Title:swallow nostalgia, chase it with lime
Pairing:Matsumoto Jun/Ninomiya Kazunari
Rating:NC-17
Summary:Matsumoto Jun, aspiring, ambitious, decides to pursue his dream in the big city. Once starry-eyed but searching, aimless, wandering, wondering if he chose the right thing. Then he decides to go back, go back to where it started. He goes back to the place, and the person he once called home.
Warnings: The setting can be a bit dreary at times and very minor character death.
A/N:Hi eggrater-san, I hope you enjoy this fic for you. It’s one of the prompts you requested: “Ex-boyfriends who never really got over each other but life separated them, met again and realize they're still in love with each other” mixed with the “A day off after long weeks of never-ending work”. It’s a bit more sentimental and poignant than what I usually write, so I hope it worked out well. It’s a prompt I’ve been wanting to do before too, and I decided to do it for this exchange. Title comes from SUBURBIA, by Troye Sivan. (I apologize since it’s unfinished, but I really really do promise I’ll get around to it during the holidays.)


Years of perfecting the city accent, thrifting stylish looking enough clothes, the constant budgeting, the drafty apartment, the sacrifices of a home, good food, proper sleep, a stable lifestyle— all for his dream. A dream to produce a stage all by himself, envisioned by him only. To bring ideas and concepts to life through the use of stage production and concerts, to create a performance that not only amazes the audience inside, but makes them take a piece of it while they go home.

No, the many nights of unpaid overtime or constant and failed revisions aren’t enough to quell the passion within him. There is something else, a nagging factor, a shadow that never seems to leave.

The feeling of uselessness, of being unrecognized, to feel like it’s never enough. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, months wasted on the people who couldn’t give less of a damn. Whether he gives the barest minimum or his everything, it never seems to matter if he never mattered anyway. A day passes feeling unfulfilled, at a nonplus, irresolute about his future. Thinking that running away from the slow and uneventful life back in Toyama would help him materialize his dream, now he begins to regret throwing that away. Once a reckless, ambition teen, now a doubtful, precarious adult.

Matsumoto Jun. A star burning out.

—

Standing on the center of the drafty apartment, staring out at the city lights, listening to the rattle of the train whizzing through, watching the people come and go; sometimes he thinks it’s all too fast, everyone’s too much of in a rush, there’s never a pause for respite, to take things in. Maybe the city life is too much for a boy who’s grown over on the other side, where the grass is greener and the air is fresher. He’s forgotten what a lazy day is like, to lay on the grass and watch the clouds float by, resembling all different kinds of creatures, to be able to bike on empty streets, to play by the seaside. Though he’s found himself to enjoy the nightlife here in Tokyo, the best kind of nights are still undoubtedly those chill evenings he spends with the closest of friends, listening to the whistling of the wind and the sea breeze cooling their face.

Jun shuffles towards his refrigerator, hoping that there’s something left. He’s put in most of his budget into materials for the upcoming play that he had to pay for out of his own pocket first before being reimbursed. All he can do is pray that his electricity wouldn’t be cut off before he gets his money back.

He opens the door of the fridge and peeks in. Light pours out from the tiny lightbulb into the dark apartment, and he squints a little before examining the contents. A few leftover bottles of assorted drinks and frozen onigiris are all that’s left, and he sighs. Grabbing the one that’s furthest away, he peels off the wrapper, hoping it hasn’t gone bad. A tentative first bite tells him the rest of it is probably still edible, so he finishes it. At any rate, he’s mentally prepared for the consequences on his digestive system, even though he hopes there won’t be any.

He then flops back onto his creaky bed, sheets obviously in need of a wash, pillows needed to be fluffed. He stares up to the dim ceiling, reflecting bits of the neon lights, the dull hum of the heater contrasting the silence, a common scene that Jun tires of, but he has nothing else. He turns over to his side, only meeting darkness and the sense of loneliness, not an uncommon feeling either. He taps a steady beat on the edge of his pillowcase, playing a familiar tune in his head: the school bell signaling the starts and ends of class.

It’s nights like these when the noise begins to quiet down, the music stops playing, and he begins to listen to the sounds of the past, sounds he can’t rewind, sounds he can’t come back to. He remembers the distinct chatter of each and every friend, each mannerism and quirk so unforgettable the nostalgia fills his head. He remembers the calmer, quieter, more serene days when life was simpler and more carefree. He is dreaming of home.

A home that he wishes to come back to. A home he left in pursuit of precarious dreams. A home that has probably forgotten him by now.

And sometimes, he thinks that what he truly desires is home, no matter what the city life can offer him.

And on these nights, he dreams of home yet again.

—

Jun says city life is too much of a rush, too quick to change, but there’s no hiding the fact that he’s been influenced by the atmosphere, slightly sparking his mercurial side. And that’s how he finds himself purchasing the next bus ticket to Toyama that night. For past week or two after that, he scrapes off the remaining bills, takes a bunch of his savings, unwillingly sells some of his favorite clothes, and gives up a meal every day just to be able to have funds for this impromptu trip.

A trip, he says, but he has no plans of going back, yet. But he’s equally ambivalent because he doesn’t know if they’ll let him back in, especially how he decided to throw everything away without a warning, technically running away. He doesn’t bet that they’ll be happy seeing him once again, especially after not sending a single letter or notice after these two years. But he decides to take the chance anyway, over the sinking feeling of hopelessness in his dingy apartment. He hopes that at least his sister or his friends will take him in, else he’d have to take to the streets.

His luggage is only filled with the clothes he has left, some toiletries and pocket money, and a whole lot of courage packed into it. He completely ignores all thoughts of doubt and anxiety, of anything preventing him of thinking to go back. He ignores the pretty fluorescent lights that call out to him, the delicacies and couture of the fancy suburbs, the hustle and bustle of the city life that he once dreamed of. Yes, he dreams of home, where the lights are dim but the stars shine, where there are no elegant cuisines or voguish clothes, only homemade food and comfy house-wear; where there is no excitement or rush, only a sense of calm and time to be savored. He truly, truly misses these and would not trade them for the world, but he wonders if it’s too late for that.

He is just about to board the bus when he stops to answer the incessant buzzing of his phone since an hour ago. He hopes it’s nothing important, something like his apartment on fire or that his credit card must have exceeded his limit. He looks at the caller ID and sees it’s only Shun, and he debates a little before finally picking it up, meeting with an apoplectic voice.

“Jun. Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling you for an hour!” Shun barks, and Jun has to pull the phone away from a little from his ear to not risk bleeding in his eardrums.

“I’m going somewhere important. Don’t look for me.” He cuts it short, no explanation, no warnings, a similar behavior of the past. Jun thinks it’s ironic to think that’s learned from his mistakes, when in truth, nothing much has changed.

“Are you running away?” Shun’s tone softens, genuinely curious with a slight admonishment.

Silence. A beat or two passes and Jun watches as the few last passengers board the bus. Any more stalling would cause him to lose his ticket back to the place he once called home, and he’s not ready to give that up.

“What makes you say that?” His voice shakes a little, hands turning a little clammy. Shun’s right, but Jun’s been avoiding seeing it in that light. He stares at the flurry of people filling the bus little by little, wondering if he’s ready to be one of them.

“How many times have you called me drunk, telling me you wanted to go home to Toyama?” Shun flatly says, without a pause. “That you miss your friends Aiba, Sakurai, Ohno, was it? That you miss home-cooked food? That you miss, who was that again? Oh—”

“I get it, I get it.” He probably knows what he’s about to say next, but that’s one thing he’s not ready to face yet, despite knowing he’ll meet him there. “I’m sorry, Shun, I… I need this. You won’t understand, and I don’t either, but please, let me do this. I’ll come back.”

Shun sighs, knowing how stubborn Jun is, he doesn’t try to argue over anything. “I trust you. I can’t do this alone.”

Jun gathers all that bit of courage and boards that night bus, back to the place where it all started.

“Thank you.”

—

He finds himself in a strange feeling of wistfulness, of nostalgia, mixed in with the unshakeable atmosphere of being a stranger in new lands. He stands still, under the waiting shed, waiting for something to happen, but this is the countryside where the complete opposite happens. He barely sees a semblance of movement, save for the wind whistling through the trees and the chatter of insects. He hears a mosquito buzz near his ear, but it seems louder than usual, maybe because the silence is greater, the scene is quieter.

Rolling his luggage across the pavement, the wheels break against the reticence, an uncommon sound because rarely does anyone leave home in search for greater lands. But the air is different; it is fresher and open, unlike the city air that chokes you when you try to stop for air; this is the air that reminds you that to simply breathe is beautiful. The night sky shines brilliantly, unlike the city skies clouded with smog from industrialization. There is no need for a rush here, only the reminder that no matter how slow you go, as long as you move forward.

Despite the months gone, he faithfully remembers that long winding road, the one with the crack that makes him nearly miss his step almost all the time, the aging sakura tree at the corner, the stray cat that hogs the entire park bench, the pathway to the seaside, all the way back home. He lands in front of his house, simply staring at the same front door that used to welcome him home. He sees the lights are still on, beckoning for him to come and knock, but he saves it for another day and heads for another place.

The next place is also something too familiar, another one that reminds him of home, of his safe place. His heart begins to wrench a little too hard, reminding him that this home may not something he could ever come back to, despite being the one to leave first. He guesses it’s his fault anyway, saying goodbye with a proper one. He lingers a little, thinking to himself what home must be like now, if life’s any better.

And that was his first mistake.

He stays too long— long enough for the dog to bark in greeting, not for a stranger, because dogs remember everything, and that includes him. It’s the Shiba Inu he once took care of and even named himself, Momo. He remembers the same jet black fur, accented with white and the brown designed as eyebrows. He remembers how his tag wags wildly each time he comes by, the routine jump into his arms to caress and lick his face. He can’t help but warmly accept him into his arms, missing him all too greatly.

That was his second mistake.

He turns his face up when he’s met with the sound of a door creaking open, something all too recognizable, it’s undoubtedly that person. Jun’s face is all too full of fur, and he’s glad it is, because he doesn’t think he can meet eyes with him.

But no, it is too late, he is faced with one of his fears.

Ninomiya Kazunari.

A name that never fails to roll from his tongue on one too many drunken nights, a nagging feeling which seems to lurk in the recesses of his mind, memories that never seem to wear, someone he could never ever forget. Someone he thought he’d never see again - but now he’s here, only a few centimeters away.

Jun puts Momo down to properly greet him, but once he finishes dusting off the fur, he is only met with silence and the darkness, and Momo isn’t even there anymore. He wants to knock to try things again but decides to call it off once he sees the lights flicker off, turning his atmosphere into complete darkness. He leaves a little heartbroken, but guesses it’s for the best.

He heads for yet another familiar place, hopefully more welcoming and open than the previous. He rings the doorbell without pause and meets with someone even brighter than the stars.

Aiba Masaki.

Aiba blinks a little before breaking into a wide smile, enveloping Jun is a tight embrace. It makes him want to tear up a little, because the feeling is just so comforting and he’s been wondering all this time whether anyone would ever welcome him back. He drops his luggage to hug him back just as firmly, basking in the feeling of warmth.

When they finally pull away, Aiba has nothing but a smile that reaches his eyes and a hand leading inside. Jun then drags his luggage inside and takes off his shoes, excusing his intrusion. He haphazardly flops on his green leather couch, feeling the weariness bear down. Aiba disappears a while and reappears with a glass of water and a towel, almost like he knows what Jun wants.

“I should call up Oh-chan and Sho-chan to tell them you’re back!” He fetches his phone excitedly and as much as Jun wants to put it off until tomorrow, he accepts it, telling himself it won’t be that bad. When he takes a sip. Aiba addresses him again.

“How about Nino? Did you talk to him yet?” Jun nearly chokes on his water at the last syllable, looking at Aiba wildly. He tries to calm his breathing, coughing a bit loudly while Aiba looks in apology.

“Ah… I see. But you shouldn’t pass up the opportunity, alright?” He pats Jun’s back in hopes of relieving the pain. “Have you eaten yet? I’ll heat up some leftovers.” He gets up and leaves Jun in silence again, letting Jun have some time to calm himself down.

He’ll try again another day.

—

He wakes up with a dull ache in his body, the stress of an overnight bus trip taking a toll on his fatigued body, but what helps is the soft bedding of Aiba’s home, and that long warm bath he took before passing out on his bed. Instead of waking to the sound of his incessant alarm, he wakes to the sound of Aiba’s mother watering the plants outside, Aiba’s father setting up the restaurant, and Aiba talking to the dogs. He lays back down and stares at the ceiling for a while, eventually lulling himself back to sleep.

He wakes up later that morning to the smell of a hearty breakfast, a scent not so familiar to him anymore, something that he’s been missing all this time. He basks in the morning glow for a little while, burying himself under the blanket and pressing his face to the pillow, before begrudgingly getting up for breakfast— he has to at least greet them properly.

“Good morning, Matsumoto-kun. It’s been a while.” Aiba’s mother smiles, setting up another plate for him.

“Good morning to you too, and yes it’s been a while. Sorry for the sudden intrusion.” He says sheepishly, scratching his neck before reaching out to help out with the rest of the table setting.

“Oh, no need! Masaki’s friends are always welcome, and it’s a big thanks for taking care of my son all those times back then!” She laughs lightly, easing the tension. Aiba and his family members have always been known for their calming and rejuvenating effect.

When the food is served, Jun, right after the greetings, gulfs down the freshly cooked mackerel and rice all too fast, even faster than Aiba on an empty stomach. When he realizes how hungry he is and how he misses such good food, he immediately turns sheepish when they look to him, knowing that he wants more. Aiba nudges his side and smiles, telling him silently that it’s okay to get some more, and Aiba’s mother reaches out for his bowl to refill it. Jun immediately turns a shade pink and thanks them with a soft tone of bashfulness.

When he and Aiba share the sink to wash the dishes that morning, Aiba asks him out.

“Hey, Jun-chan, if you’re not busy, do you want to come to the beach with us? Sho-kun and I’ve been planning it for a while now and it’s a great opportunity for you to see Oh-chan!” He exclaims while putting down the soapy dish, lest he drops it.

“Is that okay? I don’t want to impose on you.” Jun mutters while focusing on the glass he’s scrubbing, then nearly drops it when Aiba nudges him too hard.

“Oh, come on! Don’t be shy! It’ll be only time the five of us can properly catch up!” Aiba smiles.

“The five of us?” Jun stops, completely still.

“Oh, I might have forgotten to mention Nino-chan!” He grins innocently while Jun forces down a gulp in his throat. He has no room for complaints since he was simply invited.

“You forgot?” Jun stammers, holding the glass a bit tightly.

“Don’t worry, he already said that he’s going!”

And that’s when Jun realizes he can’t run away forever.

—

When he goes to fetch some groceries for Aiba’s mother, he bumps into another familiar person, once who was so important to him, sometimes he wonders if he reached to the point of obsession, although he’d rather not think so. He notices him first through a waft of his cologne, the same masculine cologne, slightly sharp with a tinge of bitterness. It’s an overall essence of someone known for his meticulousness and astringency, and that someone is Sakurai Sho.

Jun helps him pick up the bottles of tea that rolled off his bag and when they finally meet eyes, everything happens all too fast. His face is full of a crisp white polo shirt, the strong scent flooding his nose. Sho has a firm hold, but not too intimate like Aiba and he’s always liked Sho for his gentlemanly nature and absolute politeness. When they pull away, Sho places his hands on his shoulders, shaking him slightly, face in disbelief.

“Matsumoto-kun! You’re really back! I thought Aiba was drunk. But welcome home.” Sho smiles with perfectly aligned teeth, big enough to resemble a chipmunk, but Jun notices how he smiles even wider, despite the look of the lack of sleep. Sho’s hair is now a jet black, cut short but noticeably growing out on his sideburns, a lack of piercings on his ear, and he begins to doubt if this is really Sho.

“Thank you, Sho-san, it’s nice to be back.” Jun smiles and hands over the bottles. He stands up and dusts off his pants before extending a hand to help Sho up. Sho’s pull is a little too hard, however, and causes Jun to nearly lose his balance.
“Sorry, sorry,” Sho apologizes, scratching the back of his neck.

Jun laughs it off, “It’s okay. You’ve been working out a lot lately, I assume?”

“I guess you can say that. It’s a great stress reliever.”

They continue conversing a for a while, going through shelves, choosing through various fresh produce, arguing over quantity and quality, fighting over the best price, Jun suggesting recipes and various ingredients for Sho to try. It feels all too natural, almost like he never left Toyama. Sho is as welcoming as Aiba was, despite their slightly tempestuous past and Sho’s formerly belligerent attitude, and this fact relieves him a little of his worries of coming back all too unanticipatedly.


After they finish their groceries, Sho invites him over for some coffee at his place, right beside his clinic. Sho’s grown up to become a physician for the citizens, especially of those in the aging population since it’s much tougher for them to leave the city and search for good healthcare in their delicate state of health. Jun almost feels bad yet again for being so selfish and leaving home, but he decides to keep that thought for himself.

Nothing much has changed since the times Jun frequented this place in high school, when Sho was his tutor. Jun sweeps his eyes over the familiar objects - the same big painting that Jun always liked to admire sprawled across his living room, kitchen barely used since he knows Sho can’t cook to save a life, and a whole glass cabinet that stores different souvenirs from his travels around the world, including an old rugby ball, one of the things they shared back in high school. He remembers how he and Sho used to sit together at the desk, Jun scrutinizing his math homework and Sho constantly guiding him with the utmost patience. Even if it wasn’t fully academic-related, he’s completely thankful for Sho, for being one of his constants since day one despite all their puerile quarrels back then.

After Sho comes back with coffee (exactly how Jun likes it, with a tinge of sweet but mostly black, and specifically ground coffee), he opens up his laptop and starts typing in things he’s been working on since the previous night.

“Sorry, are you busy? I shouldn’t intrude.” Jun takes a sip. The aroma is heavenly and the heat is just the right amount— it’s absolutely relaxing.

“No, not at all, I just wanted to check something. Tell me about your time in Tokyo.” Sho smiles and closes his laptop, placing it back on the coffee table.

They talk about how the city is so much more distinct than the countryside, from the people and to the food (something Sho is incredibly interested in). He talks about work, about his previous productions, the dearth of job offers in those two years, and the various people he’s met over his stay, while Sho remains quite and a nod as his response. He eventually talks about all he’s been worrying about, how he doesn’t know what to do for his personal project, how he’ll collect funds, who he’ll work with, and how unappreciated he goes in his work. Little by little, he feels the weight come off his shoulders with each complaint that gets off his mind, and Sho’s occasional reassurances. He doesn’t understand how Sho has enough patience to listen to all of his dissatisfactions and grievances, no matter how petty they sound.

“You really do work hard, don’t you, Matsumoto-kun? From the start. I’ve always liked you for that.” Sho smiles genuinely while taking the last sips of his coffee, looking slightly more energized.

“You praise me too much,” Jun laughs a bit nervously, hiding his embarrassed flush behind the coffee cup.

“I’m just trying to say, I’m proud of you for making it this far.” Sho pats him on the shoulder firmly, squeezing it for emphasis. He proceeds to pick up his and Jun’s coffee cup to place it on the sink, giving Jun time to recollect his feelings. He hasn’t felt so valued in recent times, and it warms his heart that there are still people out there who recognize his hard work.

They continue to share stories until after dinner and because Sho has to do his daily visit to the Numatas. When Jun heads home that night and goes to bed, he can’t help but smile a little from time to time, remembering those words. He almost feels like a teenager in love, and it slightly reminds him of why Sho was his first crush.

And again on that night, he manages to sleep peacefully once more, free of the worries and complications of his once burdensome life that used to keep him awake at night.

—

When they leave for the beach that morning, Jun remembers to take his coffee black to get enough caffeine to stay awake for the whole drive without being grumpy. This is necessary as he had previously volunteered to be the driver without properly thinking about it. He squints his eyes the whole time Sho and Aiba load their bags in the trunk, trying to ease off his sleepiness little by little.

One reason for his sleepiness is wondering if the trip would work out and if Nino and he would be civil enough to not ruin it. He’s not implying that they’ve ended on bad terms— or even ended at all, really— but there’s no saying what Nino’s current feelings about Jun are, and if he’s willing to spend more than five seconds in the same room as him. He doesn’t want to spoil this trip for anyone, especially how he was added last minute and didn’t really help out in the preparations. He ends up taking too long of a sip from his coffee, such that it scorches his throat a little and leaves a bitter aftertaste.

When they leave for Nino’s house, Jun’s obviously nervous and clammy, but they don’t explicitly call him out for it. Rather Sho takes the passenger seat beside him, and Aiba keeps the conversation light and refreshing.Jun is extremely thankful for their sympathy.

Despite being gone for two years, he navigates the route completely by memory, without once having to check if he’s on the right street or that he turned at the right corner. It’s one of the places where he doesn’t need a map to.

When they get to the front of his home, they all leave the car to knock on his door and help lift his things into the car. Jun yet again is greeted playfully by Momo, and he carries him in his arms while Momo leaves lots of kisses in return. When Nino finally comes out, he looks at Jun briefly. It is an inscrutable look that leaves Jun unsettled and lost for words. . While Sho loads his luggage onto the truck, Nino takes the backseat, immediately making himself comfortable with a blanket and a pillow, laying his head on Aiba’s lap.

“You stayed up playing Monster Hunter, didn’t you?” Aiba scolds lightly, laughing so it diminishes the admonishing tone.

Nino only responds with a groan and a hum, cutting the conversation short. Jun sees Aiba roll his eyes through the front mirror, chuckling a little to himself because he remembers Nino’s obsession with video games, sacrificing many hours of sleep to finish the last bosses and complete the quests.

When they pause for a stopover and Sho takes over the driver position, Jun watches over Nino sleeping in the car while Aiba buys some snacks for the rest of their trip. He watches the slow, steady breathing, the rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers twitch a little, the slight pout and scrunch of his eyebrows, how he curls up in his sleep, cuddling a pillow. A sight he admittedly misses and never tires of. A scene that never forgets to replay on lonely nights. It never fails to make him calm his anxiety at certain moments. For inexplicable reasons, it relaxes him.

For the rest of the trip, he notices how Sho and Aiba constantly look at each other, sometimes smiling a little.

And then Jun realizes that he’s been smiling this whole time.

—

They get to the beach by the early afternoon. It ends up being a little late for lunch, so they immediately prepare for a barbeque while waiting for Ohno to come back from his fishing trip. Jun helps set up the grill while Sho and Aiba load their bags at the beach house, leaving him with Nino setting up their table.

“Ka— I mean, Nino-kun, do you need help with anything?” Jun stammers a little, his voice audibly nervous and full of tremors. He doesn’t know how to properly approach him yet.

Nino doesn’t look at him.

“I’ll be fine.” He says tersely, without any sign of emotion nor a change of tone. Jun’s insides clench a little at the lack of familiarity and the aura of frigidity. It hurts a little that Nino didn’t even bother to greet him that morning, but he reminds himself that he’s not entitled to that.

Later on when Ohno comes back, they have everything set and it’s already about to hit mid-afternoon. They have no complaints because Ohno came back with tons of fresh fish, absolutely delightful when grilled. But before that, they all come to surround him with a hug and Jun is crushed by both Aiba and Sho. After that, he and Ohno hug a little while longer since they haven’t seen each other the longest. Obviously a lot more tanned than the previous years, evidently smelling of fish and salt, and his arms loose around Jun, it’s another comfortable, nostalgic feeling that Jun absolutely misses. He nudges to check if Ohno has fallen asleep in their embrace. Ohno admits he almost did, but defends himself with being tired out from a session of fishing.

They spend most of the afternoon next to each other, with Ohno cleaning the fish and preparing the things to be cooked while Jun manages the grill, cooking them to perfection. Their conversation mostly consists of Jun talking since Ohno isn’t the type to talk unless it’s about fishing or painting. It’s not much different from those lazy afternoons in the past that he spent at Ohno’s place while he painted, and it’s something he misses profoundly. He remembers those times they would simply curl up on the couch together to nap and he would already consider his day made. Despite the non-sequiturs and tangents Ohno’s famous for, it never really weirded him out, rather finding it interesting or idiosyncratic. He’s always loved Ohno for his homely feel, that he never has to force himself around him; he can be his absolute true self without trying, without worry. He misses this feeling of looseness, of simplicity and of absolute acceptance.

“I’m so glad you came, Jun-chan. I’m really happy to see you again.” Ohno smiles. Jun notices he’s gotten his snaggletooth fixed, but the warm smile remains the same.

“I’m equally happy to see you, Oh-chan.” Jun smiles a bit bashfully, focusing his attention on the grill as to not burn the food and to also hide the blush creeping on his cheeks.

They don’t really talk much after that, but because of Ohno, Jun has learned to appreciate silence.

—

Before they go to bed that night, he sees Aiba looking at the ocean across them, letting the cool sea breeze flow through his hair and leave a slightly salty taste on his lips. He takes the seat beside him when Aiba notices his presence and nods at him. They sit in silence for a while before Aiba strikes up a conversation.

They talk of the events that occurred in the afternoon, how Sho nearly burnt the barbeque, how Ohno almost fell asleep at every minute there was silence, how Nino hid from the sun 90% of the time, how Aiba forgot to put sunscreen, and how Jun had to manage all of them once again, preventing ]the whole fiasco from ending up in chaos. They both laugh heartily about it, recognizing the familiarity of it. The nostalgia of it all stings their noses slightly. Things like these make Jun forget how lonely he feels despite having been at parties with hundreds of people— it feels absolutely perfect like this.

“I really miss this, you know, the five of us yet again. When life wasn’t as busy and complicated as we are now.” Aiba sighs a little, feeling a bit wistful.

“And if I hadn’t left all of a sudden,” Jun sighs as well, much heavier than Aiba, feeling the weight of guilt bearing down on his shoulders. He plays with his fingers and stares out unto the horizon, hopefully disguising his features a little.

“You had your reasons, Jun-tan, and we can’t get mad at you for choosing to do what’s right for you or what you want to do. And besides, we met again, didn’t we? It wasn’t the end.” Aiba smiles and Jun can’t help smile when he senses the genuineness and Aiba’s overall optimistic self. Aiba’s smiles have never failed to make him smile, even on the worst of days; a smile oozing with genuine cheerfulness, Jun’s favorite trademark of Aiba’s, besides his absolute love for animals. Aiba’s always been the one who never fails to join in on his hijinks, the one with the greatest patience, the one who loves to experiment on the weirdest of things (that has gotten both their parents angry on many accounts); a friend that reminds him of sunshine, and on some days, is the sun himself. Someone who has never failed to give him warmth and reminds him that better days will come.

“Thank you for understanding. You always do.” Jun smiles a little, after all those thoughts of Aiba. He’s lucky to have him as a friend.

Aiba laughs. “I try my best to.”

Moments pass and Aiba coughs a bit before starting a new sentence. “Thank you, Jun-tan.”

“What for?” Jun looks to him with a questioning look, wondering where the sudden gratitude came from.

“For being here. It wasn’t the same without you and it wouldn’t be if you didn’t come either. So, thank you.”

ー

When they take their leave and say goodbye to Ohno, Jun is assigned to be the driver yet again, but he is more compliant since they are leaving after lunch.

While driving, he notices Nino is a little bit distracted and jittery, as he memorized almost every quirk of his. Aiba tries to get him to talk about it but Nino ignores him, completely in his head. Despite everyone’s worry, Nino doesn’t get anything out. Jun remembers that being a habit of his back then, always having to convince him to speak up about it. At least he bothers to eat, but as usual, he eats like a bird and only seems to eat the burgers from the convenience store.

After Jun drops Sho at his home, he drives his way to Nino’s home, and once he stops the engine, Nino rushes out and towards to the back of his house, and he watches Momo come out with his elderly neighbor, Mrs. Tokai. Jun and Aiba watch him heave a heavy sigh and he takes a look at what Jun assumes to be quite important. He moves closer to see that Nino’s taking a close look at the sunflower patch at the back of his home, seeing if the sunlight was still hitting it and if it was well hydrated. Momo comes up to Jun to sniff him while he remains still, not really knowing what to feel since he thought it was something much graver or something different altogether.

“For a minute, I thought he wanted to get out of my face as soon as possible.” He mutters as he watches Nino water the sunflowers, carefully enough not to flood the patch but enough for each blooming one. He notices how well taken care of they are, something he didn’t expect since Nino’s never expressed any interest towards organics or farming.

“I don’t think he ever stopped.”

“Excuse me?” Jun questions, but he can’t look away from the smile Nino has plastered across his face while he tends to his garden. Maybe he didn’t hear it right, or didn’t hear the rest over how distracted he was.

“I don’t think he ever stopped loving you.”