I know, I know, I’m not actually on a roll here after all. Let’s just say that I understood Okada in this scenario very well.
Y’see, when events start in Lovecen, they give you a little preview of what to expect should you participate in the event. For the first half of this first dream event, the preview showed Okada as a scriptwriter. Of the romantic sort.
Naturally, this and my experience with Okada’s stories so far being always amusing made me get my hopes up high.
I’m sorry to say Lovecen did not break all the fourth walls that they totally should have, with a story like this. They did, however, set out to break one thing: the cool Okada stereotype.
They broke it very well.
Dream Kiss ~His First Dream of the Year~: Okada Junichi
It's New Year 2016, and having finally finished both his end-of-year and start-of-year jobs, things are calming down for Okada. And best of all, you've come to stay over for the first time in a while.
Okada took a shower first, and now he's lounging on the sofa reading a script as he waits for you. It's a difficult role this time, but the fun part of acting is being able to experience lifestyles completely different from his own. But it does get tiring throwing himself completely into his roles. He decides to take a break and lies down.
You went to the bathroom a while ago, but you still haven't come out yet, and Okada's getting impatient because he wanted to recharge with you before his schedule got packed again. And then realizing what he's thinking, he laughs at himself. Man, that's embarrassing. How basic can I get? But just the thought of you gives him the energy to straighten his shoulders.
She's always pampering me... And I just keep leaving her... alone... even though I love her......
And before you come back, he's fallen asleep.
Scene 12: The bar at night. Okada punches the words in and looks up from the computer screen.
Huh? Something feels extremely off about this situation. Okada can't remember what he was supposed to have been doing, but from the looks of it, he was writing a movie script. And the fact that it's only at Scene 12 means he's got a long way to go.
For now, he decides to read it over from the beginning.
Wait, just what is this...!? He hits an embarrassing scene where a man and a woman are discussing love.
Who could write something like this!? ...was it me? ...it was me!?
After all, if nothing else, he distinctly remembers having just typed in the words "Scene 12: The bar at night" and hitting the Enter key. ...it was you, Okappi.
No, it has to be him. And yet, something still feels uncomfortably weird. For example, why has he lost his memories? And is he so busy that he was writing while unconscious?
The ringing of his cell phone interrupts Okada's discombobulation. I may have really wanted to use the word “discombobulation.” Or perhaps, it adds to it, startling him so much he stubs his pinky toe against the corner of his desk.
“Ow!” he exclaims, hearing his own voice for what feels like the first time. Grabbing his phone, he checks the screen. It’s from the publicity department for the film distributor, so he picks up. “Hello?”
“Hello? It’s Suzuki. Am I speaking with Okada-sensei?”
“Ah, yes. Yes, I’m Okada.” Whether or not he’s a “sensei,” at the very least, he knows for a fact that he’s Okada.
“Can you come out for a moment? It’s just to a place nearby,” Suzuki says.
“Yes. Yes, I can.” It might be because his head’s all muddled, but even Okada catches that he’s repeating himself. Suzuki doesn’t comment on it, just gives him directions to a nearby cafe. And so Okada-maybe-sensei takes steps out into this big new world.
“Oh, Okada-sensei! Over here!” Suzuki calls out when Okada enters the cafe. He’s still unused to hearing “sensei” appended to his name, and approaches the table nervously, where Suzuki sits with another man and a woman. Okada vaguely feels like he’s met the woman before, but he can’t remember who she is at all. She feels so familiar... like someone dear to me.
“This man is my subordinate, and she works for the event planning company,” Suzuki introduces the two as they hand over their business cards. Seeing your name, Okada’s certain he must have met you before. “These two will be the main staff in charge of the film distribution this time,” Suzuki continues explaining.
“Already? Even though I’ve only written up to Scene 12?” Okada remarks, amazed. You’d think it’d be a bit fast for them to start planning on promotions for the movie.
“What are you talking about? That’s the scene that’s filming in the spring, right? We’re already working on publicizing this one. Did you get all mixed up from overworking yourself again, sensei? You’ve still got bed head.”
Okada hurriedly tries to smooth down his hair, and a tiny giggle slips from your lips. When did my hair get this bad? I guess I was pretty busy after all... He has to admit, he is the type to throw himself into a project and forget everything else.
“I haven’t shown you the flyer yet, either. Take a look,” Suzuki slides one over to Okada in a clear file, and Okada nearly flips out. The movie the flyer promotes is unmistakably a love story, and his cheeks burn.
“Could you get a hold of yourself?” Suzuki is not impressed. “You wrote the story yourself, stop getting so embarrassed about it.” It seems like this is a regular habit of Okada’s. “No, it’s just... You’re right, I’m sorry.” Okada starts to protest, but decides better.
“We’d also like you to be part of the stage greeting. We’ve prepared a seat for you,” you tell him, and Okada agrees. It’s all a part of the job, after all, so you give him a date and time and he jots it down into a notebook. A stage greeting, for reference, is primarily a East Asian media promotional event, where starring actors and main staff involved in the production of the film/play/drama will do a sort of press conference before the release Japanese, primarily to promote the release but also the names involved as an extra form of hype. There’s no real Western equivalent unless you want to count the late night talk show circuit. Here’s an article discussing its use as DVD extras.
After meeting with the promotion staff, Okada leaves the cafe.
“Sensei! Sensei! Okada-sensei!” you yell after him as he walks down the street. Oh, that’s right. She’s talking to me, Okada remembers, turning around in the direction of your voice. “Sorry, that’s me. I’m Okada.” Even as the words leave his lips, he knows it sounds off, like he’s impersonating himself.
Luckily, you’re out of breath from running after him and don’t hear. Okada feels a twinge of regret seeing you pant like this, since he could’ve saved you some distance and exercise if he’d reacted sooner.
You hand him a pen. “Sensei, you forgot this.” Okada takes it with an apologetic nod, and you smile. Those weird feelings well up in him again. “Sorry, have we met before?”
“No,” you respond, “but I do know who you are.”
“From my works?” Okada asks tentatively, and you light up. “Of course!”
“Not just the one we’re promoting now?” Actually, now that he’s thinking about the flyer and its design again, he’s struck with a distinct feeling of unease.
“Yes, I’ve seen them all! I’m excited to be working with you on this one,” you gush. Seeing you so chipper makes you look all the cuter to Okada, even when you apologize immediately after for fangirling over him to him. Even in his dreams, Okada has fangirls.
“No, don’t worry about it. It makes me happy to hear you like my work so much,” Okada waves it off. “By the way, if you were to recommend one of them, which would it be?”
You laugh at the question. “Sensei, are you asking me to recommend one to you?”
That night, Okada strains the limits of his willpower, and then some.
But still, he caves and pushes pause on the remote control in the middle of watching the DVD you recommended to him.
Ugh, it’s no good. This is too embarrassing. Who the hell wrote this? …wait, it was me… No matter how many times he looks at the Screenwriter credit on the box, it clearly lists his name. He rolls around on the sofa, with nowhere to escape from the overwhelming feeling of shame. This. I want this Okada in his next movie.
But he still has to continue writing the rest of the script he’s working on. It’s a love story about a failed genius pianist and the girl he falls in love with, and Okada hasn’t written a thing beyond Scene 12, where the two first meet. It feels like I’ve heard this story somewhere before… If you’re thinking the same thing, then... for the record, it feels like a generic love story but I suck at googling Asian dramas or it doesn’t actually exist.
The part Okada’s stuck at is specifically what gets the pianist interested in the girl in the first place. It’s not like he’d suddenly fall in love from a bit of small talk at a bar…
He recalls your bright smile when you were talking to him about his penned dramas. Knowing that there are people who enjoy what he writes so much makes him want to work harder. Just... if only he could write.
For now, he heads to the kitchen. There’s a famous foreign mystery novelist who supposedly gained inspiration by eating apples while taking a bath. …but I only have bananas… I guess they’ll do… Dame Agatha Christie would be horrified.
The day of the stage greeting arrives, and Okada is at the theater, sitting in the staff seats. …bananas didn’t work after all. In the end, all he ended up doing was writing and rewriting the same scene over and over, and he hasn’t made any progress at all. It’s not a matter of bananas or apples anymore. May I suggest the banapple? This is an actual fruit I saw in Japan, to my great amusement. Also, Dame Agatha Christie is horrified.
It feels like there’s another job that would suit me better. Blankly staring at the brightly-lit stage from his seat, Okada is struck by that nagging sense of unease again. …should I be sitting here? I feel like I belong elsewhere. He just can’t think of where.
He makes his exit before anyone else, and he hears your voice calling out again. “Sensei! Okada-sensei!” Oh, that’s me. Oops.
“I’m sorry, I was a bit lost in my thoughts,” he apologizes. You brush it off. “How was the stage greeting?”
“…it was embarrassing. Just like the movie you recommended to me.” Your hands fly to your mouth as you desperately suppress your snickers. “Go ahead and laugh,” Okada smiles at you. Seeing you is giving him strength, and it’s another sensation that feels all too familiar. He cranes his neck, trying to remember.
“You must be exhausted,” you remark sympathetically.
“Mm… I haven’t really been able to write lately,” he admits. You’re a little surprised. “So even you have problems putting pen to paper.”
“That’s all I ever have,” Okada confides to you. “I’d probably better suited for another line of work.” He knows he wants you to tell him that isn’t so, to cheer him on. And then that would be his sign to keep on.
But instead, you ask him, “So what is it you want to do?” And that was the response he was least expecting.
Seeing him at a loss for words, you clarify the question. “I guess what I’m asking is, other than screenwriting, what kind of work are you interested in?” But Okada still doesn’t have an answer to that. “...I wonder. I don’t know myself.”
“Then that must be why,” you say, as if that settles the matter. His heart pounds in his chest. This is much more heartening than being told that being a screenwriter is his true calling.
And then he realizes that this is exactly what he needed for his own script. I see. Right now, I’m like my own protagonist. If his pianist had been encouraged like this by the heroine, there’s no way he’d forget her. Even if the conversation had only been in passing at a bar.
“You’re amazing,” he grins at you.
But you have no idea why you’re suddenly being praised. “Huh?” He grasps your hand, feeling like he’s finally seeing the light at the end of a long tunnel. “Seriously, you’ve saved me. Thanks to you, I think I can keep writing.”
And then he notices that you’re blushing furiously, and also realizes that he’s holding your hand very, very tightly. “I’m sorry,” he stammers out an apology, “I got caught up in the moment.”
“It’s fine... I’m just glad I could help,” you tell him, lowering your head. Okada does the same, but when he looks up, your eyes meet, and you blush again.
He knows he’s definitely feeling something towards you. But like with everything else in his life, he’s just not sure what it is.
At that moment, you get called away, so you take your leave. After watching you run off, he turns to head home himself.
“Sensei...! Okada-sensei!” he hears your voice calling again. By now, it’s like he’s cursed to react belatedly to being called sensei, since he never turns around in a timely fashion. “Yes?”
“I’m looking forward to this next work,” you say before running off again. That’s unfair, Okada groans internally, knowing you probably don’t understand the effects those words have on him. It makes him want to work even harder than a simple “Do your best” would have. And chuckling to himself, he leaves the venue.
Some days after, he’s finished writing Scene 12, he hits another block again. I’m tired of eating bananas and apples... and I’ve been eating too many mandarins, too. He knows his problem has nothing to do with fruits, but he also has no other options for inspiration. Never mind Dame Agatha Christie, I’m horrified. You can never have too many mandarins! Or clementines.
I’m definitely not meant for this kind of work... he starts to grumble, before he thinks better of it. No, I gotta stop thinking like that. There’s someone who’s waiting to see what I’ll put out. She said she was looking forward to it.
Of course, thinking of you just makes him want to see you. And so he searches through the pile of business cards on his desk for yours. Surprisingly, even though it’s a work card, your private phone number is listed on it. I had a little panicky moment here because I couldn’t remember if my private number is listed on my own business card so I had to go check. /TMI
He hesitates. You’re nice, so he knows if he asks something of you, you’ll pretty much agree to it. He doesn’t want to bother you, but it’s a far better option than not writing anything at all. Even if there’s no guarantee I’ll be able to write after seeing her...
Okada paces around in the middle of the room, and ends up stubbing his pinky toe on the corner of his sofa, instinctively crouching in pain. Ah, this is just a waste of time. And from that crouching position, he calls you on your cell. Seriously, he’s such a dork this time around. He’ll give up if you don’t pick up...
But you do, and hearing your cheerful voice lifts his own spirits.
Okada: Sorry, it’s Okada. You: Huh!? I’m sorry, Okada-sensei? Okada: Er, yeah. That Okada.
He takes a deep breath to calm down first. “I’ve got a favor to ask of you...”
That night, because he was the one asking for the favor, you meet Okada at a cafe close to your office. You’re a little nervous at the odd request, and even after meeting him you have to ask, “Are you sure you want me to do this?”
“It’s fine, don’t worry,” Okada reassures you, sliding over what he’s written of the script. “I want to hear your honest impression.” It’s not very long, anyway. You pick it up and start to read while he waits, feeling sheepish and starting to doubt himself. Maybe he doesn’t want you to read it after all. It’s embarrassing enough to read it myself, but it’s even rougher having someone else read it...
But it’s a little late to stop you now. You pore over the script seriously, and Okada finds himself studying your expression as he sips his coffee. Even this focused, you look pretty to him.
Not too much time has passed when you finish the last page.
“I can’t wait to see what happens next!” you tell him eagerly, “I wonder how the two of them will get closer.” How indeed, Okada repeats to himself. It doesn’t escape your notice, though, and you get flustered.
“Uh, you don’t have to worry about that. That’s my job to figure out,” Okada tries to reassure you, but you still apologize for being unhelpful. He hadn’t meant to make you remorseful, and those eyes filled with worry leave him feeling guilty.
“How should I put this... I just wanted to meet with you and chat a little,” he says. “Somehow, it’s like being with you calms me down and invigorates me.” Half of that is actually a lie, since being with you tends to make his heart beat faster. “So is it okay if I ask you to put up with me for a bit longer?”
You’re not going to refuse, of course, and agree with a faint blush creeping over your cheeks. But now he has to think up ways to continue this conversation, and it’s not like he wants to talk about the script some more. His eyes fall upon a bag you have next to you, with the logo of a video rental store. Well, he’s got nothing else. “What movies did you rent?”
“I was going to return these, actually... but did you really want to know?” Okada hastily backpedals, “Huh? No, it’s fine if you don’t want to tell me.”
But you’re already pulling out DVDs from the bag. To his surprise, they’re all action movies. “Don’t you just want to zone out and watch explosions sometimes?” you defend your choice of films, red to the face.
“I like them too,” Okada says encouragingly, “I actually probably like these sort of films more. They get my blood pumping.”
“But...” you stop yourself, but Okada has an idea of what you want to say. “Watching something is pretty different from writing it,” he admits with a bitter smile. He doesn’t think he could really write an action film, either.
You laugh. “But sometimes I really do just want to zone out and watch B movies.”
Okada gets it. “Yeah, when I don’t want to think about anything, I’ll put on stuff like Aliens vs. Mole Men.” When you can’t sleep, too, if they’re airing then you’ll end up watching them all the way to the end. Before Okada realizes it, he's laughing along with you.
“I’m sorry there’s none of your works here, Okada-sensei.” He waves it off. “Just tell me if you want any, I’ll loan them to you.”
The instant it’s out of his mouth, he knows it sounds like a pretext to see you again. “You don’t have to return them or anything,” he says quickly. But it’d still be nice to see you again. And to get to know you better.
“Could we meet up if I get stuck again?” This time it’s definitely an excuse.
“If I can be of help,” you say. “Of course you are,” he says assuredly, and then inside second-guesses himself. I hope that didn’t sound weird…
While Okada’s worrying over how he sounds, you’ve been worrying over something else. Finally, you speak up. “I was wondering if I should say something, but…” Okada looks at you curiously.
“…you’ve got bed head,” you tell him.
He quickly pats down the offending hair. “I’ll make sure it’s neat next time,” he mutters.
You smile impishly. “I’m looking forward to it.” Now that might be problematic for him.
That night, Okada intently pores over his computer. I’m in love right now… I think… Maybe? Thinking back to his meeting with you in the cafe, he finds himself blushing. It’s a side effect of writing love stories, but he usually thinks of himself as detached from such emotion. It’s a fresh feeling that he wants to include in his work.
After all, his protagonist might be a genius pianist... but even for geniuses, falling in love should work the same as normal. Falling in love like normal, huh? I might be overthinking this. Still, even as he writes what he’s pretty sure is a good scene, he can’t maintain his composure. Who would write this sort of line... wait, it’s me. Ah... Okada is just embarrassing himself into a humiliation conga here.
From that day on, he goes out with you quite a lot. He’s sure you’ve figured out that it’s all an excuse. After all, the instant he says, “I’m stuck,” you’re telling him, “You need to take a break.”
“So did I get it right today?” He asks when you arrive, turning in place.
“Congrats, sensei, you finally got rid of the bed head.”
“I tried my best,” Okada grins. “But could you stop calling me sensei? Everyone keeps turning to look.”
“That’ll be hard...” you respond, “Even before we met, I thought of you as sensei.” It’s not a satisfactory answer, but Okada lets the matter drop. “So you wanted to go shopping today?”
“Yes. Sorry to drag you along, sense- er, Okada-san.”
“I’m the one who invited you along so I could relax,” he replies as you two head into a shopping mall.
In one boutique, you hold two dresses up against your body. “Which do you think looks better on me, the yellow one or the white one?”
“I’m no good with this,” Okada protests. “You already picked one before you asked me anyway, right?”
“I haven’t, so tell me which you like better,” you insist. So Okada studies both dresses. “I guess the yellow one?”
“Okay, I’m going with white then!”
Okada pouts, “Meanie.” You laugh as his shoulders slump, “I’m just kidding. I like the yellow one too.”
“Then we could say you did pick one already,” he retorts. You think it over for a moment, and laugh again. “I guess you could say I did.”
I’m falling in love, like a normal person would. Just thinking it makes him blush. But when he’s with you, he’s happy, he has fun, and he already can’t wait until the next time you two meet. He’s been making good progress on the script, too. When he heads home after dating you, the words can’t stop coming. “I’m stuck” really is just an excuse now.
Suddenly, he realizes you’re peering closely into his face. “Okada-sensei, are you listening?”
“Er, yes, that’s me. I’m Okada.”
“I know.” This time you’re holding two caps. They’re the exact same, except for the color. “This time I haven’t decided yet, so black or yellow?”
Okada studies the two caps. “Black?”
“Sorry, the answer’s yellow.” “Meanie.”
As you giggle at him, Okada smiles fondly, and falls in love with you even more.
Quite some time later, Okada runs into a cafe, folding up his umbrella and heading over to where you’re waiting for him. “It’s been a while,” he offers a meek smile, “I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” His deadline’s nearing, so he hasn’t been able to contact you. But last night, since he was finally nearing the end, he decided to invite you out for the first time in a while.
“How’s the script coming?” you ask. “It’s going pretty well, thanks to you,” Okada says. And then he remembers that he’d used the “I’m stuck” excuse to ask you out again. Oops.
But you just grin at him. “...you figured it out?” Okada asks sheepishly.
“Pretty much, yes,” you continue to grin at him, “A long time ago.”
Okada returns your smile with a chagrined one of his own. “Well, thanks to you, I’m making a lot of progress.” Actually, all that’s left for him to write is the ending. “Right now, the hero’s playing piano again, but he and the heroine have begun walking separate paths.” He tells you all about the tale he’s weaved in the script up ‘til now.
You react with a lonely expression. “Sounds like things have gotten rough for them.”
~NORMAL END~ Oh... Okada realizes why. “Sorry about not reaching out to you.”
You chuckle. “You couldn’t help it, right? I’m a fan of your works, sensei, so I’ve been looking forward to the completion of this script. I’m happy things are coming along.”
“Sorry it’s such a bad excuse,” Okada smiles wryly and bows his head apologetically. She always seems to know my weak point. “Then as an apology, where would you like to go today?”
“I can’t really pick if you ask me so suddenly... how about somewhere fun?”
“That’s some pretty broad guidelines,” Okada laughs, parsing his memories as he tries to figure out what “fun” is for you.
Where he takes you to is none other than a movie theater. You burst out in a fit of giggles. “I guess I did say I like them.”
“You said you rent them when you just want to zone out, right?” Because the film he’s bought tickets for is a B movie style action flick. “Or we could wait 30 minutes and go see The Colossal Clash of the Titanic Tentacles.” It took a lot of willpower to not translate 巨大タコVS巨大イカ as The Titanic Tako vs. The Immense Ika. I’m still not sure I did it any justice. Hurray, localization!
“That is a tough one,” you laugh, as the two of you find seats. “It’s a little known masterpiece,” Okada expounds with a smirk, to your immense approval. At the very least, you look excited to Okada.
The film starts and the theater darkens. Okada is quite relieved to find that he can watch other movies without getting embarrassed, as long as they’re not romantic ones. His eyes stay glued to the screen as he gropes about for his drink to take a sip, but when he grabs it, he feels you tapping his hand. He’s grabbed your drink.
Sorry, he puts his hands together in apology, and finds his own cup to drink from.
But not even 10 minutes later, he’s doing it again. You give him a tight-lipped smile, like you’re trying to tell him it’s OK, but honestly it bothers you, and he apologizes again, mentally swearing to get it right next time.
So the next time he wants a drink, he mentally checks which one his is first. Mine is on the right... mine is on the right... But when he reaches out to grab it, he stops in his tracks.
Because the sight of your face, engrossed in the tale being played out onscreen, is among the most beautiful things he’s ever seen.
She’s got a great smile, she’s cheerful, she’s good at cheering people on... I really like her.
He thinks about it for a moment, and then reaches out for your cup again. And once again, you tap his hand.
That’s Okada’s chance to grab your finger with his own. It’s soft...
He glances over to his left, expecting disapproval. What he sees is you trying to suppress your giggles, shoulders heaving uncontrollably. And while he’s trying to make sense of your reaction, you wrap your hand back around his.
Why is she...? When his eyes meet yours, he feels himself overcome by laughter as well. The two of you sit there all the way until the credits roll, silently laughing.
“It’s because you did it at the scene when the hero was carrying ten logs on his back,” you explain when the credits finish and the lights come back on. “I thought, This is where he wants to hold my hand? and, well... sorry.” But your hands are still joined. “And it’s you of all people, Okada-sensei! You write such amazing romance stories and...”
Okada cuts you off. “When you take the test for your driver’s license, the written test is different from the practical one, isn’t it?”
“That’s true,” you admit. But you laugh only harder at the offended look in his eyes, and he has even less of an idea of what to do. Finally, he just lets out a deep sigh.
“I’m sorry, I really am,” you plead, “I won’t laugh anymore.”
“That’s not...” he starts to reply, and then stops himself, “I love you.” He watches your eyes widen at his confession, and then watches you clearly try to hold back your laughter. “...this is when you want to say it?”
Okada’s beginning to run out of patience at this point, and finally bursts out into chuckles himself. “Alright, I get it... I get zero points in the practical part.” He stands up and takes you by the hand. “Let’s go.” The two of you start walking, him leading you through the seats out of the theater.
“But I’d give you 200 points in the written part,” you chime from behind. He pauses, turning around to look at you. “How am I supposed to follow that one?”
You walk to stand next to him, smiling brightly. “I love you, Okada-sensei.” He finds himself just naturally smiling back at you. “I told you to stop calling me sensei.”
But he’s not mad. “I love you too,” he repeats himself, “I’m really glad we met.” And as the two of you step out past the theater doors, everything goes white.
...huh? He slowly opens his eyes, and looks around from his curled-up position. Some of his hair is sticking up. Oh, so just now... I see, it was a dream. No wonder it felt like he wasn’t meant to be a scriptwriter, because he actually wasn’t one.
He sees you sitting at his feet, watching TV. He calls your name, and you turn to face him with a smile. “You’re awake?”
“Mmm, I guess I am... How about you? Watching a movie?” He’s asking, but it’s pretty clear you’re not really paying attention to it.
“...yeah. It’s about a failed genius pianist.” Well, that sounds familiar. “He gives up the piano and becomes a martial art practitioner. It’s the story of a miraculous career change or something like that.” Wait, where did that story just head to?
You’re making such a weird face trying to describe it that Okada laughs. So this is why we went to watch such a weird movie in my dream. Of course, it’s thanks to this that he branded himself as someone who gets zero points in romance.
“Is it interesting?” “I have no clue what’s going on anymore,” you admit.
He flattens the stray hair against his head and thumps the sofa, “Come here. It’s warm.” You obediently roll over towards him, and he hugs you as a reward, as you look adoringly up at him. “You don’t want to watch the movie anymore?”
“Like I told you, I have no clue what’s going on anymore. If you hadn’t woken up, I’d probably have gone to sleep.”
“If you did, you’d probably have an interesting dream, y’know?” He smiles, “I was a screenwriter just now.”
“Since it’s you, I’m sure you were a brilliant writer,” you say, but Okada recalls his struggles writing grimly. “It didn’t suit me at all. I had so many problems writing, it got agonizing.”
“Is that so? ...I can see that,” you smile at him, “I’d enjoy seeing movies you acted in more than movies you wrote. I’m looking forward to the next one, too.” He notices the script he’d been reading before he fell asleep lying on the coffee table, and remembers your words in his dream.
“I’m looking forward to this next work,” you’d told him, and he’d internally complained, That’s unfair.
It really is unfair... He remarks to himself, I’ll want to show an even better side of me than a “Do your best” would have enticed.
From where you are snuggled in his arms, he hears the rhythmic sounds of your breathing. It’s your turn for a New Year’s dream. He plants a gentle kiss on your forehead.
~PREMIER END~ Oh... At the sight of your forlorn face, Okada feels a painful twinge deep in his heart.
Maybe... I’ve made her lonely too. His intention was to write this script, using his own feelings to find out his protagonist’s motives and goals. But at some point, real life seems to have overtaken the script, since it looks like you and him are on the verge of walking your own paths yourselves. If I really did leave her hanging, I’m no better than a... what could I even call myself?
No matter how many sweet lines he may write for the job, he’s always been detached, and especially from himself.
“Okada-san, what’s wrong?” you ask, interrupting his self-flagellating.
“...it’s nothing,” he tries to smile at you. What lines did I write for this sort of situation? He’s honestly irritated at himself being unable to say anything smooth and tries to change things up. “How about we go grab some food?”
But when the two of you move to leave the cafe, a cold winter rain is beating upon the streets. “It was still so sunny when I left home in the afternoon,” you lament, pulling out a small collapsible umbrella from your bag, “I should’ve been more careful.”
Okada watches you fumble to open it, and offers only a simple invitation. “Want to come under here?” When you look at him, befuddled, he shrugs and lays out his reasoning. “It looks like you’re having some trouble getting that open, and the restaurant’s not that far anyway. My umbrella’s big enough for two...”
Your response is an awkward smile. “I don’t know if I should call you amazing or what...” Now it’s his turn to be confused, and you switch tracks, grumbling. “Or maybe I should say you’re merciless, Okada-sensei. Even an unexpected situation like this turns into one right from your scripts.” With a small sigh, you put away the umbrella and accept Okada’s invitation to share his umbrella.
The two of you walk along the street, and Okada notes that he takes considerably smaller strides as he tries to match his pace to yours. It feels to him like you’re trying to maintain a bit of distance between the two of you. Even though you’re so close he could physically touch you, you still seem far away. And there’s so many things I want to ask her, too...
Little mundane things, like how your job’s been going. And more importantly - most importantly - did he make you feel abandoned?
The two of you walk in silence and Okada mulls over how to ask that pressing question.
“...sensei. Er, Okada-san?” He hears your voice calling him and reacts with a jolt. “Er, yes, that’s... uh... huh?” Looking around, the two of you seem to have gotten lost in a residential neighborhood.
“I thought it was weird, but since you were holding the umbrella and kept walking...” you trail off apologetically. “Sorry, I was lost in thought,” Okada says remorsefully. You give that little worried smile again, and Okada thinks over the many times you’ve shown him that expression. He thought you liked him, at least a little bit, but now he’s growing increasingly unsure.
“Let’s go back,” you say encouragingly, and turn around to head in the direction you came from.
Looking at your back, Okada’s self-doubt comes to a head. “Hey... I just want to know. Were you lonely? Or I guess what I’m actually wondering is, did you miss me?”
Now that he’s worrying about how to literally continue on in these unfamiliar streets too, he ends up just saying what he’s thinking directly. And once again he scolds himself, I’m really not suited to be a writer. After all, there were so many ways he could say it.
You turn back around to look directly at him. “Not really. I’m pretty busy too, y’know. There’s always events to be setting up, so I don’t really have the time to feel lonely.”
Okada looks at you in silence. “And I was wondering if I should say it or not...” you continue, “But... your bed head’s back.” He automatically raises his left hand - the hand not holding the umbrella - to pat down the offending hair, but you give him an impish grin as you raise your own left hand to fix it for him. “The other side.”
“You’re in quite the daze,” you remark, gently patting down his hair. “But I guess you can’t really help it.” Okada’s heart skips a beat. Maybe several. His hair is standing up stubbornly and you keep trying to work it down, and he just keeps thinking about how much he really really likes you...
He switches his umbrella over to his left hand so he can grab yours with his right. You stop trying to fix his hair, looking directly at Okada in surprise.
“I think I’m going to have to rewrite some of these lines when I get home,” he chuckles, but he finally feels like he knows what he wants to write.
Okada: Times like these, you should just tell me honestly that you missed me. Maybe you think it’ll affect me badly if you tell me that, but I’ll actually get even more worried if you don’t. I want to worry about you, more than you know.
Even in the darkness of the rainy night, he can tell how red your blushing cheeks are. You try to distract - him? yourself? probably the both of you - from the obvious. “...sensei, you’re going to get embarrassed reading this over later.”
“Too late, I’m already embarrassed.” Because Okada feels his own cheeks tingling from the blood rushing to them.
“That’s why I said you’re merciless...” you pout. “Sorry,” Okada responds, not sorry at all as he leans forward to kiss you.
“I like you,” he smiles shyly when he lifts his head. “I know. I’ve known for a while now,” you respond, just as bashful. “...yeah, I figured,” he admits, and the two of you have a good laugh as you burrow yourself against his chest.
“Seriously, how could you just leave me all alone like that?” you complain, “From now on I’m going to make you worry so much, you’ll be drowning in it.”
Okada cracks a smile at your threat. “Okay. That makes me happy.”
The two of you start walking again, now hand-in-hand. “About the script...” he suddenly brings up, “It was supposed to have a sad ending, but now I’m thinking about changing it to a happy one.”
“Won’t they get mad at you for that?” you ask. Okada thinks about the possibility of that for a moment and chuckles a little. “I think there’d probably be a lot of bigwigs rushing to support it instead. Producers and directors and the like.” You chuckle. “Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we?”
“But I just feel like letting them have a happy end too,” he defends himself. His smile grows wider as he looks at you. “I love you.”
With the pitter-patter of the rain as a backdrop, your voice seems to sweetly echo under his umbrella. “I love you too, Okada-sensei.”
“...could you please stop calling me sensei?”
“Oh, just get used to it already.” Hi-five, Okada’s dream me! Hi-five.
Okada feels his consciousness blank out, and all he can feel is the warmth of your hand on his...
His eyes fly open with a start.
“Jun-kun, you’re awake?” You’re kneeling by his side, chin resting in your hands as you look at him earnestly. Hearing you call him “Jun-kun” makes him finally understand. That was all a dream. Well, yeah, of course it was. I’m not a screenwriter or anything. Your hand is holding his right hand, and he knows where the warmth came from too. He notices a blanket’s been pulled over him.
“Sorry,” he says, “I fell asleep. So what are you doing there?”
“I’ve been watching you sleep,” you respond simply. “You make so many faces, it’s never boring.”
“Oh?” Okada asks. Just like in his dream, you let out a chuckle. “Your mouth would move like you were saying something, and then every so often you’d break out into a wide grin.”
“...okay, stop it,” Okada’s beginning to get embarrassed again. He sits up, trying to ignore the blush rising to his cheeks.
“What a shame,” you say, reaching a hand out to him. “You took a bath, but now you’ve got bed head.”
“I thought I would,” Okada grins ruefully as you pat his hair down flat. “Why is that?” you ask, smoothing down the stray hairs.
“...because you were doing this for me in my dream, too.”
“You had bed head in your dream?” You are, understandably, incredulous. You would be even more incredulous if you knew just how often it happened.
“...that’s what happened,” he admits. You laugh even harder at him and he takes advantage of the opening to bring you up onto his lap. He looks at you adoringly as he asks the question that plagued him in his dream. “I’m going to be pretty tied up again... will you miss me?”
You respond with a question. “Is that the kind of dream you had?”
“Well, yes... I thought I’d try asking you anyway.”
You think it over before deciding on an answer. “Maybe I won’t,” you tell him brightly, smiling from ear to ear. But that smile feels strange to Okada.
“...liar,” he smiles back at you.
“Well, if I lie about it, you’re just going to worry for no reason... so I may as well admit I’m going to miss you.” You’re right about how he’ll react, and that makes Okada’s heart skip a beat. You know him too well.
Your eyes twinkle devilishly at him as you continue. “And then, after I tell you that I will miss you, you’re going to be happy.” Okada starts to protest, but you quickly manage to silence his defense. “Look, the corners of your mouth are already beginning to turn up!”
Feeling his cheeks burn, Okada quickly pulls you in for a kiss.
“...okay, enough of that,” he jokingly scolds you when it ends. “I’m glad you know me so well, but no more predictions. Even if I love that part of you too.”
Outside, the rain has begun to fall. He holds you in his arms as the two of you listen to the steady beat of the rain.
A lot of things happened this time around, because holy crap, it’s been a month and a half since the new year started (and I think two weeks and a half since I finished the Maa-kun one?). Sorry, guys. I think after finishing everything from this event we’re going to go back to summarizing instead of straight up translating. It’ll probably go faster and let me avoid boring bits.