Mikey swung his leg up and down lazily from the back of Draken's bike as they idled at a stoplight. The sun was just dipping past the roofto
Mikey swung his leg up and down lazily from the back of Draken's bike as they idled at a stoplight. The sun was just dipping past the rooftops, gold bleeding into soft purple. A good time of day. Quiet. Full of potential.
Even if he didn't have his Babu today because it was being painted with the Tokyo Manji Gang symbol. At least Draken was driving him around for now.
"Hey, Ken-chin," he said suddenly, chin digging into Draken's shoulder blades.
Draken didn't look back, but Mikey knew he was listening. He always was.
"Do you think Takemitchy will be excited to meet someone who can help him with that sewing thing?"
Draken raised a brow. "You mean Mitsuya?"
Mikey hummed. "Yeah. He's cool, right? All responsible and stuff. I bet Takemitchy'll like him. Not like-like, but y'know. Friendly-like."
Draken turned around enough for Mikey to see his smirk, but didn't add anything.
Mikey's gaze wandered to the sky. "He's been smiling more lately," he murmured. "Takemitchy. Not that weird polite smile. The real one. It's kinda... warm. Makes me feel like I wanna be a better person or something."
"You mean it makes you want to actually show up to school?" Draken deadpanned.
Mikey kicked the back of his seat. "Shut up."
But he was grinning.
"Seriously though," he went on, voice soft now, "being around him is fun. Easy. He's good at calming me down. Even better than you, sometimes."
Draken glanced at him through the mirror. "I'll pretend I'm not offended."
Mikey ignored that. "I dunno. He's just... nice. And not in that boring way. He's always trying, and it makes me wanna try too."
There was a pause. Then he brightened. "I hope he makes dinner. Something fancy. Like that egg-y rice thing with the smiley ketchup I love."
"You mean omurice."
"Yeah!" Mikey beamed. "And he better smile when he gives it to me. That big, shiny smile."
Draken made a noise like he was holding in a laugh.
Mikey turned to him, suspicious. "What?"
"You're drooling."
Mikey jolted, wiping at his mouth with his sleeve. "Am not!"
"You weren't. Just had to confirm something."
Mikey glared. "Dick."
Draken gave a smug shrug. "It's not about the food, you know."
Mikey blinked. "What?"
Draken finally turned his head, one brow arched. "You like him."
There was a long silence as Draken continued to drive slowly.
Then Mikey frowned. "I like a lot of people."
"And yet, you don't get all hopeful and sparkly-eyed about any other making omurice."
Mikey opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Frowned deeper.
"…Shit."
Draken chuckled. "Took you long enough."
Mikey went quiet.
Draken's teasing had faded into the background, his voice just another hum beneath the buzz of the city, the wind, the faint crackle of his thoughts.
You like him.
The words echoed in his brain like a rock skipping over still water. Leaving ripples. Wakes. Disbelief.
Do I...?
He thought about Takemichi.
No—correction: he tried to stop thinking about Takemichi and immediately failed because Takemichi had taken up permanent residence in his head like a stubborn goldfish in a fancy bowl. He was just there, always.
When he woke up, Takemichi was the first person he thought about. It had become a habit to shoot him a text before even brushing his teeth.
'Morning. Dreamed of you makin curry. I was the curry.'
Or something equally ridiculous.
He liked knowing what Takemichi was doing. Even the mundane stuff. Like if he had breakfast, if his socks matched, if he remembered to bring an umbrella.
Normal stuff.
Stuff I wouldn't care about unless it came from Takemichi.
And Takemichi always answered. Sometimes with sleepy typos. Sometimes with voice notes that started with a groan and ended in a yawned-out "Mikeyyyyy, go back to sleep."
Mikey never did.
He just replayed them.
Grumpy Takemichi was one of his favorite things. That raspy voice, still thick with sleep, that indulgent tone like he wasn't really mad—just fondly exasperated. He called just to hear it sometimes.
He never got bored of it.
And when Takemichi smiled—that real smile, the one that pulled out dimples and made his eyes shine—Mikey felt it like a punch to the stomach. Or like that weird drop you get when an elevator starts moving and your guts forget where gravity is.
That feeling?
Yeah.
It'd become normal.
He'd been ignoring it for weeks because of how normal it was to feel it.
He'd felt it when Takemichi cooked for him. When he offered him second helpings like it was just natural. When he remembered how Mikey liked his omurice drawn with a stupid smiley face in ketchup.
He was just so... warm. Steady. Soft without being weak. Firm without being cold.
Perfect.
God.
Mikey's face dropped into his hands.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. "I'm in deep."
He peeked through his fingers at Draken, who, now that they were waiting for the lights to turn green, was watching him with the exact same face he always made when Mikey did something dumb but inevitable.
And yeah.
That grin?
Yeah, Draken knew.
"Shut up," Mikey muttered before he could say anything.
"I didn't say a word," Draken said, laughing.
Mikey groaned and flopped forward dramatically, draping himself over Draken's back.
"You're gonna have to help me plan the wedding," he mumbled into his back.
Draken patted his head. "Already got the suit picked out, bro."
Mikey couldn't help but send Takemichi a text. Though this time he didn't want to be too obvious so he just sent 'u dead again?'
They were just turning the corner toward Mitsuya's school when Mikey's phone buzzed. Mikey's face immediately lit up when he saw the sender. That giddy, fluttery feeling in his stomach returned, and he couldn't help the smile tugging at his mouth.
He glanced at the screen and opened the text.
Takemitchy - not yet. Meeting with your brother. Talk you later.
His smile dropped like a lead pipe.
He reread it. Once. Twice. Just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.
Izana? Again?!
"Seriously?" Mikey muttered.
He scowled at his phone, thumbs twitching over the keyboard before stopping himself from texting something stupid like Tell him to go away.
"You good?" Mitsuya asked, glancing up from his bag as he walked toward them, half out of his club uniform.
Draken snorted. "He's pouting again."
"I'm not pouting!" Mikey hissed, glaring at Draken as he turned his phone around and shoved it in his face. "Look!"
Draken read the message. Blinked. Then raised a single unimpressed eyebrow. "That's what got you sulking?"
"I'm not sulking."
Mitsuya snorted. "You are absolutely sulking."
Mikey turned the glare on Mitsuya now, as if he was somehow responsible for this entire betrayal of fate.
Mitsuya didn't flinch, already used to his moods. Instead, he zipped up his jacket and gave them both a knowing look.
"So," he said, smirking just slightly. "This is the mysterious new friend you've been hiding from us?"
Draken chuckled. "Told you you'd figure it out."
"And he's got good taste too," Mitsuya added, flipping his bag over his shoulder. "Apparently likes sewing, is cute, and cooks like someone's Italian grandma."
Mikey groaned. "Don't encourage him."
Mitsuya only smiled wider.
"I'm ready," he said. "Lead the way. I want to meet the guy making you pout this hard, Mikey."
"I'M NOT—"
"Pouting. Yeah, yeah," Draken and Mitsuya said in sync.
Mikey fumed silently all the way to Takemichi's apartment.
And maybe—maybe—he texted Takemichi 'u better not be feeding him too' with an aggressively neutral face emoji.
Just to stake some territory.
Y'know.
Just in case.
.
.
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