Just when Pen Pen TriIcelon couldn’t get any weirder it turns out the Japanese version of the game has these bizarre loading screens..and these are some of the tamer ones.
Looks like Future Me has a fun translation project to do 😃
Summary: ok I saw this art https://twitter.com/Napol118 and then got a surprise day off and haru loves hanamiz so what the hell else was I supposed to do. just a lil fluff (and slight angst) drabble about some boyfrans~~
Hanai’s honestly surprised how well Mizutani handles it.
He grins just as broad as ever, gives the second year who’s taking his place a slap on the back and enthusiastic congratulations. And when he meets Hanai’s eyes, there’s no censure, no accusation for the boyfriend who had to have known this was coming and hadn’t told him.
Hanai still feels like garbage, though, still avoids him for the rest of practice. He tells himself it’s just because he’s got stuff to straighten out with Momoe, organizational crap to deal with, but he knows he’s being a coward. Knows it when he’s lying in bed at home and staring at his phone, unwilling to be the first to text.
But he tries not to worry about it.
Up until he shows up for morning practice and Mizutani isn’t there.
Hanai throws himself into drilling the first years, but inside he’s panicking. Stuff he knows is irrational but still curls and twists in his gut. The second they break to do classwork, he mumbles an excuse to Abe and dashes off.
He gets up one flight of stairs before slowing; honestly, there’s not many places on campus where Mizutani would go. Their classroom seems unlikely; it’s more probable he’s stayed home. Hanai sighs, feeling stupid and faintly exasperated. Basically the only places that have meaning for any of them are the ball field and the club rooms.
Except…
Hanai flushes violently.
He runs to the breezeway, edging over until he can peek through a window. Around the corner of the other wing, he can just make out a slouched figure with auburn hair shining in the early morning light sitting on the bench where this had all started.
A pit opens in his stomach, an emptiness as if to prepare himself for what’s coming. He can’t blame Mizutani, he wouldn’t want to look at his face again either. He should go down there, face up to the inevitable.
Slow, now, he heads down the stairs, his mind in the past like he was much older. Seeing summer sunlight on parched grass, the kind of light that lulls you and at the same time leaves you feeling like there’s nowhere to hide. Mizutani’s fingers clamped tight on the edge of the bench, dark in comparison to the slim length of his legs, and then creeping over the worn wood, closer to where Hanai’s hand rested. Mizutani, who for all his awkwardness and goofiness was so fearless in talking to even the most beautiful girls, Mizutani blushing and kicking his feet and avoiding his eyes and stammering out false start after false start until Hanai almost, almost asks first.
“D’you wanna…maybe do something? Sometime?”
Not exactly the kind of words to sweep someone off their feet, and Hanai had turned to retort something to that effect. And been stopped by Mizutani’s searching gaze, his uncertain, twitchy smile, his quiet, “Just us?”
Hanai’s head had yelled at him to do something, put an arm around him, kiss him, smile, anything, but he’d just turned away, his own face burning. “Yeah.” Feeling a deliciously terrifying and happy squirm in his stomach, he’d managed to add, “Just us.” And then, then, sliding his hand over on the bench until it brushed up against Mizutani’s.
He blushes again now, pushing open the door to outside, blushes thinking about Mizutani’s silly relieved grin and the feel of his pinkie sliding against Hanai’s hand. He balls his hands into fists as he closes the distance to the bench.
Mizutani doesn’t look up, still stares at his hands folded in his lap, kicking his heels against the dirt. Hanai’s pretty sure he’s seen him, though. He comes to stand in front of Mizutani, frowning nervously.
“Guess you found me.”
“Yeah.”
“Practice is over by now.” Mizutani huffs out a laugh. “Guess I didn’t expect you to skip out to come find me.”
Hanai shifts uncomfortably, not sure how to respond. He knows he should’ve said something last night, should’ve ditched. Or at least that Mizutani will think so. “Look…”
“You’re a total douchetruck, y’know that?” Mizutani finally looks up at him, face full of irate sulkiness. “You coulda told me.”
Hanai blinks down at him, feeling the world shift and reconfigure under him, feeling the ugly cowardly lump in his stomach evaporate. “I didn’t know what to say.”
“Doesn’t seem that hard.” Mizutani looks down, kicking him in the shin. “I’m never gonna forgive you! Not ever!”
There’s playfulness to the words, but underneath, underneath, a real hurt. It’s almost scarier than a breakup. This, he’s going to have to sit with, he’s going to have to try and fix.
No time to start like the present.
Hanai bends forwards, curling his arm around Mizutani’s neck, leaning heavily on his shoulder. His lips brush his cheekbone just under his eye, press more firmly a little further down.
“I’m sorry.”
Mizutani inhales shakily, reaching up to wrap his arms around Hanai’s shoulders, tipping his head back. And for a second everything drops away as their lips meet, everything but Mizutani’s sharp exhale and his fingers curling on Hanai’s jacket collar, everything but his slight weight pulling Hanai down until, face burning, he sinks down into his lap.
He’s almost certain that at any moment some disapproving teacher or neighbour will materialise to tell them off, but it doesn’t stop him from curling his fingers in Mizutani’s hair, nosing against his cheek with a soft exhale. Embarrassing, but so sweet, this comfort given and received and Mizutani leaning against the back of the bench and kissing his chin and just enough of a chill in the air to make exquisite flame of his body underneath and against Hanai’s.
Mizutani tips his head back, giving him a narrow-eyed look. “You’re buying me ice cream. For a week.”
Hanai makes a long-suffering noise. “No, I’m not. It’s too cold at night.”
Mizutani just grumbles in response, pushing him back to bury his face against Hanai’s chest. “Never too cold for ice cream.”
Hanai rolls his eyes but still holds him close. “Y’know, I thought you were gonna break up with me.”
Mizutani jerks his head back, snorting out a laugh. “What? Seriously?” He pulls another face. “I might, over the ice cream thing.”
