Warning: n/a
Disclaimer: nope
Notes: dark chocolate helps relieve stress

二

30 Dec 2012 — Takao's Reflection

I grew up in a great household.

My parents showered me with love and spoiled me rotten.

We were the perfect family.

04 Feb 2012 — 18h03 — Taiga's Café

Clean the tables.

Wipe the floors.

Wash the restrooms (this, he dreads most).

Closing the café is routine; he works outside, and Kagami works in the kitchen. It's usually not difficult, but with Midorima sitting at the counter, waiting for him to finish, it's hard for him to focus.

Ten minutes before closing, Midorima walked in and sat down. He was, as always, early. And of course, at that time, Takao was tidying up the place. His rushed hands were met with anxiousness as he hurried to complete the task, but unfortunately, washing the restrooms proved to be time-consuming.

When he finally slips out of his apron and hangs it up, Midorima's gaze falls from the clock above the door to him. With one glimpse, he indicates that he's ready to move — that he has been ready.

Not wasting any more seconds, Takao dips his head into the kitchen, tells Kagami that he's heading out, and with a goodbye, turns his attention back to Midorima. "Ready?"

"I wouldn't be here if I'm not."

Midorima hasn't changed much; when it comes to anything involving self-fulfillment, he always has a tendency to answer indirectly. It's a quirk Takao finds cute. Really cute.

"Come on, let's go."

— o —

04 Feb 2012 — 18h17 — Piacere's

Ranked top ten in the city for international (namely Italian) cuisine, and number three in atmosphere and service, Piacere's is bustling with activity. Those of all ages are scattered among the many tables; some are in pairs, others in groups. Chatter thrives underneath the dimmed lights, and the sound of silverware clinking against the dishware only adds to the soothing piano music.

Takao has always liked this place. It's not because of the food or the atmosphere — although, those two do play a major role in his pleasant experiences here — but rather, the layout. Anyone who steps in for a second and looks around can see the work put into the decorations. Chandeliers with small crystals hanging in every direction extend over three sections of the dining area. Gentle lit lamps customized for the restaurant adorn the wall, providing a lovely glow against every guest's face. The furniture itself is praise-worthy. Beautifully carved chairs sit along the refined tables; couches and sofas line the two corners, and coffee tables made of tinted blue glass lay in between.

The addition he favors most is the lookout. One of Piacere's walls is pure glass; in the morning, it's nothing special, but when night falls and city lights come on, it's breathtaking. If he had the money, he'd dine here every night, but since he doesn't have more than a few thousand yen to spend, Piacere's is only for special occasions.

And this is definitely a special occasion.

"Table for two."

"Got a new one already?" The host — Ryo, Takao remembers — grins at him before grabbing two menus and leading them toward a table next to the window. "They keep getting bigger and bigger."

Takao's lips quirk into an amused smile. "This one's a keeper."

Ryo chuckles and pulls out the chairs for both of them. "Let's hope so." When they're situated, he places a basket of fresh-baked rolls on the table. "Shall we start on drinks and appetizers?" He clasps his hands together and looks between the two.

"You want anything?" Takao peers over at Midorima who's flipping through the menu.

"Just water," Midorima orders without glancing up.

"I'll have a Coke and the cheese and pepperoni dip."

As the host scribbles down the order, he asks, "So, what's his name?"

Takao leans on the palm of his hand. "Midorima Shintarou." Though he's mentioned, Midorima doesn't look up to acknowledge the topic of conversation. "We went to high school together."

"Huh, isn't that something. Well, hope it works out this time." Ryo pats his shoulder. "I'll give Miko this order and be back with your drinks." After a quick word of thanks from Takao, the other ushers off.

"That's Ryo," Takao says, reaching for another breadstick. "He's actually the one who told me about this restaurant."

"You come here often?" Midorima lays the menu down and picks up a breadstick.

"As much as I can, but, y'know, money's tight. I can't always afford eating here." He glances out the window. "This is my usual table, though. Ryo knows that much." His eyes find Midorima's, and a gentle smile works its way onto his lips. "How do you like it so far?"

"It's nice."

Takao hums in agreement. "I love it here." Absent-mindedly, he wipes his fingers on the towel while peering out into the city. "I would've never thought that I would be here with you." Though his eyes stray on the flashing advertisements, his attention stays on Midorima, and he wonders for the briefest moment what the other is thinking. Takao prides himself in knowing Midorima well enough to read his expressions, but after five years of being out of practice, he finds himself trying to analyze a stoic look. "You never called me." He looks at his company, but Midorima continues gazing out the window.

"I had no reason to."

Takao's grip tightens around the towel.

"You didn't contact me either." Midorima glances over and catches Takao's eyes; the connection holds for a second.

"I thought it would be better if I didn't." Because if I'd heard your voice, I would start missing you.

They both saw the break up coming. Takao just didn't account how much it actually hurt him. He had grown attached to his partner, and that attachment bloomed into infatuation. A year was not enough. He wanted to continue on, to hold Midorima's hand and support him through. He wanted to be there for him as a tissue, as a pillar. But all his wants faded into wishes when graduation came. They parted, and that was it.

"You still have the same number." A soft smile eases its way onto Takao's expression. "The one you gave me yesterday matched the one on my phone."

Midorima quirks an eyebrow. "You still have the same phone?"

"Nah," Takao leans back in his seat. "I got a new one, but I transferred all the numbers over." That's half-true; he only transferred the numbers of those he spoke to and those he wanted to speak to.

"A water and a Coke." The sound of Ryo's voice draws Takao from nostalgia. "Anything else you two need?"

Takao shares a look with Midorima before shaking his head. "Nope, that'll be all."

"If you need something, just give me a ring, all right?"

When he's out of earshot, Takao turns back. "So," he begins, "what have you been doing for the past five years?"

Midorima doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he takes his time to wipe his fingers on his towel and sip water. Takao opens his mouth to repeat his question — just in case the other didn't hear — but before he can, Midorima replies, "I've recently begun practicing medicine."

"How many more years of training do you have to go through before getting certified?"

"Three. I took courses over the summer to get ahead."

Takao laughs. "Shin-chan's really smart. I'm jealous." He has always been jealous of him. Midorima's born perfect; he's intelligent, he's talented, he's rich — he has everything. Back when they were together, he used to laugh at how ironic it was for someone of such a high rank to be with someone so low. It's not that he considered himself low — he was fairly smart, he had talent, and his family had enough money to send him to Shuutoku — it was just that Midorima was beyond his reach.

Was.

Is.

The path they now pursue are on opposite ends of the spectrum. Here, he's a waiter at a café, making a couple of thousand yen each day. And then there's Midorima, a doctor in training, who will probably end up holding true to his family name.

It's still funny that Midorima's here with him.

"What are you laughing at?"

Takao bats the air as he tries to stifle his giggles. "Nothing. It's nothing." Once he catches his breath, he's met with Midorima's distasteful glare. "Sorry, sorry." He slouches back into his seat.

Midorima ignores the apology. "What about you?" he asks.

"Ah, me?" Takao shifts again. "Well, I played basketball with Kagami and Kasamatsu for two years, and then I took up journalism. I did that for a bit, then graduated and worked for the newspaper. My boss was prissy and uptight, so when I didn't meet the deadline for the second time, she fired me. Fortunately for me, Kagami was opening a café at the time, and I was offered a spot." He pauses to thank Miko, their waitress, for the appetizer, but she doesn't go away.

"Are you ready to order?" She flips to a blank page on her notepad.

"I'll have the Shrimp Scampi¹," Takao orders while mindlessly dipping a piece of flatbread into the cheese and pepperoni mix.

"Veal Parmesan², thank you." Midorima folds up the menu and hands it to her. Takao mirrors this movement.

"Will that be all?"

"Yes."

As the waitress moves away, Midorima begins picking at the flatbread. Though Takao's five years out of practice, he can still tell when Midorima's thinking, but like before, he's oblivious to what the other is thinking about. Silent, Takao stuffs the bread into his mouth and waits for his company to strike up a conversation. When this doesn't happen, he finds himself taking the initiative once more.

"What's on your mind?"

Midorima's looks up from the flatbread between his fingers. "Nothing." He leans over a little to sample the dip.

"I'll answer anything you ask."

"I didn't have a question."

Takao's hand pauses over the dip. His eyebrow raises.

Midorima avoids his steady gaze. "What did the host — Ryo — mean when he said 'another one'?"

"Oh." Takao lifts the flatbread back into his mouth, and after taking a bite, chewing, and swallowing, he replies, "This is my go-to restaurant for dates." It isn't the only place he goes to — eating out at the same restaurant can get boring sometimes, even if it's Piacere's — but it's his preferred choice. The harmonic piano music proves to ease tense shoulders, and the relaxing atmosphere dismisses worry. Here, he can sit back and chat, and he loves doing that.

"I didn't know."

"Hm?"

"That you're dating someone."

Takao glances up at Midorima, who appears to be on the edge of his seat and prepared to excuse himself. "I'm not dating anyone at the moment." He pauses, then continues to say, "Unless you consider this a date."

Midorima stiffens and draws his sights to the city lights. "One date isn't enough to determine that."

"How many dates do we need to go on before you consider us dating?" He leans in and rests his chin on the palm of his hand.

Midorima murmurs something.

"What was that?"

His company repeats himself, this time a little louder.

"Two."

Two.

Takao sits back with a satisfied smile. "That can be arranged."

Midorima meets his gaze for a moment and then diverts his attention to the cheese and pepperoni dip. "You mentioned having other —" He clears his throat. "— partners."

It's a subject Takao has always avoided on dates. Before, he didn't mind chatting about his previous partners, but when one in particular threw a fit over such innocent topic, he never mentioned it again. The only difference here is that Midorima initiated the conversation, and not wanting to be rude, Takao follows up, "I have."

As he lifts the glass of soda to his lips, he watches Midorima's perplexing expression. There's a furrow of the eyebrows, but other than that, there are no signs of dissent. To Takao, this is a good and bad thing. It's good, because he likes being unrestricted; it's bad, because he can't exactly tell if Midorima's asking out of manners or out of curiosity.

"How about you?" Takao sets the glass back down and goes for another breadstick.

Midorima, on the other hand, folds his fingers together and remains still. "I didn't have the time."

"Implying that you made time for me?" He doesn't expect a physiological response from his date, but when he focuses on Midorima's face, he can't help but notice the slight flush in the other's cheeks, and it's definitely not from the spice in the dip (if he remembers correctly, Midorima's good with spicy foods). "You know," Takao continues, tossing a piece of bread into his mouth, "you're not really open with me. How long have we've known each other?" He swallows and takes a sip of his Coke. "Seven, eight years? I know you well enough, so don't hold what you want to say back."

Midorima reaches up to adjust his glasses — out of habit, perhaps, since they haven't slipped yet. "If you know me well enough, then it's unnecessary for me to say everything."

"Don't be stubborn."

"I'm only reiterating what you said."

Wiseass.

Conversation falls silent as Takao struggles to retaliate. Fortunately for him, Midorima picks up on the cue. "Tell me about them."

Out of curiosity, then, Takao decides.

"What do you want to know?"

Midorima reaches for the last breadstick, then pauses to look up at him. When Takao indicates that he doesn't want it, Midorima helps himself to half of it. "Anything you want to tell."

Takao taps his chin for a moment. There's a lot to talk about, considering each of his dates had quirks of their own. He remembers taking a girl out — she's the second person he had ever dated. "Her name's Amelia." And she was breathtaking. Her golden locks were her most prized possession; he can't recall her going five minutes without touching her hair (mindlessly, most of the time). "She was from America — a state called Ohio, I think." He remembers her laughing every time he said it. Even though he didn't hear a difference, she insisted that he was pronouncing it wrong. "Apparently the name comes from an Indian tribe, not our 'good morning'."

"It's Ohio," Midorima says. "The pitch is lower on the last syllable."

"But it sounds the same!" Takao turns to the couple sitting at the table next to them. "Don't Ohio and ohayo sound the same?"

The two strangers share a look then shrug. "It sounds the same how you're saying it," the woman replies.

"See!"

Midorima sighs, and Takao knows he's tempted to roll his eyes. "It sounds the same, because you're not pronouncing Ohio correctly."

"It's your accent!"

"It's not due to my accent."

"Yes, it is!"

Takao rips off a piece of the breadstick and stuffs it in his mouth whilst Midorima takes a long sip of his water. When they're over their childish dispute, Midorima speaks up, "How did ... how did it end?"

"She decided to finish college back in her country. Long-distance wasn't really her thing." When she told him this over a cup of coffee, his heart shattered for a second time, but once the day of her departure arrived, he came to accept her decision. It was, after all, for her future, and not to mention, if they were thousands of miles away, he wouldn't be able to hold up a relationship either. He needed the connection, and distance didn't allow that. So he let her go, and that was that. "We were in touch for awhile, and a year later, she told me she found someone else. Yeah, I was disappointed, but hey, she's happy."

"I'm sorry."

Hearing Midorima's pitiful attempt at consolation, Takao laughs. "Don't be. It's not like she died or anything. We just lost contact, but I'm still expecting a wedding invitation sometime soon." He gives another chuckle, but it fades fairly quickly. "I dated Kasamatsu for awhile — y'know, the point guard from Kaijou? Kise's senpai?" He sees Midorima's expression twist into one of recognition. "It didn't really work out, since we wanted different things from each other." Kasamatsu needed space, and he needed security. Their interaction was great, the sex even better, but there wasn't a spark. They were just lovers that didn't exactly love. "But he taught me how to play the guitar, so that's something I took out of the relationship."

"Do you still play?"

Takao manages a half-hearted shrug. "Not as much as I did. I mean, I still have his old guitar lying around in my apartment. I just haven't had the time to pick it up." His lashes flicker. "Do you still play the piano?" Midorima played for him once; he can't recall the tune, but he knows it was beautiful (anything rooting from Midorima's fingertips is beautiful, actually).

"At times."

"You should play for me again."

"I'll consider it."

The waitress drops by with their order, and after graciously refilling their drinks, leaves them be. Conversation ceases again as Takao begins feasting. Opposite of his eagerness is Midorima's calm and collected mannerism. He first examines the dish, then, with delicacy and precision, picks up the fork and samples the sauce. It appears to suit his taste, since, as far as Takao can see, Midorima doesn't outright reject it.

"How is it?" Takao asks, nodding at Midorima's pasta.

"This is the first time I've had Italian."

Oh. In that case — "We're coming here more often, then. Try this." He extends a piece of shrimp over. At first, Midorima looks skeptical, only observing, but as Takao begins prodding his lips, he opens his mouth and accepts the offering.

"It's good," he compliments. "Different, but good."

"It's one of my favorite dishes. I love the seasoning they use." Takao leans down to catch the noodles falling off of his fork. "I tried making this at home, but it wasn't the same. It's like I'm missing something."

There's silence again, but this time, the air is strain-free.

Without a topic to discuss, Takao finds himself following Midorima's hand movements. The first thing he notices is that Midorima's using his left hand — which happens to be untaped, yet in perfect condition. He once adored that hand and those fingers (and perhaps he still does). Like Amelia's hair, Midorima's left hand is what he treasures most. It's that hand that led Shuutoku to victory; it's that hand that gave Midorima a title he deserved; and it's that hand that Takao kissed when they said their goodbyes at graduation.

"Tell me more."

Drawing out of his thoughts, Takao blinks. "Huh?"

"About your previous partners."

"Oh, right." Where is he? He talked about Amelia and Kasamatsu — "I dated this guy I met when I worked for the newspaper. He was really pushy, but he had this ... fearless personality that I liked. He actually asked me out in front of our co-workers." It was embarrassing, but at the same time, Takao liked the attention. "The only reason we didn't work out was because he's ... well, flashy."

Midorima stills. "As in?"

"He doesn't have a filter, so it's not unusual for me to walk in every morning and hear him talk — loudly — about our sex life."

Upon hearing this, Midorima's brow wrinkles. "I see."

"So I broke it off with him."

"How did he respond to that?"

A nervous laugh escapes Takao. "He blew up in the office, but he got over it a week later when a new recruit showed up. I felt bad for that kid, since he pretty much went through the same thing I did. Then again, both of their egos were big, so they seemed like a nice fit for each other." He takes a sip of his Coke. "After that, I went on a few dates with others, but none developed into relationships. That's about the highlight of my love life."

It isn't a bad love life. There were some heartbreaks and shattered hope, but other than that, he doesn't feel as if he's missing out. Being in love is great — anyone can side with this comment — but loving another is greater. He likes to feel wanted, and in every relationship he had, his partner made him feel special — as if he had a purpose.

"You got around," Midorima comments.

"I'm still looking for the one." I'm still looking at the one.

Years of being apart didn't diminish his feelings. They've been suppressed, but to go extinct? Improbable. Midorima was the first person he completely opened his heart to. No matter how much he wanted to forget their relationship and their breakup, he couldn't. The experience was engraved into his memory, and seeing Midorima after all this time brings back every emotion.

Nervousness.

Happiness.

Sadness, disappointment, longing —

He wants to erase their ending and start anew.

And the first step to that process is this date.

— o —

04 Feb 2012 — 19h22 — on the way back to Takao's apartment

"You didn't have to walk me home," Takao says, even though it's apparent that he wants more of Midorima's company.

"You're making assumptions. I'm only walking with you, because my dorm is this way."

Takao turns to look at him. "Isn't it a long walk?"

"I don't mind the exercise."

He can't say that Midorima's necessarily lying, but he knows that he's not telling the truth either. There isn't, of course, a foolproof indication that the other is fibbing through his teeth, but honestly, Midorima's willingness to walk home with him says something. Or at least, Takao's sure it means something.

With a hum vibrating from his throat, Takao doesn't press the matter. The last thing he wants is to chase Midorima away with his accusations (if they are even accusations in the first place). Not to mention, he likes the quiet. Though they have a lot more to talk about (which is surprising, considering how much they've discussed over dinner), neither speaks, and he's not certain if it's because Midorima's waiting for him to spark a conversation or if he prefers the silence. Knowing him, it's probably the latter.

They pass Taiga's Café.

Then, they arrive at Takao's apartment.

Since a word hasn't been uttered in the last fifteen minutes, Takao's hesitant to disturb the peace that had settled in between them. He slows in his step, and when he stops, Midorima follows suit.

"Here it is." He turns to his date and flashes him a smile. "Do you want to come in?"

Midorima's eyes find his. "I should head home. It's late."

Though this weighs down his excitement, Takao doesn't let it alter his expression. "Next time then!" He shifts in his step. "I had a great time. We should definitely do this again."

"I'll consider."

Takao laughs. "That means yes, right?" Of course, it means yes. Takao can read that well enough.

Midorima clears his throat and averts his gaze. "Good night, Takao." He says this, but his body doesn't move.

"G'night, Shin-chan." He leans slightly to the right in hopes of meeting Midorima's eyes. This proves futile. "Are you waiting for a kiss?" His words aim to tease, but the hint of sincerity is much too clear. When Midorima remains frozen, gaze still glued to the ground, Takao reaches over and cups his cheeks. Upon contact, Midorima's lids flicker, and their eyes meet.

His thumb gently grazes the soft cheek as he cradles the head and leans closer. "Don't worry," Takao murmurs, peering down at the lips that seemingly yearn for attention and comfort. "I won't disappoint." When resistance is nonexistent, he closes the space between them.

It's a short kiss — one where mouths tentatively brush. Their breaths, however, are taken away, and waves of desire wash over them. Hearts race, and fingers sprawl, but they don't explore.

Takao, though wanting more, resists the looming lust. He steps back and draws his hands to his side. "Good night." With a light smile that promises future pleasures, he heads up the stairs.

As he proceeds upward, his ears perk to the sound of Midorima's fading footsteps. Arriving at the top, Takao peers over the balcony. Coincidentally (or not), Midorima happens to turn around at that moment and search for him. When eye meets eye, Takao waves, and Midorima pretends to not see it.

They turn away.

And Takao looks back.

Midorima is walking down the direction they came from, and this little thought makes his heart skip.

Maybe the infatuation they shared never faded.

Maybe it got stronger with time and distance.

¹ pasta dish consisting on garlic and butter shrimp; served with noodles

² sauteed veal cutlet, topped with mozzarella cheese and tomato sauce