Gift for arashijun!
To: arashijun
From: santa_johnny
HAPPY HOLIDAYS
Title: Maybe, Sometime
Pairing/Group: Kis-My-Ft2 - Yokoo/Fujigaya, mentions of one other
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Notes: For arashijun you listed Doctor Who au as something you wanted and hopefully this might fulfill that request. The only aspect of the Doctor Who au you really need to be aware of is this.
Summary: Taisuke doesn’t have a home. He used to, but then one day he ran away and by now he’s been running for centuries.
/
“And who, exactly, are you?” The strange man asks curiously, looking just as surprised and shocked by Taisuke’s presence as Taisuke is of his. The question goes unanswered as Taisuke gapes, left speechless by the bizarre interior of the strange blue box -- like nothing he’s ever seen but just what he was looking for.
At one time Taisuke had a home and a family, an era to belong to, but on the day his father decided to send him to serve again in a war he didn’t understand, to fight and die for a cause he didn’t know only to impress their region’s daimyo, Taisuke decided for himself that he no longer wanted to be part of any of it.
And once Taisuke made the decision to leave he realised he never had a reason to stay.
The silence of those last days at home gnaw away at Taisuke with no one to talk to, his brothers already gone. He drifts through empty rooms like a ghost, passes the hours listing what clothes to take and what possessions to leave behind and if any doubt of his plan creeps in, he traces fingers over his physical battle scars and lets his mind run over the mental ones to remind himself what he will be escaping.
Taisuke vanishes in the middle of the night leaving no note or goodbye - his mother might understand why, but his father won’t care to. No one sees as he passes the wall surrounding his father’s land and turns left, away from the roads and across the empty fields. Away from the civil war and feuding states. In the end, he packs light and travels fast.
Taisuke never thought he would look back yet he does; he’s already glanced back three times before he reaches the first mile, but each time his gaze turns a little colder and the weight on his shoulders feels a little lighter. By the fourth and final time he looks over his shoulder he can’t see his home anymore and he continues moving forward.
Two months later, as the year turns and the seasons change, Taisuke’s run so far that he’s already passed the edge of the galaxy.
/
It’s the blue that catches his eye. The box is a shade of blue Taisuke’s never seen before - royal and rich and completely out of place in the bright green of an overgrown rice field. As Taisuke stands a few yards away, contemplating it, the door suddenly swings open outward, seemingly by itself, and curiosity outweighs trepidation as he peeks into the bright large interior.
The door shuts behind him and locks with a click.
Being picked up by a time traveller isn’t something Taisuke planned or dreamed to happen. It’s not something he even knew existed but he’s aware right away of something unusual. The man’s face is too different, his eyes too light, his behaviour too bizarre as he dances around the box speaking incessantly, never waiting for Taisuke to answer. The strange man is clearly not Japanese but he speaks it perfectly, then he says he can’t and it’s actually the box helping Taisuke to understand and it’s the tip of the iceberg.
“Stowaway,” the Doctor calls him but there’s no real accusation behind the word and over time the true meaning is perhaps closer to companion.
“Hitchhiker,” Taisuke interrupts to correct, having learnt long ago in those first few months of traveling with the Doctor that it’s the best way to be heard. He overheard the term on a different world and picked it up, liking the the edge of coolness it seems to give him along with the other new fashions and clothes he’s found.
“Then where are you hitching to?” The Doctor teases as he reaches over to steal his hat back from Taisuke’s head.
“Not sure yet so let's keep going.” And Taisuke dives for the control panel while the Doctor’s back is turned, seizing the opportunity to push and pull as many buttons and switches as he can. Taisuke laughs coarsely and loudly while the Doctor wrestles him back and the Tardis engine roars as it lurches through the space time vortex.
Taisuke ends up going to war again. Perhaps it’s ironic, but by then he’s seen so much of the universe and has lived so much more that he now knows what and who he’s fighting for, and even if they aren’t his family -- nor the same species -- at least this time it was his choice.
When the battle is won and a world is saved, Taisuke doesn’t feel much different for it but as the Doctor strides back to the Tardis, victorious, Taisuke doesn’t follow.
There’s no goodbye. The Doctor says he knows they’ll see each other another day and Taisuke has never had any cause to doubt him. The pocketed vortex manipulator from the 51st century in Taisuke’s satchel is an extra guarantee.
When Taisuke leaves this time he doesn’t look back once. He never looks back again, he only looks forward, only thinking of where he’s going to next and never about where he’s been or who he’s left behind - but that only works until he meets Yokoo.
/
It’s bad timing.
They write down the dates of wars and horrible disasters in the history books and Taisuke follows it like a list of when to avoid but there’s nothing on rainy days. For it being only the early afternoon, the sky is already black as night, the sun blanketed out by dark storm clouds and no matter how many times Taisuke sighs in tired annoyance it doesn’t clear unrelenting.
By the language written on a signpost Taisuke can tell he’s in Japan, but he’s not entirely sure of when. Judging by the architecture of the building he’s taken shelter under, the awning, and the glow of electricity from within he can hazard an approximate guess but he’d rather not venture out to explore further in this weather.
A few minutes later, a girl rushes along the wet footpath bundled in a thick coat but from her accessories and the phone clutched in her hand Taisuke narrows in on a decade. He likes the 21st century but he wasn’t planning on staying, just passing through.
The heavy rainfall muffles the sound of someone approaching and Taisuke doesn’t notice he’s not alone until he spots a figure in the corner of his eye standing a few feet away. Going by appearance he looks like a university student - pale skin with dark, unstyled hair and gangly limbs buried, searching through a large book bag.
“I might have one,” the stranger mumbles.
“Sorry?” Taisuke asks, not quite sure if he’s being spoken to or not.
“An umbrella.”
“Lucky,” Taisuke replies stoically, not interested in starting a conversation, but the man pulls a small black folded umbrella from his bag and holds it outstretched in Taisuke’s direction. “Here, you can have this. I live across the green, I won’t need it."
Taisuke automatically holds up the palm of his hand in refusal, feeling confused and awkward under the act of surprise gallantry. “I wouldn’t be able to return it."
“My name’s Yokoo.” The man gestures behind him to the building with a nod of his head. "I’m at the library almost every day, morning till night. You can drop by anytime, and I’ll be here."
When the man smiles it reveals fanged teeth but his eyes seem sincere and it’s clear he’s not doing it to try and be kind, he just naturally is kind. He shakes the umbrella at Taisuke again, moving in closer and even going so far as to place it into Taisuke’s hand directly when the other makes no move to take it by choice.
“Do you always go around offering strangers umbrellas?” Taisuke’s still hesitant and tries to give the umbrella back but Yokoo is already walking away, moving out of reach.
"No, but you look like you have a long way to travel."
Taisuke blinks, taken aback, but then he feels the corners of his lips twist up in amusement at himself. Is he so obvious and out of place? “Maybe something like that,” Taisuke replies and Yokoo nods in understanding before disappearing back inside the building and Taisuke dismisses the feeling of guilt for taking an umbrella he knows he’ll never return - he’ll never be back but hey, what’s 500 yen at a konbini to buy a replacement? Taisuke plans to throw it away as soon as he gets to the next world. He still always travels light.
/
“Time travel is a little wibbly wobbly and if you spend too long in a time vortex it’ll leave you a little wibbly wobbly, too. Understand?”
Taisuke’s sitting in a restaurant at the edge of the universe and he’s confused. Confused by the conversation and confused by what’s on his plate but he knows from experience that it’s better not to inquire for exact alien ingredients and to appreciate that it satisfies hunger. Hiromitsu - or that’s how he introduced himself earlier - sits across the table from him having already eaten through his own meal and moved onto picking from Taisuke’s own plate and talking through stolen mouthfuls.
Another human traveller is rare to meet this far out and, like himself, Taisuke has no idea how old he is. The face is deceptively full and youthful and his stature is on the short side, but his eyes show that he’s seen just as much of the universe as Taisuke has, maybe more.
“You can stop worrying about wrinkles,” Hiromitsu adds and then shoots Taisuke a dry mocking look like he knows exactly how long Taisuke has spent worrying over mirrors and a reflection that never seems to change no matter how many years pass. “One day we might start aging again if we ever stop traveling.”
“Maybe you might even grow a bit taller then,” Taisuke fires back, falling into an easy banter, but there’s something about Hiromitsu’s wording that bothers him. Later, in Hiromitsu’s room, the words run through his mind again as he searches for his jeans and a crumpled pack of cigarettes leftover from a different world in the front pocket.
Taisuke crawls back into the bed and settles in a slouch against the headboard, purposefully jostling Hiromitsu’s side as he does. “What did you mean by 'if'?” Taisuke asks as he lights a cigarette.
“If what?” Hiromitsu mumbles into his pillow, barely conscious, apparently the type that falls asleep right after. Taisuke’s the type that likes to think, lapsing into a rare moment of clarity as he watches the blue smoke fall and twirl from his breath on each exhale.
“If we ever decide to stop.”
Hiromitsu rolls over to face Taisuke, defeated when it’s clear he won’t be allowed to sleep immediately. He steals drags of the cigarette without asking, just like he steals bites of food. "There are two kinds of travellers;” Hiromitsu starts, voice tired. “Those that are running to something and those that are running from something and basically - it’s hard to stop whichever kind you are."
The cigarette burns down and Hiromitsu drifts off as Taisuke mulls it over - he won’t ask Hiromitsu what kind of traveller he is, nor does he disclose which category he falls into. It’s too personal and close a thing to share but Hiromitsu, too, has the occasional scar marring his naked skin, leaving it not hard to guess.
“Do you ever hang onto anything from other worlds?” Taisuke practically jumps out of his skin in shock turning to see Hiromitsu watching him through half lidded eyes. “I don’t,” he continues, “But that’s because I’ve never found anything I wanted to keep yet.” And then Hiromitsu is asleep again.
The next morning, it’s just another goodbye and by now Taisuke’s gotten really good at ignoring the bitter tinge he gets when they both walk out the door and turn to leave in different directions.
Recently Taisuke has begun to wonder - he’s never really thought about the people he’s met and what happens to them after he leaves, he always assumed everything goes along fine without him, that he’s not needed anywhere. But what if they’re not doing okay? What of all the people who have shared meals with him, shared beds with him, shared body warmth? He thinks most often of one person that was kind to him for no reason wanting nothing in return.
Taisuke opens up his bag to check he’s not left any possessions behind in the room. Tucked snugly into the side is the umbrella he never threw away.
/
The world Taisuke traveled to after he met Yokoo had three suns and rained briefly once every 10 years, so no one bothered or thought to invent an umbrella let alone own one. There was rain on the following planet but it was toxic, hazardous enough to burn through skin and bone, and the cities had moved underground, buried safe and untouched by it.
Apart from that first rainy day, Taisuke’s never used the umbrella but he inexplicably can’t seem to throw it away either. 'Just return it then," a voice in his brain tells Taisuke and he agrees if only to be finally free of it.
When anywhere or whenever in the universe is on offer, it seems pointless to waste the opportunity and revisit locations already seen so he's never gone to the same place or time twice. He’s never wanted to, and never had anything to go back for. Briefly, he lets his mind list all the wonders he saw with The Doctor and questions, again, why instead of going back to any of those places, he’s standing in the same dimly lit library at the same time, staring at a face he’s already met sitting across the room.
It’s bad timing.
Again.
As Taisuke turns to leave, internally declaring this time period boring and intending to just leave the damn umbrella by the door on his way out, Yokoo looks up and spots him instantly. Their eyes meet and Yokoo’s flash with clear recognition. Looking back, Taisuke wishes he figured out sooner why his heart suddenly beat faster, as if caught.
Thinking on the spot might be a challenge for some but Taisuke can speak convincingly enough, can act and pretend to be anyone to fit a situation, no psychic paper needed. As Yokoo weaves past other students and crowded desks, Taisuke subtly grabs a book from a shelf to use as a prop, trusts he appears the right age to be a student because how else could he explain why he’s here?
“Your umbrella,” Taisuke says once Yokoo is within earshot, but Taisuke’s fingertips grasp tightly at the plastic handle before relinquishing the umbrella back to its original owner. Maybe he was attached.
“Did you get where you needed to go?” Yokoo asks, voice polite, barely above a whisper.
“Yes.” There’s no way to further elaborate so after a beat of silence, Taisuke cuts off after a small, "Thank you."
“You’re studying art history?" Yokoo asks, eyes cast downward, reading the title of the book in Taisuke’s hand.
Taisuke nods casually without knowing if that’s a course or not but when he looks up, Yokoo is smiling and Taisuke can’t help but feel a rush of excitement that he somehow answered the question correctly. "I didn’t mean to disturb you. I only came to return the umbrella, I’ll let you get back to your work."
"No, it’s okay, you didn’t disturb me, I’ve been reading all morning." Yokoo glances down at his watch and mumbles a bit over the rest of the words. "I could take a break."
One coffee then he’ll leave, Taisuke barters internally with himself, to show his gratitude.
When Yokoo asks for his name, Taisuke tells him Fujigaya Taisuke without much thought - not stowaway or hitchhiker or one of the other handful of aliases he uses -- his real name. It’s not out of place in Japan and it’s nice to hear another person finally say it again. Yokoo pronounces it correctly, too, better than The Doctor or anyone else could. He even wants to know the kanji.
Yokoo’s studying history, not art history, but it does exist as a course and luckily Yokoo doesn’t know anyone that takes it, leaving no way for him to know that Taisuke’s not in the class.
They’re already onto the second cup of coffee and Yokoo has a glow about him while he tells Taisuke about his historical research, stumbles and mispronounces words and loses track of sentences and then he’s silent for long moments, letting Taisuke ramble to his content too. As he talks, Taisuke changes most of the names, places, and other unbelieveable details, but it’s fun, like making up stories and Taisuke gets to be the lead in every single one.
The third time Taisuke meets Yokoo it's at the same cafe but a different table this time, one by the window. Taisuke, having nowhere else to go to for the day, has already been there for an hour when Yokoo taps on the glass from outside.
He doesn’t wave or mouth hello or hurry inside but casually drops himself down in the chair across from Taisuke. It’s easy and comfortable and the conversation simply picks up from where they left off the day before.
They don’t exchange phone numbers. Yokoo never asks for it and Taisuke can’t because he doesn't have a mobile number for this decade to offer in return, but at the end of each meeting they say see you soon instead of goodbye and to Taisuke’s that’s a commitment.
/
The surrounding street and the ground beneath his feet disappear but...
“This is known as kidnapping,” Taisuke comments, unconcerned, as the walls of the Tardis materialize around him.
“I thought you called it hitchhiking,” The Doctor calls back from somewhere out of sight.
“Hitchhiking is usually by the hitchhiker's choice,” Taisuke corrects, looking around for where exactly The Doctor is, eventually finding him toying with something under the main console and poking at strange wires with his screwdriver.
“I haven’t heard from my stowaway for decades, where have you been hiding out?”
“Here and there,” Taisuke replies, preferring to be evasive. The Doctor doesn’t need to know about Yokoo, he’d probably want to go pick him up. “But I never stop hearing about you. Is there anywhere you haven’t be?”
“Sure there is, a constantly expanding and evolving universe means there’s always somewhere new. Just last week a new-” And Taisuke zones out. He never did follow the science talk.
The Tardis lurches to the left as the time vortex roars outside. “- always a party or a beheading. So dramatic. She’ll be happy to see you again,” The Doctors yells happily over the noise.
As soon as one glass of champagne is finished it’s replaced by another and the constant spinning of the dance is leaving Taisuke too dizzy to stay stable as they inevitably crash into a table, bringing it all down around them. His masquerade mask gets pushed askew, obscuring his vision and all he feels is his dance partner fall into his lap and the sound of silk bustles rustling and her giggling in amusement over the loud jovial music.
Uncharacteristically, there is no attack or invasion of alien forces. There’s one moment of fear when The Doctor, face fallen, comes barrelling towards him across the ballroom and Taisuke’s muscles unconsciously tense in preparation of some horror but not the, “I think I lost my Ood in a game of croquet,” The Doctor bemoans instead. “Marie took a liking to him. Something about how subservient and polite he is.”
“Why would you ever bring an Ood to Versailles?”
“Stowaway,” The Doctor answers straight-faced for a moment, then they both burst into hysterics.
Taisuke is a mess the next morning, head pillowed on his hands, sprawled across the table. He’s tired yet still a little buzzed, humoured by everything for no apparent reason. Across the table Yokoo regards him curiously and then without a word, reaches over with a tissue to wipe gently at something along Taisuke’s left cheek.
“Have you been drawing beauty marks on yourself?” Yokoo asks, inspecting with amusement the kohl black smudge now marring the white paper tissue.
“It was the fashion,” Taisuke smiles into the table, then pouts and waits for Yokoo to take pity on him and his state.
Yokoo mirrors his small smile, amused, and without further comment buys Taisuke a fresh coffee while he orders one himself.
“Are you going anywhere today, more wild parties later?” Yokoo asks once Taisuke seems more awake.
“No, let’s just stay here.” The chair is comfortable, the cushions soft and deep and the conversation easier and open with no gold or tulle masks and the mug warm in his hand and Taisuke doesn’t want to be anywhere else.
/
“There was a review on an interesting exhibition in the newspaper...page 14,” Yokoo adds, a little impatient as Taisuke searches for the page. Upon finding it Taisuke nods and makes an interested noise, acts like how he thinks Yokoo would expect an art history student to react. “Oh this, one of the lecturers mentioned it.” Yeah, Taisuke decides, smiling to himself. That sounds convincing.
“Were you going to go? I was thinking I might.” Recently, there’s been dates - dates that are never referred to as dates by either of them. The pattern goes that over coffee, Yokoo casually mentions possible plans for the weekend or that evening and the invitation is left hanging between them for Taisuke to join him.
It’s easy for Taisuke to agree since all that’s being asked of him is to turn up. And Taisuke does as he likes Impressionism anyway. Paris in the late 19th century was fun and while he’s forgotten numerous nights spent chasing after the green fairy through the haze, he remembers enough names of artists and writers he drank with - at least enough to pass as a believable tour guide when Yokoo occasionally asks him questions about the era.
In the third room there’s a painting of a restaurant Taisuke once ate at and another of two dancers he once met. He has to bite back a cackle in the quiet of the museum as he remembers a funny story and before he can stop himself he’s turning to share it with Yokoo.
But Yokoo’s already wandered ahead into a different room and when Taisuke finds him, Yokoo’s standing in front of a familiar statue a little dumbfounded. It’s a sculpture of two lovers, naked and embracing, about to kiss. Yokoo’s cheeks are flushed as he gazes into marble eyes and Taisuke barely catches the whispered, “He sort of looks like you,” as it falls from Yokoo’s lips.
It should with the hours Taisuke sat for it, naked on a stiff stool, splinters he doesn’t care to remember and another model called Yuta playing the role of the girl and unstable beside him falling constantly out of pose.
Taisuke doesn’t say anything in return - he probably wasn’t meant to hear it or see that edge of attraction in Yokoo’s eyes and leaving the other behind, he heads to the next room - he’s seen all these pieces before anyway so long ago but he doesn’t need to see them again.
It’s a while before Yokoo follows him and instantly they pick up conversation again, making jokes at the stranger portraits or talking about the period of a painting, but Yokoo easily picks up on how Taisuke is suddenly down. Always the kind one, Yokoo cuts the exhibition short and mentions a ramen shop two streets over.
Over two warm bowls, Yokoo asks if Taisuke is worried about exams and Taisuke agrees. It’s easier than admitting to his vanity and bemoaning that he never thought he’d be the one to end up an old museum piece and wanting to know if Yokoo looks at him with the same affection and wonderment that he gazes at a statue.
/
An old dull book of boring dates has gone missing from the library and Yokoo’s hit a wall in research. He can’t seem to find the right documentation or account of events. Whenever they meet he seems constantly frustrated and Taisuke wants to help the only way he can. He wants to reach across the table to draw Yokoo's hand into his and say, "I know, I was there. I can show you if you want?" Widen his own eyes for dramatic flair as he says it and smile devilishly as a look of amazement passes over Yokoo’s face at the prospect.
Who wouldn't say yes if offered to be shown all of time and every corner of the universe? It’s new as Taisuke's never wanted to say that before or take anyone with him but suddenly he wants to be selfish and have Yokoo’s friendship without having to stay put for it.
“What will you do if you can’t find the records?” Taisuke asks, building himself up for it.
“Nothing to be done but rewrite the section. Make an assumption based on a different report,” Yokoo shrugs in reply, rational in the face of a problem. “So will you be free on Saturday?”
“Saturday?” Taisuke repeats back.
“The baseball game, remember? You should come, the season’s almost over.”
As Yokoo moans on about missing games of his amateur league to study, Taisuke kills any words about time travel adventures before they have the chance to escape. Yokoo’s talking about his newest niece next and how she might come too, sharing photo after photo of a small baby born with a head of black hair just like her uncle’s. Taisuke’s worried Yokoo would actually the offer of ever leaving down, turn him down, too happy and at home in this time.
/
“3 minutes to self-detonation,” the automated voice of the ship’s computer calmly announces.
“You’re fucking with me!” Taisuke screams back, legs tripping over themselves and fallen debris as he sprints, lost, through unknown corridors trying to find his way back to the main bridge in the blind faith that pointing an electronic screwdriver at something will stop the countdown. His thighs ache and there’s a burn in his side from the graze of a laser cannon but it's just a little further, he tells himself. Just around the next corner he begs with his body to keep moving faster. Taisuke doesn’t want to die here in space. He wants to hear Yokoo say his name again and wants to know what it means when Yokoo is too shy to ask him out and plays with sugar packets nervously as he stops and starts and sometimes is unable to say it all and if it means he likes Taisuke a lot or doesn’t like him enough. He wants it to be a lot.
He does make it in time, though barely, and as everyone else embraces in celebration of saving some other world again, under the feeling of pride and relief Taisuke just pants for air, utterly exhausted and sick of running for his life.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come along? We never did make it to Sedna before-” There’s a light of recognition that goes off above the Doctor’s head as he drops Taisuke back to Yokoo’s time. “Isn’t this where I left you last time?”
“You often go back to the same place and time,” Taisuke interrupts, arguing and bristling before he’s even been asked any truly probing questions.
“You used to think we were alike,” the Doctor starts, “But we were traveling for different reasons. I lost my home and you still needed to find yours.”
/
“Your timing is perfect as always,” Yokoo says as Taisuke finds him spread out on a sunny patch of grass behind the library. The compliments keep coming once Yokoo discovers Taisuke comes bearing gifts in the form of an extra strong coffee and a bag of freshly baked breads enough for four hungry students.
“Someone needs to feed you before the bones poke through the skin.” But despite the jibe Taisuke thinks that Yokoo somehow looks his best when he’s been up all night pouring over books, his reading glasses slipped to the tip of his nose and his hair expands wildy as Yokoo combs through it roughly with long, stressed fingers.
"I'll be finished with my dissertation soon. Only a few more weeks until the end," Yokoo splutters out through half a mouthful of bread before washing it down with a gulp of coffee. He diligently wipes any leftover crumbs from his finger before turning his attention fully to Taisuke, his demeanor turning somewhat serious.
"I was thinking, maybe, if you think you’ll have the time, after I finish, we could go on a trip somewhere? Maybe a hot spring, just for a night or two."
Taisuke just nods his head in agreement, says the plan sounds nice and Yokoo deserves to relax, despite not being certain that his answer is 100% yes. Too distracted to think to implications through fully by the smile Yokoo is giving him, smiling like he's just figured out the answer to the universe and everything is finally making sense and how the true intent of it all is given away by Yokoo's fingers in the grass whispering closer to Taisuke's.
Yokoo buries himself back under books and Taisuke can't sit still.
They don’t see each other much in the final week, Yokoo too busy and focused but occasionally they run into each other and Yokoo informs him he’s rented a car or shows him a travel magazine featuring a review of the onsen he booked.
It’s seems like nothing more than a nice daydream, to imagine how in one week Yokoo's life as a student will be over and in one week and one day he'll be sitting in a car beside Taisuke travelling across Japan. But it’s real and it’ll happen and Taisuke can already feel the heat of the onsen’s waters envelope his skin.
Taisuke's never been a patient person - he jumps to a distant planet with three moons and what feels like four times as many stars as earth does, but instead of lying on his back and looking up he stares at the space beside him, longing for someone to be there. Impatient for Yokoo to be there.
/
There’s a hiccup and the vortex manipulator strapped to Taisuke’s wrist sparks and buzzes unnaturally against his skin before turning itself off. It’s worrying but as the Earth tips into view and appears around him it looks fine and normal.
As minutes pass and Taisuke stands awkwardly on the street corner at their usual arranged meeting place, the feeling and dread of something off starts to crawl in and worries into his brain. Yokoo is unusually late and while it all looks the same, little things seem out of place -- small things like the trees now a little taller, the sort of thing that change slowly with time.
It’s enough to make Taisuke’s stomach drop and his pulse race in panic as he rushes in the direction of the nearest combini. It’s supposed to be the day of the trip, it’s supposed to be the day that he and Yokoo figure it all out, figure out their universe together. Taisuke’s chest squeezes tight as the front page of a newspaper crumples in his grip. It’s supposed to be and it is that day - the date printed in black and white - but Taisuke’s late, he’s a whole year late.
A stranger is living in Yokoo’s student dorm room, looking shocked and barely awake as Taisuke pounds on the door out of breath, begging to be let in. All traces of Yokoo are gone except for an old post-it note and Yokoo’s neat script listing a forwarding of mail address.
For only a year having passed, Yokoo’s face seems older and sterner, the angles a little sharper, his hair cut shorter and combed neater. There’s the dog Yokoo always told Taisuke he would buy once he had his own apartment, sniffing curiously at the scent of a stranger as Taisuke stands in the genkan, unsure of if he’ll be invited in or not.
“Did you drop out? When you never showed and disappeared for days I went to your classes and lectures but you never attended.”
Taisuke nods his head in response because saying he dropped out is a lot easier than admitting he was never a student in the first place and in his mind he adds it to the growing mountain of lies and false assumptions he’s let pass between them. Only a nod doesn’t seem good enough, doesn’t explain to Yokoo why he was cut off and Yokoo’s pushing for a reason - needs a reason - yet Taisuke’s fairly certain 'I’m truly sorry but my time machine broke,' wouldn’t make anything right.
“Because of me?”
He doesn’t nod again but there’s no other answer for Taisuke to give. The conversation lapses into silence, neither speaking, Yokoo taking it as a yes.
The dog, bored and ignored, retreats back into the apartment and his owner follows, leaving Taisuke to stay or go. He stays. The interior is minimal with simple furniture, clean and organized and suits Yokoo. The dog curls up in a basket and Yokoo perches on the arm of the sofa.
Taisuke doesn’t know what to say but it seems Yokoo does and the words come easily to him with almost perfect pronunciation and hardly any of the usual stumbles, as if maybe Yokoo’s been rehearsing this.
“It was just to try,” Yokoo starts. “I didn’t expect anything of you, or that we’d go on a trip together and you’d suddenly become my boyfriend. I’m not so ridiculous as to assume that but I was drawn to you. I wanted to know you. You could have said no to my face, we were still friends.”
It’s hard to listen to, clear that in a year Yokoo’s moved past the confusion of rejection and settled into a bitterness. There’s an unfamiliar coldness in Yokoo’s eyes directed towards a man that he was once prepared to change everything for, to give up future plans for to just try.
Yokoo tells him with a forced laugh that he’s not even sure if he’s gay or not, he’s not attracted to any other man the way he was to Taisuke but he can’t really agree to going out on date with that girl from the year below at university who keeps mailing, asking if he’s free to meet up for dinner to talk about writing structures.
On the coffee table there’s a half finished glass of tea and on a shelf there’s a small cheap postcard bought in a museum gift shop, a postcard worn at the edges of a marble statue that looks like Taisuke.
“I wanted to try,” Taisuke whispers, choking on a breath, his lungs clenching tight threatening to hyperventilate.
The image of Yokoo blurs oddly from Taisuke’s sight but it’s not until he feels the wetness on his cheeks that he realises he’s crying. The tears won’t stop falling even as Yokoo reaches forward to wipe them away with the soft pad of his thumb and peppers kisses along each tear stain.
Their chests press tight together and, with calming breaths and a steady rise and fall, Yokoo urges Taisuke to relax and fall into his rhythm.
The first kiss taste like salt. Taisuke’s lived long enough to see time change everything - countries and worlds and people - and maybe, he hopes, if he stays still, if he lets time wear away at him, age him, it will change him too. Maybe he won’t run again. He’ll stay here, stay with Yokoo. Taisuke doesn’t know if he can promise anything to Yokoo and keep it - but he knows that he wants to.
His knuckles turn white as Taisuke clings onto Yokoo’s shirt, tries to bury himself into the heat, reaches under and drags nails along Yokoo’s back, digging in -- afraid that this moment will slip away from him and he’ll be pulled years away again. The breath against his neck and Yokoo’s trepidatious touches hardly seem enough to anchor him down to this time.
“Let me stay with you,” Taisuke asks.
From: santa_johnny
HAPPY HOLIDAYS
Title: Maybe, Sometime
Pairing/Group: Kis-My-Ft2 - Yokoo/Fujigaya, mentions of one other
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Notes: For arashijun you listed Doctor Who au as something you wanted and hopefully this might fulfill that request. The only aspect of the Doctor Who au you really need to be aware of is this.
Summary: Taisuke doesn’t have a home. He used to, but then one day he ran away and by now he’s been running for centuries.
/
“And who, exactly, are you?” The strange man asks curiously, looking just as surprised and shocked by Taisuke’s presence as Taisuke is of his. The question goes unanswered as Taisuke gapes, left speechless by the bizarre interior of the strange blue box -- like nothing he’s ever seen but just what he was looking for.
At one time Taisuke had a home and a family, an era to belong to, but on the day his father decided to send him to serve again in a war he didn’t understand, to fight and die for a cause he didn’t know only to impress their region’s daimyo, Taisuke decided for himself that he no longer wanted to be part of any of it.
And once Taisuke made the decision to leave he realised he never had a reason to stay.
The silence of those last days at home gnaw away at Taisuke with no one to talk to, his brothers already gone. He drifts through empty rooms like a ghost, passes the hours listing what clothes to take and what possessions to leave behind and if any doubt of his plan creeps in, he traces fingers over his physical battle scars and lets his mind run over the mental ones to remind himself what he will be escaping.
Taisuke vanishes in the middle of the night leaving no note or goodbye - his mother might understand why, but his father won’t care to. No one sees as he passes the wall surrounding his father’s land and turns left, away from the roads and across the empty fields. Away from the civil war and feuding states. In the end, he packs light and travels fast.
Taisuke never thought he would look back yet he does; he’s already glanced back three times before he reaches the first mile, but each time his gaze turns a little colder and the weight on his shoulders feels a little lighter. By the fourth and final time he looks over his shoulder he can’t see his home anymore and he continues moving forward.
Two months later, as the year turns and the seasons change, Taisuke’s run so far that he’s already passed the edge of the galaxy.
/
It’s the blue that catches his eye. The box is a shade of blue Taisuke’s never seen before - royal and rich and completely out of place in the bright green of an overgrown rice field. As Taisuke stands a few yards away, contemplating it, the door suddenly swings open outward, seemingly by itself, and curiosity outweighs trepidation as he peeks into the bright large interior.
The door shuts behind him and locks with a click.
Being picked up by a time traveller isn’t something Taisuke planned or dreamed to happen. It’s not something he even knew existed but he’s aware right away of something unusual. The man’s face is too different, his eyes too light, his behaviour too bizarre as he dances around the box speaking incessantly, never waiting for Taisuke to answer. The strange man is clearly not Japanese but he speaks it perfectly, then he says he can’t and it’s actually the box helping Taisuke to understand and it’s the tip of the iceberg.
“Stowaway,” the Doctor calls him but there’s no real accusation behind the word and over time the true meaning is perhaps closer to companion.
“Hitchhiker,” Taisuke interrupts to correct, having learnt long ago in those first few months of traveling with the Doctor that it’s the best way to be heard. He overheard the term on a different world and picked it up, liking the the edge of coolness it seems to give him along with the other new fashions and clothes he’s found.
“Then where are you hitching to?” The Doctor teases as he reaches over to steal his hat back from Taisuke’s head.
“Not sure yet so let's keep going.” And Taisuke dives for the control panel while the Doctor’s back is turned, seizing the opportunity to push and pull as many buttons and switches as he can. Taisuke laughs coarsely and loudly while the Doctor wrestles him back and the Tardis engine roars as it lurches through the space time vortex.
Taisuke ends up going to war again. Perhaps it’s ironic, but by then he’s seen so much of the universe and has lived so much more that he now knows what and who he’s fighting for, and even if they aren’t his family -- nor the same species -- at least this time it was his choice.
When the battle is won and a world is saved, Taisuke doesn’t feel much different for it but as the Doctor strides back to the Tardis, victorious, Taisuke doesn’t follow.
There’s no goodbye. The Doctor says he knows they’ll see each other another day and Taisuke has never had any cause to doubt him. The pocketed vortex manipulator from the 51st century in Taisuke’s satchel is an extra guarantee.
When Taisuke leaves this time he doesn’t look back once. He never looks back again, he only looks forward, only thinking of where he’s going to next and never about where he’s been or who he’s left behind - but that only works until he meets Yokoo.
/
It’s bad timing.
They write down the dates of wars and horrible disasters in the history books and Taisuke follows it like a list of when to avoid but there’s nothing on rainy days. For it being only the early afternoon, the sky is already black as night, the sun blanketed out by dark storm clouds and no matter how many times Taisuke sighs in tired annoyance it doesn’t clear unrelenting.
By the language written on a signpost Taisuke can tell he’s in Japan, but he’s not entirely sure of when. Judging by the architecture of the building he’s taken shelter under, the awning, and the glow of electricity from within he can hazard an approximate guess but he’d rather not venture out to explore further in this weather.
A few minutes later, a girl rushes along the wet footpath bundled in a thick coat but from her accessories and the phone clutched in her hand Taisuke narrows in on a decade. He likes the 21st century but he wasn’t planning on staying, just passing through.
The heavy rainfall muffles the sound of someone approaching and Taisuke doesn’t notice he’s not alone until he spots a figure in the corner of his eye standing a few feet away. Going by appearance he looks like a university student - pale skin with dark, unstyled hair and gangly limbs buried, searching through a large book bag.
“I might have one,” the stranger mumbles.
“Sorry?” Taisuke asks, not quite sure if he’s being spoken to or not.
“An umbrella.”
“Lucky,” Taisuke replies stoically, not interested in starting a conversation, but the man pulls a small black folded umbrella from his bag and holds it outstretched in Taisuke’s direction. “Here, you can have this. I live across the green, I won’t need it."
Taisuke automatically holds up the palm of his hand in refusal, feeling confused and awkward under the act of surprise gallantry. “I wouldn’t be able to return it."
“My name’s Yokoo.” The man gestures behind him to the building with a nod of his head. "I’m at the library almost every day, morning till night. You can drop by anytime, and I’ll be here."
When the man smiles it reveals fanged teeth but his eyes seem sincere and it’s clear he’s not doing it to try and be kind, he just naturally is kind. He shakes the umbrella at Taisuke again, moving in closer and even going so far as to place it into Taisuke’s hand directly when the other makes no move to take it by choice.
“Do you always go around offering strangers umbrellas?” Taisuke’s still hesitant and tries to give the umbrella back but Yokoo is already walking away, moving out of reach.
"No, but you look like you have a long way to travel."
Taisuke blinks, taken aback, but then he feels the corners of his lips twist up in amusement at himself. Is he so obvious and out of place? “Maybe something like that,” Taisuke replies and Yokoo nods in understanding before disappearing back inside the building and Taisuke dismisses the feeling of guilt for taking an umbrella he knows he’ll never return - he’ll never be back but hey, what’s 500 yen at a konbini to buy a replacement? Taisuke plans to throw it away as soon as he gets to the next world. He still always travels light.
/
“Time travel is a little wibbly wobbly and if you spend too long in a time vortex it’ll leave you a little wibbly wobbly, too. Understand?”
Taisuke’s sitting in a restaurant at the edge of the universe and he’s confused. Confused by the conversation and confused by what’s on his plate but he knows from experience that it’s better not to inquire for exact alien ingredients and to appreciate that it satisfies hunger. Hiromitsu - or that’s how he introduced himself earlier - sits across the table from him having already eaten through his own meal and moved onto picking from Taisuke’s own plate and talking through stolen mouthfuls.
Another human traveller is rare to meet this far out and, like himself, Taisuke has no idea how old he is. The face is deceptively full and youthful and his stature is on the short side, but his eyes show that he’s seen just as much of the universe as Taisuke has, maybe more.
“You can stop worrying about wrinkles,” Hiromitsu adds and then shoots Taisuke a dry mocking look like he knows exactly how long Taisuke has spent worrying over mirrors and a reflection that never seems to change no matter how many years pass. “One day we might start aging again if we ever stop traveling.”
“Maybe you might even grow a bit taller then,” Taisuke fires back, falling into an easy banter, but there’s something about Hiromitsu’s wording that bothers him. Later, in Hiromitsu’s room, the words run through his mind again as he searches for his jeans and a crumpled pack of cigarettes leftover from a different world in the front pocket.
Taisuke crawls back into the bed and settles in a slouch against the headboard, purposefully jostling Hiromitsu’s side as he does. “What did you mean by 'if'?” Taisuke asks as he lights a cigarette.
“If what?” Hiromitsu mumbles into his pillow, barely conscious, apparently the type that falls asleep right after. Taisuke’s the type that likes to think, lapsing into a rare moment of clarity as he watches the blue smoke fall and twirl from his breath on each exhale.
“If we ever decide to stop.”
Hiromitsu rolls over to face Taisuke, defeated when it’s clear he won’t be allowed to sleep immediately. He steals drags of the cigarette without asking, just like he steals bites of food. "There are two kinds of travellers;” Hiromitsu starts, voice tired. “Those that are running to something and those that are running from something and basically - it’s hard to stop whichever kind you are."
The cigarette burns down and Hiromitsu drifts off as Taisuke mulls it over - he won’t ask Hiromitsu what kind of traveller he is, nor does he disclose which category he falls into. It’s too personal and close a thing to share but Hiromitsu, too, has the occasional scar marring his naked skin, leaving it not hard to guess.
“Do you ever hang onto anything from other worlds?” Taisuke practically jumps out of his skin in shock turning to see Hiromitsu watching him through half lidded eyes. “I don’t,” he continues, “But that’s because I’ve never found anything I wanted to keep yet.” And then Hiromitsu is asleep again.
The next morning, it’s just another goodbye and by now Taisuke’s gotten really good at ignoring the bitter tinge he gets when they both walk out the door and turn to leave in different directions.
Recently Taisuke has begun to wonder - he’s never really thought about the people he’s met and what happens to them after he leaves, he always assumed everything goes along fine without him, that he’s not needed anywhere. But what if they’re not doing okay? What of all the people who have shared meals with him, shared beds with him, shared body warmth? He thinks most often of one person that was kind to him for no reason wanting nothing in return.
Taisuke opens up his bag to check he’s not left any possessions behind in the room. Tucked snugly into the side is the umbrella he never threw away.
/
The world Taisuke traveled to after he met Yokoo had three suns and rained briefly once every 10 years, so no one bothered or thought to invent an umbrella let alone own one. There was rain on the following planet but it was toxic, hazardous enough to burn through skin and bone, and the cities had moved underground, buried safe and untouched by it.
Apart from that first rainy day, Taisuke’s never used the umbrella but he inexplicably can’t seem to throw it away either. 'Just return it then," a voice in his brain tells Taisuke and he agrees if only to be finally free of it.
When anywhere or whenever in the universe is on offer, it seems pointless to waste the opportunity and revisit locations already seen so he's never gone to the same place or time twice. He’s never wanted to, and never had anything to go back for. Briefly, he lets his mind list all the wonders he saw with The Doctor and questions, again, why instead of going back to any of those places, he’s standing in the same dimly lit library at the same time, staring at a face he’s already met sitting across the room.
It’s bad timing.
Again.
As Taisuke turns to leave, internally declaring this time period boring and intending to just leave the damn umbrella by the door on his way out, Yokoo looks up and spots him instantly. Their eyes meet and Yokoo’s flash with clear recognition. Looking back, Taisuke wishes he figured out sooner why his heart suddenly beat faster, as if caught.
Thinking on the spot might be a challenge for some but Taisuke can speak convincingly enough, can act and pretend to be anyone to fit a situation, no psychic paper needed. As Yokoo weaves past other students and crowded desks, Taisuke subtly grabs a book from a shelf to use as a prop, trusts he appears the right age to be a student because how else could he explain why he’s here?
“Your umbrella,” Taisuke says once Yokoo is within earshot, but Taisuke’s fingertips grasp tightly at the plastic handle before relinquishing the umbrella back to its original owner. Maybe he was attached.
“Did you get where you needed to go?” Yokoo asks, voice polite, barely above a whisper.
“Yes.” There’s no way to further elaborate so after a beat of silence, Taisuke cuts off after a small, "Thank you."
“You’re studying art history?" Yokoo asks, eyes cast downward, reading the title of the book in Taisuke’s hand.
Taisuke nods casually without knowing if that’s a course or not but when he looks up, Yokoo is smiling and Taisuke can’t help but feel a rush of excitement that he somehow answered the question correctly. "I didn’t mean to disturb you. I only came to return the umbrella, I’ll let you get back to your work."
"No, it’s okay, you didn’t disturb me, I’ve been reading all morning." Yokoo glances down at his watch and mumbles a bit over the rest of the words. "I could take a break."
One coffee then he’ll leave, Taisuke barters internally with himself, to show his gratitude.
When Yokoo asks for his name, Taisuke tells him Fujigaya Taisuke without much thought - not stowaway or hitchhiker or one of the other handful of aliases he uses -- his real name. It’s not out of place in Japan and it’s nice to hear another person finally say it again. Yokoo pronounces it correctly, too, better than The Doctor or anyone else could. He even wants to know the kanji.
Yokoo’s studying history, not art history, but it does exist as a course and luckily Yokoo doesn’t know anyone that takes it, leaving no way for him to know that Taisuke’s not in the class.
They’re already onto the second cup of coffee and Yokoo has a glow about him while he tells Taisuke about his historical research, stumbles and mispronounces words and loses track of sentences and then he’s silent for long moments, letting Taisuke ramble to his content too. As he talks, Taisuke changes most of the names, places, and other unbelieveable details, but it’s fun, like making up stories and Taisuke gets to be the lead in every single one.
The third time Taisuke meets Yokoo it's at the same cafe but a different table this time, one by the window. Taisuke, having nowhere else to go to for the day, has already been there for an hour when Yokoo taps on the glass from outside.
He doesn’t wave or mouth hello or hurry inside but casually drops himself down in the chair across from Taisuke. It’s easy and comfortable and the conversation simply picks up from where they left off the day before.
They don’t exchange phone numbers. Yokoo never asks for it and Taisuke can’t because he doesn't have a mobile number for this decade to offer in return, but at the end of each meeting they say see you soon instead of goodbye and to Taisuke’s that’s a commitment.
/
The surrounding street and the ground beneath his feet disappear but...
“This is known as kidnapping,” Taisuke comments, unconcerned, as the walls of the Tardis materialize around him.
“I thought you called it hitchhiking,” The Doctor calls back from somewhere out of sight.
“Hitchhiking is usually by the hitchhiker's choice,” Taisuke corrects, looking around for where exactly The Doctor is, eventually finding him toying with something under the main console and poking at strange wires with his screwdriver.
“I haven’t heard from my stowaway for decades, where have you been hiding out?”
“Here and there,” Taisuke replies, preferring to be evasive. The Doctor doesn’t need to know about Yokoo, he’d probably want to go pick him up. “But I never stop hearing about you. Is there anywhere you haven’t be?”
“Sure there is, a constantly expanding and evolving universe means there’s always somewhere new. Just last week a new-” And Taisuke zones out. He never did follow the science talk.
The Tardis lurches to the left as the time vortex roars outside. “- always a party or a beheading. So dramatic. She’ll be happy to see you again,” The Doctors yells happily over the noise.
As soon as one glass of champagne is finished it’s replaced by another and the constant spinning of the dance is leaving Taisuke too dizzy to stay stable as they inevitably crash into a table, bringing it all down around them. His masquerade mask gets pushed askew, obscuring his vision and all he feels is his dance partner fall into his lap and the sound of silk bustles rustling and her giggling in amusement over the loud jovial music.
Uncharacteristically, there is no attack or invasion of alien forces. There’s one moment of fear when The Doctor, face fallen, comes barrelling towards him across the ballroom and Taisuke’s muscles unconsciously tense in preparation of some horror but not the, “I think I lost my Ood in a game of croquet,” The Doctor bemoans instead. “Marie took a liking to him. Something about how subservient and polite he is.”
“Why would you ever bring an Ood to Versailles?”
“Stowaway,” The Doctor answers straight-faced for a moment, then they both burst into hysterics.
Taisuke is a mess the next morning, head pillowed on his hands, sprawled across the table. He’s tired yet still a little buzzed, humoured by everything for no apparent reason. Across the table Yokoo regards him curiously and then without a word, reaches over with a tissue to wipe gently at something along Taisuke’s left cheek.
“Have you been drawing beauty marks on yourself?” Yokoo asks, inspecting with amusement the kohl black smudge now marring the white paper tissue.
“It was the fashion,” Taisuke smiles into the table, then pouts and waits for Yokoo to take pity on him and his state.
Yokoo mirrors his small smile, amused, and without further comment buys Taisuke a fresh coffee while he orders one himself.
“Are you going anywhere today, more wild parties later?” Yokoo asks once Taisuke seems more awake.
“No, let’s just stay here.” The chair is comfortable, the cushions soft and deep and the conversation easier and open with no gold or tulle masks and the mug warm in his hand and Taisuke doesn’t want to be anywhere else.
/
“There was a review on an interesting exhibition in the newspaper...page 14,” Yokoo adds, a little impatient as Taisuke searches for the page. Upon finding it Taisuke nods and makes an interested noise, acts like how he thinks Yokoo would expect an art history student to react. “Oh this, one of the lecturers mentioned it.” Yeah, Taisuke decides, smiling to himself. That sounds convincing.
“Were you going to go? I was thinking I might.” Recently, there’s been dates - dates that are never referred to as dates by either of them. The pattern goes that over coffee, Yokoo casually mentions possible plans for the weekend or that evening and the invitation is left hanging between them for Taisuke to join him.
It’s easy for Taisuke to agree since all that’s being asked of him is to turn up. And Taisuke does as he likes Impressionism anyway. Paris in the late 19th century was fun and while he’s forgotten numerous nights spent chasing after the green fairy through the haze, he remembers enough names of artists and writers he drank with - at least enough to pass as a believable tour guide when Yokoo occasionally asks him questions about the era.
In the third room there’s a painting of a restaurant Taisuke once ate at and another of two dancers he once met. He has to bite back a cackle in the quiet of the museum as he remembers a funny story and before he can stop himself he’s turning to share it with Yokoo.
But Yokoo’s already wandered ahead into a different room and when Taisuke finds him, Yokoo’s standing in front of a familiar statue a little dumbfounded. It’s a sculpture of two lovers, naked and embracing, about to kiss. Yokoo’s cheeks are flushed as he gazes into marble eyes and Taisuke barely catches the whispered, “He sort of looks like you,” as it falls from Yokoo’s lips.
It should with the hours Taisuke sat for it, naked on a stiff stool, splinters he doesn’t care to remember and another model called Yuta playing the role of the girl and unstable beside him falling constantly out of pose.
Taisuke doesn’t say anything in return - he probably wasn’t meant to hear it or see that edge of attraction in Yokoo’s eyes and leaving the other behind, he heads to the next room - he’s seen all these pieces before anyway so long ago but he doesn’t need to see them again.
It’s a while before Yokoo follows him and instantly they pick up conversation again, making jokes at the stranger portraits or talking about the period of a painting, but Yokoo easily picks up on how Taisuke is suddenly down. Always the kind one, Yokoo cuts the exhibition short and mentions a ramen shop two streets over.
Over two warm bowls, Yokoo asks if Taisuke is worried about exams and Taisuke agrees. It’s easier than admitting to his vanity and bemoaning that he never thought he’d be the one to end up an old museum piece and wanting to know if Yokoo looks at him with the same affection and wonderment that he gazes at a statue.
/
An old dull book of boring dates has gone missing from the library and Yokoo’s hit a wall in research. He can’t seem to find the right documentation or account of events. Whenever they meet he seems constantly frustrated and Taisuke wants to help the only way he can. He wants to reach across the table to draw Yokoo's hand into his and say, "I know, I was there. I can show you if you want?" Widen his own eyes for dramatic flair as he says it and smile devilishly as a look of amazement passes over Yokoo’s face at the prospect.
Who wouldn't say yes if offered to be shown all of time and every corner of the universe? It’s new as Taisuke's never wanted to say that before or take anyone with him but suddenly he wants to be selfish and have Yokoo’s friendship without having to stay put for it.
“What will you do if you can’t find the records?” Taisuke asks, building himself up for it.
“Nothing to be done but rewrite the section. Make an assumption based on a different report,” Yokoo shrugs in reply, rational in the face of a problem. “So will you be free on Saturday?”
“Saturday?” Taisuke repeats back.
“The baseball game, remember? You should come, the season’s almost over.”
As Yokoo moans on about missing games of his amateur league to study, Taisuke kills any words about time travel adventures before they have the chance to escape. Yokoo’s talking about his newest niece next and how she might come too, sharing photo after photo of a small baby born with a head of black hair just like her uncle’s. Taisuke’s worried Yokoo would actually the offer of ever leaving down, turn him down, too happy and at home in this time.
/
“3 minutes to self-detonation,” the automated voice of the ship’s computer calmly announces.
“You’re fucking with me!” Taisuke screams back, legs tripping over themselves and fallen debris as he sprints, lost, through unknown corridors trying to find his way back to the main bridge in the blind faith that pointing an electronic screwdriver at something will stop the countdown. His thighs ache and there’s a burn in his side from the graze of a laser cannon but it's just a little further, he tells himself. Just around the next corner he begs with his body to keep moving faster. Taisuke doesn’t want to die here in space. He wants to hear Yokoo say his name again and wants to know what it means when Yokoo is too shy to ask him out and plays with sugar packets nervously as he stops and starts and sometimes is unable to say it all and if it means he likes Taisuke a lot or doesn’t like him enough. He wants it to be a lot.
He does make it in time, though barely, and as everyone else embraces in celebration of saving some other world again, under the feeling of pride and relief Taisuke just pants for air, utterly exhausted and sick of running for his life.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come along? We never did make it to Sedna before-” There’s a light of recognition that goes off above the Doctor’s head as he drops Taisuke back to Yokoo’s time. “Isn’t this where I left you last time?”
“You often go back to the same place and time,” Taisuke interrupts, arguing and bristling before he’s even been asked any truly probing questions.
“You used to think we were alike,” the Doctor starts, “But we were traveling for different reasons. I lost my home and you still needed to find yours.”
/
“Your timing is perfect as always,” Yokoo says as Taisuke finds him spread out on a sunny patch of grass behind the library. The compliments keep coming once Yokoo discovers Taisuke comes bearing gifts in the form of an extra strong coffee and a bag of freshly baked breads enough for four hungry students.
“Someone needs to feed you before the bones poke through the skin.” But despite the jibe Taisuke thinks that Yokoo somehow looks his best when he’s been up all night pouring over books, his reading glasses slipped to the tip of his nose and his hair expands wildy as Yokoo combs through it roughly with long, stressed fingers.
"I'll be finished with my dissertation soon. Only a few more weeks until the end," Yokoo splutters out through half a mouthful of bread before washing it down with a gulp of coffee. He diligently wipes any leftover crumbs from his finger before turning his attention fully to Taisuke, his demeanor turning somewhat serious.
"I was thinking, maybe, if you think you’ll have the time, after I finish, we could go on a trip somewhere? Maybe a hot spring, just for a night or two."
Taisuke just nods his head in agreement, says the plan sounds nice and Yokoo deserves to relax, despite not being certain that his answer is 100% yes. Too distracted to think to implications through fully by the smile Yokoo is giving him, smiling like he's just figured out the answer to the universe and everything is finally making sense and how the true intent of it all is given away by Yokoo's fingers in the grass whispering closer to Taisuke's.
Yokoo buries himself back under books and Taisuke can't sit still.
They don’t see each other much in the final week, Yokoo too busy and focused but occasionally they run into each other and Yokoo informs him he’s rented a car or shows him a travel magazine featuring a review of the onsen he booked.
It’s seems like nothing more than a nice daydream, to imagine how in one week Yokoo's life as a student will be over and in one week and one day he'll be sitting in a car beside Taisuke travelling across Japan. But it’s real and it’ll happen and Taisuke can already feel the heat of the onsen’s waters envelope his skin.
Taisuke's never been a patient person - he jumps to a distant planet with three moons and what feels like four times as many stars as earth does, but instead of lying on his back and looking up he stares at the space beside him, longing for someone to be there. Impatient for Yokoo to be there.
/
There’s a hiccup and the vortex manipulator strapped to Taisuke’s wrist sparks and buzzes unnaturally against his skin before turning itself off. It’s worrying but as the Earth tips into view and appears around him it looks fine and normal.
As minutes pass and Taisuke stands awkwardly on the street corner at their usual arranged meeting place, the feeling and dread of something off starts to crawl in and worries into his brain. Yokoo is unusually late and while it all looks the same, little things seem out of place -- small things like the trees now a little taller, the sort of thing that change slowly with time.
It’s enough to make Taisuke’s stomach drop and his pulse race in panic as he rushes in the direction of the nearest combini. It’s supposed to be the day of the trip, it’s supposed to be the day that he and Yokoo figure it all out, figure out their universe together. Taisuke’s chest squeezes tight as the front page of a newspaper crumples in his grip. It’s supposed to be and it is that day - the date printed in black and white - but Taisuke’s late, he’s a whole year late.
A stranger is living in Yokoo’s student dorm room, looking shocked and barely awake as Taisuke pounds on the door out of breath, begging to be let in. All traces of Yokoo are gone except for an old post-it note and Yokoo’s neat script listing a forwarding of mail address.
For only a year having passed, Yokoo’s face seems older and sterner, the angles a little sharper, his hair cut shorter and combed neater. There’s the dog Yokoo always told Taisuke he would buy once he had his own apartment, sniffing curiously at the scent of a stranger as Taisuke stands in the genkan, unsure of if he’ll be invited in or not.
“Did you drop out? When you never showed and disappeared for days I went to your classes and lectures but you never attended.”
Taisuke nods his head in response because saying he dropped out is a lot easier than admitting he was never a student in the first place and in his mind he adds it to the growing mountain of lies and false assumptions he’s let pass between them. Only a nod doesn’t seem good enough, doesn’t explain to Yokoo why he was cut off and Yokoo’s pushing for a reason - needs a reason - yet Taisuke’s fairly certain 'I’m truly sorry but my time machine broke,' wouldn’t make anything right.
“Because of me?”
He doesn’t nod again but there’s no other answer for Taisuke to give. The conversation lapses into silence, neither speaking, Yokoo taking it as a yes.
The dog, bored and ignored, retreats back into the apartment and his owner follows, leaving Taisuke to stay or go. He stays. The interior is minimal with simple furniture, clean and organized and suits Yokoo. The dog curls up in a basket and Yokoo perches on the arm of the sofa.
Taisuke doesn’t know what to say but it seems Yokoo does and the words come easily to him with almost perfect pronunciation and hardly any of the usual stumbles, as if maybe Yokoo’s been rehearsing this.
“It was just to try,” Yokoo starts. “I didn’t expect anything of you, or that we’d go on a trip together and you’d suddenly become my boyfriend. I’m not so ridiculous as to assume that but I was drawn to you. I wanted to know you. You could have said no to my face, we were still friends.”
It’s hard to listen to, clear that in a year Yokoo’s moved past the confusion of rejection and settled into a bitterness. There’s an unfamiliar coldness in Yokoo’s eyes directed towards a man that he was once prepared to change everything for, to give up future plans for to just try.
Yokoo tells him with a forced laugh that he’s not even sure if he’s gay or not, he’s not attracted to any other man the way he was to Taisuke but he can’t really agree to going out on date with that girl from the year below at university who keeps mailing, asking if he’s free to meet up for dinner to talk about writing structures.
On the coffee table there’s a half finished glass of tea and on a shelf there’s a small cheap postcard bought in a museum gift shop, a postcard worn at the edges of a marble statue that looks like Taisuke.
“I wanted to try,” Taisuke whispers, choking on a breath, his lungs clenching tight threatening to hyperventilate.
The image of Yokoo blurs oddly from Taisuke’s sight but it’s not until he feels the wetness on his cheeks that he realises he’s crying. The tears won’t stop falling even as Yokoo reaches forward to wipe them away with the soft pad of his thumb and peppers kisses along each tear stain.
Their chests press tight together and, with calming breaths and a steady rise and fall, Yokoo urges Taisuke to relax and fall into his rhythm.
The first kiss taste like salt. Taisuke’s lived long enough to see time change everything - countries and worlds and people - and maybe, he hopes, if he stays still, if he lets time wear away at him, age him, it will change him too. Maybe he won’t run again. He’ll stay here, stay with Yokoo. Taisuke doesn’t know if he can promise anything to Yokoo and keep it - but he knows that he wants to.
His knuckles turn white as Taisuke clings onto Yokoo’s shirt, tries to bury himself into the heat, reaches under and drags nails along Yokoo’s back, digging in -- afraid that this moment will slip away from him and he’ll be pulled years away again. The breath against his neck and Yokoo’s trepidatious touches hardly seem enough to anchor him down to this time.
“Let me stay with you,” Taisuke asks.