy just–” Josuke snorts. “He stands there for a sec and just like, slinks back to his seat ‘cause we all saw the whole thing.”
The story isn’t even that funny, but Kenta laughs obnoxiously anyway. Josuke grins, pleased with himself, and places the piece of syrup-soaked pancake that’s been slowly and dangerously sliding down his fork tongs into his mouth. He moans around it and flutters his dark eyelashes.
“Can you be normal for once?” Yukako asks, rolling her eyes from across the table as she neatly cuts Koichi’s breakfast into bite-sized pieces for him.
“I’m not takin’ criticism about bein’ normal from you,” Josuke says after he’s swallowed, pointing the tongs of his fork at her.
Josuke stabs another piece of his pancake and turns toward Okuyasu so suddenly, he nearly bumps his elbow into his water glass.
“Dude! You gotta try this, s’way better than some stupid omelet,” Josuke says, aggressively waving his fork between them like he might take the initiative and shove it in Okuyasu’s mouth. Okuyasu opens for him to avoid any potential stabbing and lets Josuke feed him the offered pancake. He chews it slowly, really trying to suss out all the flavors, and makes a list of the ingredients he thinks he tastes so he can try his hand at making them back home, if Josuke likes them so much. Okuyasu swallows and nods his head in approval.
Josuke grins, bright enough to make his eyes crinkle. Before Okuyasu can think to block him, he uses his empty fork to steal a piece of omelet Okuyasu hadn’t already scarfed down.
“Oi!” Okuyasu protests, but it’s too late. Josuke’s already put it in his mouth, his lips twisting into a sly smile around his fork. “Fucker,” Okuyasu grumbles without much heat behind it.
“So, Kenta.” Koichi says. He’s immediately cut off by Yukako tenderly holding his chin to feed him a slice of banana. He smiles shyly at her and swallows, showing off his best manners before he opens his mouth again. “Um, Josuke said you had some places planned out for us to see.”
Kenta doesn’t immediately reply. When Okuyasu glances at him, the guy’s already looking back, his mouth a thin, flat line. The eye contact seems to get the gears in his head turning again though, ‘cause he turns back to Koichi, his expression hidden by Josuke between them.
“Yeah,” Kenta says. “Nothing too special since we don’t have a lot of time.”
The way he says it sounds pointed, tight around the edges. Okuyasu has always been pretty good at picking up the subtle changes in people’s tones and the way they hold themselves, their body language. He had to be to survive the place he grew up. He glances at Josuke, who doesn’t seem like he’s noticed, and wonders if they had an argument or something. Maybe he’s upset about not getting alone time with Josuke.
They finish their breakfast and when the waitress comes back to hand out the split bills, Okuyasu tries not to feel some kind of way about being the only one on his own tab. He downs what’s left of his lukewarm coffee and wishes they’d brought another person with them. Maybe Mikitaka, even though the dude’s kinda weird. At least then they’d have an even number and he wouldn’t feel so singled out. He’s already not looking forward to wherever they’re sleeping tonight, knowing he’s going to be in a room all by himself.
“You guys go on, we’ll catch up in a second,” Kenta says when they start to head back to the car.
Okuyasu glances back to see that Kenta’s got a hand around Josuke’s elbow. They’re lingering near the patio entrance. Josuke meets his eyes and shrugs his shoulders. Okuyasu makes his way to the car with Yukako and Koichi.
Okuyasu doesn’t climb in with them, instead standing beside the open door to not so subtly watch Josuke and his boyfriend through the tinted glass of the window. They’re keeping their voices low so they don’t carry the twenty odd feet to the car. Okuyasu can’t hear what they’re saying. Kenta is smiling at Josuke though. He tenderly tucks a stray lock of hair behind Josuke’s ear and leans up to kiss him.
Okuyasu tears himself away from the scene to get into the car, his stomach tight.
He slams the door shut behind him and slouches in his seat to pull his phone out, just to give himself something to focus on that’s not Kenta putting his hands all over Josuke. There’s nothing in his inbox except a text from some scam number with a link to a chatroom full of ‘hot milfs in your area! xo’ and an automated message from his bank asking if he’d used his credit card in New York, New York, USA. Okuyasu sighs and deletes the milf text and lets his bank know it had been him, even though the temptation to dispute the twenty dollar omelet is tempting.
Okuyasu glances beside. Yukako raises an eyebrow at him over Koichi’s head, but thankfully doesn’t say anything to him. He curls toward the window and opens his chat with Josuke to re-read the last few messages they’d sent each other.
unvaccinated homophobe: o-|-<
porked top cuck 🏅: Y is ur nck so long
unvaccinated homophobe: ITS NORMAL LENGTH!!
porked top cuck 🏅: o-|-<
porked top cuck 🏅: Same length as ur torso???
unvaccinated homophobe: o--------------------------|-<
unvaccinated homophobe: fuck you
porked top cuck 🏅: Holy shit
unvaccinated homophobe: are u coming over soon or what ?? mom’s gonna be here at assrrack of dawn i want to sleep
porked top cuck 🏅: Yayayaya im omw u wnt me2 pick smth up from tnios?
unvaccinated homophobe: too far, just make me food when u get here
porked top cuck 🏅: :/ Fine. Princess ass. B ther in like 20 mns
unvaccinated homophobe: :*
He snorts at the messages and closes the screen to open his PetApp instead. Tonio is watching Stray for him, but Okuyasu likes being able to check in even when he’s not halfway around the world. The car doors open. Okuyasu looks up while the camera is loading to see Kenta and Josuke piling into the front seats. The engine gently rumbles as Kenta turns the ignition, and he reaches up to adjust the rearview mirror, his eyes meeting Okuyasu’s in the reflection.
“You guys ready to get on the road?”
There’s a chorus of agreement from his friends, and then they’re pulling away from the curb and back into traffic. Okuyasu turns his attention back to his app to see Stray batting the absolute fuck out of a pair of sandals. He snickers and taps the record button so he can send it to Josuke.
Okuyasu spends much of the next few hours with his forehead pressed against the window to watch the scenery fly by. Even once they’ve made it out of the big city, there’s just… more city. It’s like a never ending parade of buildings and houses and signs, so at odds with the layout back home, where civilization sits in little pockets and you don’t have to go very far at all to reach rolling green hills and rice paddy farms. America is just so fucking big, it feels like the road stretches on forever and they’re never going to reach the other end of it.
The car’s not exactly comfortable for what’s going to amount to about fifty hours of driving either. It’s roomy for sure, enough to fit the five of them, but Okuyasu can’t really stretch his legs out, especially sitting behind Kenta, who’s got his seat pushed so far back Okuyasu is sure he’s doing it on purpose.
In the front passenger seat, Josuke is tapping away at his phone again and Okuyasu can see the dark UI of his music library. He’d made a playlist for their roadtrip, had sent it to Okuyasu a couple times to ask if he had any suggestions, and then rejected all of them because the songs Okuyasu linked him weren’t the right vibe. God, Josuke is so annoying about music sometimes. Once Okuyasu realized Josuke wasn’t going to accept any of his legitimate song choices, he’d started sending him shit like Staple Tape Worms on My Penis just to fuck with him.
Josuke hadn’t asked him for any more songs after that.
The current song fades out, the last few beats getting lost beneath the roar of the car. Okuyasu recognizes the first notes of the next song instantly, that funky keyboard sound underlying a spoken intro almost as familiar to him as Josuke’s own voice for how often he’s heard it.
“Prince?” Kenta drags out the name with an exasperated sigh. “I thought you were making a road trip playlist.”
Josuke whips his head up so fast it makes Okuyasu wince, and he levels Kenta with a look so nasty it could strip paint off a wall, bristling and immediately on the defensive. “Prince belongs on any playlist! You can’t tell me “Let's Go Crazy” isn’t a road trip song.”
“I mean…”
Okuyasu can’t see Kenta from here but it sounds like he’s regretting opening his mouth. He should. Eight months is more than enough time to know he can’t badmouth Prince around Josuke, even jokingly.
“It’s not what I would have picked,” Kenta says.
“Well, good thing it’s my playlist then, huh?” Josuke’s got his lips pursed, thumb hovering over his phone like he’s about to subject them all to nothing but Prince for the next five hours for the insult.
“I like this song,” Koichi pipes up from his spot beside Okuyasu, hands on his knees and sitting upright like he’s at a parent-teacher meeting and waiting for someone to say something nice about him.
“That’s ‘cause you have somethin’ called taste, Koichi.” Josuke says.
Koichi preens under the compliment.
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” Kenta mutters, barely heard over the song that Josuke is dialing up the volume of.
The speaker in the door vibrates against Okuyasu’s leg, sending a pleasant thrum up his thigh to settle in his chest. He bobs his head with it and starts to sing along to lyrics he’s heard a million times. “If you don’t like…the world you’re livin’ in…”
Josuke twists around in his seat, eyes wide and a little manic, sparkling with excitement. “Take a look around!” He sings over Prince, perfectfully pitched and in tune. “At least you got friends!”
They sing along, getting louder and louder until they reach the chorus, ignoring Yukako’s yelling for them to shut the hell up. Koichi tries to jump in with them, half-mumbling the parts he doesn’t know and shouting the ones he does. When the song finally comes to an end with an outro guitar riff, they’re giggling and Okuyasu falls back against his seat with a toothy grin. Josuke matches it and doesn’t protest when Kenta dials the volume back down for the next song.
“You have a lovely singing voice, Koichi,” Yukako coos, scratching her nails along the back of Koichi’s head.
Josuke and Okuyasu share an eye roll.
“Man,” Josuke says, leaning his arm on the center console to turn further in his seat, his voice taking on a whiny tone. “We haven’t been to a concert in so long. You remember that Dir En Grey show we went to in S-City?”
Okuyasu nods his head. “Yeah, dude. I remember you gettin’ wasted and havin’ to drag you outta the pit.”
Josuke’s cheeks go a little pink. “No way, I don’t remember that.”
“Yeah, bet you don’t.” Okuyasu laughs. “That was a fun show. You guys should’a seen him, didn’t know a single fuckin’ word to any of the songs and dancin’ like an asshole.”
“Dude, shut the fuck up!” Josuke reaches back to punch him in the knee, only to pull his hand back and shake it out with a hiss when he hits the bone.
Okuyasu laughs at him and frantically reaches for his phone. “I think I got some pictures still, hang on.”
“I’ll kill you, actually. Don’t!” Josuke threatens, but he doesn’t look very intimidating with his messy hair and rumpled t-shirt so Okuyasu keeps scrolling through his photo gallery.
“Sounds like a good time,” Kenta says from the front seat with a little laugh. “Reminds me of that time we–babe, you remember?”
Josuke hums and rests his chin in his palm to look at Kenta.
“C’mon, you remember. When I got us reservations to Casa Mono,” he glances toward the back seat. “That’s this nice Mexican place, right near Irving Plaza. Haha, they were charging, what, forty dollars a bottle? You remember who was playing that night?”
Okuyasu’s grip on his phone tightens at the reminder of just how wealthy this guy is, how he can afford to do all these things for Josuke on the regular. Things that Okuyasu would have to save up for months to manage even getting a foot in the door to some of these places. Hell, Josuke had been the one to buy them those Dir En Grey tickets, just because Okuyasu said he wanted to go but couldn’t afford it.
Okuyasu had only been able to buy him a few drinks that night as repayment.
“Wasn’t it Billie Eilish?” Josuke says.
“You saw Billie Eilish?” Yukako claws Josuke’s headrest. “In New York?”
“Yep!” Kenta sounds so fucking smug about it. “Private balcony and everything. Best seats you could ask for.”
“Yeah, it was pretty cool,” Josuke says. “She sounds the exact same live.”
Okuyasu finds the pictures. They’re from two years ago; there’s one of him and Josuke before they left Josuke’s apartment, grinning into the camera with their heads pressed together. Josuke had gone goth for the occasion, black on red on more black. He’d never listened to Dir En Grey before, but he did his homework on them before the show, so he’d know what kind of outfit to coordinate. He’d even gone as far as to line his eyes with black eyeliner, and had rounded on Okuyasu immediately after with the pen so they’d match. The next few pictures are all of Josuke after they’d gotten to the venue, blurry and a little out of focus, his cheeks getting redder the more drinks Okuyasu bought for him. The last one is of the both of them in the Uber ride home after with stupid, drunken smiles.
Okuyasu decides he doesn’t want to share them.
Kenta is still going on about how incredible the Billie Eilish concert had been, how much his stupid private balcony had cost, so Okuyasu goes back to leaning against the window and zones out.
They’ve more or less run out of city by now, the buildings finally giving way to all that grand open road he’s seen in a million different Hollywood movies. There’s a lot more corn fields than he’d been expecting though. Once they cross the border into Pennsylvania, they’re surrounded on all sides by the crop, tall and green and swaying in the wind, growing so close together someone could easily hide in the stalks.
Every few minutes he spots weatherbeaten scarecrows standing above the masses, stuffed into denim overalls, hay spilling out of every opening. Some of them even have faces drawn on the burlap that acts as their heads. Their expressions aren’t angry like Okuyasu would expect from something meant to frighten away an animal, but bright, smiling, like someone put all their care into crafting a happy little dude to watch over their field.
He wonders if they get lonely with all that space between them. On the job twenty-four seven without a friend to keep them company, smiling through the wind and rain and fearless birds who come to peck at them or steal nuggets of gold from beneath their watch. They’ll be stuck in those spots until they fall apart at the seams and all that hay rots back into the dirt.
Okuyasu lets his eyes drift shut and dreams of being strung up on a post over a field of wheat so gold it’s like the sun is sprouting beneath his feet. He waves at the cars that drive by and his cheeks hurt from smiling.
He startles awake sometime later, head foggy with sleep, to the sound of a car door slamming. With a groan, he straightens up and peels his face from where it’s sticking to the window. He rubs at the trail of dry spit on his chin with the back of his hand.
“Hey dude.”
Okuyasu glances up to see Josuke turned in his seat. He realizes the car’s stopped and it’s just the two of them in here, parked next to an idling pickup truck.
“Where’re we?” He asks. His voice is rough from sleep. He peers through the window where he sees a beat up old sign for Ruthie’s Diner sitting outside an equally run-down but well-loved red brick building. Kenta’s already out there, stretching his arms above his head while Yukako and Koichi admire some…enormous statue of a red weiner dog to the left of the entrance that looks like it belongs at a carnival rather than outside a diner in the middle of Buttfuck Nowhere.
“It was the only food place for thirty miles,” Josuke says with a half-shrug. He climbs out of the passenger seat and Okuyasu finds the willpower to open his own door and climb out after him. It feels good to stand up again, stretch his legs out from how cramped they’d been sitting behind Kenta. He takes the time to shake them out and twists side to side until his spine pops.
The door jingles as they make their way into the diner. They’re greeted by a short, chubby woman with a large smile who spits rapid-fire English at them with such a heavy accent it makes Okuyasu’s head spin. He doesn’t catch a single word of it and nervously flicks his eyes over to Josuke, who looks just as bewildered, his eyebrows creeping up his forehead.
Kenta cuts in before the silence can get too awkward and says something back to her in his own perfect American-raised English. She nods, still smiling, and leads them through the small restaurant to the only booth that’ll fit them all.
Except it doesn’t actually. Maybe it’d fit five teenage girls just fine, but Kenta and Josuke take up the entirety of one bench all by themselves, without much extra space. On the other side, Koichi and Yukako had enough room left to fit maybe someone like Rohan, but Okuyasu is too big for the spot, and with the look Yukako is giving him, he’s pretty sure she’d stab him if he tried to squeeze in next to her. Okuyasu stays standing beside the nice-looking American lady at the edge of the table.
“Here,” Josuke says, already scooting inward, forcing a protesting Kenta up against the window. He pats the sliver of bright red cushion that’s definitely seen better days beside him. Okuyasu goes for it, not minding that his ass will be half off the seat so long as he gets to sit. It’s a tight fit, him and Josuke squished beside each other as close as they can be without ending up in each other’s laps. He has to keep his legs muscles flexed to keep himself upright and he can only rest one arm on the table.
Josuke’s warm against his side.
He doesn’t mind.
Kenta opens his big mouth again and asks the American lady for another chair to put at the end of the table. She laughs and says something in her heavy accent that sounds like agreement. Okuyasu's face goes warm. It feels like she’s laughing at him.
She drags a chair from another table to sit at the end of the booth and looks at Okuyasu expectantly. Okuyasu looks at the chair, and, embarrassed, pulls away from Josuke’s side to slide into it. He quietly thanks the lady and takes the big, laminated menu when she offers it to him.
Eating almost always makes him feel better, so Okuyasu orders ten times as much food for a fraction of the cost of that bistro they went to for breakfast. He mows through a hamburger, fries, biscuits and gravy, one of the sliders he manages to steal off Josuke’s plate, and half a milkshake. It does make him feel better, all that greasy comfort food filling his stomach until he feels like he might burst.
He waits until they get outside to burp into Josuke’s ear, just for the hell of it. Josuke punches him for it, right in the stomach, and Okuyasu keels over with a wheeze and tries not to lose his lunch.
“Don’t be a drama queen, I didn’t hit you that fuckin’ hard,” Josuke says, his hand finding a place against Okuyasu’s bowed back to give him a few heavy smacks.
“Fuck, dude,” Okuyasu straightens up with a laugh once his stomach stops roiling. “If I do end up pukin’, I’m aimin’ for you.”
Josuke shoves his head and Okuyasu shoves back, cackling. “‘M gonna get it aaaaaaall over those fancy shoes you got on!”
“You even try that and we’re through,” Josuke threatens.
“Ugh, can you not talk about vomit after we’ve just eaten?” Yukako complains with her arms crossed; she looks a little ill, pale in the face. “I think I just ate my body weight in animal fat.”
Okuyasu sticks his tongue out at her and lets up on bullying Josuke for a minute to link their arms together. Josuke tries to squirm away from him but Okuyasu flexes his bicep and holds him there, shooting him a grin. Josuke rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.
“Hey, so uh,” Kenta pops their bubble like a particularly pointy needle and presses close to Josuke’s other side. He slips one of his fingers into Josuke’s belt loop and gives it a little tug, his eyes on Okuyasu. “We got a few more hours ‘til we hit dark, was thinking we’d stop at a motel after the sun goes down.”
“Ugh,” Josuke whines like Kenta just asked him to stick his hand in a pile of ants. “This is why I didn’t want to drive, fucking motels.”
Okuyasu breaks eye contact with Kenta to look at Josuke. “Aw, too bad we didn’t grab any camping shit, we could’a found a campground somewhere.”
“Fuck that, camping’s even worse! I ain’t takin’ a bath in some dirty reptile-infested pond.”
“Actually, reptiles don’t swim,” Koichi says. “You’re thinking of amphibians.”
“Whatever, man! Camping fucking sucks, all those bugs and sleeping on the ground and shit,” Josuke says with finality and pulls away from Okuyasu’s grip again. This time, Okuyasu lets him go.
Kenta catches his eyes again over Josuke’s shoulder and the guy’s got the corner of his mouth twitching upward into a smirk, like he’s loving the idea of Josuke hating Okuysau’s suggestion. Okuyasu’s mood plummets again with that look and he quickly turns away before he does something stupid like bare his teeth at him.
“...Koichi, you should know by now that reptiles can and do live near water and can even swim. We’re going to have to brush up on your biology when we get home,” Yukako says.
“A…ah…yes, ma’am,” Koichi’s face goes a little pink and Okuyasu has to turn away from that whole exchange with a shudder.
“Hey,” Josuke says, loud enough for all of them to hear. He’s ditched Kenta and is standing over by that big ugly weiner dog, jerking his thumb toward it. “We should get a picture with this thing. Oku, you wanna climb up with me?”
Okuyasu doesn’t really want to take a picture with the stupid dog, but Josuke had asked him and not Kenta, so he marches over. Josuke’s already got a grip on its collar and is trying to hoist himself up, but it’s too tall and there’s nowhere to put his foot.
Okuyasu makes a show of pretending to roll up his sleeves and bends at the knees behind him to wrap his arms around Josuke’s thighs. With a grunt, he lifts him up and off the ground. Above him, Josuke yelps and windmills his arms in an effort to stay upright, before getting both his hands on the dog’s back for stability.
“Dude,” Okuyasu wheezes under Josuke’s weight, pressing his cheek against Josuke’s ample backside. “How the fuck do you fit in these jeans with such a fat fucking ass.”
“Shut up, dickhead! Just ‘cause you can’t sit down without breaking your ass bones–” Josuke snarks back, still trying to find something to grab onto so he can pull himself up. “Lift me higher.”
Okuyasu strains to do just that, and nearly gets kicked in the head for his trouble when Josuke manages to finally heave himself onto the dog’s back. Okuyasu puts his hands on his hips and looks up at him with a frown. “Alright, now how the hell’m I supposed to get up there?”
Josuke leans over and reaches both his hands toward him. It takes even more effort, Josuke straining to pull Okuyasu up to him, but they do manage to both get up there. Okuyasu settles into the spot in front of Josuke and grabs onto the dog’s ears. The red paint is chipped on them, worn from years of people doing just what he and Josuke are.
Yukako is giving them a withering look, but it’s got nothing on the death stare Kenta’s shooting him. Okuyasu ignores him and tries to instead enjoy the feeling of Josuke pressed against his back. Josuke’s arms loop around his middle and he digs his chin into Okuyasu’s shoulder, posing for Koichi who’s grinning at them from the ground, his phone raised.
“Say um…uh, Pennsylvania!”
Okuyasu sticks his tongue out and flips the bird, both at the camera and anyone else who might be watching as Koichi snaps a couple photos. Once Josuke’s satisfied, Okuyasu slides off the dog and back to the ground. He turns around with the intention of helping Josuke down, but Kenta appears at his side like a fucking slasher and Okuyasu nearly jumps out of his skin. He leaves him to it and shuffles back over to Yukako and Koichi with his hands shoved in his pockets.
“Anyone wanna take shotgun?” Josuke asks, a little winded, as he and Kenta head over to them, hand in hand. “I’m probably gonna pass out, not much point takin’ front.”
“I’ll take it,” Yukako jumps at the opportunity.
They change up their seats in the car. Okuyasu takes the middle so Josuke can have the window to lean against, and Koichi takes the seat behind Yukako, who gives him plenty of room he doesn’t need for his tiny little legs. They get back on the road and Okuyasu pulls out his phone to look at the pictures Koichi had sent in their group chat. They’re nice pictures, Okuyasu can admit, even if his mood is still pretty dour. Josuke’s smile is tired but bright in all of them, his cheek squished against Okuyasu’s. He can still feel the warm echo of it. Okuyasu saves them all to his gallery, and makes the one where he and Josuke are both flashing peace signs his new wallpaper.
After ten or twenty minutes of losing the same level of Candy Crush, he feels a weight against his shoulder. When he peeks over, Josuke’s leaning his head against him, his loose hair tickling Okuyasu’s neck. Josuke’s eyes are closed, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, not asleep yet but trying to get there. Okuyasu swallows around his rabbit quick pulse and hopes Josuke doesn’t hear it.
He glances up and catches Kenta looking at them in the rearview mirror, his eyes narrowed.
Okuyasu kind of wants to stare him down, but Kenta’s driving and he doesn’t actually want to die if the guy doesn’t get his eyes back on the road. He drops his head back down to stare at his phone, even as he feels the prickle of Kenta’s gaze lingering on him. Okuyasu does his best to ignore it and opens Candy Crush back up to lose some more.
They drive and drive and drive some more, until the sun disappears and the sky and the road meld together in the dark. There’s no street lights out this far, so all Okuyasu can see from the windows are the dark outlines of trees in the distance. When they finally pull off the freeway and into the parking lot of a roadside motel, Okuyasu can’t help the sigh of relief that comes with getting to stretch his legs for the first time in about six hours. The night air isn’t exactly cool against his skin, but it is refreshing, a nice change from the car stuffed with too many bodies. He’s also more than happy to put some distance between him and Kenta, who hadn’t stopped glaring at him until Josuke woke up from his little nap.
Okuyasu is hungry, but he’s more tired and jetlagged, so when Koichi suggests heading up the street for some food, he declines and heads up to his single-occupancy room before Josuke can turn the puppy dog eyes on him.
The place really isn’t so bad, no matter how much Josuke wants to complain about it. Okuyasu has slept in plenty of shitty places over the years. Hotels, motels, truck stops, and on one very notable occasion, a homeless shelter so shoddily put together the carpets were sopping wet from the storm raging on outside. This motel’s actually pretty nice compared to most of them.
There’s a dresser with an outdated TV sitting atop it, across from a double bed with an ugly yellow comforter which, at least, doesn’t have any suspicious stains. Okuyasu finds the remote and turns the TV on for some background noise before he belly flops onto the bed. It bounces under his weight, the springs creaking uneasily for a moment before it settles. He presses his face into a faintly fresh-scented pillow and tries to let the tension from the day drain out of him, sinking into the bed as he lets the quiet sound of rapidfire English wash over him.
He blinks awake sometime later to a knock at the door. The six raps with a weird sort of musical rhythm to them can only be Josuke, so Okuyasu peels himself away from the bedspread to answer him.
“Hey dude,” Josuke says when the door opens, a small smile on his face. His forehead is shiny with sweat from walking around in the heat, his cheeks a little pink. He holds out a styrofoam box that’s got Okuyasu’s name scrawled on top of it in black pen in Josuke’s handwriting.
“Got you a burger,” Josuke says as Okuyasu takes the container from him. “It’s probably a little cold, sorry. There’s some fries in there too. Think I saw a microwave down in the front office if you wanna risk it.”
“Thanks, dude.” Cold or not, Okuyasu can already smell the food through the styrofoam and it makes his stomach growl. “How much do I–”
Josuke waves him off. “Just pay for me next time we eat.”
“Sure, yeah. S’long as it ain’t some fancy place again.”
“What, you sayin’ I ain’t worth it?” Josuke teases him, his brow wrinkling as he sticks out his bottom lip.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m sayin,” Okuyasu nods with a cheeky grin of his own.
“Ouch.” Josuke loses the pout to snicker. “Words hurt, yanno?”
“Josuke,” someone says.
Josuke looks away from Okuyasu to glance sidelong. Okuyasu doesn’t need to poke his head out of the door to know it’s Kenta, who’s probably looking for some alone time with Josuke, being his boyfriend and all. Okuyasu lets his grin fall but tries not to scowl, tries to keep the line of his mouth as neutral as he can.
“Yeah, yeah, one sec,” Josuke says. He turns back to Okuyasu, who thinks he’s failed on the not-scowling bit because the look Josuke gives him is a little worrisome. “Hey.” Josuke drops his voice a little lower, like he doesn’t want Kenta to hear. “You want me to come hang out for a bit?”
Despite the nap in the car, Josuke’s still got bags under his half-lidded eyes. He looks as tired as Okuyasu feels and as much as Okuyasu does want Josuke’s company, wants to sit and make fun of American TV with him, he knows he’s not going to be very good company right now. Not good enough to be worth Josuke staying up late anyway. Plus he’s pretty sure Kenta would have something to say about it.
“Nah,” Okuyasu says, even though he really wants to say otherwise. “I’m gonna eat and then pass the fuck out. Thanks, man.”
Josuke doesn’t exactly frown at him, but it’s a close thing. He looks like he’s about ready to push forward into Okuyasu’s space, barge past him to take a seat in his room whether he likes it or not. He doesn’t do that. Instead, he takes a half step back with a shrug that looks more nonchalant than it probably is and says: “Alright, night then.” Josuke turns away to head back to his and Kenta’s room and Okuyasu shuts the door against the balmy air.
He locks it and sets the deadbolt before crawling into bed to eat the cold burger and soggy fries and tries not to think about the fact that he’s the only one on this trip without a roommate. Okuyasu’s used to being alone and spent a lot of time trying to avoid his dad or Keicho when he was a kid, back when being alone was a good thing. It’s not as easy now, not when he’s grown so used to having Josuke, who thinks nothing of throwing an arm around his shoulders, who listens to Okuyasu talk too much and only ever tells him to shut up as a joke.
Okuyasu wants to blame Kenta for how shitty he’s feeling, but knows it’s his own damn fault. Josuke made it pretty clear that nothing was going to happen between them when he’d broken off their arrangement years ago. Okuyasu just needs to get over it already.
He sighs through his nose and tosses the empty styrofoam container in the vague direction of the trash bin. It misses and flips over, spilling sad fry nuggets all over the floor. Okuyasu decides he’ll pick it up in the morning and slips under the covers. After a moment of laying there, his phone buzzes in his pocket. With a grunt of effort, he pulls it out and turns onto his side to squint at the screen. Josuke’s username pops up along with an image of two frogs sitting side by side.
unvaccinated homophobe: us
Okuyasu smiles at his phone like an idiot and taps out a reply.
porked top cuck 🏅: Us
He watches the three little ellipses dance as Josuke types something else.
unvaccinated homophobe: how was burger?
porked top cuck 🏅: Gud. Cold af tho :/
unvaccinated homophobe: mm cold meat
porked top cuck 🏅: Lmfao stfu cold meat
Okuyasu’s thumbs hover over his keyboard as he tries to think of something else to say, not wanting to let the conversation die already. Josuke’s already typing again though, so he clicks off the text box and waits for another message to pop up.
unvaccinated homophobe: kenta turned on some crime show and now he’s in the shower. i have no idea whats goin on. justin bieber is here ??
porked top cuck 🏅: Oh sht i think he wuz on an ep uh????? CSI ???
unvaccinated homophobe: wtf why
unvaccinated homophobe: omg he just bombed a place wtf
Josuke gives him live updates on the episode which, as it turns out, is pretty easy to understand even without being completely fluent in English. Halfway through, Okuyasu asks him what channel it’s on so he can watch along with him. It’s dumb, but fun. Kind of feels like a sleepover they might have had in high school at Josuke’s mom’s house, if it wasn’t for the wall separating them.
Eventually, the episode ends and goes onto the next, which is less interesting just because there’s no Canadian super star in it, and Josuke’s responses get slower until they finally stop altogether. Okuyasu stares down at their message history and wonders if Josuke’s finally passed out, phone on his chest and sprawled out like a starfish in the bed. Okuyasu should probably do the same thing; they’re going to be leaving pretty early in the morning and the car isn’t exactly a comfortable place for a nap. His neck still has a crick in it from what little sleep he’d gotten in today.
He shuts off the TV and plugs his phone into the wall with his shitty charging cable that’s more duct tape than anything at this point and thanks whatever higher power is out there that it still works. The room is quiet in the dark, even the AC unit under the window isn’t running anymore, having cooled the room down to something a little less sweltering. Okuyasu closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
The peace is ruined by a low, familiar sounding moan that cuts through the silence from the other side of the wall that’s apparently thinner than a piece of fucking paper.
Okuyasu’s eyes pop open. No. No. He is not hearing what he thinks he’s hearing.
There’s another moan, and then a faint, rhythmic tapping of a bed frame against a wall that tells him yes, he is hearing Kenta and Josuke go at it next door. So much for being a cockblock. That explains why Josuke had stopped replying to his messages.
Okuyasu’s face burns. He presses the heels of his hands into his eye sockets and vows to make sure his room is nowhere near Josuke and Kenta’s at the next place they stay. He yanks his pillow out from under his head and presses it over his face, over his ears, to muffle the sound. It helps some, but Josuke is fucking loud, and those little hnn, hn, hn, noises may as well be coming from someone who’s in the room with him.
Mercifully, the AC unit finally kicks on after what feels like an eternity, and the motor is so obnoxious it drowns out the sounds coming from next door. Okuyasu squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to relax, to try and fall asleep before the AC unit turns off again and he has to hear anything else.
Okuyasu wakes up to a dull ache in his shoulders from the shitty mattress and in an even worse mood than the one he’d gone to bed with. He can feel it pressing down on his chest, squeezing every good feeling out of him. The AC is on, rumbling too loud and too close from its place beneath the window and Okuyasu wants to go over there and kick it until it stops.
He showers and shaves and greases his hair back, following his usual routine in an attempt to pull himself out from under the dark cloud that hovers over his head. It doesn’t really help, especially not when he cuts himself with the razor and erases it with The Hand in an outburst of rage that he immediately regrets as that was the only razor he had. His Stand doesn’t seem interested in giving it back to him any time soon, just like everything else Okuyasu has ever accidentally swiped out of existence, and Okuyasu tries his best to not put an actual hole into the wall with his fist because then he’d have to go grab Josuke to fix it and that would just be embarrassing.
The car arrangement does not help any.
Kenta’s decided he wants a break from driving, so Koichi is behind the wheel this morning, the seat brought almost all the way forward to accommodate for his short legs. Yukako hopped into the passenger seat before anyone could stop her, which left Okuyasu, Josuke, and Kenta in the backseat together. It’s a tight fit. Okuyasu’s arm is sweating from where he and Josuke are pressed against each other. At least Josuke had bit the bullet and taken the middle seat, even if he’d bitched about it. If Okuyasu had to sit all cozied up next to Kenta he’s not sure what he’d do.
They get food from some drive-thru chain and Okuyasu stares out the window and eats his greasy breakfast sandwich, trying desperately to ignore the cooing Yukako is doing from the front seat as she hand-feeds Koichi bite-sized pieces of a burrito. It’s really hard to zone out and stare at the passing sidewalk though because Josuke keeps shifting in his seat every five seconds, scooting back and leaning to the side and pressing his thigh against Okuyasu’s only to move it away again a moment later. Like he just can’t get comfortable.
Okuyasu twists his head to look at him, the word ‘dude’ right on the tip of his tongue. He spots a big, dark hickey along the side of his neck, the collar of Josuke’s shirt doing absolutely nothing to hide it, and remembers why, exactly, Josuke might be having trouble sitting still today. Okuyasu’s ears burn and he jerks his head back toward the window and feels his stomach plummet along with his mood.
Josuke nudges him, tries to pull him into talking, but Okuyasu just grunts at him and keeps his head against the window. He doesn’t want to risk opening his mouth and saying something stupid or mean, so he keeps it shut and grinds his teeth together and hopes no one can hear it.
Yukako fills the silence with stories of her and Koichi’s first date, then their second date, then that time she took Koichi on a romantic cruise around the world and they got dirty on every available surface. Josuke and Okuyasu have suffered through these stories about a million times, so it doesn’t really phase him anymore, but the little hums and uncomfortable throat clearing coming from Kenta is enough to make Okuyasu glad that Yukako hasn’t shut up yet.
Josuke gets fed up eventually, though.
“Yukako,” Josuke sighs. “I really don’t want to hear about Koichi’s refractory period again.”
“Again?” Kenta asks.
“Aha,” Koichi giggles uncomfortably from the driver’s seat. “Y-Yeah, we really don’t need to get into all that,” he says, jumping on the out Josuke has given him, even though he’d been too much of a coward to tell Yukako to shut up himself.
Yukako hmphs, and while Okuyasu can’t see her, he’s sure she’s rolling her eyes. “Suit yourself. I think the human body is quite fascinating, especially in how it reacts when it comes to matters of the heart.”
Josuke mutters under his breath, exasperated. “Alright well, I think I’ve heard enough about you and Koichi’s bedroom habits to last ten lifetimes, so talk about something else.”
A silence follows, like Yukako doesn’t even know what to talk about if it doesn’t involve Koichi in some way. Okuyasu knows she does, though. Like last week when they’d all met up at the cafe and she’d gone on about this book she’d been reading about medieval torture. She had gotten a little too enthusiastic when talking about castration and Koichi had sort of gone red in the face and not so subtly covered his lap with his bag.
Aw fuck, Okuyasu had just put that out of his head.
“Well, what do you expect us to talk about?” Yukako asks as unkindly as possible. “Your healthy and thriving relationship? Don’t make me laugh.”
“What? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Josuke barks out a laugh.
“Well, you know,” Yukako waves her hand. “I just wonder about the longevity of you and Kenji’s relationship from what I’ve seen, that’s all.”
“Oh, from what you’ve seen, huh? I’m not locking him in a closet and making him piss his pants so our relationship is doomed?” Josuke says, his voice taking a hard edge.
It’s not unusual for Josuke and Yukako to get into arguments. Usually it’s about stupid shit like who got the last slice of pizza, or who got to have Koichi for the day. Okuyasu can’t remember a time Yukako’s ever had an opinion on Josuke’s relationships, at least not one she felt like sharing with everybody.
Okuyasu shifts in his seat, uncomfortable.
“Um, it’s Kenta–also–what–”
The glare Yukako shoots Josuke is so acidic, Okuyasu can feel it burning the back of his neck.
“We’re not talking about Koichi and me right now,” she hisses.
Yukako and Josuke are getting louder, and Okuyasu’s hackles are rising along with their voices. He’s never been good around people yelling. It makes him sweat, it makes his heart race. There’s a buzzing sound in his head that’s growing louder between his ears.
“Oh weird, aren’t you always?”
“Hey, if you’ve got a problem with me–” Kenta tries to interject, raising his voice along with Josuke and Yukako.
“You stay out of it!” Josuke and Yukako both snap at the exact same time. A tense silence follows. Kenta doesn’t say anything else.
“...Awfully defensive, aren’t you?” Yukako sniffs, diving right back in. “I’m just saying, Kentaro is right next to you but you're cuddling with Okuyasu.”
“We’re not–I’m not cuddling with anybody!”
“Hmm.”
“You’re such a fucking bitch!”
“I’m the bitch?! Who was it that called me at two in the morning the other night because–”
“Shut up!”
Okuyasu loses the thread. Josuke and Yukako’s voices turn to white noise, drowned out by the ringing in his ears. His palms are sweaty against his pant legs and he has to close his eyes against the scenery rushing by. Breathing gets harder and his shoulders heave as he struggles to draw air into his lungs.
He hears someone curse. A hand on his shoulder pulls Okuyasu back to the present. The ringing in his ears starts to dim, replaced by the sound of Josuke saying his name.
“Okuyasu, hey. Pull over, already!”
The car screeches to a halt that has Okuyasu’s seat belt digging into his chest. As soon as he gets his hands working, Okuyasu throws the door open and wrestles out of it and onto the pavement. He can feel the heat of it even through the rubber soles of his sneakers. The air is just as warm against his skin, but it’s infinitely less stuffy than the car had been. It grounds him. Okuyasu takes a deep, shuddering breath.
Koichi had pulled into the parking lot of a rundown gas station that’s got four whole pumps. Two of them don’t even look like they’re working. There’s a dinky little store with a cardboard sign propped in the window, proclaiming that they're open with big, blocky letters.
Thank fuck.
Okuyasu pats his back pocket for his wallet and heads inside to buy some much needed cigarettes and a soda.
They don’t have his usual brand, so Okuyasu grabs whatever’s cheapest. The gruff looking man at the counter is just as interested in talking as Okuyasu is, which is not very, and he buys his stuff without having to endure so much as a ‘have a nice day’ when he leaves.
His hands are still shaking when he steps back outside. He glances around to see Koichi and Kenta making what must be painfully uncomfortable conversation near one of the gas pumps as they fill up the car’s tank. Yukako is still in the front seat, looking bored. Josuke’s leaning against the back of the car with his arms crossed. As soon as he notices Okuyasu coming out of the store, he pushes away from it and heads over.
Okuyasu tears into the fresh cigarette carton and pulls one out. He struggles to keep his hands steady as he lights the end.
“Hey man,” Josuke says once he’s close enough. He’s got a guilty, anxious expression on his face that Okuyasu quickly looks away from. “You okay?”
Okuyasu grunts and takes a long drag off his cigarette. The nicotine is instant relief, smoothing down the spurs on his back and allowing his pulse to settle. He sinks down on the edge of the curb and breathes out. The smoke catches in the wind and billows over his shoulder.
“Cool if I sit with you?” Josuke asks.
Okuyasu doesn’t think he’s capable of words right now so he nods once.
Josuke sits beside him with a heavy sigh. One of his hands finds a place against Okuyasu’s back, warm and way too instantly comforting. Okuyasu feels himself relax under Josuke’s touch, leaning into it when he gently scratches his nails between his shoulderblades. It’s nice. He smokes and focuses on Josuke touching him and feels a little less like jumping out of a moving car.
Josuke drags his fingers upward to the back of Okuyasu’s neck. It’s ticklish. He's toying with Okuyasu’s collar, smoothing it out, tucking the tag back inside where it belongs. Okuyasu can feel the eyes of his friends and Josuke’s boyfriend on him but he doesn’t dare look up to meet any of them. He narrows his focus down to Josuke’s hand on his back and the cracks in the asphalt beneath his shoes.
He wishes this trip was just the two of them.
No Yukako and Koichi. No fucking Kenta. Just him and Josuke and miles and miles of road. Maybe he could have convinced Josuke to go camping after all, just a night or two, out in the woods or maybe the desert. Anywhere they could see the stars.
“Okuyasu.”
Josuke’s voice is quiet in his ear and the hand on his back grows a little firmer. It knocks the thoughts of him and Josuke on their own little adventure right out of his head. He still can’t manage to lift his head from between his shoulders, but his cigarette is getting short and it burns his fingertips. He puts it out on the asphalt.
“Think we could get a rental car?” Okuyasu asks. He doesn’t think he can get back into Kenta’s car with everyone right now, not if he’s going to be stuck in there for several more hours. Not without feeling claustrophobic. His blood still hasn’t settled, spiking in his veins at the thought of subjecting himself to another shouting match between Yukako and Josuke. He needs some space, some quiet time, or he might freak out. Freak out more.
“Uh.” Josuke hesitates and pulls his hand away from Okuyasu’s back. “Yeah, I guess so. We’re not too far from the city, I don’t think.” He jostles Okuyasu’s shoulder with his own and out of the corner of his eye Okuyasu can see he’s got his phone in his hands. He taps the screen with his thumbs, faster than Okuyasu has ever managed to work a phone keyboard–it’s gotta be all those hours Josuke spends on twitter.
“Mm, yeah there’s a couple rental places.”
Okuyasu exhales, some of the tension in his spine going with it. “Cool.”
The car is silent when they all pile back in. Kenta takes over driving again and he and Josuke are talking in tense, hushed tones in the front. Okuyasu can’t make out what they’re saying and even if he could, he’s sure he wouldn’t want to know. Yukako had been out of line with her comments earlier, but it wasn’t like she was wrong.
The next half hour might have been painful if Okuyasu wasn’t so dead set on staring out the window and shutting out the noise from the car. It still goes by too slowly, but eventually, they get to the next city and find a rental place and there are no more shouting matches. The only person to come inside with him is Josuke, which is just fine by Okuyasu. He can feel Kenta’s eyes drilling holes into the back of his head and does his best to ignore it.
Even with Okuyasu’s less than stellar English, it’s easy enough to tell the clerk what he needs. Okuyasu decides on a pick-up truck with a stick-shift just because he’s always liked manuals better than automatics. When he pulls out his wallet to pay, Josuke slides the black card he’d gotten from his dad across the counter.
“Dude.” Okuyasu frowns.
“I got it,” Josuke says with a half shrug. He smiles charmingly at the woman across the counter.
Okuyasu’s bad mood sours even more. He snatches the credit card up before the clerk can grab it and replaces it with his own beat up debit card.
“I can fuckin’ pay for it myself. I ain’t a charity case,” Okuyasu grumbles in Japanese so the lady won’t hear it. She smiles politely at him and takes his card.
“I didn’t say you were!” Josuke huffs.
Okuyasu doesn’t reply to him, instead watching the clerk type out his information on her computer and tapping his fingers irritably against the countertop.
“You should’a let me get it,” Josuke says when the clerk hands Okuyasu his card and ID back, along with a pair of keys for the rental. “Joseph sent me extra money for the trip, man.”
Okuyasu grabs his stuff and heads back outside, where someone has brought the truck around for him. It’s a big, clunky looking thing that probably gets shit for gas mileage, faded blue and absolutely hideous. It’s perfect.
“It’s–whatever dude, I don’t wanna use your dad’s cash, alright?” Okuyasu says. It’s a little more than that. He’s sick of feeling like a deadweight on this trip, with Josuke fussing over him over money and now his shitty mood.
“Okay…” Josuke doesn’t sound convinced. Okuyasu thinks he might push it–but Kenta is waiting for them. He looks severely unhappy, arms crossed over his chest. Okuyasu wonders if Yukako said something else to him.
“You got it?” Kenta asks.
“Yeah. We’re ready to go.” Josuke saves Okuyasu from having to answer.
Okuyasu unlocks the truck and lifts a foot to climb inside.
“Hey, you want me to ride with you for a while?” Josuke asks.
Okuyasu looks back at him. Josuke looks up at him expectantly, his eyebrows creeping up his forehead. Okuyasu glances at Kenta, who’s unhappy expression has turned murderous.
“Uh. No, that’s okay.” Okuyasu climbs into the driver’s seat and shuts the door. The window’s already rolled down, so he leans his arm on it and looks back down at Josuke, who’s frowning now, his brow crinkled. Like he’s afraid if he lets Okuyasu drive by himself he’s going to drive right off a cliff or something.
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” Okuyasu nods, feeling some of that irritation start to bubble up again. “It’s not even gonna be for that long, dude. It’s fine. I’m good.”
“I’ll ride with him,” Kenta says, already pulling the passenger side door open with a creak. The truck bounces beneath his weight as he climbs inside and slams the door shut behind him.
Okuyasu stares at him.
“Uh…”
“Look, I’m pretty sure your other friend doesn’t like me very much.” Kenta is talking to Josuke, looking right past Okuyasu. “And you know, I can’t say I’m a big fan of hers either. So I’m going to ride with Okuyasu.”
“Yeah–okay, fair–I can ride with–”
“No, I want you driving my car.” Kenta cuts Josuke off. “Your friend’s got the keys. C’mon, we’re wasting time here. We should go.”
Okuyasu feels trapped between them. He wants to disappear into his seat until they stop talking.
“I…yeah, okay, fine. Whatever.” Josuke sounds pissed now and Okuyasu is regretting this whole trip all over again. He doesn’t say bye, just walks off, back over to where Yukako and Koichi are waiting by Kenta’s car. Okuyasu watches him grab the keys off Yukako, and they all climb inside.
He’s left alone with Kenta.
Okuyasu swallows down his nerves and hopes his hands don’t shake too much as he starts the truck. He waits for Josuke to pull out of his parking space before he puts the truck into drive and follows him back to the highway.
The inside of the truck is completely silent for the next twenty or so minutes. Kenta doesn’t say anything to him and Okuyasu isn’t about to start up a conversation with the guy. So they sit. And drive. Okuyasu lights up another cigarette and smokes, even as the wind rushes past him and threatens to put it out every time he taps the end over the edge of the windowsill. He doesn’t know how long it is until the next motel but he’s sure it can’t be too far.
The quiet is starting to get to him. It’s not comfortable, it’s just tense. Exactly the kind of environment he’d been trying to escape by getting a rental. It feels like Kenta wants to say something to him but hasn’t worked out what yet, or maybe how to say it. Maybe he’s thinking about putting Okuyasu in a chokehold until he passes out. Well, good fuckin’ luck with that buddy. Okuyasu’s got reflexes like a cat.
Okuyasu reaches for the radio and turns the knobs until something twangy and not too horribly static heavy comes through the speakers. He doesn’t have an AUX cord, so he can’t exactly put on his music, even if the idea of putting on some loud heavy metal that Kenta would probably hate sounds kind of great right now.
“So,” Kenta finally says, talking over the singer’s deep gravel voice. He lets the word hang there, like he’s waiting for Okuyasu to answer him. He doesn’t. “You and Josuke.”
Okuyasu adjusts his grip on the steering wheel and sucks his cigarette down to the filter.
“You guys are pretty close, huh?”
“Sure, man.” Okuyasu shrugs. He thought that was obvious. “Best friends since high school.”
“Best friends.” Kenta repeats it to himself. He doesn’t sound convinced, which is a little offensive because it’s the truth. Sure, Josuke is way cooler and smarter and better looking and a whole host of other things, but he was still Okuyasu’s best friend. “Is that all?”
Okuyasu stamps out the smolder of his cigarette and lets the butt go in the wind. He breathes out the last bits of smoke and glances at Kenta from the corner of his eye. “What’dya mean, is that all?” Okuyasu resists the urge to reach for another cigarette. His heart picks up speed at the question. Okuyasu isn’t as good as Josuke about hiding his feelings, so maybe it’s not hard to believe that Kenta, who also has feelings for Josuke, might recognize it in someone else. Still, it feels invasive.
“Oh, come on.” Kenta sounds like he’s rolling his eyes. “I’m not fuckin’ blind, you know.”
Shit, so he does know. Okuyasu sucks in a breath and thinks about all the things he could say–that he doesn’t have to worry about Okuyasu trying anything, because he’s too much of a coward. Because Josuke would never, ever want him like that.
“He’s all over you, literally all the time. I can barely get him to look at me when you’re around,” Kenta says, voice tight.
Okuyasu blinks. “Huh? No he ain’t. Josuke’s an affectionate guy, he’s like that with everyone, man.”
Kenta snorts. “You’re a pretty bad liar, man.”
“I ain’t lyin!”
“Okay, whatever. So what the hell is going on between you two?”
“Huh? Nothin’! Why the hell–why are you askin’ me this shit, anyway?” Okuyasu frowns at the car in front of them, the one Josuke’s driving. The license plate is one of those stupid glamour plates. Sunny. Isn’t New York notoriously not sunny? Who picked that shit? “Shouldn’t you be like–talkin’ to Josuke about this stuff?”
“I did,” Kenta grouses. “You know what he told me? He told me there’s nothing going on between you guys. That you’re just best friends. He’s a much better liar than you are, but I’m not stupid. He looks at you like–ugh, I dunno, like you put the goddamn sun in the sky.”
Okuyasu feels his face heat up. Not just because it’s fuckin’ embarrassing to have some stranger talk to him about Josuke like that, but because it’s just not true. Josuke’s the one who–who doesn’t—
“Are you guys fucking?” Kenta asks. His tone is a flat line with a sharp edge that makes Okuyasu’s skin prickle. He flushes warm with righteous anger–both at the never-ending and probing questions, and on behalf of Josuke.
“No! And don’t–Josuke’s not a cheater. Don’t you ever let him hear you say that kinda shit.” The anger is hot against his insides, roiling in his gut. He tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “There ain’t nothin’ goin on between us, alright? We’re friends! Yeah, we used to sleep together but that was a long time ago.”
Silence follows.
Kenta doesn’t say a goddamn word and as soon as what he’s said catches up with him, Okuyasu cringes. The anger in his gut devolves into dread and anxiety all at once, heavy and uncomfortable. Shit. Foot in mouth disease is what Keicho always said he had, back before he’d just started calling him an idiot instead.
“Uh–it–yeah, it was a long time ago. Like, years. And it wasn’t for very long–” Holy shit, shut up shut up shut up. Okuyasu can’t fucking stop, the urge to explain too strong to make him just close his mouth and stop speaking. “Like, just a–a couple months, and it wasn’t like. We weren’t datin’ or nothin’, it wasn’t, like…romantic. Uh, it was just. Josuke’s the one who broke it off so–”
Kenta doesn’t say anything.
Okuyasu follows suit and finally manages to close his mouth hard enough for his teeth to click. He’s too anxious to look and see what Kenta’s face looks like. Shit. He really fucked this up. Okuyasu swallows and reaches for another cigarette and prays to whatever god might be listening out there that he didn’t just single handedly ruin Josuke’s apparently already fragile relationship.
Neither of them speak for the rest of the ride.
Okuyasu is clutching the steering wheel too tightly to turn up the radio, so they sit in uncomfortable silence until the sun starts to set and Josuke finally takes the next exit for a motel. It’s hard to say if Okuyasu is filled with relief or dread at the sight of the Roadside Inn sign. On one hand, he can finally get out of this fucking truck and go hide away by himself for awhile. On the other hand, there’s no goddamn way Kenta isn’t going to tell Josuke what Okuyasu said to him. It’s enough to tempt him to keep driving. Forever.
He turns into the dimly lit parking lot with his heart in his throat and takes the spot beside Josuke. Kenta unclips his seatbelt and gets out of the truck before Okuyasu can even kill the engine. The slam of the door behind him makes Okuyasu jump in his seat. He sits there a moment with his panic, before turning off the truck in a haze. Unbuckling his seatbelt feels as insurmountable as climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro, and when he does, almost on auto-pilot, and slides out of his seat and onto the asphalt, he kind of hopes it will swallow him whole.
“Hey Okuyasu! How was the drive for you?” Koichi waves at him from his spot in front of the single-occupancy front office.
Through the tarnished glass, Okuyasu sees Josuke talking with the attendant. He hands over that black card and gets three room keys in return. Kenta’s already stalking his way over there. Okuyasu’s pulse spikes. It’s like knowing you’re about to witness a car crash, or maybe someone get murdered. He’s frozen in place and can’t look away.
“Okuyasu?”
Josuke steps outside and Kenta says something to him, too low for Okuyasu to hear from where he is. Kenta’s shoulders are a tense line. Okuyasu really hopes they aren’t about to start yelling at each other right here in the parking lot.
“Yeah, yeah, gimme a sec,” Josuke talks loud enough to be heard and he side steps Kenta to make his way over.
“Here.” He tosses one of the keys at Okuyasu, who fumbles to catch it when it smacks him square in the chest. Okuyasu grips it tightly between his hands, feeling the metal grooves dig into his palm.
Josuke gives the other key to Koichi. “If you guys still wanna eat at that diner we saw, go ahead. Get me a burger though, would’ya?”
“You’re not coming?” Koichi asks, raising his eyebrows.
Josuke glances back at Kenta. “Er…nah, Kenta’s tired so I think we’re just gonna go chill.”
Chill. Right. Okuyasu flicks his eyes between the two of them and misses the rest of the conversation. Josuke and Kenta head off to the room and leave Okuyasu with Koichi and Yukako in the parking lot.
“What did I say?” Yukako rolls her eyes. “A relationship with a short timeline if I ever saw one.”
“Aw, Yukako,” Koichi starts in on her. “I’m sure they’re fine!”
“Your optimism, as ever, is inspiring.” Yukako says as she ruffles his hair. She glances up at Okuyasu then, who flinches under her sudden, narrowed gaze. “And just what did you and Kaida get up to that’s got him so worked up?”
“Nothin’!” Okuyasu takes a step backward. “We didn’t do–or say–nothin’.”
Yukako and Koichi are both staring at him now. It’s making him sweat beneath his collar. That feeling of dread is still wrapped tight around Okuyasu’s lungs, and the words keep spilling out.
“We just. I didn’t tell him nothin’!”
“Oh, my god.” Yukako laughs sharply, like she’s making fun of him. She almost definitely is. “What did you say to him?”
“Yukako, c’mon, it’s not really any of our business.” Koichi murmurs, but he’s giving Okuyasu the same expectant look as his girlfriend.
“Must be pretty damning, whatever it was.” Yukako says, and she’s following something behind Okuyasu with her eyes. He glances back to see Kenta and Josuke walking along the second-story balcony of the motel. “Did you admit you’re in love with Josuke, or something?”
Okuyasu’s face bursts into flames.
“What!? I ain’t–wuh-why would I–” He stammers. “It ain’t like that!”
“Mhmm, and I’m completely normal about Koichi.”
Okuyasu opens his mouth to argue some more, to save face, but Yukako rolls her eyes again.
“Listen, I don’t actually care. As long as whatever it is doesn’t ruin the whole trip.”
Okuyasu digs the key into his palm. Oh, god, did he ruin the whole trip? Is this going to ruin Josuke’s birthday? Why the fuck did he say those things? He’s so fucking stupid.
“Why don’t you come eat with us?” Koichi offers. “Might help you feel…um…better?”
Okuyasu’s stomach twists unpleasantly at the thought of food. He thinks he might just chuck it back up. “N-nah, you guys go ahead. I’m gonna…uh…sleep. Maybe.” Or maybe he’ll get back in the truck and keep driving like he thought about earlier. There’s gotta be a liquor store around here he can go waste his cash at.
“Suit yourself,” Yukako says, grabbing Koichi’s hand. “Koichi, that means we can finally have some alone time.” She smiles sweetly at him and he blushes in response.
Koichi looks back at him with a worried look. “Okuyasu, are you sure–”
“Come on, Koichi.” Yukako is insistent and she drags her much smaller boyfriend away from Okuyasu and the parking lot, back towards whatever hole in the wall diner they saw earlier.
Okuyasu stands there beneath the single, flickering street light and watches them go until they disappear into the night. He swallows and turns his gaze upward, towards the room Kenta and Josuke had gone into. He unclenches his hand to look at the key, which of course, of fucking course, belongs to the room right beside theirs. Okuyasu is tempted to stay where he is. Maybe if he doesn’t move, some creature will come out of the hills and eat him and he won’t have to talk to Josuke or Kenta ever again. That sounds nice.
…Okay, maybe he’s being a little dramatic. It was just a–a slip up. And his and Josuke’s thing happened so long ago, how could anyone be mad about it? Maybe Kenta and Josuke are talking about something else entirely. Yeah.
New thought, go to the room and turn up the TV so there’s no way he can hear whatever’s going on on the other side of the wall. He could do that. He’s pretty tired too, so maybe he’ll just fall asleep and this whole thing will be resolved by the time he wakes up tomorrow.
Okuyasu catches eyes with the person in the lobby through the glass door. They’ve got one eyebrow raised; the same kinda look he gets whenever he’s in a grocery store alone. Like they think he’s gonna steal somethin’.
He turns on his heel and marches up the stairs that creak beneath his weight and goes to his room.
Okuyasu doesn’t even have enough time to turn the TV on.
It doesn’t sound like Kenta and Josuke are yelling at each other, but they’re definitely talking loud enough to be heard through the wall. And neither of them sound too happy. Fucking shit. Okuyasu’s fingers twitch for another cigarette. He needs something to chill him the fuck out. He doesn’t want to listen to them fight. He feels guilty enough already. But at the same time…
At the same time…he feels…maybe a little vindicated? Obviously he didn’t want to come between Josuke and his boyfriend, but if what Kenta said is true, then it can’t be that Josuke likes him very much. Maybe this is like…the push he needs to break up with him. Maybe it’s a good thing.
Guilt floods back into him. Yeah, no shit it would be a good thing. For Okuyasu, who’s been stupidly in love with Josuke since fucking high school. Josuke not having a boyfriend would mean Okuyasu got to spend more time with him, and wouldn’t have to see him kissing someone else or putting his hands all over them.
Fuck, he feels like an asshole.
He stills his chest and holds his breath, straining his ears to see if he can make out any of the things either of them are saying. It’s just muffled sound. And–yeah, okay, now someone’s yelling. A bolt of anxiety goes straight to Okuyasu’s gut.
He leaves his room just as quickly as he’d come in and hurries back down the stairs to the parking lot. There’s a vending machine by the front office, but he doesn’t want that person in the lobby giving him the stink eye again, so he heads to the other one all the way down at the end of the parking lot. He stops in front of the glass and lights up a cigarette. The nicotine floods through his system and provides an instant, but not all-encompassing relief. The anxiety is still making his hands shake a little. He buys a bag of trail mix and tears into it in the hopes that it’ll help ease some of the knots in his stomach.
The slam of a door makes him flinch. When he glances behind him, he sees Josuke standing outside his room. It’s hard to tell what expression he’s making from all the way over here, but his shoulders are a tense line and his hands are balled into fists at his side. Okuyasu swallows and the trail mix scratches his throat on the way down.
He thinks about bolting. Maybe he can clear the brick wall before Josuke spots him, hide in some bushes until this whole thing blows over. Josuke’s got a bad temper for sure, but he usually doesn’t stay mad for too long. He wouldn’t stay mad at Okuyasu over something he accidentally said, right? It was a mistake! A misunderstanding and–oh, shit, Josuke spotted him.
Okuyasu snaps his head forward to stare into the vending machine. Sweat beads at the nape of his neck and he can feel it sliding down his back beneath his shirt. It’s awful. He feels like he’s waiting for an execution order. He’s never done anything to get in between Josuke and one of his boyfriends before, and he certainly didn’t mean to this time. It feels bad. Josuke’s his best friend in the whole world, and yeah maybe Okuyasu has been harboring a lot of deep-seated feelings toward him that will never ever be reciprocated, but he’s not a dickhead about it. He’s got no grand ideas about breaking Josuke up with anyone so he can have him for himself. Josuke has moved on from whatever the hell happened between them and Okuyasu needs to too. It’s just pathetic at this point.
The crunch of the asphalt job beneath Josuke’s sandals gets louder and louder. Okuyasu tenses when the sound finally stops and he can feel Josuke’s presence behind him, looming like an unwelcome spector.
“Hey,” Josuke practically barks. “Why the fuck would you tell Kenta we used to sleep together?”
Okuyasu winces. He drops the stub of his cigarette and stomps it out with his heel before turning to face Josuke.
Josuke’s brows are furrowed so tightly he looks like he might bust an artery. The inches he’s got over Okuyasu are enough to make him appear even larger than usual, towering and raging over him. It’s a little scary; they’ve had fights before, sure, but Josuke has never really turned his anger on Okuyasu like this before. He really, really fucked up.
“I’m–sorry, man.” Okuyasu gets his mouth working, but the words come out sounding weak. He clears his throat and keeps going. “I didn’t mean to say that to him, it kinda just came out. He kept askin’ me all these questions about you and us and like, how long we’ve been friends for and if we were–if we were–you know.”
“Fucking?” Josuke snaps.
“It just came out, alright!” Okuyasu snaps back. “I was tryin’ to. I dunno, make him feel better about…ugh, I dunno, dude!” He throws his arms up in frustrated exasperation. “I thought maybe if I told him it was a long time ago, he’d get off my case!”
“Great,” Josuke bites. “That’s just great, man. Real cool, cause guess what? Now he thinks we’re fucking behind his back, so thanks for that.”
“Dude! He already thought that!” Okuyasu argues. It was fucking true! Why else would the guy be asking dumbass questions like that if he didn’t think Josuke was cheating on him? “I told him you weren’t like that, that you wouldn’t do that, but he didn’t believe me!”
Josuke scoffs and looks to the side. His face is flushed red with his anger, his hairstyle slowly unraveling with the humidity. Okuyasu wants to grab him by the collar and shake him.
When Josuke doesn’t say anything, Okuyasu feels the urge to fill the tense silence.
“He’s the one who–you know, he said–you don’t pay any attention to him when I’m around. He said you don’t even look at him.” Okuyasu thinks back over the past two days, but it’s hard for him to be objective about it. Josuke’s always given him lots of attention. They’re attached at the hip, attached everywhere that fucking matters. But if Josuke’s boyfriend can’t even get Josuke to pay attention to him over Okuyasu, he thinks that can really only mean one thing.
“So, I dunno, dude, maybe if you even actually liked this guy?” Josuke doesn’t talk about him as much, they’re doing long-distance. It really does make sense, now that he’s thinking about it. “I dunno why you’re forcin’ it so hard. Why are you even dating him if you don’t like bein’ around him?”
“What are you, a fuckin’ expert on my love life now?!” Josuke raises his voice, clearly trying not to yell, but too angry to keep it down. “The guy who’s been in one relationship in the past 3 years?”
Okay, that’s a low fuckin’ blow. The anger simmering in Okuyasu’s veins bursts. He clenches his fists, crumpling what's left of his trail mix in its bag, and steps up to Josuke, leaning up on his toes to match his height.
“One’s better than–what are you even fuckin’ up to now, huh? Twenty?” Okuyasu growls. “Y’know what I think, man? I think you just can’t stand the idea of bein’ single for once, so you date all these guys and string ‘em along ‘til ya get bored or somethin’ better shows up!”
Okuyasu’s breathing heavily by the time he’s done shouting in Josuke’s face. His heart’s hammering away in his chest so hard he can feel it in his ears.
Josuke clenches and unclenches his jaw, his eyes shining and narrowed. He looks like he wants to hit Okuyasu, which is fuckin’ fine by him. Okuyasu’s been keyed up all goddamn day, if Josuke wants to start throwing hands in the parking lot, he’s more than happy to throw some back.
“Fuck. You.” Josuke says it like a threat, voice low and dangerous. He grabs Okuyasu by the low collar of his tank top and drags him in close, until their noses are nearly touching. “Fuck you, Okuyasu. You don’t know shit.”
“Yeah?” Okuyasu barks before he can stop himself. He doesn’t even want to stop himself. “I dunno shit, huh?” Josuke’s forearms are sweaty beneath Okuyasu’s even sweatier grip as he tries to balance himself, tries to keep Josuke from dragging him any closer. It’s too much, having him so near, feeling the heat of his breath on his face, seeing his eyes glint with rage.
Okuyasu feels stupid, trapped in a volatile mix of wanting to pull Josuke close to knock their teeth together and wanting to smash his knuckles into those perfect cheekbones.
“I don’t have’ta know much to know you’re easy,” Okuyasu spits instead.
His back hits the vending machine hard enough to make his teeth rattle. His skull smacks against the glass with a dull thunk that leaves him blinking hard.
Josuke bares his teeth at him, Crazy Diamond flickering behind him like he’s tempted to combine Okuyasu and the vending machine into one being. He can try if he wants to. Okuyasu’s not fuckin’ scared of him.
“Fuck you!” Josuke shouts. He uses the grip he’s got on Okuyasu’s collar to shake him, to shove him against the vending machine again. It makes his chest rattle and pain shoot down his spine. Okuyasu grimaces. He curls his hands around Josuke’s and pries at his fingers, struggling to get free from his grip.
Josuke pushes him into the vending machine again, forcing him against the glass. Okuyasu’s chest constricts under the force, and he gives up only clawing at Josuke to curl his hand into a fist he can throw.
Before he gets a chance to swing, Josuke rips away from him. Okuyasu stumbles forward and nearly trips over the asphalt. He gets his feet under him and scrambles upright, preparing himself for a punch that doesn’t come.
Josuke’s face twists into something horrible. Not angry. It’s a look Okuyasu doesn’t think he’s ever seen his best friend make. He looks wounded. The skin around his eyes is tight, his nose dusted pink. Like he’s gonna start bawling or something. It’s enough to snap Okuyasu’s anger right out of him, replaced immediately by the feeling of a stone sinking heavily in his chest.
He opens his mouth to say something, anything, that might make that look go away.
Josuke steps back, hands clenched into tight fists at his sides, like he still wants to hit something. He doesn’t, showing a serious amount of restraint. Josuke’s never been the type of guy to silently seethe. Okuyasu has seen him bust shit and reform it all wonky enough times to know what he’s like when he’s really pissed.
“Jo…wait, dude,” Okuyasu tries weakly, pushing away from the vending machine. He reaches for him.
Josuke yanks his hand away from Okuyasu’s touch like it burns him, and that hurts almost worse than the look he’d given him.
“Fuckin’...don’t,” Josuke says tightly. “Don’t.” He runs an irritated hand through his hair, trying to haphazardly fix his pompadour out of habit. It doesn’t do much for it, some of the strands coming loose from the style entirely. Josuke makes a frustrated sound and turns on his heel, practically stomping his way across the parking lot.
“Wait, Josuke!” Okuyasu shouts after him. He should follow him, he should run over there and apologize and tell Josuke to hit him until he feels better.
“Fuck off!” Josuke shouts. He makes it to the front office before Okuyasu feels like he can use his legs again. Okuyasu stays rooted to the spot. He watches Josuke turn the corner on the sidewalk and disappear.
Fuck.
Okuyasu whirls back around to face the vending machine. He glares at it like he can blame this whole thing on it, but he’s only growling at his own reflection. Why did he have to say that shit? He didn’t mean it, he was just pissed off. Why did Josuke look so upset over it? Okuyasu shouts in frustration and punches the glass.
His knuckles bounce off it and he pulls them in with a hiss, the skin turning red from the impact.
“Stupid,” He hisses at himself, pressing his sweaty forehead against the vending machine, just barely resisting the urge to bang it against the glass instead. “Fuckin’ moron.” If telling Kenta about what happened between him and Josuke two years ago hadn’t ruined the trip, this had definitely put the nail in the coffin. “Fuck.”
Okuyasu barely sleeps. The guilt and anxiety from his fight with Josuke swirls around his head and between his ribs, making his heart race, his veins pump with adrenaline. It’s hard to calm down enough to pass out, and by the time he does, it feels like only seconds before he’s jolted awake by the sound of car doors slamming outside his window.
He groans unhappily at both the sound and the sun dappling in through the slits in the blinds, burning his half-lidded eyes. Okuyasu forces himself to sit up and kicks away the tangle of sheets wrapped around his legs so he can squint through the window. The black spots in his vision take a couple heavy blinks to clear, and when they do, he sees Josuke and Kenta down in the parking lot. They’re both standing by Kenta’s car. Josuke’s arms are crossed over his chest and it looks like Kenta is chewing him out, gesturing angrily with his hands, but Okuyasu can’t hear whatever it is he’s saying.
Kenta finishes speaking and lets his hands drop to his side. There’s a moment where they both just stand there, looking at each other. Kenta gets into the front seat of the car, starts the engine, and leaves.
Josuke runs a hand through his messy hair and looks up in Okuyasu’s direction.
Okuyasu rolls away from the window, his blood pressure spiking, and hopes Josuke didn’t spot him.
Kenta left.
Kenta left, which means…Okuyasu presses the heels of his hands against his eyes as the guilt he’s recently become best friends with washes over him again. What the fuck are they going to do now? Does Josuke want to cancel the trip? They’re already almost to California. It would be a waste to stop now, but Okuyasu can’t really blame Josuke if he wants to call it quits. Okuyasu’s anxious enough about the prospect of being crammed in the car with him for another whole day. Even without Kenta here, they’d still had that fight…and Okuyasu had said some pretty terrible things.
He curses and forces himself up and out of bed and into the shower, because as much as he’d like to, he can’t actually hide out in his motel room all day. They’re supposed to be leaving soon, and he’s not going to be the one to hold anyone up and piss Josuke off even more.
Not long after he’s clean and dressed, Koichi comes knocking on his door. Okuyasu throws his stuff into his bag and follows him and Yukako downstairs to the parking lot, where Josuke’s already waiting by the pickup truck. His hair is styled, but not as meticulously as usual, and some loose strands flutter on either side of his face. A dark pair of name brand sunglasses cover his eyes so Okuyasu can’t even tell what kind of look Josuke’s giving him when he walks up with Koichi and Yukako.
“Keys,” Josuke demands, holding his hand out.
Okuyasu fumbles with his bag and reaches into his pocket for the keys. He hands them over without a word, even though the rental car is under his name. Josuke unlocks the doors and climbs into the driver seat.
Okuyasu shares a look with Koichi, before he tosses his bag into the truck bed along with Josuke’s. He helps Koichi and Yukako tie their stuff down. They thank him by climbing into the backseat, leaving him no option but to sit up front with Josuke. He takes a deep breath and gets in the truck and buckles his seatbelt.
No one says a word as they pull out of the parking lot and get back on the road.
The silence follows them for nearly thirty minutes.
Josuke’s white-knuckling the steering wheel. He hadn’t even bothered to plug his phone in for music, leaving them to listen to nothing but the wind rushing past.
“So, are you going to fill us in, or what?” Yukako’s voice makes Okuyasu jump in his seat. He turns his head to see her leaning between the seats, looking at Josuke.
“Yukako!” Koichi shouts frantically, like he has any hope of stopping her from saying whatever she wants. “It’s none of our business–”
“We’re down a car, and I’m being forced into the backseat of this–this–death trap. It is more than our business!” Yukako snips, pointedly not at Koichi, but at Josuke.
Josuke’s hands flex around the steering wheel.
He’s still got those damn sunglasses on, but the furrow in his brow is prominent enough for Okuyasu to know he’s glaring at the road.
“What the fuck do I need to fill you in on?” Josuke asks. “You seemed pretty confident yesterday about how everything was going. What, you want to hear about how right you were? Fine! Kenta and I broke up. Happy?”
“Why would I be happy that I’m stuck in this abomination?”
Josuke doesn’t reply, and the car returns to painful silence.
Okuyasu’s phone starts to buzz in his pocket. He glances at Josuke before leaning against the window and pulling it out.
Koichi’s texting him.
Small man: Do you know what happened? :(
Okuyasu tries not to sigh out loud. No doubt Yukako put him up to asking, but Koichi’s always been nosy, even if he likes to pretend he’s not. His fingers hover over the keyboard. He doesn’t really want to tell him what happened, at least not all of it. It’s really no one’s business but Josuke’s…and his, and Kenta’s, he guesses. He hasn’t even gotten a chance to talk to Josuke alone either; he doubts Josuke even wants to talk to him. The thought makes his chest tighten. They’ve never had a fight this bad before. What if Josuke is done with him? Never wants to see him again? Okuyasu did single-handedly ruin his relationship. Fuck.
🅱️oku: no…i just kno they had a fight
The three little ellipses start to bounce at the bottom of the screen.
Small man is typing…
Okuyasu closes the chat and slips his phone back into his pocket before the next message comes through. He leans his head against the window and tries not to spiral about Josuke hating his guts.
They drive on through the tail end of Texas and into Arizona. The temperature gets hotter and hotter. They stop to refill the tank and their snack bag and get some ice cold drinks and Josuke refuses to talk to any of them and they keep going.
It’s late afternoon when they make it past Quartzsite, Arizona and return to the big stretch of empty highway. There’s cactus and dried up grass, locked in by gnarly looking barbed wire all the way down the road. It’s been the longest ten hours of Okuyasu’s life.
At some point, Yukako and Koichi turned inward to entertain themselves, but that left him up front with only Josuke for company. Josuke, who’d done nothing more interesting than finally turning on the radio in the last five hours.
Okuyasu wants to talk to him. So bad. But he doesn’t want Koichi, or especially Yukako, to overhear anything he needs to say to Josuke, or Josuke needs to say to him. If he could just–apologize for the shitty thing he said, then Josuke could apologize for the shitty thing he said, and they could just go back to being friends and everything would be fine and–and–
Okuyasu wants to be more than friends, though. Seeing Josuke with Kenta had only made things that much worse, made his feelings too big and inescapable. Okuyasu will take whatever scraps of affection Josuke feels like giving him, but he wants.
He wants so bad it hurts.
A noise shakes him from his pity party. It’s metal on metal, grinding and unpleasantly sharp. It’s coming from the engine.
“Shit,” Josuke curses under his breath, the first thing he’s said in hours.
There’s a soft hiss, and a stream of white smoke starts to billow its way out from beneath the hood of the truck. Okuyasu curses internally. It’s so goddamn hot, the thing must be overheating.
Josuke pulls off the asphalt and onto the packed dirt along the side of the highway. He yanks the key out of the ignition and throws the door open. The loud thump of his boots hitting the ground snaps Okuyasu out of just watching, and he hesitantly opens the passenger door to climb out after him.
Josuke rounds the front of the truck and reaches for the hood.
“Wait, don’t–” Okuyasu tries to warn him, but it’s too late.
“Fuck!” Josuke shouts. The hood slams closed again as he rips his burnt fingers from the hot metal and even hotter steam. He flaps his hands, face twisting into a pained grimace, and kicks the front bumper.
“Shit, dude, are you okay?” Okuyasu hurries over to him. He reaches for Josuke’s sleeve so he can check the damage to his fingers. Hopefully it’s not too bad. Okuyasu’s burned himself enough times at work to know how much it hurts, but Josuke always heals the burns up for him, so he doesn’t have any marks left on his hands.
Josuke rips his arm away and turns his back to Okuyasu, letting out a frustrated shout as he stomps away. He gets about ten feet before he drops into a squat and hangs his head, looking like he’s ready to rip his hair out.
Okuyasu scowls at his back, his heart stuttering painfully at the rejection.
“What happened now?” Yukako asks from behind him.
Okuyasu turns toward her with a heavy sigh. “Engine’s overheated. Can ya check the glove box for some coolant or somethin’?”
She must be just as sick and tired of the day as he is, because she does it without any complaints. She doesn’t find any coolant, and that’s just goddamn great.
The sun is so bright, Okuyasu has to squint to look at anything, and his shirt is already sticking uncomfortably to his sweat-slick skin. He’s only been out of the A/C for a minute. They can’t keep driving without more coolant, or the engine will die on them. They’re stuck here.
“We’re gonna have to call–shit, I dunno, the rental company? Roadside?” Okuyasu pulls out his phone. The good news is that even though they’re in the middle of nowhere, it’s not as middle of nowhere as it could be. He’s still got two bars, which means he doesn’t have to walk back the three miles to the call box they’d passed.
“Roadside first. I don’t want to be out here any longer than I have to,” Yukako says.
“Yeah,” Koichi nods. “You can call the rental company after to let them know what happened. I can’t believe they didn’t thoroughly check the truck before they gave it to you…”
Okuyasu calls roadside, and they tell him they’ll send a tow truck out to get them, but it might be awhile.
“Josuke! Tow truck’s on its way!” Okuyasu shouts over the distance between them. “I’m gonna start the truck so we can sit in the AC at least while we’re waitin’!”
Josuke takes a second to start moving. He gets back to his feet and bounces on his heels like the dirt’s burning his soles. He doesn’t bother replying to Okuyasu, but starts making his way back over to the truck.
Okuyasu tears his eyes off him to start the engine and crank the AC. The blast of cold air into his face is so nice, he’s half-tempted to peel off his sweaty shirt to get more of it against his skin.
They all clamber back into the truck to wait.
It’s nearly two hours before the tow truck arrives. Two hours of uncomfortable quiet and Josuke going between messing with the radio and staring out the window and giving Okuyasu the cold shoulder. He wouldn’t even take the water bottle Okuyasu had tried to hand him, instead reaching into the bag for another one like Okuyasu wasn’t even there.
Squeezing into the tow truck together is just as bad, sweaty arms and thighs pressed together. No one says a word as the sun dips below the horizon and they cross the state line into California. The driver takes them to some little town called Blythe and drops them at a motel for the night. He gives Okuyasu the number for the repair shop up the road and takes off with the truck.
The motel is tiny. So tiny that when they head to the front desk and Josuke asks for three rooms instead of two (which Okuyasu tries not to let get to him), the man at the counter tells him they’ve only got the five, and three of them are already reserved.
Yukako and Koichi are quick to escape to their own room, leaving Okuyasu alone with Josuke again.
They head to their own room. Okuyasu quietly closes the door behind him and leans back against it. He lets his bag drop and watches Josuke set his own suitcase on the bed furthest from the door. Josuke unzips it and starts rifling through his clothes.
Okuyasu’s sweaty, but he’s not sure if that’s from being out in the heat or the sudden, new bout of nervousness he feels. He really should say something to Josuke. They should talk. He doesn’t want to be fighting with him anymore, he hates how it feels. Okuyasu doesn’t think everything he said was wrong, necessarily…but he’d definitely crossed a line when he basically called Josuke a slut, so maybe if he apologizes for that, they can go back to being friends again.
“Josuke…” Okuyasu tries.
Josuke’s rustling gets somehow more vicious. He yanks his sleep clothes out along with his shower supplies.
“Can we talk, man?” Okuyasu asks, pushing away from the door.
Josuke heads into the bathroom and slams the door behind him hard enough to rattle the frame.
Okuyasu lets the air out of his lungs and all but collapses onto the bed nearest the door.
Fucking fuck.
Okuyasu wakes bright and early the next morning with a sore back from the shitty twin-bed. He presses his face into his scratchy pillow with a groan, not feeling up to facing the day just yet. When he finally musters the willpower to roll over onto his side and blink away the sleep from his eyes, he sees Josuke sprawled out on his own bed. He’s kicked the covers almost off the mattress and is softly snoring into the pillow clutched against his chest.
Guilt gnaws at Okuyasu’s chest. He forces himself out of bed and showers off all the dirt and sweat from the previous day. There’s not much in the way of food in Blythe, but Okuyasu finds a fast food joint up the block. He grabs breakfast for Josuke, and Yukako and Koichi, just so it feels less like a peace offering.
When he gets back, Josuke’s awake, but just barely, still sleep messy as he idly clicks through the basic TV channels.
Okuyasu swallows the feel of his heartbeat in his throat and sets the warm, foil-wrapped breakfast burrito onto the edge of Josuke’s mattress, before retreating with his own.
Josuke glances at the burrito, and then at Okuyasu, who stares at the TV in an effort to not stare at Josuke.
There’s a rustle of foil tearing, a sign that Josuke has accepted the gift. Okuyasu kind of feels like a cat leaving a dead mouse at someone’s doorstep. He digs into his own burrito and tries to absorb whatever it is the news anchor on TV is going on about, but the only thing he can really understand is the sunny icon on the map, which he guesses means it’s going to be hot. He gets distracted by glancing at Josuke out of the corner of his eye every few moments.
Josuke’s already half-way through his burrito, basically inhaling the thing like he hasn’t eaten in days. Okuyasu thinks about waiting for him to take a big bite to say something, anything, but chickens out and takes a bite of his own breakfast instead. With an internal sigh, he pulls out his phone and scrolls through his notifications. There’s a few texts from Koichi, one from Yukako, some spam mail. Nothing he has the energy to respond to right now.
Okuyasu’s just about to lock the phone when he catches a glance of the date. Shit. Right. He forgot. They should already be in San Diego right now. The music festival starts today–and–
Okuyasu looks over at Josuke.
“Hey dude…um…happy birthday.”
Josuke shoves the last of his burrito into his mouth like the world’s angriest hamster, his cheeks puffing out with it. He doesn’t even smile or acknowledge Okuyasu in any way, which only makes Okuyasu’s pulse jump. Okuyasu isn’t good at fixing things, never has been–that’s Josuke’s thing–but he needs to fix this, right now, because if Josuke never talks to him again after they get home, Okuyasu has no idea what the fuck he’ll do.
He needs Josuke.
“Uh–I know we’re kinda off schedule, but we’ll still see most of the festival, since it goes through the weekend.” Okuyasu says, trying to bridge the gap. “It’ll be fun still, even if Ke–uh. Maybe we–we can go swimmin’, cause it’s by the beach and all, right?”
Josuke sighs through his nose. “Do whatever you want, man.”
The adrenaline leaves Okuyasu in a rush, pure dread taking its place. Josuke sounds so fucking indifferent, like Okuyasu’s just some guy on the side of the street, like they haven’t been best friends for the past eight years. Like Okuyasu hasn’t loved him nearly the entire time.
“Josuke–man, listen, I really–I shouldn’t have said that shit to you the other night. I didn’t mean it. I don’t think you’re–you know–not that there’s anything wrong with it! I just don’t want you to think that I think–”
“If you didn’t mean it, why the fuck did you say it?”
Okay, that’s fair. Okuyasu doesn’t even know. He was pissed, and hurt, and yeah Josuke’s not the one who deserved it directed at him, but it’s not like he wasn’t being unfair too.
“I dunno, I just–it was dumb. I was mad. I really, really don’t think that about you.”
“Okay, well I don’t actually give a shit what you think about me, so. Whatever.”
Okuyasu has nothing to say to that. It makes his chest seize. It makes him want to cry. He eats his burrito and they sit in silence until it’s time to go.
They’re lucky. The truck’s engine isn’t in terrible shape, and getting the radiator flushed is enough to get it back in working condition. The rental place even promises to reimburse Okuyasu for the payment when he returns it. They’re back on the road before noon. Okuyasu drives and the dark cloud that has been hanging over their group since his and Josuke’s fight follows them all the way to San Diego.
They don’t stop at a hotel first, the festival has already started and the last thing Okuyasu wants is to upset Josuke even more by making him miss any more sets than they already have. The beachside venue is overflowing with people, all in shorts and tank tops, dancing and drinking under the summer sun. There’s nowhere to park without getting fined for it. Okuyasu offers to let Josuke and the others out while he finds a place to park and Josuke gets out of the truck before he even finishes speaking.
The slam of the door behind him makes Okuyasu flinch. He swallows and grips the steering wheel and hopes the concerned look Koichi’s giving him isn’t because he knows Okuyasu’s eyes are starting to sting. Yukako and Koichi slip out of the truck much more quietly, and Koichi tells Okuyasu to text him when he finds a place, they’ll come meet him at the front.
It takes Okuyasu the better part of an hour to find a parking garage, park, have a meltdown, recover, and then walk all the way back to the festival. He doesn’t bother texting Koichi, too embarrassed that he might notice how red his eyes are, and he doesn’t much feel like talking to anyone anyway. He brings up the e-ticket on his phone, and feels the pit in his stomach reopen when he sees the happy emoji Josuke had sent along with it.
He gets through security in a fog. Some guy who looks like a cop pats him down and then sends him through an honest to god metal detector that Okuyasu is afraid will start screaming at him for his eyebrow piercing. It doesn’t, and the lady on the other side waves him through, looking completely uninterested.
The venue is nice at least. The stage has a crowd already raging around it, people with their phones held above their heads to film, screaming and dancing to some loud, electric guitar heavy song Okuyasu’s never heard before. Josuke had showed him the band list months ago, but Okuyasu had only recognized a handful of them, and now he can’t even remember who’s supposed to show up.
He’s always liked loud music though. It surges through his chest and down his limbs, making his teeth rattle in his head. It makes not thinking a lot easier. Okuyasu takes a deep breath to calm his nerves, to let the music wash over him completely, and decides not to look for his friends–at least not right away. Josuke probably wants some space, and who knows what kind of crime Yukako has pulled Koichi into already. Okuyasu just wants to chill out for a while. He also wants a drink.
He gets one, but it’s stupidly overpriced and tastes like watered down piss. He drinks it anyway, and goes back for another one, and then a third, until his head buzzes along with his skin and the conversation he had with Josuke that morning floats away. Tipsy and feeling it, Okuyasu pushes his way into the crowd at the front of the stage. A new band is up there now, more synth heavy with enough bass to put the speakers in danger of blowing out. Okuyasu wants to get right up next to them, wants to drown out everything, but the pit is too tightly packed for him to really go anywhere. He settles somewhere in the middle and thrashes with some other drunk twenty somethings until his head starts to hurt.
Okuyasu is hot and sweaty when he frees himself from the pit with a gasp sometime later. His shirt sticks uncomfortably to his lower back and he lost his right sandal somewhere in the crowd. He wiggles his toes in the warm, scratchy grass, and finds a less crowded spot to sit down.
He’s got a couple texts from Koichi asking where he is, which he doesn’t answer, internally promising that he’ll reply in a bit. Okuyasu lays back in the grass and navigates to his PetCam app. Stray is sound asleep on his beat up sofa. Okuyasu wishes he was back home and curled up with him. He wishes this stupid trip had never happened, wishes that Josuke hadn’t invited him. None of this would have happened if Okuyasu had just stayed home.
He idly scratches at his stomach and hovers his thumb over his chat with Josuke. It makes his chest hurt just looking at it. The last messages are about that stupid show they’d watched, separated by a too-thin motel wall that still felt like a giant wedge. Okuyasu hates this. He hates feeling this way. Guilty. He’s never said something so awful to Josuke and he wants so badly to take it back. He wants to go back in time and stop himself from getting another rental car, to prevent him and Kenta from being alone together. Keicho was right about him. He’s an idiot with a mouth bigger than his brain.
The sun is hot and it makes him groggy. His limbs feel heavy and his head throbs so he closes his eyes and tries, again, to stop thinking about it. It works, but only because he falls asleep.
“...Yasu!”
Okuyasu blearily looks up at Koichi, whose head gives him a small respite from the sun, casting a shadow across his face.
“Oh good, you’re alive.” Yukako’s voice.
Okuyasu tilts his head back to see her with a comically large sun hat protecting her from the sun’s rays. “Koichi was worried the LA gangs had gotten to you.”
“It’s–it’s a valid worry!” Koichi sputters. He looks a little red in the face, but Okuyasu can’t tell if it’s because he’s blushing or he’s sunburnt. “We’ve been looking all over for you.” Koichi holds a water bottle out to him. “A text would have been nice!”
Okuyasu sits up and takes the water. It’s nice and cool on his parched throat. Koichi must have just gotten it out of an ice chest from a vendor somewhere. He downs the whole thing and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before saying sorry.
“Are you wearing any sunscreen? You can’t lay out in the sun like that, you’re going to burn. How can you even sleep with all this noise?” Koichi gestures to the stage, where some truly awful sounds are coming from the band that’s now on stage. The pit still looks as violent as before.
“Sorry,” Okuyasu says again, because he doesn’t know what else to say.
Koichi frowns at him.
“Where’s Josuke?” Okuyasu asks.
“Who knows?” Yukako says with a shrug. “He wandered off twenty minutes after we got here.” She puts her hand on her hip and cocks it, looking every bit like a fed up teenager. “I don’t know why he was so obsessed with being here on day one, none of the good groups are here until tomorrow.”
Koichi motions for Okuyasu’s hand. Okuyasu obliges and holds it out, palm up, so Koichi can squirt a dollop of sunscreen onto it.
“He seemed upset,” Koichi states the obvious. He meets Okuyasu’s eyes, then looks down to fiddle unconvincingly with the cap of the sunscreen. “You don’t have to tell us what happened if you don’t want to,” he says.
Okuyasu makes a fist and watches the sunscreen seep between his fingers.
“But if you want to talk about it,” Koichi goes on, pressing and prodding. Nosy fucker. “You know I’d be happy to listen, and I hate seeing you guys fight.”
“It’s weird,” Yukako agrees. “You’re both annoying enough when you’re attached at the hip, I don’t know how you’re worse when you’re not.”
“Fuckin’ rude,” Okuyasu huffs. He stops abusing the sunscreen and applies it to his bare arms, and then smears what's left of it on his face. He doesn’t want to talk about it. Not really. It’s no one’s business but his and Josuke’s. Airing their dirty laundry to anyone, even Koichi and Yukako, feels wrong. It feels like a betrayal of trust, and Okuyasu has done enough damage as it is.
“I dunno,” Okuyasu says, even though he does know. “I said stupid shit I shouldn’t have. Josuke’s pissed, but he’ll get over it.” He hopes. God, he really hopes Josuke will get over it. Okuyasu will apologize a million times over if that’s what it takes.
The fear must show on his face, because Koichi’s little hand squeezes his shoulder a moment later.
“I’m sure you guys will make up,” he says. “Josuke’s…well, you know how he is. He’s really scary when he’s angry, but he doesn’t hold a grudge. Usually.”
Usually. Is destroying a relationship grudge-worthy? It might be. It could be. Okuyasu thinks about what he’d say to Josuke if he were here right now, how many ways he’d say sorry. He thinks about Josuke telling him to go fuck himself, that he can find his own way home, to never speak to him again. It would be better if Josuke just hit him. Maybe Okuyasu should open with that. Hit me ‘til you feel better. It always worked for his dad and Keicho.
“I gotta…” Okuyasu mutters and struggles to his feet. It makes his head rush and his vision goes spotty for a second. He shakes it off and cranes his neck to look around, hoping he might spot Josuke somewhere in the crowd. “I’m gonna see if I can find him.”
“I can try calling him,” Koichi offers helpfully.
“Nah.” Okuyasu shakes his head, instantly rejecting the idea. Even if Josuke answered his phone, he probably wouldn’t like Okuyasu using Koichi as a buffer. Okuyasu knows he wouldn’t like that. “Music’s too loud, he won’t hear it. I’ll find him. I’ll text ya when I do.”
Koichi looks like he’s about to argue, opens his mouth and everything, but he shares a glance with Yukako and doesn’t say anything. He shuts his mouth and nods. “Just…don’t go too long without checking in, alright?”
Okuyasu gives him a two fingered salute and wanders off to look for Josuke.
He doesn’t find him until the sun starts to set.
Josuke’s sitting cross-legged in a tight knit circle with some other twenty somethings. They’re sitting on a blanket that looks like it was knitted by somebody’s grandmother in the 70s. Everyone’s got a red solo cup in their hand, including Josuke, full of some drink Okuyasu is sure wasn’t bought here at the venue.
If Okuyasu hadn’t been looking so hard, he thinks he might have passed over Josuke entirely. He hadn’t worn any of the outfits he’d planned for the festival, instead dressed down and casual. He doesn’t look much different from any of the others in the circle; dark leggings and a loose top, but Josuke’s the only one with Prince’s face on his shirt. Josuke’s hair isn’t up either. Whatever product he put in it this morning must’ve melted away under the sun, ‘cause it’s pulled back into a low, messy ponytail that Okuyasu kind of wants to yank on, because he’s been looking forever, and here’s Josuke living it up with some randos he found.
It sounds like he’s the life of the little party too, talking real loud and gesturing wildly with his arms. The drink in his hand keeps sloshing over the edges of his cup. He pauses from talking to chug the rest of his drink, and then picks up right where he left off. Everyone in the circle is watching him, laughing along like they’ve known him for ages instead of a few hours.
Okuyasu hesitates in the last ten foot stretch between him and Josuke. He’s having fun. Okuyasu is afraid to intrude, afraid that Josuke’s good mood will vanish as soon as he spots him. He’s more afraid of what not talking to him now will do to their friendship, though. Okuyasu pulls up his big boy pants and closes the distance.
Josuke doesn’t even notice him. He’s too enraptured with his own story, too caught up in the attention he’s getting from the other people in his circle.
Okuyasu says his name.
Josuke tilts his head back to squint at him. His eyes are glassy from the alcohol, shining under what’s left of the sun. Up close, he looks like a mess, sweaty and more disheveled than Okuyasu’s seen him outside of a sleepover maybe ever. He presses his mouth into a firm line and turns his attention back to his new friends, holding his empty cup out for a refill. Some blond guy tops him off with a mystery liquid from a little metal flask. How he got that past security, Okuyasu has no idea.
“Josuke,” Okuyasu tries again when it’s clear that Josuke is trying to ignore him. “C’mon man, I really need to talk to ya.” He says it in Japanese so Josuke’s American friends won’t understand. “It’s important.”
Josuke tips his cup and downs half the drink in one swallow. He smacks his lips, and then seems to decide he doesn’t want to ignore Okuyasu after all. “Can’t be that important,” he says, slurring his syllables. “S’been hours.”
Okuyasu huffs. “Yeah, cause you–dude, come on. Are you seriously just gonna pretend we ain’t friends anymore? I’m tryin’a say sorry!”
The muscles in Josuke’s jaw twitch, and he pulls inward, staring into his cup. His frown deepens.
“Hey man,” some blond guy says to Okuyasu in English. “Kinda seems like he doesn’t wanna talk to you, so.” He makes a shooing motion, like Okuyasu’s a raccoon who’s wandered into his backyard and is digging through his trash. “Get lost.”
Okuyasu glares at him and curls his hands into fists at his sides. He’s been itching to hit something for too long. This guy is two seconds from being in the right place at the wrong time. The red in his vision almost makes him miss it. Almost. If he wasn’t practically hovering over Josuke, he would have.
The long-haired girl on Josuke’s other side leans against his shoulder and whispers something in his ear, giggling. Josuke sluggishly holds his palm out. Okuyasu watches as she places a tiny, white pill of who knows fucking what into his hand.
“Oi!” Okuyasu redirects his anger in an instant, and it clashes horribly with a spike of anxiety. “Don’t–” he sputters through his unsteady grasp of the English language, “do not give him that!”
He squats down to slap it out of Josuke’s hand before he can think about putting it in his mouth. He barely hears the shouts of the other members of the circle over the sound of blood rushing in his ears.
Maybe the pill is fine, but maybe, probably, it’s not. Okuyasu’s taken enough free shit from people who seem real nice over the years to know it’s not a good idea. Fuck knows where they got it, what’s actually in it. The last thing he needs is to have to drag Josuke to the goddamn hospital because he took something he shouldn’t have.
“What’s your fucking problem!?” Someone shouts at him. It’s not Josuke. Okuyasu swivels his head to see the blond guy struggling to get to his feet. “That shit’s expensive, retard!”
The blond guy doesn’t get very far.
“Don’t talk to him like that, asshole!” Josuke shouts. He grips his cup tight enough to crinkle the plastic and launches it at the guy. Even drunk, Josuke’s got pretty good aim. The cup crashes into blond guy’s collarbone and what’s left of Josuke’s drink splashes against his neck and all down his front.
“What the fuck!” He gapes down at his freshly-drenched shirt.
Okuyasu is startled from staring by Josuke grabbing onto his forearm and clumsily getting to his feet. He’s unsteady even when he’s up, so Okuyasu puts his arm around his waist. Josuke lets him. He even leans into it and winds his own arm around Okuyasu’s neck, automatic and familiar, even as he curses at the blond guy, who is now looking up at them with bewilderment.
Having Josuke close and safe is enough to lower Okuyasu’s hackles, and he starts to pull him away from the group. Josuke stumbles and doesn’t resist and he’s pretty sure he’s flipping the blond guy off behind him, but Okuyasu doesn’t want to stop to look.
They slowly make their way away from the crowd of people and out toward the start of the beach. Josuke stops cursing and rests his warm, sweaty forehead against Okuyasu’s temple. His breath smells like a bottle of rubbing alcohol.
The sand is hot under Okuyasu’s foot. He hisses and quickly finds a spot for them to sit so he’ll at least have a barrier between it and his ass. Josuke joins him, clumsily, sitting with an audible whump. The scowl on his face is so ferocious, Okuyasu thinks it might stick if he doesn’t smooth it out soon. He hasn’t pulled his arm from around Okuyasu’s shoulders and Okuyasu can see his hand curled into a trembling fist from the corner of his eye.
Okuyasu can’t bring himself to pull his arm from around Josuke’s waist either. He presses his palm flat against his ribcage so he can feel him inhale, exhale. It settles him. Okuyasu hadn’t been very touchy growing up, for obvious reasons, but after having Josuke for so long, who thought nothing of wrapping himself around him, of holding his hand or wiping smudges off his face with the pad of his thumb, he’s felt a little lost without Josuke’s hands on him these past few days.
He didn’t realize how lost until just now, with Josuke pressed right up next to him.
“Josuke,” he says, his stomach lurching. It’s heavy with guilt, and the fear that Josuke will leave him here if he can’t fix what he’s broken.
Josuke hiccups and turns his glassy eyes on Okuyasu. His face is pink. Okuyasu isn’t sure if it’s from the sun or the alcohol. He should have grabbed that tube of sunscreen from Koichi so he could smear some of it into Josuke’s cheeks. He burns like a lobster. Okuyasu probably should have grabbed a bottle of water for him too, but he’s not about to get up and leave him here to do it now.
Okuyasu doesn’t know where to start. “Dude,” he says out of nervous habit, “I’m…really, really fucking sorry. I shouldn’ta said any of that shit to you. I shouldn’ta told Kenta about our–thing–I didn’t do it on purpose. You know I ain’t that smart, and I just didn’t know what to tell him, cause he was saying all that…stuff.” Okuyasu remembers how angry he’d been when Kenta implied that Josuke was a cheater. Looking back on it, he thinks part of that anger might have been from him poking the open wound of Okuyasu and Josuke not doing any of the things he was implying. Things Okuyasu wishes he was doing with Josuke.
“Fuck Kenta,” Josuke huffs. Then, quieter and half-mumbled, he says, “I know it was an accident. M’not–not really mad about that.”
Okuyasu stares at him. He’s not mad about Okuyasu breaking up his relationship? That can’t be right. Maybe they should talk about this when he’s a little less drunk and sun-sick. It quells some of the anxiety in Okuyasu’s gut though, and he can’t bring himself to pull away from Josuke or suggest they head to a hotel so he can sleep it off. Not yet.
“Ya ain’t?”
Josuke sighs through his nose. “I liked Kenta,” he says, trying to sound very serious. His mouth doesn’t seem like it’s really cooperating with him. “He was…nice. An’ he bought me things and took me places. It’s just–ugh–” He finally pulls his arm from around Okuyasu’s shoulders so he can wrap them around his legs instead. Josuke presses his face into his knees.
“I liked all of ‘em, at least, at some point, y’know?” Josuke goes on, voice muffled. “But…yeah, I’d get bored eventually, ‘cause they weren’t…I didn’t feel…” He makes another frustrated sound. “I didn’t love any of them, which is pretty fuckin’ funny comin’ from me, huh?”
Okuyasu frowns and scratches his fingers against Josuke’s side.
“I’d just. Stay with them because they weren’t awful to be around. ‘Cause you’re right–I’m–” Josuke’s voice cracks, his shoulders shuddering. “I don’t wanna end up like my mom, man.”
“Huh? What’dya mean?”
Josuke huffs. “I mean–she just…she never dated again after Mr. Joestar. She’s still in love with that old bastard. Me and grandpa were all she had. All she does is work and ever since I moved out, it’s just her at the house by herself. I don’t–want that to be me. I’m fuckin’ terrified I’m gonna be alone just like her–”
Okuyasu drags Josuke into a fierce hug. He wraps his other arm around him and crushes him against his chest. Josuke startles and his elbow pokes Okuyasu in the ribs, but Okuyasu doesn’t care. He squeezes him that much tighter and presses his cheek against the top of Josuke’s head.
“The fuck are you goin’ on about?” Okuyasu mutters. “You ain’t never gonna be alone long as I’m around, whether you like it or not, asshole.”
Josuke laughs; a wet, choked sound, and grasps Okuyasu’s arm. They sit like that awhile, clutching each other, against the backdrop of live music and a crowd that feels incredibly distant now. They sit like that until Okuyasu’s arms start to get tired. He pulls back and rests his hand in the dip between Josuke’s shoulder blades, copying what Josuke’d done for him the other day and rubbing what he hopes are soothing circles against his back.
Josuke sniffles and finally lifts his head. His eyes are rimmed red and dewy, his eyelashes dark where they’ve wettened and clumped together.
“This is the worst fucking birthday ever,” he says, eyes darting to meet Okuyasu’s, those same eyelashes catching light with the movement. The weak little smirk he gives makes it clear he’s trying to lighten the mood.
Okuyasu grins at him. “Worst birthday so far. I was gonna say we should get shit-faced, but ya already got me beat there.”
Josuke snorts. “Didn’t have that much. Wouldn’t say no to an overpriced beer, though.”
Okuyasu pats his back. “Maybe some water first?”
They lean against each other and watch the sun dip below the horizon, until the sky and sea turn dark and inseparable. The tide starts to come in further up the beach, soaking the sand and washing away footprints from the day’s visitors. Some of the other concert goers wade into the water for a swim, shrieking and laughing while the last few bands of the day play on in the background.
“Sorry I shoved you,” Josuke says eventually. “How’s your head?” He palms the back of Okuyasu’s skull like he’s feeling for a bump. It feels nice, his fingers dragging through Okuyasu’s hair.
“M’alright,” Okuyasu says. “I thought you were gonna punch me.”
“I kinda wanted to.”
“Should’a.”
Josuke flicks the back of his skull. “Man, shut the hell up.”
“Ow!”
Josuke drops his hand and turns back toward the ocean. The blue of his eyes has gone as black as the water, glimmering softly beneath the light of the moon. He’s chewing on his bottom lip.
“M’also sorry for…givin’ you the cold shoulder and all. Sayin’ I don’t care what you think, ‘cause I do. Like, maybe more than anyone.” Josuke laughs quietly.
“Aw, you ain’t gotta say sorry for that,” Okuyasu says, feeling his chest go tight. “I said a real shitty thing, and y’know, I really don’t think you’re–”
“Yeah,” Josuke cuts him off. “I know. It’s okay.”
Okuyasu shuts his mouth.
“Oku…” Josuke mumbles after a minute. “I gotta tell you somethin’. Before I sober up and fuckin’ chicken out.”
“What’s up man?” Okuyasu asks, his heart rattling against his ribcage. Something heavy settles in the pit of his stomach, anxiety pumping through his veins.
Josuke’s gnawing on his bottom lip again. He drops his gaze from the ocean to look down at the sand, which he starts to scrape through with the tips of his fingers.
“Uh. Fuck. You remember when we used to…uh…you know. When we had our arrangement.”
Okuyasu’s face heats up. He nods. Then, realizing Josuke can’t see him, says, “Uh huh.” Obviously. Getting into bed with Josuke nearly every weekend for six months straight isn’t something Okuyasu was just going to forget about.
“You remember when I broke it off?”
Okuyasu leans back on his hands and looks upward, recalling the memory.
He’s pretty sure they were still in bed. Okuyasu remembers he’d been half asleep, curled in toward Josuke, who’s light touch he can still feel against his cheek, thumb running across the etched line of his scar. It was nice. Josuke’s hands weren’t soft but they were gentle, a soothing balm that made Okuyasu want to lay there forever.
“Hey,” Josuke said, his touch vanishing in an instant. “Um. I don’t think I wanna do this anymore.”
“Mm?” Okuyasu cracked one eye open to look at Josuke, his vision a little bleary. “Do what?”
“This…sleeping together thing.” Josuke wasn’t looking at him, and he didn’t say anything else.
It didn’t occur to Okuyasu until much later why that moment had felt so horrible. Not until Josuke started dating again and Okuyasu had to see him touch other people and kiss them and hold their hands. Not until he could put a name to the thing he was feeling. Jealous. Because Okuyasu was the one who wanted to hold Josuke’s hand.
“Uh huh.”
“I never gave you a reason, ‘cause, um, I didn’t want to…ruin things, I guess. But I know it’s why nothing has ever worked out for me with anyone else. I–fuck, why is this so hard?” Josuke huffs and squeezes the sand like this is all its fault. “The reason I get bored in relationships, the reason I broke off our friends with benefits thing, is because I like you. I didn’t want to just…I mean, don’t get me wrong, the sex was great and all, but I wanted the other stuff too, you know?”
Okuyasu goes still.
“Ah, fuck, that’s not even…” Josuke keeps rambling. “I’m like, in love with you? I’m pretty sure? Haha. Holy shit, I can’t believe I just said that.”
Okuyasu barely hears him over his pulse pounding in his ears. His throat feels tight. His stomach swoops and he thinks he might throw up.
Josuke glances at him, then away. “You don’t have to–uh, say anything. Figured I’d just. Get it out there.” He winces, and looks like he wishes he hadn’t said anything at all.
There’s static in Okuyasu’s head. There’s no way Josuke had just said what he said. Is there? There’s a lump in Okuyasu’s throat and every time he swallows it feels like it gets bigger. He’s staring at Josuke like a fucking moron.
Josuke notices.
“Man, what?” He asks, shoulders hunching defensively. “It doesn’t–I didn’t say it to make things weird between us…is it weird now?”
“N-no!” Okuyasu finds his voice. “No, it ain’t weird!”
“Augh, okay, okay, you don’t gotta yell–”
“Josuke. Dude. Are you being serious right now? Are you really–do you really–? If you’re joking around, it ain’t funny–”
“Why would I joke about something like that!? It’s fucking embarrassing–”
“I love you!” Okuyasu shouts in his face. “I’m stupid and it took me forever to figure out why I hated all your goddamn boyfriends. I was jealous! And–I just–never said nothin’ ‘cause I didn’t wanna ruin shit either. I figured it was better to just leave it alone…since you never said nothin’ to me and you broke off our thing. I just thought–I’d rather still have you as my best friend than not at all, y’know…”
“I know I just…fuckin’, augh, ruined your relationship and fucked up your whole birthday trip, but–if you wanna…try…dating, or somethin’. I’d wanna try. But! I ain’t really got much experience with the whole–” Okuyasu waves his hand. “Relationship. Thing. So if I do somethin’ that pisses you off you gotta promise to tell me, ‘cause I’d be really fuckin’ sad if you dumped me and we never talked to each other again–”
“Okuyasu!” Josuke twists his body to lean in close. Both of his hands come up to either side of Okuyasu’s face. He can feel the sand sticking to his palms against his cheeks. “Stop talking.”
Josuke kisses him. He tastes like paint thinner and fruit juice. It’s just as spine-tinglingly perfect as Okuyasu remembers. Josuke’s lips are so plush and soft against his own, firm with intent. The press of his tongue is hot and Okuyasu opens up for him immediately.
Okuyasu’s hands settle in the familiar dip of Josuke’s waist, so fucking small compared to the rest of him. It feels like they belong there, a perfect fit. He kisses Josuke and the world shifts, upright, back on its axis.
Eventually, he has to pull back to breathe. Okuyasu opens his eyes, not sure when he’d closed them, and takes in the sight of Josuke. His chest heaves beneath his t-shirt, his lips shiny with saliva, pupils blown wide. There’s a bead of sweat running down his temple. Okuyasu’s insides warm.
Josuke kisses him again, and again. Okuyasu laughs and tries to hold him back. “D–dude, we should–uh, probably go find Koichi and Yukako–”
Josuke’s hands slip from Okuyasu’s face to grip the front of his shirt. He presses a kiss against the corner of Okuyasu’s mouth, then his cheek, sand and all.
“And–uh! Maybe talk about this when you ain’t…drunk?”
Josuke noses at his jawline and rests his lips against the side of his neck. “M’only a little tipsy,” he murmurs. He presses one last kiss against Okuyasu’s raging pulse and finally pulls away.
“We can talk about it whenever you want,” he says. “But no take-backs.”
Okuyasu grins and kisses him one more time, unable to help himself. “Ain’t nothin’ I’d wanna take back.”