lifeinthebox (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lifeinthebox) wrote2009-05-26 01:37 am
lifeinthebox) wrote2009-05-26 01:37 am
[Oneshot] 5 & 1/2 Minute Hallway - Part 3/3
Title: 5 & 1/2 Minute Hallway (Part 3/3)
Genre: AU
Pairing: Jun/Sho
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Absence sharpens love, presence strengthens it. ~ Thomas Fuller
Notes: This story is dedicated to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
catacombkid, because it would not have happened without her. She'll argue the point, but she's totally wrong. >.> Seriously, thank you sooooo much! ♥♥♥♥ Loads of thank to bakemonokun and mitsuchan, too, for letting me bother them with snippets while I was writing it. XD ♥
Title taken from the Poe song of the same name.
And the end...
The day of Jun’s accident had started out pretty unremarkably. He’d gotten up, had breakfast, taken a conference call from one of his magazine’s European offices, and then had spent an hour editing the first draft of a review for a new three star Italian-style restaurant in Shibuya before sending it off to his publisher.
It had seemed like a normal day, but, then again, if he stopped to really think about it, every day that ended up being important in his life had started out that way.
The only really significant thing about the day at all was the fact that it was the day that Sho was set to arrive home from his business trip, and Jun was maybe more than a little excited about it. He didn’t even mind having to make the drive the airport to get him, a drive which he usually avoided at all costs, opting to take the train when he had to catch a flight of his own. It had just seemed like the right thing to do, though, picking Sho up after his first business trip abroad. It was like a congratulations, in a way.
Jun was so excited about it that he couldn’t even be that annoyed when his mother called him five minutes before he was set to step out the door, and decided to launch into a lengthy, one-sided conversation.
"Yeah... no. No," Jun made all the appropriate responses to his mother's questions, balancing his phone on his shoulder as he closed the door to his apartment and locked it behind him before hurrying down the hallway. He glanced at his watch as he pressed the button for the elevator, his mother's voice still coming in a constant stream over his phone. She was relaying a story about his cousin Yoshihiro's son (a thinly veiled hint that Jun should find a nice girl to settle down with so that his mother wasn’t the only grandchildless one, he thought; if it wasn't incredibly rude and his mother wouldn't have denied it anyway, he would have pointed out that his sister was just as capable of having children and she, unlike him, was actually engaged already).
Jun sighed as the elevator chimed and the doors opened slowly in front of him. "Mom? Yeah, sorry to interrupt... yeah, I love hearing about Yoshihiro's son. No, it's just I promised a friend I'd pick him up at the airport. No... no, not Shun. Sho, the guy who lives next door. The Keio graduate... yeah, he had a business trip."
Jun reached out, glad that the elevator was empty as he held the door open, waiting for his mother to finish.
"Sure. I'm sure he'd love to come over for dinner sometime. I'll tell him you invited him. Yes... Mom, I really need to go now. I'm already running late." Jun smiled in spite of himself as he waited for his mother to finish up her long-winded goodbye.
"Yes, Mom. Tell Reina I said 'hi'. I'll see you both at dinner next week, okay?" Jun waited for his mother to say goodbye one last time, making sure to make another not-so-subtle hint that someone Jun's age should really be looking to settle down and slipping in a mention about the neighbors' single daughter in the process, then hung up the phone.
The drive to the airport really wasn't that bad, as far as drives went. It was just early enough that rush hour hadn't hit yet, and the sun was pleasantly warm through his open windows, but the breeze still cool enough that he didn't need to bother with the air. His mother hadn't tried to call back yet, surprisingly enough, leaving him alone with the soft, thrumming bass coming through his car speakers and his thoughts.
Half an hour into the drive, his phone started to buzz in his pocket, drawing a sigh out of Jun. By the time he'd dug it out of his coat pocket it had already stopped ringing, the telltale flashing light on the front telling him that he'd have a rather lengthy voicemail waiting for him when he got home.
"Later," he mumbled to himself as he threw the phone onto the seat and turned his attention back to the road.
When Jun looked up, the truck was already turning in front of him, and he could hear the sound of metal on metal as they collided before he even had time to stop and think about hitting his brakes.
--
Sho had gotten home later than planned that evening, engine troubles and an unexpected layover pushing his arrival time well past midnight. He’d called to leave Jun a message when he had the chance, not wanting him to spend his time waiting and worrying at the airport for him. He’d been mostly relieved when Jun hadn’t been there to pick him up from the airport, glad that at least one of them hadn’t wasted most of their day in airport terminals drinking bitter coffee and eating stale sandwiches.
He decided to splurge and catch a taxi home after he realized he’d missed the last train, and he actually managed to get home sometime before 3, at that point to tired to do more than strip down to his boxers and fall into bed for a few hours of well-deserved sleep.
The next day was rather miserable, full of long, boring meetings and lots of relaying information about his trip to his bosses, who had all been too lazy to go on said trip.
By the time he managed to slip out of the office, all he wanted to do was have a long meal, a hot bath, and maybe slip over afterwards to see Jun.
Sho had his phone out in his hand, frowning a little at the lack of messages as he climbed onto the elevator, nodding distractedly at the pair of women who climbed in beside him.
“It’s a shame, isn’t it,” he heard the first woman say, her voice taking on that low stage whisper that women her age got when they were sharing gossip and didn’t mind if anyone else happened to overhear. “About that boy.”
Sho could see the second woman nodding as he slipped his phone into his pocket, her face solemn as he spoke in the same not-quiet hushed tone. “I never spoke to him, personally, but he always seemed well put together for someone that young.”
“These things always happen to the good ones, don’t they?” Her friend sighed, the sound so exaggerated that Sho would have laughed if he’d had the energy. “Well, at least they said it was quick. My nephew—you know, Atsuhiro, the police sergeant—he was there, and he said there was barely anything left of the car, let alone him.”
“Probably dead before he knew what had happened,” her friend murmured, clucking her tongue in sympathy.
Sho winced a little beside them, feeling guilty for his earlier urge to laugh and for whoever it was that they were talking about. He almost sighed in relief when the elevator jerked to a stop beneath them and the doors opened out onto his floor. He slid around the women and out the doors without really looking at them, and just happened to catch one last snippet of their conversation as the elevator closed behind him.
“This was his floor, wasn’t it? I think someone said he lived in 404.”
Sho froze, his eyes automatically seeking out the faded gold numbering on Jun’s apartment door.
--
Jun blinked, posture stiff as he stood there beside Nino, staring out at the road. The atmosphere surrounding them was almost expectant as Jun struggled with the memories and then, as suddenly as if someone had flipped a switch inside of him, he knew.
“Dead. I’m dead.” The words were hushed, flat, nothing more than a simple statement of fact as Jun stared out into traffic, Nino a silent presence beside him. He thought that this was the part where he probably should have been screaming, crying, pleading with somebody, anybody for a second chance. He should have been angry, sad—some other strong emotion, the kind you saw in those dramas that they aired late at night, full of too much makeup and bad acting, where someone inevitably fell in love or died too young.
Instead he was… stunned. Shocked. Empty.
Jun laughed, the sound dull and humorless as he stared out at the street, the normal, average looking intersection where this had all started over a year ago. “I’ve been dead since that day, haven’t I?”
Nino stirred beside him, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his oversized coat with a slow nod.
“I don’t remember.”
“You were dead before anyone even had time to think to call an ambulance,” Nino explained, his voice matter-of-fact, as if he were discussing the weather, or a political scandal, and not the way the man currently standing beside him had died.
“I don’t remember,” Jun repeated, his shoulder’s slumping a little as he tried to recall something, anything. He could remember his phone in his hand, looking up just in time to see the truck in front of him, a vague sense of impact and then… nothing. He knew he was dead but he didn’t remember dying. “Shouldn’t I remember something like that?”
“It’s best if you don’t,” Nino answered, shrugging as he turned his head to look at Jun, the calmness of his expression making it all seem so very normal. “Trust me. It never goes well for the ones that do.”
Jun nodded, Nino’s words somehow making sense. The past year had been hard, but knowing, remembering this really wouldn’t have changed things. “So, Sho… that’s why. He can’t see me, can he?”
“No, he can’t.”
“But Ohno can?” Jun mumbled, already knowing the answer to the question. Sho could see Ohno, so he couldn’t be dead. But Ohno could see him, talk to him… probably could touch him if he wanted to. For the first time, Jun wished he’d been more into ghost stories as a kid. This might have all made more sense, then.
“He has the gift, and you’re stronger than most.”
“Stronger than most?”
“Ghosts.”
“Oh,” Jun mumbled, turning away from traffic finally to meet Nino’s eyes. He smiled, the expression resigned, a little bit sad. “I would be a convincing ghost, wouldn’t I?”
Nino smiled back, chuckled lowly in the back of his throat and shook his head. “Yeah, you would.”
Stubborn. His mother and sister had always called him stubborn. Sho had teased him about being strong willed, said that he couldn’t imagine Jun doing anything unless it was on his own terms. They were all right, in the end.
--
"I hope tea's alright. I'm out of coffee," Sho apologized as he sat the cup in front of his guest, then took a seat in the chair, his hands smoothing his pant legs over his thighs in an unconscious nervous gesture.
"Tea is fine," she assured him, smiling as she reached for the cup and took a polite sip before setting it aside.
Sho continued to stare at her, hands curling around his knees and he tried to think of something to say, some polite topic like the weather that would dispel some of the uneasiness between them. He was normally good at these types of situations, forced politeness and niceties, but he found himself too caught off guard by his sudden, unexpected visitor this time.
Even if she hadn't introduced herself as Jun's sister when he'd first opened his door, he would have known who she was, the resemblance between the two of them just enough to make her recognizable, even when Sho had never seen her before outside of snapshots and family pictures. It was the way she held herself, the way her lips moved when she spoke, the slight curve to her cheek and the way her eyelashes framed her dark, wide set eyes. It made Sho wonder if it was where Jun had gotten it from, that way of holding his head when he spoke to you or that hidden shyness that wouldn't allow him to quite meet your eyes when he was uncomfortable.
Sho cleared his throat, shifting a little against the chair as he struggled for the right words. "It's nice to finally meet you, Matsumoto-san."
"You, too." She smiled, her shoulders relaxing a little as she met his eyes, and Sho was glad that he'd spoken first. "My brother mentioned you a lot. He didn't talk about friends much."
Sho smiled and nodded slightly, his expression a little strained as Jun's name hung in the air around them, unspoken. "He talked about you a lot, too... about all his family."
She smiled at that, and made a soft sound of assent, sadness creeping in around the corners of her mouth as she reached down for the bag at he feet and drew out a box, holding it out to Sho in offering. "I'm sorry I showed up so suddenly, but I wanted to give you this."
"Thank you," he answered automatically, frowning a little as he took it and rested it in his lap uncertainly.
"We went through some of his things," she explained, her voice soft and steady, even though he could see her fingertips trembling slightly as she folded her hands back against her knees. “We’re keeping the rest in his apartment for now. My mother can’t stand the idea of getting rid of any of it.”
He nodded, not trusting his voice as he looked from her back to the box in his lap and opened the lid slowly, chest tightening as the scent of Jun's cologne hit him. He could see the familiar shape of Jun's cologne bottle in one corner and the bright tangle of his necklaces, the familiar glint of the rings that Sho had always teased him about when he wore, and he shut the lid quickly, breathing through his mouth to avoid the scent of Jun hanging in the air around him. "Matsumoto-san--"
"Reina. Please."
"Reina-san," he corrected himself, his hands curling around the edges of the box almost protectively as he met her eyes. He opened his mouth to protest, to insist that these were things that belonged to Jun's family, but he found the words sticking in his throat. He swallowed and tried again. "... thank you."
"You're welcome," she murmured, giving him a knowing look, and he couldn't help but wonder how much Jun had talked about him, how much she knew about the reality of their relationship. He brushed it aside, though, knowing that it really didn't matter one way or the other now. She reached back into the bag then and drew out an envelope, laying it on the coffee table between them.
Sho was almost afraid to look at it, but found his gaze drawn to it anyway, taking in the tiny, precise lettering. It was addressed to the Matsumoto family, but the sender's name was unfamiliar, one that he didn't recall ever hearing Jun talk about or seeing written anywhere before.
"Jun wanted to be an organ donor," she explained before he could ask, her voice catching a little on her brother's name.
“Aiba Masaki,” Sho read the sender’s name off the envelope with a slight frown.
“The boy who got his heart,” Reina explained softly.
“Oh,” Sho whispered, unsure what else to say. He stared at the letter a moment longer before he lifted his eyes again to meet hers, his own wide and confused. "This letter is for Jun's family."
"You're a part of Jun's family, too," she insisted softly.
Later, after they'd both finished their tea and exchanged polite goodbyes, when he was once again alone in the apartment, he'd rested the box unopened in his lap and finally, reluctantly, let himself accept the truth.
--
“Shouldn’t I be gone by now? Now that I know… shouldn’t I move on, or whatever it is that happens?”
“This isn’t a movie,” Nino answered with a soft laugh, the sound more gentle than mocking, and Jun couldn’t help but wonder how many times he’d had this conversation before. “Angels aren’t going to come and whisk you away. You aren’t going to be swallowed up by some bright light. It doesn’t work that way.”
“Then what happens now?” Jun murmured, his throat tight as he met Nino’s eyes.
Nino shrugged, his face almost thoughtful. “That depends on you, really. This is your story, Jun, your life—or death, as it were. The rest is up to you.”
“So, if I wanted to--,” Jun began, his eyes almost hopeful as he continued. “I could stay?”
Nino nodded once, a sad smile forming on his face. “You could. Some do.”
“And Sho—“
“No,” Nino cut him off, his smile dying. “He won’t see you, no matter how long you stay. He can’t. Some things can’t be changed.”
“There’s no way… not even with Ohno? Couldn’t he do something? Couldn’t you?”
“No,” Nino whispered, shaking his head slowly, his expression endlessly patient as he watched Jun, waiting for it all to sink in. “You’re dead, Jun. You can stay or you can go, but either way you’ll still be dead. Nothing Ohno or I can do will change that.”
Jun nodded, his face falling a little.
“You’re not Patrick Swayze, you know. All the things you’ve seen in movies and read in books—it’s all just fiction. Sho won’t see you again because he can’t. The best you can do is to say goodbye.”
“But he won’t hear it,” Jun mumbled, his voice resigned.
“Not the way you want him to, no.”
Jun stared down at his lap, his mind churning with thoughts, trying to think of ways around this eventhough he knew, rationally, that he wouldn’t find any. This wasn’t the type of thing that you could bend the rules for.
He tried to imagine another year like this, another three, a lifetime of Sho sleeping on the other side of the wall but still a world away, untouchable. The thought of leaving everything behind was terrifying, but the thought of staying and being trapped like this forever was almost worse.
“I don’t really have a choice.” Jun straightened his shoulders and met Nino’s eyes.
“You always have a choice,” Nino pointed out with another small smile. “And I can’t make it for you.”
--
Sho turned his head slightly, stealing a glance at the man seated beside him, silent and peaceful and not at all what he’d pictured in his head. He’d read the letter from Aiba to Jun’s family over and over, so many times that if he closed his eyes right now he could picture it in his head perfectly, call to mind the way the kanji all started to trail upwards slowly further down the page; he’d thought that by reading the letter over and over until he managed to work up the courage to actually contact him had given him a good idea of just who it was he’d be meeting today.
The letter was polite, grateful, reassuring. He’d known, reading it, that Aiba would be considerate, but he hadn’t expected the warmth and energy and the simple sense of comfort that he held in reality. He hadn’t expected Aiba to be so kind and gracious, or so eager to talk and to learn more about Sho—or about Jun, even. Somewhere in his head he’d convinced himself that Aiba was grateful for the gift he received, but he couldn’t possibly care to know more about the person he’d received it from. Sho knew that, if their situations were reversed, he wouldn’t have wanted to know.
But he had. He’d talked about himself and asked questions about Sho and, eventually, about Jun, the sincerity in his voice enough to make Sho answer, hesitantly at first, and speak about things that he’d made a point to avoid over the course of the last few months. It had hurt, some of it, but it had felt incredibly good, too, being able to talk about Jun, to remember things that he’d tried very hard not to think about.
Aiba turned to meet his eyes, lips curving upwards into a warm smile. Sho met his eyes and smiled back, the expression hesitant but genuine.
“I’m glad you came today.”
Sho’s smile widened at that, grew a little embarrassed as he turned away with flushed cheeks. “Ah… I’m glad you wanted to meet. It had to be weird for you, just having someone call you out of the blue like that.”
“I don’t mind,” Aiba insisted, laughing quietly under his breath, the sound soft and soothing. It was nothing like Jun’s laugh, lower and breathier. Aiba’s laughter seemed unconscious, almost as natural as breathing, where Jun’s had been rare, something that only managed to make it past his guard on occasion, but was all the more special for it when it did. It was different, but it still made Sho think of Jun. Aiba would have made Jun laugh. “It’s nice, talking to you like this. I’ve always wondered what he was like.”
“He would have liked you,” Sho mumbled without really thinking, but was glad he had when he saw the smile it brought to Aiba’s face.
“You two were close?” Aiba asked, still smiling as he turned away to stare out the window at the busy mid-day street outside. Sho nodded, unsure if Aiba had seen it or not, but the other continued anyway. “I wish I could thank him. But talking about him like this with you is good, too. It’s so easy to forget all the happy times you have with someone unless you talk about them.”
“Yeah,” Sho whispered, his voice so quiet that he doubted the other could hear him. He swallowed around the lump in his throat and reached out for his cup of coffee, long grown cold, and let the soft sounds of the coffee shop fill the silence between them.
After a long moment Sho looked up again to find Aiba watching him silently. Sho smiled at him, the expression tired but genuine. “Thank you.”
--
Jun had never been a morning person. He hated the sound of his alarm, the heavy feeling in his head as he rolled out of bed, the knowledge that he’d be spending yet another day running around, trying to get too much done in too little time.
It seemed strange, then, that out of all his memories with Sho, the ones that he thought of the most often involved early mornings. It wasn’t often that Jun woke up before Sho, but when he did he’d always found himself laying there, watching the steady rise and fall of Sho’s chest, captivated by the way the early morning light filtered through the blinds, lighting the other’s hair, caressing the line of his jaw and highlighting the angles of his face. He liked the way that Sho looked when he slept, the way he seemed completely at peace, liked the way the other’s hand always ended up on Jun’s pillow, fingers tangled loosely in the ends of Jun’s hair while they slept. It made Jun feel safe and normal and completely and utterly happy.
It was these moments that Jun knew he was going to miss the most Not because they were sweeping or profound—they never involved declarations of undying love or promises of forever. They never ended in anything more than Sho waking up, offering Jun a sleepy smile and running a hand through his hair before they got up to start their day. But they were real and somehow perfect in their simplicity.
Jun’s eyes were sad as he lingered in the doorway, watching the steady rise and fall of Sho’s chest, the right side of the bed—his side of the bed—noticeably empty. He wondered if Sho had slept on that side of the bed at all in the past year, if it was a conscious decision to keep it empty. He wondered how much longer Sho would keep on doing that, sleeping on only half the bed and leaving the other half open out of respect or sadness or the need to remember.
He wished that there was some way to go back, to relive just one morning waking up beside Sho, one brief moment opening his eyes to find the other there, one sleepy smile shared between the two of them.
He swallowed, his throat tight as he crossed the room and sank down onto the bed. The mattress didn’t move as he sat, didn’t dip even the slightest beneath his weight as it should have, serving as just another reminder that this was all real, that he was dead. There was no body to anchor him to this place anymore, nothing more than memory and stubborn will keeping him here.
Sho let out a soft sigh in his sleep, murmuring something. Jun smiled, the expression bittersweet as he watched the other’s eyelids twitch.
“I’ll miss this,” he murmured, his voice a bit too loud in the empty room. It wasn’t as if anyone else would hear him, as if even Sho could really hear him, but he found himself flinching anyway and dropping his voice until his next words came out as barely more than a whisper. “I’ll miss you. Even if you are a cover hog and you have terrible taste in wine and you chew with your mouth open.”
He laughed a hollow laugh and reached down, brushing his fingertips over the other’s hair. They tingled at the touch, a cold, almost electric jolt going through them, but beneath him Sho didn’t stir or give any indication he’d felt the touch at all.
“I guess it wouldn’t have worked out anyway, would it? I mean, I’d never have been able to like soccer,” Jun laughed, the sound soft and raspy as he pulled his hand back to himself, resting it in his lap, his fingertips still tingling. “ But it was good while it lasted.”
Sho twitched in his sleep then, murmuring something beneath his breath as he reached over, hand curling against the empty pillow beside him.
Jun smiled sadly as he leaned in, letting his lips hover over Sho’s temple as he kissed the empty air between them and then rose from the bed, walking out of the room without allowing himself a backwards glance.
Epilogue
Nino had his hands thrust into his pockets, his shoulders relaxed and lips curled into a half-smile as he wandered down the path that wound through the park, enjoying the mid-afternoon sun on his face and the snatches of conversation he could catch from the people around him. The park was unusually busy for late September, the unusually warm day luring the people in for picnics and afternoon strolls, smiles on their faces as enjoyed the last traces of summer, ignoring the leaves that were already starting to turn overhead.
Nino loved days like this, when everything was so full of life and hope and promise. He loved just wandering around, surrounded by happiness, even if he wasn’t a part of it.
It wasn’t much later that he came across a lone man sitting on a park bench, shoulders slightly hunched as he doodled on a pad of paper, and, smiling, took a seat beside him. They were both silent for a moment, Nino content to stare out across the park and the other man lost in the movement of his pencil across the page. Nino had already started to drift into his own thoughts a little himself, lulled by the soft scratching of pencil on paper, when the other man turned, finally, and spoke.
“I wondered if I’d see you again.”
Nino grinned and turned his head to meet the other’s eye. “Missed me that much?”
The other man smiled a little and shrugged in answer. “The apartment feels really empty sometimes.”
“Hm,” Nino agreed, nodding a little as he leaned over to steal a look at the page, the rough pencil sketches staring back up at him. “That guy sure made an impression, didn’t he?”
The other man nodded, resting his pencil against his knee. “He did.”
Nino sighed, the sound drawn out and slightly exaggerated as he slumped against the back of the bench. “They usually aren’t that stubborn. Dealing with him was actually a challenge.”
The man beside him grinned. “Yeah, I miss him, too.”
Nino snorted. “No other ghosts hanging around to keep you company?”
“None that are any fun,” the man admitted, turning his head to stare out at the park. “What about you?”
“Same old, same old,” Nino answered, a bored look on his face. “But I’m used to it.” He shrugged and continued, his voice far too non-chalant. “How’s everything else?”
“Good,” the other answered, turning his head to glance at a pair of men standing in front of a nearby ice cream stand, one all smiles and laughter and the other with an uncertain set to his mouth as he fished money out of his wallet. “You should come visit, sometime.”
“Maybe the next time I get a vacation,” Nino answered, his voice soft and playful. The pair from the ice cream stand turned and were heading towards them, cones clutched in hand.
The smiley one stopped in front of the bench and offered the man a cone. “I talked Sho-chan into getting us extra scoops this time, Oh-chan.”
Ohno took the cone and smiled, stealing a sideways glance at Sho, who was currently frowning down at the bench beside him. “Who were you talking to?”
Ohno looked over at the now empty bench beside him and smiled. “Just a friend.”
Sho frowned deeper and shook his head a little, deciding not to mention that, as far as he had seen, the bench had always been empty.
“Someday you’ll have to introduce us to your friends,” Aiba teased as he took a seat beside Ohno and started attacking his ice cream in earnest.
Beside him, Ohno just smiled.
Genre: AU
Pairing: Jun/Sho
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Absence sharpens love, presence strengthens it. ~ Thomas Fuller
Notes: This story is dedicated to
catacombkid, because it would not have happened without her. She'll argue the point, but she's totally wrong. >.> Seriously, thank you sooooo much! ♥♥♥♥ Loads of thank to bakemonokun and mitsuchan, too, for letting me bother them with snippets while I was writing it. XD ♥ Title taken from the Poe song of the same name.
And the end...
The day of Jun’s accident had started out pretty unremarkably. He’d gotten up, had breakfast, taken a conference call from one of his magazine’s European offices, and then had spent an hour editing the first draft of a review for a new three star Italian-style restaurant in Shibuya before sending it off to his publisher.
It had seemed like a normal day, but, then again, if he stopped to really think about it, every day that ended up being important in his life had started out that way.
The only really significant thing about the day at all was the fact that it was the day that Sho was set to arrive home from his business trip, and Jun was maybe more than a little excited about it. He didn’t even mind having to make the drive the airport to get him, a drive which he usually avoided at all costs, opting to take the train when he had to catch a flight of his own. It had just seemed like the right thing to do, though, picking Sho up after his first business trip abroad. It was like a congratulations, in a way.
Jun was so excited about it that he couldn’t even be that annoyed when his mother called him five minutes before he was set to step out the door, and decided to launch into a lengthy, one-sided conversation.
"Yeah... no. No," Jun made all the appropriate responses to his mother's questions, balancing his phone on his shoulder as he closed the door to his apartment and locked it behind him before hurrying down the hallway. He glanced at his watch as he pressed the button for the elevator, his mother's voice still coming in a constant stream over his phone. She was relaying a story about his cousin Yoshihiro's son (a thinly veiled hint that Jun should find a nice girl to settle down with so that his mother wasn’t the only grandchildless one, he thought; if it wasn't incredibly rude and his mother wouldn't have denied it anyway, he would have pointed out that his sister was just as capable of having children and she, unlike him, was actually engaged already).
Jun sighed as the elevator chimed and the doors opened slowly in front of him. "Mom? Yeah, sorry to interrupt... yeah, I love hearing about Yoshihiro's son. No, it's just I promised a friend I'd pick him up at the airport. No... no, not Shun. Sho, the guy who lives next door. The Keio graduate... yeah, he had a business trip."
Jun reached out, glad that the elevator was empty as he held the door open, waiting for his mother to finish.
"Sure. I'm sure he'd love to come over for dinner sometime. I'll tell him you invited him. Yes... Mom, I really need to go now. I'm already running late." Jun smiled in spite of himself as he waited for his mother to finish up her long-winded goodbye.
"Yes, Mom. Tell Reina I said 'hi'. I'll see you both at dinner next week, okay?" Jun waited for his mother to say goodbye one last time, making sure to make another not-so-subtle hint that someone Jun's age should really be looking to settle down and slipping in a mention about the neighbors' single daughter in the process, then hung up the phone.
The drive to the airport really wasn't that bad, as far as drives went. It was just early enough that rush hour hadn't hit yet, and the sun was pleasantly warm through his open windows, but the breeze still cool enough that he didn't need to bother with the air. His mother hadn't tried to call back yet, surprisingly enough, leaving him alone with the soft, thrumming bass coming through his car speakers and his thoughts.
Half an hour into the drive, his phone started to buzz in his pocket, drawing a sigh out of Jun. By the time he'd dug it out of his coat pocket it had already stopped ringing, the telltale flashing light on the front telling him that he'd have a rather lengthy voicemail waiting for him when he got home.
"Later," he mumbled to himself as he threw the phone onto the seat and turned his attention back to the road.
When Jun looked up, the truck was already turning in front of him, and he could hear the sound of metal on metal as they collided before he even had time to stop and think about hitting his brakes.
--
Sho had gotten home later than planned that evening, engine troubles and an unexpected layover pushing his arrival time well past midnight. He’d called to leave Jun a message when he had the chance, not wanting him to spend his time waiting and worrying at the airport for him. He’d been mostly relieved when Jun hadn’t been there to pick him up from the airport, glad that at least one of them hadn’t wasted most of their day in airport terminals drinking bitter coffee and eating stale sandwiches.
He decided to splurge and catch a taxi home after he realized he’d missed the last train, and he actually managed to get home sometime before 3, at that point to tired to do more than strip down to his boxers and fall into bed for a few hours of well-deserved sleep.
The next day was rather miserable, full of long, boring meetings and lots of relaying information about his trip to his bosses, who had all been too lazy to go on said trip.
By the time he managed to slip out of the office, all he wanted to do was have a long meal, a hot bath, and maybe slip over afterwards to see Jun.
Sho had his phone out in his hand, frowning a little at the lack of messages as he climbed onto the elevator, nodding distractedly at the pair of women who climbed in beside him.
“It’s a shame, isn’t it,” he heard the first woman say, her voice taking on that low stage whisper that women her age got when they were sharing gossip and didn’t mind if anyone else happened to overhear. “About that boy.”
Sho could see the second woman nodding as he slipped his phone into his pocket, her face solemn as he spoke in the same not-quiet hushed tone. “I never spoke to him, personally, but he always seemed well put together for someone that young.”
“These things always happen to the good ones, don’t they?” Her friend sighed, the sound so exaggerated that Sho would have laughed if he’d had the energy. “Well, at least they said it was quick. My nephew—you know, Atsuhiro, the police sergeant—he was there, and he said there was barely anything left of the car, let alone him.”
“Probably dead before he knew what had happened,” her friend murmured, clucking her tongue in sympathy.
Sho winced a little beside them, feeling guilty for his earlier urge to laugh and for whoever it was that they were talking about. He almost sighed in relief when the elevator jerked to a stop beneath them and the doors opened out onto his floor. He slid around the women and out the doors without really looking at them, and just happened to catch one last snippet of their conversation as the elevator closed behind him.
“This was his floor, wasn’t it? I think someone said he lived in 404.”
Sho froze, his eyes automatically seeking out the faded gold numbering on Jun’s apartment door.
--
Jun blinked, posture stiff as he stood there beside Nino, staring out at the road. The atmosphere surrounding them was almost expectant as Jun struggled with the memories and then, as suddenly as if someone had flipped a switch inside of him, he knew.
“Dead. I’m dead.” The words were hushed, flat, nothing more than a simple statement of fact as Jun stared out into traffic, Nino a silent presence beside him. He thought that this was the part where he probably should have been screaming, crying, pleading with somebody, anybody for a second chance. He should have been angry, sad—some other strong emotion, the kind you saw in those dramas that they aired late at night, full of too much makeup and bad acting, where someone inevitably fell in love or died too young.
Instead he was… stunned. Shocked. Empty.
Jun laughed, the sound dull and humorless as he stared out at the street, the normal, average looking intersection where this had all started over a year ago. “I’ve been dead since that day, haven’t I?”
Nino stirred beside him, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his oversized coat with a slow nod.
“I don’t remember.”
“You were dead before anyone even had time to think to call an ambulance,” Nino explained, his voice matter-of-fact, as if he were discussing the weather, or a political scandal, and not the way the man currently standing beside him had died.
“I don’t remember,” Jun repeated, his shoulder’s slumping a little as he tried to recall something, anything. He could remember his phone in his hand, looking up just in time to see the truck in front of him, a vague sense of impact and then… nothing. He knew he was dead but he didn’t remember dying. “Shouldn’t I remember something like that?”
“It’s best if you don’t,” Nino answered, shrugging as he turned his head to look at Jun, the calmness of his expression making it all seem so very normal. “Trust me. It never goes well for the ones that do.”
Jun nodded, Nino’s words somehow making sense. The past year had been hard, but knowing, remembering this really wouldn’t have changed things. “So, Sho… that’s why. He can’t see me, can he?”
“No, he can’t.”
“But Ohno can?” Jun mumbled, already knowing the answer to the question. Sho could see Ohno, so he couldn’t be dead. But Ohno could see him, talk to him… probably could touch him if he wanted to. For the first time, Jun wished he’d been more into ghost stories as a kid. This might have all made more sense, then.
“He has the gift, and you’re stronger than most.”
“Stronger than most?”
“Ghosts.”
“Oh,” Jun mumbled, turning away from traffic finally to meet Nino’s eyes. He smiled, the expression resigned, a little bit sad. “I would be a convincing ghost, wouldn’t I?”
Nino smiled back, chuckled lowly in the back of his throat and shook his head. “Yeah, you would.”
Stubborn. His mother and sister had always called him stubborn. Sho had teased him about being strong willed, said that he couldn’t imagine Jun doing anything unless it was on his own terms. They were all right, in the end.
--
"I hope tea's alright. I'm out of coffee," Sho apologized as he sat the cup in front of his guest, then took a seat in the chair, his hands smoothing his pant legs over his thighs in an unconscious nervous gesture.
"Tea is fine," she assured him, smiling as she reached for the cup and took a polite sip before setting it aside.
Sho continued to stare at her, hands curling around his knees and he tried to think of something to say, some polite topic like the weather that would dispel some of the uneasiness between them. He was normally good at these types of situations, forced politeness and niceties, but he found himself too caught off guard by his sudden, unexpected visitor this time.
Even if she hadn't introduced herself as Jun's sister when he'd first opened his door, he would have known who she was, the resemblance between the two of them just enough to make her recognizable, even when Sho had never seen her before outside of snapshots and family pictures. It was the way she held herself, the way her lips moved when she spoke, the slight curve to her cheek and the way her eyelashes framed her dark, wide set eyes. It made Sho wonder if it was where Jun had gotten it from, that way of holding his head when he spoke to you or that hidden shyness that wouldn't allow him to quite meet your eyes when he was uncomfortable.
Sho cleared his throat, shifting a little against the chair as he struggled for the right words. "It's nice to finally meet you, Matsumoto-san."
"You, too." She smiled, her shoulders relaxing a little as she met his eyes, and Sho was glad that he'd spoken first. "My brother mentioned you a lot. He didn't talk about friends much."
Sho smiled and nodded slightly, his expression a little strained as Jun's name hung in the air around them, unspoken. "He talked about you a lot, too... about all his family."
She smiled at that, and made a soft sound of assent, sadness creeping in around the corners of her mouth as she reached down for the bag at he feet and drew out a box, holding it out to Sho in offering. "I'm sorry I showed up so suddenly, but I wanted to give you this."
"Thank you," he answered automatically, frowning a little as he took it and rested it in his lap uncertainly.
"We went through some of his things," she explained, her voice soft and steady, even though he could see her fingertips trembling slightly as she folded her hands back against her knees. “We’re keeping the rest in his apartment for now. My mother can’t stand the idea of getting rid of any of it.”
He nodded, not trusting his voice as he looked from her back to the box in his lap and opened the lid slowly, chest tightening as the scent of Jun's cologne hit him. He could see the familiar shape of Jun's cologne bottle in one corner and the bright tangle of his necklaces, the familiar glint of the rings that Sho had always teased him about when he wore, and he shut the lid quickly, breathing through his mouth to avoid the scent of Jun hanging in the air around him. "Matsumoto-san--"
"Reina. Please."
"Reina-san," he corrected himself, his hands curling around the edges of the box almost protectively as he met her eyes. He opened his mouth to protest, to insist that these were things that belonged to Jun's family, but he found the words sticking in his throat. He swallowed and tried again. "... thank you."
"You're welcome," she murmured, giving him a knowing look, and he couldn't help but wonder how much Jun had talked about him, how much she knew about the reality of their relationship. He brushed it aside, though, knowing that it really didn't matter one way or the other now. She reached back into the bag then and drew out an envelope, laying it on the coffee table between them.
Sho was almost afraid to look at it, but found his gaze drawn to it anyway, taking in the tiny, precise lettering. It was addressed to the Matsumoto family, but the sender's name was unfamiliar, one that he didn't recall ever hearing Jun talk about or seeing written anywhere before.
"Jun wanted to be an organ donor," she explained before he could ask, her voice catching a little on her brother's name.
“Aiba Masaki,” Sho read the sender’s name off the envelope with a slight frown.
“The boy who got his heart,” Reina explained softly.
“Oh,” Sho whispered, unsure what else to say. He stared at the letter a moment longer before he lifted his eyes again to meet hers, his own wide and confused. "This letter is for Jun's family."
"You're a part of Jun's family, too," she insisted softly.
Later, after they'd both finished their tea and exchanged polite goodbyes, when he was once again alone in the apartment, he'd rested the box unopened in his lap and finally, reluctantly, let himself accept the truth.
--
“Shouldn’t I be gone by now? Now that I know… shouldn’t I move on, or whatever it is that happens?”
“This isn’t a movie,” Nino answered with a soft laugh, the sound more gentle than mocking, and Jun couldn’t help but wonder how many times he’d had this conversation before. “Angels aren’t going to come and whisk you away. You aren’t going to be swallowed up by some bright light. It doesn’t work that way.”
“Then what happens now?” Jun murmured, his throat tight as he met Nino’s eyes.
Nino shrugged, his face almost thoughtful. “That depends on you, really. This is your story, Jun, your life—or death, as it were. The rest is up to you.”
“So, if I wanted to--,” Jun began, his eyes almost hopeful as he continued. “I could stay?”
Nino nodded once, a sad smile forming on his face. “You could. Some do.”
“And Sho—“
“No,” Nino cut him off, his smile dying. “He won’t see you, no matter how long you stay. He can’t. Some things can’t be changed.”
“There’s no way… not even with Ohno? Couldn’t he do something? Couldn’t you?”
“No,” Nino whispered, shaking his head slowly, his expression endlessly patient as he watched Jun, waiting for it all to sink in. “You’re dead, Jun. You can stay or you can go, but either way you’ll still be dead. Nothing Ohno or I can do will change that.”
Jun nodded, his face falling a little.
“You’re not Patrick Swayze, you know. All the things you’ve seen in movies and read in books—it’s all just fiction. Sho won’t see you again because he can’t. The best you can do is to say goodbye.”
“But he won’t hear it,” Jun mumbled, his voice resigned.
“Not the way you want him to, no.”
Jun stared down at his lap, his mind churning with thoughts, trying to think of ways around this eventhough he knew, rationally, that he wouldn’t find any. This wasn’t the type of thing that you could bend the rules for.
He tried to imagine another year like this, another three, a lifetime of Sho sleeping on the other side of the wall but still a world away, untouchable. The thought of leaving everything behind was terrifying, but the thought of staying and being trapped like this forever was almost worse.
“I don’t really have a choice.” Jun straightened his shoulders and met Nino’s eyes.
“You always have a choice,” Nino pointed out with another small smile. “And I can’t make it for you.”
--
Sho turned his head slightly, stealing a glance at the man seated beside him, silent and peaceful and not at all what he’d pictured in his head. He’d read the letter from Aiba to Jun’s family over and over, so many times that if he closed his eyes right now he could picture it in his head perfectly, call to mind the way the kanji all started to trail upwards slowly further down the page; he’d thought that by reading the letter over and over until he managed to work up the courage to actually contact him had given him a good idea of just who it was he’d be meeting today.
The letter was polite, grateful, reassuring. He’d known, reading it, that Aiba would be considerate, but he hadn’t expected the warmth and energy and the simple sense of comfort that he held in reality. He hadn’t expected Aiba to be so kind and gracious, or so eager to talk and to learn more about Sho—or about Jun, even. Somewhere in his head he’d convinced himself that Aiba was grateful for the gift he received, but he couldn’t possibly care to know more about the person he’d received it from. Sho knew that, if their situations were reversed, he wouldn’t have wanted to know.
But he had. He’d talked about himself and asked questions about Sho and, eventually, about Jun, the sincerity in his voice enough to make Sho answer, hesitantly at first, and speak about things that he’d made a point to avoid over the course of the last few months. It had hurt, some of it, but it had felt incredibly good, too, being able to talk about Jun, to remember things that he’d tried very hard not to think about.
Aiba turned to meet his eyes, lips curving upwards into a warm smile. Sho met his eyes and smiled back, the expression hesitant but genuine.
“I’m glad you came today.”
Sho’s smile widened at that, grew a little embarrassed as he turned away with flushed cheeks. “Ah… I’m glad you wanted to meet. It had to be weird for you, just having someone call you out of the blue like that.”
“I don’t mind,” Aiba insisted, laughing quietly under his breath, the sound soft and soothing. It was nothing like Jun’s laugh, lower and breathier. Aiba’s laughter seemed unconscious, almost as natural as breathing, where Jun’s had been rare, something that only managed to make it past his guard on occasion, but was all the more special for it when it did. It was different, but it still made Sho think of Jun. Aiba would have made Jun laugh. “It’s nice, talking to you like this. I’ve always wondered what he was like.”
“He would have liked you,” Sho mumbled without really thinking, but was glad he had when he saw the smile it brought to Aiba’s face.
“You two were close?” Aiba asked, still smiling as he turned away to stare out the window at the busy mid-day street outside. Sho nodded, unsure if Aiba had seen it or not, but the other continued anyway. “I wish I could thank him. But talking about him like this with you is good, too. It’s so easy to forget all the happy times you have with someone unless you talk about them.”
“Yeah,” Sho whispered, his voice so quiet that he doubted the other could hear him. He swallowed around the lump in his throat and reached out for his cup of coffee, long grown cold, and let the soft sounds of the coffee shop fill the silence between them.
After a long moment Sho looked up again to find Aiba watching him silently. Sho smiled at him, the expression tired but genuine. “Thank you.”
--
Jun had never been a morning person. He hated the sound of his alarm, the heavy feeling in his head as he rolled out of bed, the knowledge that he’d be spending yet another day running around, trying to get too much done in too little time.
It seemed strange, then, that out of all his memories with Sho, the ones that he thought of the most often involved early mornings. It wasn’t often that Jun woke up before Sho, but when he did he’d always found himself laying there, watching the steady rise and fall of Sho’s chest, captivated by the way the early morning light filtered through the blinds, lighting the other’s hair, caressing the line of his jaw and highlighting the angles of his face. He liked the way that Sho looked when he slept, the way he seemed completely at peace, liked the way the other’s hand always ended up on Jun’s pillow, fingers tangled loosely in the ends of Jun’s hair while they slept. It made Jun feel safe and normal and completely and utterly happy.
It was these moments that Jun knew he was going to miss the most Not because they were sweeping or profound—they never involved declarations of undying love or promises of forever. They never ended in anything more than Sho waking up, offering Jun a sleepy smile and running a hand through his hair before they got up to start their day. But they were real and somehow perfect in their simplicity.
Jun’s eyes were sad as he lingered in the doorway, watching the steady rise and fall of Sho’s chest, the right side of the bed—his side of the bed—noticeably empty. He wondered if Sho had slept on that side of the bed at all in the past year, if it was a conscious decision to keep it empty. He wondered how much longer Sho would keep on doing that, sleeping on only half the bed and leaving the other half open out of respect or sadness or the need to remember.
He wished that there was some way to go back, to relive just one morning waking up beside Sho, one brief moment opening his eyes to find the other there, one sleepy smile shared between the two of them.
He swallowed, his throat tight as he crossed the room and sank down onto the bed. The mattress didn’t move as he sat, didn’t dip even the slightest beneath his weight as it should have, serving as just another reminder that this was all real, that he was dead. There was no body to anchor him to this place anymore, nothing more than memory and stubborn will keeping him here.
Sho let out a soft sigh in his sleep, murmuring something. Jun smiled, the expression bittersweet as he watched the other’s eyelids twitch.
“I’ll miss this,” he murmured, his voice a bit too loud in the empty room. It wasn’t as if anyone else would hear him, as if even Sho could really hear him, but he found himself flinching anyway and dropping his voice until his next words came out as barely more than a whisper. “I’ll miss you. Even if you are a cover hog and you have terrible taste in wine and you chew with your mouth open.”
He laughed a hollow laugh and reached down, brushing his fingertips over the other’s hair. They tingled at the touch, a cold, almost electric jolt going through them, but beneath him Sho didn’t stir or give any indication he’d felt the touch at all.
“I guess it wouldn’t have worked out anyway, would it? I mean, I’d never have been able to like soccer,” Jun laughed, the sound soft and raspy as he pulled his hand back to himself, resting it in his lap, his fingertips still tingling. “ But it was good while it lasted.”
Sho twitched in his sleep then, murmuring something beneath his breath as he reached over, hand curling against the empty pillow beside him.
Jun smiled sadly as he leaned in, letting his lips hover over Sho’s temple as he kissed the empty air between them and then rose from the bed, walking out of the room without allowing himself a backwards glance.
Epilogue
Nino had his hands thrust into his pockets, his shoulders relaxed and lips curled into a half-smile as he wandered down the path that wound through the park, enjoying the mid-afternoon sun on his face and the snatches of conversation he could catch from the people around him. The park was unusually busy for late September, the unusually warm day luring the people in for picnics and afternoon strolls, smiles on their faces as enjoyed the last traces of summer, ignoring the leaves that were already starting to turn overhead.
Nino loved days like this, when everything was so full of life and hope and promise. He loved just wandering around, surrounded by happiness, even if he wasn’t a part of it.
It wasn’t much later that he came across a lone man sitting on a park bench, shoulders slightly hunched as he doodled on a pad of paper, and, smiling, took a seat beside him. They were both silent for a moment, Nino content to stare out across the park and the other man lost in the movement of his pencil across the page. Nino had already started to drift into his own thoughts a little himself, lulled by the soft scratching of pencil on paper, when the other man turned, finally, and spoke.
“I wondered if I’d see you again.”
Nino grinned and turned his head to meet the other’s eye. “Missed me that much?”
The other man smiled a little and shrugged in answer. “The apartment feels really empty sometimes.”
“Hm,” Nino agreed, nodding a little as he leaned over to steal a look at the page, the rough pencil sketches staring back up at him. “That guy sure made an impression, didn’t he?”
The other man nodded, resting his pencil against his knee. “He did.”
Nino sighed, the sound drawn out and slightly exaggerated as he slumped against the back of the bench. “They usually aren’t that stubborn. Dealing with him was actually a challenge.”
The man beside him grinned. “Yeah, I miss him, too.”
Nino snorted. “No other ghosts hanging around to keep you company?”
“None that are any fun,” the man admitted, turning his head to stare out at the park. “What about you?”
“Same old, same old,” Nino answered, a bored look on his face. “But I’m used to it.” He shrugged and continued, his voice far too non-chalant. “How’s everything else?”
“Good,” the other answered, turning his head to glance at a pair of men standing in front of a nearby ice cream stand, one all smiles and laughter and the other with an uncertain set to his mouth as he fished money out of his wallet. “You should come visit, sometime.”
“Maybe the next time I get a vacation,” Nino answered, his voice soft and playful. The pair from the ice cream stand turned and were heading towards them, cones clutched in hand.
The smiley one stopped in front of the bench and offered the man a cone. “I talked Sho-chan into getting us extra scoops this time, Oh-chan.”
Ohno took the cone and smiled, stealing a sideways glance at Sho, who was currently frowning down at the bench beside him. “Who were you talking to?”
Ohno looked over at the now empty bench beside him and smiled. “Just a friend.”
Sho frowned deeper and shook his head a little, deciding not to mention that, as far as he had seen, the bench had always been empty.
“Someday you’ll have to introduce us to your friends,” Aiba teased as he took a seat beside Ohno and started attacking his ice cream in earnest.
Beside him, Ohno just smiled.
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