Chapter Text
Rainy Tapestry
The falling rain
An unchanging sky
In a grey city, I met that person
- Rainy Tapestry by Lamp (Translation)
Why do rainy days bring forth nostalgia? Nanami isn’t usually prone to such feelings, yet on this day, he wasn’t spared from it. Must it be from the smell of the asphalt? Or the extra comfort that a hot cup of coffee brings?
His day started when he woke from his blaring alarm clock. He glanced at his bedside table. It says 8:00 AM, still early, and outside his window, the heavy downpour of the rain. Dark and cold. He would prefer to stay at home, curled up on his bed, snuggled under his weighted blanket. However, amid drowsiness and the urge to doze off, he sluggishly left his bed and prepared for an uneventful Saturday shift.
The day started quietly. His limbs feel heavy as he brews a black coffee, heats a butter croissant in his microwave, and cooks a sunny-side-up egg. He rents a small apartment near his university. He recently shifted to another degree. He found Finance logical at first, given his aptitude for numbers, yet it can be soulless and draining. Even though he might not be the most creative person, he found comfort in words, and writing for him was gratifying. The writing process is realistically challenging, but this feeling of satisfaction and enjoyment prevailed in the end, which is why he switched to a Creative Writing course eventually. He hasn’t regretted this decision so far.
Nanami embraces the quietness of his morning, save for the sound of rain on his windowsill. He finds mornings painstaking only because of the fact that he prefers to write in the evenings, staying up as late as 5:00 AM the next day. He has a busy schedule. His weekdays are packed with early morning classes and extracurricular activities. His weekends are slower, but he still has a part-time job to commit to. It’s Saturday, and that's where he is headed.
Nanami donned his cream slacks, a white inner shirt paired with a grey cashmere sweater, and his brown Oxford shoes. He picked up his rectangular-framed glasses and made sure to stuff his old computer and notebook into his bag. He will work on his term papers or do some practice writing.
He works in a vintage record store a few minutes away. Although he does have an affinity for the items they sell, he chose to work there because of the distance from his apartment. It’s practical to work somewhere near, as he doesn’t have to spend his energy and allowance on commuting. In this kind of weather, he expects that only a few customers will stop by the store. Most of them are probably seeking refuge from the rain, or some hobbyists interested in vinyl, and the occasional teenagers who window shop.
Nanami grabbed his umbrella and ambled through the rain, carefully side-stepping the puddles of water. As he rounded the corner, he spotted his favorite bakery. Even though he already had his breakfast, he had one more stomach he needed to fill. Nanami can smell the freshly baked bread a few steps away. Maybe it isn’t too bad to be out and about in this weather. The bread is definitely worth it, and his mouth starts to water. It is one of the few pleasures in life he lets himself indulge in.
“Arigato gozaimashita”. He bowed as the customer left the shop, the door closing behind them as the bell above rang. It was already 4:30 PM, and he would close the store in an hour and a half. As he expected, he only had a few customers, and the last one surprisingly bought several CDs. He looked through the window, and it seemed that the rain had died down to a drizzle.
He walked back to the counter, sat in the stiff chair, and absentmindedly gazed at the stacks of records. His tired brown eyes zeroed in on a familiar cover. It was slightly grainy. There were two people in the photo — the man facing front with his head bowed, he was wearing a yellowish padded jacket, while the woman was facing towards the ocean with her hair tied, and donning what seems to be a black cardigan that draped to her knees. The rough sea was behind them, and the sky had darkened with rain clouds. Nanami had always thought of it as full of melancholy and gloom, yet there’s something hopeful about it. There was a sense of tranquility, even if they were apart from each other.
Nanami stood and went ahead to pluck the CD from the shelf. He hasn’t listened to this in a while. His mouth stretched into a small smile as he turned on the player and placed the CD atop it. He'll pay for it.
The beginning notes echoed in the empty record store. He felt the tune seep into his bones, warming him up from the inside. His small smile stretched into something big, but it faded in a jiffy.
A specific smell, taste, or sound can hold memories. Some are deeply grounding, while others are wrapped with longing and what-ifs. This one comes with fond memories he treasured deeply. It also fits the latter; it reminds him of a person who made his heart ache just by thinking of him. Nanami so rarely thought of him these days, preferring to be occupied by mundane worries and academic struggles. It’s been a few years since he last saw this person, but he still vividly remembers his bright smile. He reminds him of everything — the clear skies in the summer, the candied strawberries and confectionery, loud laughter, a stupid joke, a childish thought, a caring figure, and … perhaps, even this melody.
Nanami sighed, annoyed by how his thoughts had strayed. He went back behind the counter and started typing again. The words are comforting, and so he let himself drown in them for a little while.
Nanami looked up as the door opened. That was surprising. This close to 5:30 PM on a rainy weekend, no one ever stops by. Still, Nanami saved what he was writing and calmly greeted the customer.
“Irasshaimase.”
As he looked up, he noticed a wild tangle of white hair. It reminds him of someone. Just how many people in Japan have white hair? Natural or otherwise? Not including old people whose hair had turned white due to age.
He’s back at it again. How many times had he thought of that person today? He must be losing his mind. Nanami stared into the distance and exhaled.
He snapped out of it as he heard a clutter of CDs fall on the floor. What a pain that was. This was the last customer of the day, and they just had to be clumsy and bothersome. He stepped out of the counter and approached the man.
He rounded the corner towards the aisle and saw that the man was bending down, picking up the CDs. He has an untamed tuft of white hair, and there was a heavily tinted square sunglass perched on his nose. He was wearing a leather jacket with a fur lining on the neck and had long legs encased in black skinny jeans. He had black Chelsea boots on. Nanami noticed several CDs were scattered. He sighed.
“Let me help you up with that”, he uttered and hastily picked up the remaining ones. There was only one left, and he was about to grab it when he noticed that the white haired man was reaching for the same CD. Nanami notices how pale, veined, and long those hands are.
Nanami stood up and placed the CDs he had back on the shelf. He stretched his arms back with his left palm open, gesturing for the white haired man to pass along the CDs to him. He heard him grunt a few seconds ago, so he must’ve stood up. Nanami didn’t look in his direction, as he was busying himself arranging the shelf.
He felt the weight of something warm and soft touch his palm. It’s too light to be the CDs. He squeezed it once, then twice, and heard the white haired man chuckling.
Oh, you must be joking.
There’s just no way out of all the days.
He imagined plenty of times about them meeting again. Maybe in a bakery, bumping into each other as he buys his daily bread fix, and this person orders a sickly sweet strawberry cake, or their eyes accidentally locking through a gap in the bookshelf in a library or a bookstore somewhere. Tokyo is small after all. He just didn’t expect them to cross paths again at a record store. His place of employment at that. Life just hits you with some random monumental thing on a random day, doesn't it?
Nanami sighed for the umpteenth time that day and proceeded to face his past. He looked up at the white haired man, meeting his gaze. His eyes were a bit clouded; must be the weather. He looked mature now, but still had the roguishness written on his face. He is still annoyingly good-looking. Nanami’s brows twitched at that thought.
“Fancy seeing you here, Nanamin”, his pinkish lips stretched to a warm smile — it’s as if seeing an old friend is pleasing, as if seeing Nanami is not unwelcome.
“I work here, Gojo-san”. Nanami almost rolled his eyes, but he sighed instead.
“Just how many sighs are you going to let out in my vicinity?”, so Gojo did notice his exasperation. Well, it’s no fault of his.
“A hundred more, give or take”. Gojo chuckled at that answer, and Nanami couldn’t help but return Gojo’s smile with a small one of his own. He averted his gaze and noticed that Gojo’s still holding a couple of CDs. He stretched his arms, palms open as he did earlier, gesturing for those things to be handed over to him.
Gojo definitely knows how to push his buttons. Instead of handing over the CDs, Gojo grabbed his wrist. Nanami looked at Gojo irritably, with his eyebrows raised. Nanami can feel the heat on Gojo’s palm searing his skin. He twisted his arms, attempting to break the hold as Gojo stared at him. This time, Gojo’s blue eyes were roaming over his face, perhaps taking in the differences in his features, or re-mapping how Gojo remembers his face.
“You are so creepy. Would you please let me go, Gojo-san? And stop looking at me like that." His words had a bit of a bite to them. Not hostility. No. Nanami found himself in an uncomfortable situation. He had noted the small distance between their bodies, how the store only has two people in it — Nanami and Gojo. The light rain served as a curtain, cutting them off from the world outside.
“Nope”, Gojo shook his head from side to side, and suddenly pulled Nanami into a warm hug. Oomf.
They are both tall and gangly as teenagers. As their bodies touched, even though clothed, Nanami could feel the hardness of Gojo’s muscles. He could say the same with his body, although not as muscled. He inhaled and got a whiff of Gojo’s natural scent. He wasn’t big on perfume to begin with, but Gojo has a refreshing scent on him that somewhat clears the fog on his mind as it clears his clogged airways.
He felt Gojo’s long arms embrace his body, as if crushing him with this hug. “You feel nice, Nanami. I miss you.”
Nanami was embarrassed by where his thoughts had strayed. Always taking in every detail when it comes to Gojo Satoru. He had a bad case of it when they were younger; maybe the time apart hadn't toned it down.
“Just what the fuck are you doing, Gojo-san?”
“Uhm. Hugging you? Isn’t that obvious?”. Nanami heard him snicker, teasing him even further.
“Was that supposed to be funny?” Nanami retorted sarcastically.
“Why are you like an irritated cat, Nanami-kun? I just want to hug you, we haven’t seen each other for yearrrrrs”. Nanami could just see him pouting.
Nanami huffed in irritation. “Can you let go now, please? And, step away from my personal space”. Nanami tried to push Gojo away, but the white-haired man hugged him even tighter. Gojo even buried his nose on the side of Nanami’s neck, causing him to freeze in place.
His neck.
That is one of Nanami’s erogenous zones.
Gojo wasn’t even satisfied with just burying his nose; he was even nuzzling Nanami’s neck now. “As you know, I love your personal space too, Nanamin”. He whispered in a suggestive voice. Or perhaps, Nanami was just imagining it, succumbing to whatever it was he felt in the past.
Gojo might look like he has matured, but he is still the same as before, and whenever Gojo is like this, Nanami has no choice but to relent. There’s no use fighting it. Nanami yielded and just let Gojo have his fill. He stands there within Gojo’s embrace stiffly. A few more seconds and he’ll break from it. Nanami would not admit it, but it kinda feels nice. Reminds him of how Gojo's arms were so skinny back then.
The store was silent save for the soft melody, the CD was still playing, and he forgot to remove it from the player as he busied himself earlier with writing.
Well, that’s even more irritating.
It was the same music from the same band that he and Gojo were listening to when they were on a field trip years ago. He wondered if the gods were out to get him today. Do they feel pleasure as they torture Nanami like this?
Nanami’s thoughts strayed once more.