Chūshi Oshiba became aware of Aoto Hoshino shortly after moving to Japan. The other young man walked at a measured pace with his head tilted slightly up, thin neck revealing his bobbing Adam’s apple. 

However, when Chūshi had tried to get closer to the intriguing young man and strike up a conversation, the air around Aoto felt like a black hole, sucking in any and every emotion within a two-meter radius.  

As such neither he nor anyone approached the mysterious young man, ever. And it’s not like you’re any better than the rest of them, Chūshi thought to himself, shouldering his bag and watching the object of his eye cross the quiet street without looking either way.

The sight of Aoto unfiltered made getting up earlier than he normally would worth it. No one else could say that they knew the Aoto Hoshino (seemingly) had conversations with himself. Chūshi always walked far enough away to avoid detection, and therefore too far away to properly eavesdrop. 

But, he was able to follow closely enough that he could see his lips moving, and feel the edges of the black hole that surrounded the other young man that persisted even when he was alone.

Those moving lips were what drew Chūshi in the most. Plus... two outsiders should stick together. 

Not only was Chūshi’s name a red flag to the other students that he was different, but his fabled great great great grandmother’s darker complexion persisted for generations no matter how the women in the family tried to dilute it away. Chushi’s father had fled Japan as soon as he could, transferring in high school to study abroad and eventually starting a life in America, planning to never look back. 

However, when Chūshi’s maternal grandmother fell ill, his father sent him and his mother back to Japan. He pulled strings in such a way that forced Chūshi to a country he’d only engaged with through anime and manga, during his second year of university. His only saving grace was that both his parents made sure to teach him the language throughout his childhood.

The trip down memory lane cost him. Lost in his thoughts, Chushi met slight resistance back in the physical world, and stumbled. Before he could fall completely, an icy hand grabbed his wrist, saving him from the ground but sparing none of his mortification. Embarrassment welled up inside his stomach as he dusted his jeans off. “Sorry.”

There was no one else out here this early in the morning, so he knew who stood before him. They had never been this close before, and Chushi knew that meeting Aoto’s eyes would reduce him to a stuttering mess. He took a step to move past him, but that cold hand gripped him tighter. “What was that?”

“I-I said s-sorry.” Chūshi was by no means small or weak, but something about Aoto’s grip weakened him. He cleared his throat, still boring holes into Aoto’s black tennis shoes with his gaze. “Won’t happen again. So, uh, l-let me go?”

The air, already still, froze. Almost as if Aoto’s black hole rippled and expanded until only the two of them remained. “How can I let you go when you sound unsure of it yourself?”

How can you sound so lifeless and yet so… 

Chūshi didn’t know what to do. He was being laughed at, even though he knew if he looked at Aoto’s face, it’d be as flat as his tone. One thing Chūshi couldn’t stand: being laughed at. Remembering his pride, strength returned to him and he jerked his arm away, finally looking up.

Bottomless pools tempted him behind square glasses, looming larger due to the slight magnification. Chūshi felt his resolve shake, but somehow could tell that his stunned reaction was a cause for Aoto to laugh harder. His expression remained the same though as he waited for Chūshi to respond. 

Chūshi’s admiration and fascination for Aoto warred with the side of him that wanted to make this geek’s ears burn with shame. Finally, he said, “Your hands are cold as ice dude, guess the rumors about you being a frigid bitch are true.”

Suddenly the sounds of the street rushed over them once more, and off in the distance he could hear a chiming clock. Wordlessly, he pushed past the object of his obsession for the past six months and rushed toward campus. It wasn’t until he sat at his usual seat in the back of the lecture hall that he crashed from the adrenaline. 

He was grateful for his chair when his muscles morphed into jelly; he couldn’t quite find the strength to grip the zipper on his bag to get his books. He felt alive, but could also see the pearly gates of heaven. Or maybe they were just the lecture hall lights. Either way, everything about him felt unsettled. If someone were to ask him his name, he wouldn’t be able to answer.

Pull it together. 

He kept repeating the thought over and over as if it’d erase what he said to Aoto. He probably hates me now, he realized, closing his eyes as the professor began class. He tried to pay attention, finally managing to grab at least his notebook and pen, but it just wasn’t in the cards. Both lectures that day passed in a blur, along with the usual stares and gawking. 

The university, while not large, was large enough that there were a few people who had yet to see the new spectacle. He didn’t have the energy to glare back and rushed along to the cafeteria, vaguely thankful that his classes were done early on Wednesdays. He also liked that by mid-afternoon, the hall was usually empty.

Still dwelling on his gaffe from the morning, he threw random things on his tray. Chūshi sat next to one of the few windows that overlooked the lawn, mindlessly opening a bag of shrimp chips. Students walked at various speeds, some alone, some in larger groups. 

It made Chūshi miss his friends from home. They still chatted, but it wasn’t the same. He was thirteen hours ahead of them after all. He’d hoped to approach Aoto on the premise of outsiders sticking together. 

Plus, they had almost two years left in their program. The time would go faster with someone to occasionally study with or whatever.

Maybe I should apologize… He toyed with the idea while chewing and not tasting the usual salty goodness he savored about the snack. Even if I do, I’m not sure I can survive that again. 

Aoto’s eyes were beyond intense, and it dawned on Chūshi why people avoided even looking in Aoto’s direction. That face flashed in his mind again: fine eyebrows over those mesmerizing eyes, a small nose, and thin lips. Aoto’s cheekbones sat high making him appear even more regal up close, especially when juxtaposed with his glasses. How did I miss the glasses?

Chūshi finished the rest of his lunch, still not tasting any of it. He was in such a daze he almost ran into a number of people on his way back home. His father reluctantly agreed to his moving out, only with the stipulation that his new place was no more than a five-minute walk from his mother’s apartment building. 

“You’re there to support your mother, not party. If your grades drop by even half a point, you’re moving back in. This is your last and only chance. Don’t fuck it up.”

“Maybe I should stop by,” he muttered to himself, the sun beating down on his neck. It had been a few days since he’d visited his mom and he knew he’d be hearing from his father sooner rather than later if he didn’t fix it. Plus I haven’t had a home cooked meal in a while…