#ironspiders

a series of conversations. mei+miyuki, 1k words.

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1. 

"Y’know when people go to the hospital," Mei says, half talking to him and more playing on his phone, "they get this fish breath? I’m not kidding, it’s really, really bad, mom got it one time - and it’s not even like a hygiene thing, it’s a hospital thing."

He winces, violently, as his phone shrieks.

"…Did you know," Miyuki tells him, "that you aren’t supposed to make loud noises in hospitals. What are you even doing, anyway, you don’t like video games…"

Mei shrugs, starts tapping at the screen. “‘S this thing Itsuki wanted me to try,” he mumbles. “Idol game. Don’t laugh,” he adds, not looking up, “you can’t laugh, you’ll just start crying.”

"If I’m gonna cry it’s because you’re playing an idol game." He grins instead, and Mei rolls his eyes. "What’s with that fish thing, anyway, we weren’t talking about fish before."

"Dunno. You just looked like you were about to fall asleep, so. Fish."

"Normally shouldn’t you just tell the person to stay awake instead of starting some weird conversation about fish…?"

Mei’s phone shrieks again, and this time he drops it by Miyuki’s legs, scowling. “Normally,” he agrees, slumping in his chair, propping his feet on the edge of the bed. “But if I told you to stay awake you’d probably just laugh at me and go to sleep for the hell of it.”

He shifts around on stiff sheets, hears their crinkling too loud, too close. “But I’m tired, so it’d be fine, right.”

He hears Mei laugh too; it’s an offhand laugh, the kind he’s heard from sarcastic kids, from this kid when his store-bought crown goes dark.

"Yeah, probably," Mei says. “‘S been fine this far and all."

Mei’s wanted half a conversation since their second year of middle school - and Miyuki blinks, blinks twice, doesn’t really try keeping his eyes open after the third time.

-

He’s not around when Miyuki wakes. His seat’s not warm either, and the nurse who comes through tells him visiting hours ended a while ago.

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2. 

"…I actually didn’t ask you this time. That’s amazing, the time I don’t ask you is the one where you listen.”

"Can’t listen if you didn’t actually say anything, though." Mei still grins, still reaches over the table to grab the stiff hat with a sticker slapped to its brim.

"It’s gonna be weird," he says, twirling it on a finger. "Getting used to these colors, I mean. Getting used to wearing the same colors as you, too, we were always on different sides." He makes a face, stops messing around with the hat, says, "I get why you did it, but ugh. Not again for a few more years.”

Miyuki laughs, asks, “Why, did you hate playing against me that much?”

The hat’s tossed at his chest, and Mei says, his nose in the air, arms crossed, “No, ‘course not! I’ve just always thought that we’d be good together, you and me. And you,” he adds, “you thought that too, it’s why you said no. Didn’t wanna make it too easy.”

It’s more than that - the story’s more than that, and Mei knows, and Miyuki knows, so all he says is, “Yeah, it would’ve been too easy. Might be too easy now, too.”

"It’s the pros, don’t take it lightly.”

"Haha, I’m not, I’m just saying what you said. We’re a dream team, right?"

They’re sitting in a cafe in fall, a pair of kids with tan lines hidden under propped up collars and long sleeves. They did this sometimes as younger kids - dragged heavy bags that bumped into passerby and doors, fell into chairs and talked quick, like currents, about game plans and leads. Only difference now is their legs are long enough to knock under the table, that instead of small glasses of soda they’re drinking coffee that steams in lazy curls toward their faces.

Mei kicks Miyuki’s foot, scuffs it the way he does the mound after a hit.

"The dream team," he repeats. His arms are still crossed; he settles into himself, braces himself, looks at Miyuki through clear eyes. Bleached clear, almost harsh. "…You get what that means, right?"

He asks as Miyuki’s lifting his cup; his words hide. Miyuki says, “Yep, yeah, I get it.”

-

Mei asks again the day after they graduate and their dads are gathered in Miyuki’s garage, laughing with two cans of beer open on a shaking table. Miyuki’s hands are empty this time, and he rolls back on the balls of his feet, smiles.

"Kazuyaaaa, the heck, use your words," Mei grumbles, "that’s not reassuring at all, god."

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3. 

They don’t live together, but Mei ends up in Miyuki’s apartment whining for food five days out of seven. Today’s Saturday and he’s brought a sports drama, has it playing on the wide-screen he’d insisted Miyuki buy (“I’m gonna get the surround-sound, so you gotta get this one”). They’re on the floor, backs propped against the sofa, dinner half-finished on the table, ratty elementary school blanket dangling over their knees.

"I’ve seen this before," Miyuki says, and Mei mumbles, nudges him with his elbow to get him to go on, "In, like, second grade? When it came out. Went to the theater with my parents."

"Every kid did that," Mei says around a yawn, but he nudges him again, and Miyuki laughs.

“‘M just saying. It was a good movie then. Still good now.”

"Ah, you’re complimenting my taste, i get it." In the dark, Mei’s grin is just white, not sharp. "You should compliment me more, Kazuya, you never dooooo, ‘s not fair, I keep telling everyone how you’re the best catcher on the team."

He’s pressing dead weight on Miyuki’s arm, his hair pricks skin, and Miyuki’s still laughing, pushes him away. “People hate us for that, you know, you shouldn’t say it.”

"It’s just the truth that i know," Mei says grandly. "But, hey - keep talking. About the theater thing."

"Mmm… It’s late though, and it gets kinda long…”

He snickers as Mei pinches him, pokes at his cheek, says, “You started, you gotta finish if you started, don’t be a wimp, Kazuya, you gotta finish—”

-

He does try finishing. Mei falls asleep, mouth open, drooling, legs sprawled over his, halfway through. Miyuki leaves the movie on, says goodnight to a cramped room, the kid snoring beside him.

(He finishes in the morning when Mei shoves cold toes under his thigh, says, hey, you were saying something.)

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