Chapter Text
In other words, hold my hand
In other words, darling, kiss me
The izakaya he visited tonight was a two-story building with an L-shaped staircase, creating a hidden alcove underneath. A spot most guests avoided even at the height of the crowds.
Too dim. Too enclosed.
Nobi Nobita chose it specifically for this reason.
It was rare for his desk not to be piled high with urgent documents. Nobita didn’t let the opportunity to leave early pass him by. Securing his seat, he took a quick photo of the interior and tagged its location on social media before browsing through the menu.
Tokyo had changed a lot over the past two decades, and he was no exception.
The bespectacled man successfully transformed himself from a ‘failure’ into a promising student enrolled at a prestigious university. Though he didn’t receive outstanding academic honors, he graduated with satisfactory grades, obtained a position at a major corporation, and, overall, led a comfortably adequate adult life. Today, approaching three decades rather than two, the boy who used to get zeros on his report cards had become a reliable adult.
However, certain things left traces of his childhood. He was still the laid-back Nobita who set aside his paycheck for manga and video games. If it weren’t for the hectic year-end audit and the heavy snow, he wouldn’t have needed alcohol at all.
Nobita discarded his knee-length coat and draped it over his briefcase. The smoke billowed from grilled yakitori stands blurred his presence. A bottle of beer and a plate of edamame occupied his small table. At first, he was tempted to order the highballs, but he backed out since he wasn’t a strong drinker; especially when he was visiting this pub unaccompanied.
The ice cubes in his glass began to melt. Nobita was pouring more drink when he realized how lonesome an adult’s life could be. Sure, he had workmates. But at times, his thoughts drifted back to the open field where he used to practice baseball. To the homework he procrastinated. To his elementary school buddies who now lead their own, separate lives. He couldn’t help wondering if the pigtailed girl he used to idolize was fine. The big boy with the off-key voice and his friend, the heir to his father’s fortune—were they all doing well?
And finally, the figure whom Nobita one-sidedly declared to be his eternal rival. The boy who, by some twist of fate, always ended up in the same school as him up until senior high.
“Nobi-kun?”
Great, he mused. Now I’m imagining his voice.
How much alcohol had he downed that the past manifested itself audibly? Nobita was busy squinting at his glistening glass when the chair next to him shifted, causing him to look up. Who would’ve guessed that the newcomer was—
“...Dekisugi?”
-kun? -san? How should he address him, again?
Behind the thin, round-framed glasses, his large eyes blinked. Head tilted to the side as his lips parted in bewilderment. His slow-loading brain struggled to translate the name of the man standing before him, as if it were a century-old language Nobita had never spoken.
On the other hand, Dekisugi Hidetoshi appeared composed, just exactly how Nobi Nobita remembered him. The tall, elegant man in casual attire didn’t sit down—not yet. Not until he was properly invited. Each of his actions and mannerism was carefully curated. Measured, always cautious. Almost feigned, even, as if he lived with invisible chains bound to his feet.
“Do you mind?”
“Since when did you start asking?”
Nobita huffed lightly. His hand reached for the stool and patted its surface.
“Thank you,” Dekisugi offered a polite smile, joining him. “It’s been years.”
“It certainly has,” grinning from ear to ear, Nobita thrust the half-empty bottle toward his genius friend. “Want some? Or you can order a new one if you feel like it.”
Dekisugi’s smile broadened as he accepted the offer, “This’ll do. I don’t drink much.”
“Don’t want to? Don’t like it?” Nobita asked, his tone tinged with sarcasm. He wouldn’t forget Dekisugi’s tendency to strive for perfection. “Or is it to maintain some kind of good image?”
“I’ll fly first thing tomorrow morning,” he shrugged, gulping down the remaining beer straight from the bottle. It’d never crossed Nobita’s mind that someone like Dekisugi would take such a barbaric approach. “If I got to choose, I’d prefer to make it through without a hangover.”
“Huh,” this time, it was the edamame plate’s turn to be relocated. “Wise.”
Dekisugi glanced at the pile of seasoned soybeans but decided not to touch them.
Gradually, the awkwardness that once had enveloped them dissipated. They weren’t total strangers, after all, despite never having actually met face-to-face for the past ten years. Both were present at the school’s annual reunion or a classmate’s wedding, but fate seemed to be against their gathering—either Dekisugi arrived too early, or Nobita showed up late.
Just like back then, huh?
The star student sitting at his designated desk long before the bell rang, and the chronic latecomer entering the classroom, panting and gasping for breath. As if their memories synchronized, Nobita and Dekisugi laughed softly at the same time.
“How’s work,” the academic asked. “Anything exciting going on lately?”
“Nothing interesting about office life. Meeting. Deadlines. Paycheck. Repeat,” Nobita said, crossing both hands behind his head. “Much different from yours, I reckon.”
Dekisugi chuckled, “What’s your guess, though?”
“I’m not sure. Given your obsession with astronomy, I won’t be surprised if you’re off to the moon or whatnot,” Nobita was taken aback by his own words. He quickly shot a sideways glance at his childhood friend, “Wait a sec, when you said you’re flying tomorrow—”
“—it’s just to the States,” Dekisugi nonchalantly clarified. “Though you’re not entirely wrong. NASA’s calling. I’ve been selected for an astronaut program.”
Nobita’s jaw dropped to the floor.
“So you’re really going to the moon,” he blurted out.
“Technically, there’ll still be a series of tests and training before I can actually participate in a space mission, but yes. Moon’s a possibility.” as if it were the most mundane happenstance in the world, Dekisugi again raised his shoulders. His intonation held no arrogance, simply stating a fact. “Anyway, I’m flattered that you still remember my favorite subject.”
Nobita lazily rolled his eyes, “It’s hard to forget when you’re lugging around those thick books wherever you go, even to the cafeteria. To this day, the rocket on the cover still haunts me.”
Dekisugi couldn’t contain his amusement.
“Speaking of cafetaria, don’t tell me you’re still eating the same bread.”
“Bread?” Nobita furrowed his brow.
“You know, the ones with the overly sweet filling,” he propped his chin with one hand. “You usually bought them at the corner store, and when you did, you always got them in bulk.”
“Ah,” dorayaki.
The sugary treat favored by his companion from the future.
Nobita sensed a hint of bitterness in his smile as he recalled the robotic figure who’d faded from the recollection of many. The visitor from the 22nd century had erased his existence from history when he deemed that Nobita no longer needed his help, leaving behind only fragmented memories, never whole. The man with glasses couldn’t respond with anything more than a perfunctory answer, “It’s been long since the last time I had them.”
“We’re not at an age where we can eat it too often anymore,” Dekisugi agreed.
“Still,” Nobita narrowed his eyes. “It’s strange that you still remember such a trivial thing.”
“If it’s about you,” replied the man who was a few months older than Nobita, staring straight into his round eyes. “I think I’m pretty good at memorizing… things.”
His grasp on the glass handle tensed a little.
Nobita knew a flush of crimson colored his cheeks. What he didn’t know, or didn’t wish to know, was whether it was caused by Dekisugi’s remark or the beer he was sipping. Trying to conceal his nervousness, Nobita drained his mug in large gulps. He set the now-empty glass next to the equally depleted bottle, before brushing away the last bit of foam clinging to the corner of his lips. As usual, it wouldn’t be Nobita if he wasn’t unnecessarily provoked.
“And you,” he snorted, almost mockingly. “While we’re struggling down here on Earth, you’re already heading off to space. Always, always a few steps ahead of the rest of us.”
The words landed sharper than they should.
Dekisugi didn’t interrupt. Nor did he correct Nobita. He just watched.
“Same old, same old,” Nobita muttered. “You always got everything together.”
“It only looks that way,” Dekisugi objected. “Truth is, I have my weaknesses too.”
“Like what? I don’t want to hear you’re humble-bragging, saying stuff like, ‘my photographic memory is a curse’, or some crap,” said the other party, subconsciously leaning closer to his former classmate. “I bet that’s the very skill that got you recruited by the space agency.”
“You could say it’s a double-edged sword that can work against me. Hence, a weakness,” Dekisugi replied, his tone serious. “Because of that, I have trouble forgetting details.”
Nobita scoffed, “Yeah, sure. You definitely still remember the library—”
…shit.
He accidentally spoke out of turn.
They realized that their conversation had been aimless so far, as they were equally unwilling to bring up this topic. There was a reason why they’d been avoiding each other since the high school graduation ceremony. Nobita even went as far as to change his phone number and created new social media accounts, while Dekisugi decided to focus on his double degree program—all to escape a particular fragment of memories from their teenage years.
It was the last winter of their school days.
The library was devoid of other students. Most of them chose to spend their time creating more pleasant memories: having karaoke with friends, dining at themed cafes, or browsing anime merchandise in Shibuya. The final exams were just around the corner. Following those would be the university entrance ones. Some of the seniors were so confident that studying extra hours was no longer an option, while the rest had simply accepted their fate.
Years ago, Nobi Nobita would’ve fallen into the latter category. The current him, however, was quite intelligent to be stressed out by a piece of paper printed with test questions.
Thus, it was his version of ‘making memories’—here, with Dekisugi Hidetoshi.
“Ouch,” he rubbed his head as he felt a soft thump against it. Guessing from the sensation, Nobita figured Dekisugi had knocked him with the spine of his book. “What was that for?”
“You’re spacing out,” his classmate answered. “How many problems have you done so far?”
Nobita groaned, “I’ve finished them all, and they’re all correct. Just see for yourself.”
“If Nobita-kun really managed to solve them all, the Ministry of Education will have to raise the difficulty level of the graduation exam starting next year,” Dekisugi suppressed a smile as he made the comment. “Or is it because I, as your mentor, have done such a fantastic job?”
“Look at you, acting cocky and all,” Nobita sneered. He tried to elbow Dekisugi, who’d joined him on the seat beside him, but the athletic boy quickly blocked the move. “I don’t remember you being this much of a pain. The Hidetoshi-kun I remember had the attitude of a prince.”
“Isn’t that why you hated me back then?” Dekisugi let a smile bloom on his face.
“Very much so,” Nobita didn’t even try to deny it. “Not only did you have the teachers’ attention, but all the girls were interested in you as well. Especially Shizu-chan.”
“Shizuka-san,” he recalled their classmate from elementary school; the girl who was often seen as the middle ground between the two boys’ so-called rivalry. “How is she doing?”
Nobita grinned, “She’s still pretty, still sweet, and still talented. I checked her social media now and then. She’s been representing her school in various competitions.”
“Glad to hear it,” Dekisugi nodded. “Send her my regards if you’re still in touch.”
“I’ve told you, get yourself an account already,” the bespectacled teen complained a little. “It’s such a bummer that every time I do cool stuff with you, I can’t tag your name.”
Dekisugi shrugged indifferently, “I’m not into that way of socializing. Besides, I have one—”
“Job search websites don’t count,” Nobita interjected. “We haven’t even started college yet.”
“But that’s the only platform I find useful,” Dekisugi replied.
“...you’re truly hopeless,” Nobita conceded, giving up on the topic.
The years they had spent growing up bore silent witness to how the dynamic between them shifted. Nobita recalled how he was the antithesis of Dekisugi, and though no one actually compared them, he was already suffering from an inferiority complex. His childish nature didn’t allow little Nobita to reflect on himself. Instead, he blamed Dekisugi and even openly expressed his animosity toward the top student. To this day, he still often felt embarrassed whenever Dekisugi jokingly mentioned those days and tried to quickly change the subject.
Their friendship started when they were in junior high.
They were in their second year when Nobita, under threat of being suspended, obeyed his homeroom teacher’s order to be tutored by Dekisugi. The pressure from the principal and his parents forced Nobita to study with him at least three times a week. Little by little, he learned that Dekisugi wasn’t as awful as he had thought, and Dekisugi discovered that his classmate wasn’t as dim-witted as everyone believed. The antidote to laziness was a consistent, loyal studying partner; a quality Dekisugi possessed and was more than happy to share.
During senior high, they naturally ended up at the same school, parting ways with their other three buddies for various reasons. As someone accustomed to being approached for ulterior motives, Dekisugi didn’t have much of a social circle. This stood in stark contrast to Nobita, who blossomed into a popular figure among the boys. Whether joining the baseball club or filling in on the soccer team, everybody wanted Nobita to participate in their extracurricular activities. He was never the best at anything, but he surely had a knack for everything.
It’s funny, sometimes, how the world works.
The quietness between them was never awkward or suffocating. With Dekisugi, Nobita came to appreciate the space between emotions. He found himself better at articulating his messy thoughts into coherent sentences. Take, for example, the question he was about to pose.
“Did you ever like her, though?”
Dekisugi furrowed his brow. “Pardon?”
“Shizu-chan,” Nobita said, clamping a pencil between his nose and upper lip. A habit he’d picked up back in his lazy, carefree days. “I recall you used to spend a lot of time with her.”
“She’s a great study companion,” nothing less, nothing more, he admitted in his typical cool, neutral tone. “Weren’t you the one who had a crush on her? Or is it still happening?”
“Yeah, once upon a time.”
For a moment, they both stared at the vaulted ceiling of the library.
“...or, rather, I thought I did,” Nobita elaborated. “At least until I graduated from junior high. I figured that going to different schools with Shizu-chan would break my heart. But—”
Dekisugi asked cautiously, “But?”
“I realized my feelings were nothing more than those of a close friend,” his pencil now resting between his earlobe and the side of his upper neck. Nobita stroked his chin, “If I truly liked her, I would’ve been a total mess, right? Turned out I was just fine studying and doing club activities. Though, well, sometimes I feel a bit down, but it passes when I catch up with her.”
He wasn’t sure what to say, so Dekisugi simply nodded. Looking back, his interactions with other students never really went beyond picking up trash or helping them with math.
“Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?”
Nobita shrugged, “Good, I guess? I don’t know. Right now, my priority is graduating.”
“I don’t think you’ll have a problem with that,” Dekisugi was obviously more interested in this kind of subject. “Anyway, are you certain about majoring in management?”
“That, or anything finance-or-accounting-related. I really can’t imagine being anything other than an average salaryman like my father,” his lighthearted laughter filled the empty room.
“Not interested in pushing your limits and majoring in science? Given how excellent your grades are, I’m sure you’ll pass,” the straight-A student wasn’t trying to be encouraging.
Just speaking the truth.
“Maybe I can get in, but it’ll be questionable if I can make it out alive,” Nobita shuddered in horror. “Don’t equate my nearly-exploding brain with yours. Bet it’s been honed since birth.”
Dekisugi laughed heartily, “You’re exaggerating. But, thank you. I’m really trying my best.”
“Don’t be so studious. You might get abducted by aliens because you’re too smart,” Nobita stretched his arm across the table, bent it, then propped up the side of his face with one palm. “Promise me, even if we end up in different departments, we’ll still hang out like this.”
“Mm,” reflexively, Dekisugi agreed. “We can work on assignments together even if our fields of study are vastly different. Or better yet, if you don’t mind, we could share an apartment.”
“Only if you can stand the way I organize my bedroom,” Nobita smirked. “But that might be a good idea. Who knows, maybe I’ll become a little neater thanks to your influence.”
“Or,” the high achiever suggested. “It could be that I’ll end up being the more relaxed one.”
“Our friends will freak out once they find out that you’re not perfect,” Nobita said jokingly.
“Because I’m not,” Dekisugi smiled. “You know better than anyone that I have my flaws.”
“And honestly, it makes you more… likable,” Nobita echoed in agreement. “I just can’t figure out why you still insist on putting on that perfect facade.” In front of everyone else but me.
Dekisugi didn’t immediately respond to the commentary.
He wasn’t sure himself when he’d started lowering his guard around Nobita.
Make no mistake—Dekisugi had never put on a ‘flawless performance’ just to gain people’s respect. He did it because it felt right, aligned with his high-intelligence, and granted him the privilege of living a relatively easier life. Society always favored those who were diligent and well-behaved. He was, after all, accustomed to living up to those ideals and expectations.
It was just that, sometimes, he wanted to act more lax. More loose. More… human. And with Nobita, Dekisugi was able to do so without having to pretend to be someone else.
Still, if he were to admit one thing,
“...perhaps, it’s because I don’t wish to be liked by anyone but you.”
“What do you m—”
Something shifted. Or rather, someone.
No warning. No request for permission. Only the proximity that once existed was now gone, stripped away without either of them knowing who’d actually initiated it. All Dekisugi could tell was that his lips had touched Nobita’s, and all the latter realized was that he hadn’t tried to pull away. As if it was meant to be there. Closer than they’d ever been, more than they were allowed to be. Soft. Careful. Innocent, even. For a second, the world held its breath.
The kiss was fleeting. As light as a swan's feather.
However, the contact successfully changed Dekisugi’s brain chemistry, just as it had altered Nobita’s whole perception of the other teenager. It wasn’t a dramatic or explosive revelation. Rather, a quiet recognition dawned on him that everything ahead had now taken a new turn.
Was it regret? A relief? He didn’t know. They didn’t know. Dekisugi never apologized. Nobita didn’t seek clarification. They simply restored the appropriate distance and returned to their books. Unbeknownst to them, they’d never speak to each other again for the next decade.
And just like that, a piece of Nobita’s story became a part of Dekisugi’s history.
The pub now seemed smaller.
The universe was compressed to its smallest possible scale. An invisible barrier enclosed Dekisugi Hidetoshi and Nobi Nobita, where time flowed in a completely distinct manner. One second, they were transported back to their childhood. The following minute, they found themselves in the library on that very afternoon. The two adults, treading a path to a timeline they could never physically visit, were left to gaze at each other with years of pent-up hope.
One of the worst pains Nobita had ever suffered was watching Dekisugi at the commencement ceremony, but not being able to share their joy. They didn’t even exchange congratulatory words. Years passed without him ever hearing directly from Dekisugi; only hearsay from acquaintances who happened to cross paths with him. Nobita often shared bits of his life on social media, yet he was too much of a coward to confront Dekisugi head-on.
Even to this day, Nobita still wondered: would everything be any different if he’d given a definitive answer. And then, what? It wasn’t as if they could’ve dated. Two men, trapped in a conservative environment, not to mention that one of them was a figurehead of society.
Besides, did Dekisugi even need his answer?
“It was stupid, wasn’t it?” Nobita attempted to lighten the mood. “We were young, and—”
“—no,” Dekisugi flatly rejected the idea. “It was not.”
Straightforward. Blunt. Confident.
Nobita couldn’t say he was taken aback, but the response captured his attention. He gulped down the strange lump in his throat when he noticed a flicker in Dekisugi’s eyes, despite his unchanged voice and expression. Of course, Nobita chuckled. He felt doomed, somewhat defeated. Hidetoshi-kun has never been stupid. He won’t do anything he considers ‘stupid’.
Dekisugi never treated Nobita—them—as one.
“We’ll never figure out if it was a mistake, now, will we?”
Nobita still managed to sneak a bit of humor into his question, though his smile had entirely faded, and the twinkle in his large eyes was supplanted by curiosity.
The man next to him observed.
Deeply, intensely. As if he were looking for the most genuine, authentic answer beneath the layers of banter Nobita had always delivered. Because, as far as he was concerned, what happened between them wasn’t anyone’s fault.
“Do you wish to?”
The question landed clean. No room to hide behind it.
There was a frozen-in-time instance where Nobita rationalized everything in an endeavor to put himself in Dekisugi’s shoes. Let’s face it; at their age, most of their peers were already settling down and even having kids. Nobita delved into his memory, ensuring that he’d never heard any news that Dekisugi had gotten married, or at least, engaged. His gaze lingered on the man’s ring finger, longer than necessary, to check that there was no ring encircling it. That wasn’t a guaranteed assurance that Dekisugi wasn’t seeing someone else, though.
But Nobita was convinced, or perhaps he wanted to believe, that his best friend wasn’t that kind of person. All he did was let out a snort and return his gaze to the other man’s eyes.
“Yes,” his line of sight dropped briefly, just below Dekisugi’s nose. “Do you?”
“I do,” the two-way confirmation brought a smile to his face. “Always have been.”
Nobita pouted, just like he used to do when he was a kid, “...you’re the worst.”
Dekisugi stood first.
The squeaking noise of the stool being dragged was faint, drowned out by the low murmur of other guests’ chatter from the central dining area. Nobita caught up almost instantly, albeit at a slower tempo. His arms accepted the embrace of the figure slightly taller than his own.
When he felt a soft, warm object pressed against his lips, Nobita closed his eyes with a force that made him feel like drowning. He’d never done this kind of thing—not after Dekisugi. He wasn’t sure whether to remain passive or act in return. Just as he did a decade ago.
This time, however, there was no doubt. It didn’t feel wrong. It was inappropriate, probably, yet it answered every question they both always had. The contact cleared away the regrets and longing that had accumulated for way too long. It was more solid. More steady. More… grounded. If their first kiss was accidental, then the second one was definitely intentional.
Nobita exhaled against him,
A breath hitching, then slipping into a tender, disbelieving chuckle.
“Wait,” he said that, but didn’t pull away. “—Hide-kun, please. I-I can’t breathe.”
Nobita was no longer able to think straight to determine whether it was a slip of the tongue or an intention to provoke. One thing for sure, that fragment of a name affected Dekisugi, as if he were blessed with permission to re-write the tale of their teenage years.
“So,” the kiss broke only when their lungs demanded it. “It wasn’t a mistake.”
Dekisugi concurred with Nobita’s delayed, breathless deduction. “It never was.”
They remained close.
Too intimate to pretend this was nothing.
The longing was overwhelming. A desire so powerful that Dekisugi reached past Nobita’s shoulder. His hand searched for the wall to brace against, holding the younger man in place.
Nobita chose to shut his brain off, relinquished control and trusted Dekisugi completely. His spine and the back of his head grazed against the wallpaper as his lips were again captured, claimed, consumed, now with a rougher edge in it. Dekisugi’s other hand roamed across Nobita’s face. His palm carefully pressed against the frame of his glasses, his trembling fingers grasping them with difficulty. Unobstructed by anything between their faces, the two men gave in to the impulse to tilt their heads, intensifying the depth of their sloppy kiss.
It was hard to tell if Dekisugi was a good kisser, but the constant touch made Nobita weak at the knees. He looked up, allowing the interior of his mouth to be explored. Dekisugi tasted like cheap beer and espresso, contrasting the scent of expensive, woody aftershave. A lethal combination that drove Nobita to a higher state of intoxication than he was supposed to be.
Noticing Nobita’s state, Dekisugi placed one leg between both of his partner’s to support his weight, thinking he was doing the right thing. How naive of him. Little did he know, he almost overstepped another boundary the moment his thigh brushed against something it shouldn’t have. As problematic as it might be, Dekisugi admitted that he was going through the same thing. It was inevitable to feel aroused from kissing the person he’d long been attracted to.
(Oh, how he was already over the moon even before he flew his way there.)
A creaking sound from upstairs prompted Nobita to retreat.
Dekisugi reacted similarly, creating a reasonable distance between them. He then gestured to a group of visitors who’d just walked down from the upper floor. ‘My friend is a little tipsy,’ was how the signal was interpreted, before he acted as if he was helping Nobita to his seat.
For a long moment, they remained silent.
Not only were their words lacking in meaning, but they needed time to ease the tension; both physically and psychologically. Nobita folded his arms on the table and buried his face on top of them. Dekisugi saw the redness spreading across his friend’s ears. Instead of remarking, he tapped the top of Nobita’s head. There was no resistance from his former classmate, prompting Dekisugi to gently ruffle his short, black hair. Nobita’s round glasses, which he’d been keeping in his possession all along, were carefully stored beside an empty beer bottle.
“Are you alright?” Dekisugi quietly asked.
“I’m a little tipsy,” Nobita replied, his voice muted by his own forearm. “Just like you said.”
“Are you going to blame it on the alcohol and pretend tonight never happened?”
The head resting beneath his caress shook. Nobita peeked shyly and studied the familiar silhouette seated upright, too close, by his very side. Though his vision was badly impaired, he could still make out the faint smile on a visage that could make any woman fall for him. Nobita found it hard to believe that this ridiculously handsome and all-perfect guy—his best friend and lifelong rival—had been harboring such deep, silent affection for another man.
For him.
“Who would’ve thought that a well-behaved student like you would do something indecent in this shabby bar,” Nobita refused to raise his head. “Imagine if our friends know about this.”
“There were no witnesses,” Dekisugi assured him. “Not even a single employee came here. It’s also beyond CCTV's coverage. You’re skilled at choosing your spots, Nobita-kun.”
Hearing his first name, Nobita nearly choked.
“And yet you still managed to find me,” he grumbled, lips pursed. “Honestly, I didn’t expect you to have a taste for this sort of stuff. I figured you’d avoid places with cigars and booze.”
“Only because you recommended it.”
Nobita shot him a dirty look.
Instantly, he straightened up. Reaching for his glasses, Nobita put them on and scrutinized the details of Dekisugi’s features, as if trying to determine whether he was joking or lying.
“What? Where did you—hold on,” he stammered. “I’ve never—we never—”
“You tagged the location,” Dekisugi pointed out. “In the post you uploaded earlier.”
All the missing puzzle had fallen into place, forming a complete picture.
Nobita’s mouth gaped open in total shock.
Dekisugi, of all people? Finding him via live updates on social media? The very same person who’d repeatedly refused to create an account, claiming it was a complete waste of time?
“Y-you mean, you came here because—wait. W-wait, wait, wait a minute,” Nobita stumbled over his words. “You’ve found me? Since when? And why didn’t you contact me sooner?”
His hands shot up like a criminal caught red-handed.
“First of all,” Dekisugi began to explain. “Yes, I have a social media account, though I hardly ever use it. Second, no, I’m not connected to anyone; I only viewed your profile occasionally and then logged out, and, third, it just so happens that tonight we’re in the same district.”
Though there was a bit of a white lie in the word ‘just so happens,’ the rest was factual.
Dekisugi had returned to Tokyo two weeks prior to take care of paperwork for his upcoming relocation to the States. He knew the company where Nobita worked, but it wasn’t until today that he mustered the courage to take action. A series of fortunate events had brought him to this point—because he’d sworn that if Nobita didn’t let him sit down, didn’t offer him a drink, or didn’t bring up the past, Dekisugi would respect his wishes and back off completely.
No, in fact, if Nobita had left before he arrived, Dekisugi wouldn’t chase after him.
However, Nobita welcomed him. Validated his feelings. Returned his kiss. Given that things had come to this, it was hard for Dekisugi not to push his luck. He reached for Nobita’s hand under the table, squeezing it gently after making sure the other party didn’t object.
“As for the reason I seek you out tonight,” he pondered, weighing his words for a moment. “Perhaps, because I don’t want to leave this country without bidding you a proper farewell.”
Not an apology. Not an excuse.
Just the truth.
Nobita stared at him with a jumble of emotions.
Like the old days, he resembled an open book. Easy to read, but quite tough to understand. He had every reason to be angry. To feel unsafe. Dekisugi might think his actions weren’t intrusive or predatory, but Nobita was also entitled to see his behavior as a potential threat.
“...that’s a little creepy, you know.”
Dekisugi lowered his head, “I guess.”
“Don’t ever do that again,” Nobita sulked. “Talk to me like a normal person.”
“I’m planning to,” he gave a deep nod, assenting. “And you’ll respond?”
“I will,” Nobita squeezed Dekisugi’s palm even tighter. “Always.”
The tension subsided, allowing Nobita to finally loosen his stiff shoulders. Dekisugi adjusted to his friend’s energy, then they burst out laughing as they inadvertently locked eyes.
The words flowed more naturally afterwards. At first, they were just discussing small, trivial subjects: days at the office, favorite restaurants frequented after late shifts, little hobbies and habits pursued to fill the void between adult responsibilities. Then came what they’d missed during their college years, which eventually branching out into memories of childhood and adolescence. This time, the conversation unfolded without discomfort or unnecessary pain.
It wouldn’t be an easy journey. There’d be vast distances across the oceans, time zones that refused to align, and judgement from society. They hadn’t even put a name to these feelings, let alone given a label to this relationship. But they knew, as long as they understood each other, they’d manage. After all, it began again with something as simple as an online post.
A feed. A profile photo. A time stamp.
And if Dekisugi Hidetoshi once chose to approach from the edges, careful and unseen, he didn’t need to do so anymore. Not now. Not with Nobi Nobita holding his hand like this.
In other words, please be true
In other words, I love you