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Trying to choke as quietly as he could on his strawberry milk proved to be a harder task than Ohta had prepared for. Someone had to have been playing a cruel and crude joke on him. He turned to stare at the baking horizon, hands quaking as the milk was abruptly placed on the worn, peeling bench. Tanaka breathed beside him, and Ohta didn't want to admit that the other's gaze felt piercing in the sunset. Hearing those words, those whispers of 'I like you's and the more forceful 'go out with me's seemed common in the blazing heat of August. Never from Tanaka, the one who spent a whole day in the park making sure the bees had enough flowers to pollinate. The Tanaka that probably owned and actively wore at least 3 of Ohta's sweaters over the years. The Tanaka that confessed to Ohta, in the middle of August, on this sweaty bench. Ohta figured Tanaka could do much better, someone who's strong, reliable, and ready to help. Someone who's responsible, and compassionate. Maybe Ohta was the right character, so what if he was? Ohta couldn't help but doubt himself, all the years of constant questioning of his infatuation, the months pondering his puppy love. Everything seemed to freeze, hearing that soft "Ohta," generate from somewhere to his left.
"Tanaka, are you sure?" Ohta couldn't help the spout of anxiety piling in his throat. He swallowed thickly at the nearly undesired answer.
"I wouldn't say if I didn't mean it," Tanaka stretched his limbs, the sight of peeking and milky hips that flashed under the slightly too small t-shirt's bottom causing Ohta's face to turn a lovely shade of baby pink, a pink that matched the milk he nearly spit half a minute ago. "We're nearly dating already."
Maybe he had a little crush on his not-so-straight best pal. Maybe he was not-so-straight himself. He was in a conversation, Ohta chided. Swiping his moist and damp forehead, Ohta let his stare travel to the way Tanaka's eyes made him feel a little more special. Deep grey (or were they black?) irises that Ohta felt they should belong in a painting, a masterpiece even. Tanaka deserved to be framed, with delicate features, hauntingly pale skin, and drowning eyes. Ohta might be a little more than not-so-straight, he fixed his semi-relaxed posture, and took notice of how Tanaka had been waiting for a belated answer this entire time.
"Okay," Ohta answered dumbly, feeling awkward and gangly. Out of nervousness, he swept some discarded golden hairs behind his ear, swallowing the crush swelling in his chest.
"Ohta," Tanaka started, placing a soft and boney hand on Ohta's shoulder, "it's just me. Don't be nervous." Telling Ohta not to be nervous was like asking a bear to do the worm, not that Ohta could do the worm anyway. He took a deep breath, gathering any incentive answers or questions all while yanking at the Peter Pan collar his sister had told suited him ("Break out all those dress shirts, and blacks. It's boring," she had said, shoving something resembling his size into Ohta's chest. How could he say no to his own flesh and blood?) he felt like was suffocating him.
"Right, right, Tanaka, it's getting late. I should get you home." Ohta wasn't trying to make excuses, but his words seemed to be tumbling over after one another, the feeling of regret slowly crawling up his esophagus, though he didn't know what that feeling meant. Did he just agree to be Tanaka's significant other? What would change between them? Ohta had no conflict with PDA, even if that meant censorious stares, and elongated ogles. If only he had a switch for emotions, temporarily turning them off seemed like the best solution for the present. Standing up and giving himself a head rush, Ohta nearly fell over, leaving the half drunk milk to spill over his casual sweatpants in something that felt like slow motion. Damn, he thought, Ohta didn't want Tanaka thinking there was something wrong with him. After the initial "are you okay" and Ohta's reassurance, he was relieved when Tanaka's surprisingly most expressive concerned look upturned into a smile.
"Are you laughing at me?" Ohta mock scolded, smiling himself. Truth be told, he felt miserable. The milk was sticky and hot against his thigh, and the hot summer day made him feel all the worse.
"It's not like that. Please pick me up? Warm days are making me sleepy," Ohta felt the initial flood of relief when Tanaka picked up on his sarcasm. Squatting with his back to the other, Ohta felt Tanaka slump onto his vaguely perspiring back not unlike a sloth.
Ohta stood up with a small grunt, even though Tanaka felt nothing more than a feather. In fact, Ohta felt more light than even Tanaka. He wasn't sure if he was light-headed, or feeling like he was about to float off into the sugar filled heaven that seemed to always fill his mind in hazy day fantasies.
"Are you hanging on?" Ohta's words seemed to dust over the heated evening like powdered sugar on freshly fried beignets. A hushed 'yeah' tunneled directly into Ohta's right ear, and heart. He felt cheesy, smiling more to himself than the situation.
Stumbling to Tanaka's home felt shorter than ever, the blazing heat doing wonders for the burnt sun traveling under the horizon. Finally reaching Tanaka's front stoop, he knelt down, feeling like a knight in front of his sire, or a man proposing marriage as Tanaka slid off. He admired the way Tanaka's shorts amplified his slender and timid calves.
"Thank you," Tanaka spoke simply, bracing a hand on Ohta's collar bone. Ohta nearly froze, gathering what little fragments of ideas that skittered through his rapidly pacing cerebrum. Tanaka seemed to be too much at the modern, overwhelming Ohta with a fondness that can only be deciphered as ultimate adoration. He felt a pulse of protectiveness over the other, something bulging and tugging on his breast that nearly forced his lips onto Tanaka's. He was compelled and urged, like his heart was on a string. And not completing this task would be an utter sorrow, something that could not be forgiven in this generation, and maybe the next, too. Pulling away from Tanaka's surprisingly chapped lips, Ohta felt remorse besides the fact that this kiss, he couldn't deny that, was mandatory. Even so, Ohta felt like his was on cloud 9. He had reached heaven, the ultimate vision, the pinnacle of his life choices. All other goals, university, graduation, marriage, seemed pale and unaddicting compared to Tanaka's dry, and adorably tiny mouth. He left small pecks around Tanaka's chin region, grazing lips over smooth skin and a suffocation sense of want to protect the boy in front of him. He had known Tanaka for years, but this was the first time this exaggerated feeling of need to shield Tanaka from anything that could harm, or hinder him.
Gaining some sense of sanity left, Ohta quickly muttered, "sorry," and promptly removed his gravely hands from Tanaka's raspberry cheeks. He felt his own face bellow heat, and figured it must have been crimson by now. He let his gaze wonder to Tanaka, and pointedly did notice his small smile, thin lips intricately spread to show a hint of unstraight teeth.
"Don't be sorry, I'll see you tomorrow," Tanaka suggested, and Ohta made it his mission for it became reality. Giving a small wave to Tanaka, Ohta smiled as the other disappeared behind the mass produced wooden door. Tanaka's soft smile was the only thing Ohta had on his mind after seeing him vanish. He'd been standing on Tanaka's porch for around twenty minutes before realizing his mistake. Scuffling home, he remembered the sticky milk leaking down his calf, and inwardly cursed at the prospect of more laundry. At least there was something to aspire to tomorrow. His meet with Tanaka.