#day three!

Daichi took a long sip of his beer and checked his phone. Quarter past the hour and no new messages. He laughed into his glass.

Suga had been on his case for weeks, first with the needling about getting out of his apartment and enjoying himself once and awhile. ‘Do you even know how to have fun anymore?’ Suga had asked with a disturbing air of solemnity. And then, before Daichi knew it, he had online profiles littered across more dating sites than he cared to think about.

There was a reason Suga was the accounts manager at the firm; he could talk and wheedle and nudge and no one was safe from his will or whim. So, there he was, at the arcade downtown, right around the corner from their office building, expecting some internet guy to show up and give him a wild night.

The guy had been the one to suggest the arcade, and it occurred to Daichi that he had never actually been there, despite it being so close to work and not at all far from his apartment building. He glanced around the bar, taking in the black-light art and the chipped resin of the countertop, but didn’t turn to survey the games set up behind him, or the people playing them.

A waiter walked by with a hot dog and Daichi peeked at the menu board. Fries, ice cream sundaes, corn dogs. An arcade for adults, complete with a menu for children, and he was stood up by a stranger.

It was ridiculous, and Daichi vowed that, the next time he saw him, he’d slam his foot down right in front of Suga and tell him no more, that this was absolutely the last time. He would finish his beer, and then he would leave and that would be that.

So he didn’t turn around when a boisterous group of people poured through the main doors of the arcade. Judging by the sound of them, they were guys, maybe Daichi’s age, maybe a little younger. The shouting got progressively louder as they filled the place and Daichi took another sip of his drink. He prayed that he’d be able to finish it and get the hell out before they terrorized the place.

Daichi thought about slipping out the door, into the soggy Portland streets, slightly fuzzy from the beer, just enough to keep him warm for the walk home. He would stroll underneath the trees, lit up with leftover Christmas lights, until he reached his building, the golden glow of the lobby beckoning him in with open arms. Then, joy of joys, he could pop open another beer and continue drinking under a blanket in his quiet living room.

Someone jabbed him with a sharp elbow and Daichi lost his grip on the pint glass, spilling the last quarter of his beer all over the bar. He closed his eyes, counted to three, and turned around to face his attacker, but, when he turned, no one was there and, suddenly, he was at a loss for words.

The place was completely packed, but that wasn’t the surprise. No, Daichi was shocked to silence by the veritable sea of starched white. White pants, white shirts, white caps perched on shaved heads.

When had he ever seen sailors in town? He didn’t even realize that was a thing. How did they get there? Sure, the river was deep, and ships used to pass through, but he didn’t know enough about the city’s maritime history, past or present, to make any assumptions. Was there some sort of naval base close by? Maybe he would look when he got home...

But Daichi’s questions faded from his mind as his eyes followed the figures in white. He shifted awkwardly on the bar stool. These guys, Daichi realized, were hot. Really hot. They were hot and buff and, good lord, their pants were drawn so tightly around their asses that they looked like they had been spray painted on their bodies. Daichi swallowed hard. Yup. Definitely time to go. He put a couple dollars down and made to leave, but a shout from across the arcade caught his attention.

He followed the source of the voice and Daichi realized immediately that he had made a mistake. A big one. A big tall one with biceps that bulged through the thin sleeves of his shirt and shoulders that made Daichi want to whimper. It was downright unfair how dramatically his chest tapered to his waist, the cotton best cinched around his hips and the shirt tucked in haphazardly. The guy was hunched over a game and unaware of Daichi’s ogling. He thanked the gods for that small mercy.

Out of curiosity, and perhaps against his better judgement, he squinted at the game. It was NBA Jam, an older game, and, amazingly, one of the few games that Daichi remembered from growing up. He also remembered being pretty damn good at it.

The exit of the arcade wasn’t more than a couple steps from where he stood. His apartment and his beer were only a short walk away. But he was already at the arcade, and there was beer there... And it would be easier to stay. Quicker, easier, more convenient, Daichi reasoned. He would order one more beer, just to soothe his throat, which was mysteriously dry.

Instead of sitting at the bar to drink, he wandered toward the NBA Jam machine and hovered along the edge of the group that had gathered to watch the current game. He had no plan, not really. He simply enjoyed watching this guy hoot and holler over every point his team scored and cursing the sky for all the points scored against him. He liked the way the laughed, how he clapped his buddy on the back with large hands.

He was enchanting, and Daichi was embarrassed to admit that he could watch him all night, that he had forgotten the actual reason he was there in the first place, that Suga might’ve been right all along, and, honestly, he wasn’t at all upset about it.

Soon enough, the game was over and the crowd erupted into cheers. More white outfits crowded around them and joined the guys at the joysticks. The movement distracted Daichi and he didn’t notice when the object of his curiosity had turned around. They stood face to face, not even a foot apart, and Daichi lost his words for the second time that evening. He tried to take a sip of his beer, but realized it was empty only after bringing it to his lips.

The guy grinned at him. “Don’t think there’s anything left in there, captain”

He had to laugh at the guy’s goofy smile, and he liked the way the pet name rolled off his tongue so naturally. “Good observation,” Daichi quipped, matching his smile with a genuine one of his own.

“Wanna play a round?” The sailor asked as he motioned to the game behind him.

“I should get home,” Daichi said tentatively. Watching the guy was one thing, but being in close proximity was something else entirely, and Daichi wasn’t sure he was ready for it.

He crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged, threatening the structural of his shirt as it stretched over his chest. “I mean, I’m pretty good, so I understand if you’re not man enough to challenge me.”

Daichi glowered and electricity sparked through the air. He never backed down from a challenge, especially not one from some cocky, young, handsome, guy in a skintight sailor uniform, with hypnotising dark skin, and, well, no, he wouldn’t back down.

They stood next to each other, elbows touching. The screen lit up and music started to play. The guy looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “I’m Tanaka, by the way. Just in case you wanted to know the name of the guy who’s gonna crush you.”

“Daichi,” he growled, choosing the Chicago Bulls from the NBA lineup. “And we’ll see about that.”