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To Yuuta, saying that the Ensemble Square dorms were heavenly was an understatement.
Compared to the frigid, dark, empty home of his youth, Yuuta oftentimes found himself shocked by the differences between the two. The dorms always had the utilities on, for one. Not once had Yuuta been woken up by a throbbing hurt in his fingers, swollen and red and, oh, the heating hadn’t been paid, huh? Rather, Yuuta’s board was paid for in its entirety, and the countless fully stocked food courts and kitchens in EnSquare’s main building weren’t anything like the fridge at home, empty save for a few rotting fruit. No, living in the dorms was nothing at all like living with that man in that awful house.
It was a blessing, sure, to have been saved from such an awful circumstance. It was why he and Aniki always donated a portion of their salaries to abuse funds, it was why they’d forever be grateful for their old Master, for Sakuma-senpai, for Ibara, for teaching them and cultivating their skills and believing in their talents.
Still, Yuuta couldn’t help but feel out of place sometimes. It was confusing, when Yuuta witnessed Nagisa fall asleep with his bedside lamp still on, or when he noticed that Kaoru never unplugged his various chargers from their outlets. Yuuta knew his panic was instinctual, and that he wouldn’t wake to find an EnSquare assassin at his neck for wasting electricity, but that never seemed to quell his unease. The dorms were a safe haven, which is what made them so astoundingly different than what Yuuta was used to.
His life was good now, Yuuta knew this, he cherished it, but he was still sometimes struck with a craving for his old twisted normalcy. He wasn’t about to slip back into weathered and worn down clothes, or go looking for roaches, but there was one constant he could always relive without putting his well being at risk: shitty teen magazines.
He had amassed a decent amount of them growing up, the gossip articles not only a distraction from his empty, understimulating childhood, but also a way to get caught up on all of the pop culture he missed and fit in with the kids at school. The perfume samples offered him a brief respite from being the kid who smelled weird, the additional posters helped fuel his prince charming fantasies, and, above all, the astrology section never failed to fill him with hope.
No matter how many times a good fortune had been retold, reworded, or straight up copied, Yuuta would lay down, read the weekly predictions, and feel secure, because pisces were supposedly having a fortunate month, so the tips from their performances would be good!
Every page of his old magazines were worn from a decade of rereading, ink faded, covers having lost its sheen, but he had taken good measures to prevent them from ripping. Hinata had always used to poke fun at him, his own juvenile tongue stumbling over “meticulous” time and time again, but slowly savoring each word kept his things looking the opposite of the ripped belongings of his brother’s.
He definitely knew most of the articles by heart now, so one trip to the corner store, twenty cheap magazines, and five bags of shrimp puffs (two spicy) later, Yuuta was knocking on Hinata’s door. Hushed curses were audible as Hinata stumbled over whatever miscellaneous junk he and his roommates hoarded, and when the door swung open, his brother was standing on one foot, the other cradled in his hand as he hurriedly tried to massage a stubbed toe.
“Yuuta!” Hinata’s voice was jovial, but it wasn’t enough to mask his own embarrassment. He knew it, too, and took his act a step further, stretching his unoccupied arm across the entryway of the door, the epitome of faux-casual posing, perfect, if you ignored the fact that he was still standing on one leg. Yuuta didn’t, instead choosing to duck under his brother’s arm and nudge Hinata’s leg with his own foot, basking in the glory of making Hinata stumble to the ground like a startled cat.
Hinata’s responding yelp of protest did nothing to deter Yuuta, as he stepped around piles of laundry, empty water bottles, miniature figurines, and–
“Aniki,” Yuuta paused, staring at the offending object. “Why is there a grill in your room?”
He made eye contact with Hinata at the exact moment he propelled himself off of the floor, body spry and, once again, resembling choreography that might have been in any self respecting performance of Cats.
“Oh, the grill!” He said it like the grill was normal, and not a fire hazard, or a smoke hazard, or perhaps the reason why—oh my god the grill was the reason why everyone had been shuffled out of the dorms at one in the morning last Tuesday, groggy and drenched from EnSquare’s fire sprinklers.
“Yeah, haha, Hiiro and I talked Shiina-senpai into buying one, so now we can eat whenever we feel like!” Hinata leaned against the thing, a rustic red and covered in sanrio stickers, placing a kiss atop it’s metal hood.
Yuuta stared.
Hinata blinked.
Yuuta sighed, turning around and heading for Hinata’s unmade bed, tossing his grocery bags on top of the mattress.
“I’d tell Ibara-senpai, but something tells me he wouldn’t care, considering he already lets you eat–”
“Shrimp!” As if on cue, Hinata opened the bag of snacks, readily tearing into the shrimp snacks.
“...Despite knowing you’re allergic.” Yuuta finished, swatting Hinata’s hands away from the bag with his own.
“Omly Mildwy!” The response was muffled, spoken through a mouthful of shrimp chips, further assisted by the trio of magazines Yuuta threw at Hinata’s face.
Hinata was unphased, nonchalantly plucking one from the stack to inspect the cover.
“‘Free poster of UNDEAD’s ravishing rebellious rockstar Koga Oogami?!’ Oh, Yuuta-chan, I need this one.”
“Sure, take it, I don’t care, but read the horoscopes with me first. I’m feeling nostalgic.”
Yuuta thumbed through his own copy, an earlier release promising insider information on Knights’ love lives. Thumbing through the pages fast enough to tear, Yuuta knew his younger self would be scandalized by his lack of care. He laughed, the affronted expression a clear image in his mind, albeit only because Hinata was making the exact same face as he stared down a gravure photoshoot of Sakuma-senpai.
“Yuuta– Yuuta look. Look at this. Yuuta. Yuuta. C’mon Yuuta come loo—”
“I can see it, Aniki.” Yuuta’s eye roll came naturally. Everyone and their mother did fanservice now, so what’s the point in caring?
“I can’t believe you don’t care about this. I, for one, am going straight to Rhythm Link. Christian moms against Rei Sakuma, I’ll tell them–”
Scoffing, Yuuta continued to skim the pages.
“Maybe if you went to the horoscopes like I asked, you could have missed that shoot altogether.”
Hinata’s chest heaved with the most overdramatic, annoying sigh he could manage. “Fine, I’ll become one with my inner oddball ‘n hippie it up, just for you.”
“Good!” Yuuta beamed, for once taking his position as the younger sibling in stride. Baby Yuuta says jump, older by a minute Hinata says how high?
“Boho is coming back in style, you know, I can ask Sena-senpai to pick up some things for you, and Ran-senpai has all those crystals, so I’m sure he’d be happy to tell you about them–”
“Woah, that’s crazy, this dude says that pisces are all annoying bossy idiots, how’d he get it right?”
“Funny, he must’ve been talking about you, then.” Yuuta’s arm hovered over Hinata’s shoulder, his index finger tracing over the words printed for each column. He had chosen the latest issue, so whatever their horoscope said should shine true, beyond the neon pages covered in cheap clip art.
“‘After a tumultuous period in your life, your adversity and interpersonal relationships will persevere and grow stronger than ever’, huh..”
Yuuta pulled his arm back, tucking his hand under his chin. He could feel the weight of Hinata’s side-eye. A few years ago, a younger Yuuta would have avoided it, content to turn a blind eye to judgement and bask in his own fantasies, willfully ignorant.
He turned, meeting Hinata’s crescent moon gaze head on. Hinata’s smile was sheepish, his eyes just barely open. It was remarkably foxlike, overwhelming caution preceding any cunning actions.
“What is it, Aniki?” Nonchalance was normally his brother’s specialty, but Yuuta could feign it just as well.
Hinata paused, breathing slowly as he chewed on his thoughts. Yuuta rolled his hand in front of him. It was almost ridiculous how Hinata only thought before speaking when Yuuta was on the edge of his seat.
“You really believe in all of this, Yuuta?” Hinata’s words fell flat, his sentence punctuated by a loud crunching as he shovelled more chips into his mouth.
“Yes.” The conviction of his answer was shocking, but despite having drawn away from astrology, Yuuta knew it was still true.
“It’s comforting, I think, to know the stars are billions of tiny Atlases, all holding the collective weight of our fates. A relief, too, ‘cause I’d end up breaking my back if I tried to carry it.”
Yuuta watched Hinata’s nose twitch, face cringing alongside the movement. Hinata’s hands were everywhere, picking at his cuticles, toying with the tears on his magazine, and so were his eyes, looking anywhere but Yuuta’s own.
“Mm, I guess you’re right...but the stars aren’t saying it, the magazines are. People will write whatever fluff generic enough to make everyone content, just to get paid, you know. I know the good fortunes made you happy when we were kids, but–”
“But they never came true?” Yuuta hummed as he finished his brother's sentence. “Maybe, or maybe the promised happiness was what we’re feeling right now, and it took a while to get to us...or maybe each small prediction was being stockpiled so we could achieve stardom. It didn’t feel like it then, but we’re definitely lucky, Hinata.”
Fox eyes had morphed into that of a doe’s: wide and hesitant, slowly raising to meet Yuuta’s gaze.
“You think so?”
Here he was, watching Hinata embrace the youth he had never before failed to push away, sitting on a bed with a frame, rather than some dirty lumpy mattress resting on the floor, next to bags of name brand snacks Yuuta had bought himself and magazines with their faces on the covers.
“I don’t think...I know so.”