Old Traditions
Mikado is reminded of an old tradition that he had long forgotten about, but is willing to rekindle.
It had started a couple years ago, on a hot day during summer vacation.
Mikado leaned his head back against his bedframe, tiredly fanning himself with a sheet of summer math work that had been lying besides the bed. Normally summer in Saitama was hot, but never like this. It was sweltering. Bugs curled up in the window, too tired to even try to escape, and a tiny fan in the corner was doing its best to assuage the heat. On the opposite end of the bed, sprawled on his stomach, lay Masaomi, eyes closed lazily.
Boredom swelled in the air, taking up too much room for conversation. Mikado desperately wanted to do something, but his body refused to make the effort. It was certainly a dilemma and Mikado was annoyed at himself for being so controversial.
His eyes languidly followed a fly as it buzzed through the air, eventually landing on his knee. It walked around a little before eventually flying off. Masaomi watched it too, leaning forward on his elbows as though the life of this singular fly was the most interesting thing happening in their own, which, sadly, it sort of was.
Mikado sighed. Masaomi looked up at the sound, opening his mouth as though to say something but no actual words came out. There was an odd twinkle in his eyes that normally made Mikado uneasy but in that moment he would have done anything to cure his boredom and so he inquired on it.
“What’s on your mind?”
Masaomi blinked, coming out of his thoughts slowly as he became aware of his friend. “What?”
“We’ve been friends for years, there’s no use hiding it. I know you have an idea. Whatever it is, just spit it out.”
Masaomi sat up slowly, biting his lip in hesitation. This wasn’t like him. He was normally so upfront and it was odd to see him nervous. Finally he blurted out, “Do you want me to tickle you?”
Alright, not what he had been expecting. “What?”
Masaomi shrugged noncommittally, not quite meeting his eyes all the way. “You just looked down. I read somewhere that tickling releases endorphins, you know, the happy drugs in your brain? I just figured it would be a way to cheer you up. If you wanted. You can say no, of course.”
Mikado wasn’t sure quite how to respond. He wasn’t used to people asking him to tickle him. He was usually the unwilling recipient. And it wasn’t like he and Masaomi hadn’t had tickle fights in the past, they were friends after all and young boys, but this was different.
Evidently he had taken too long to answer as Masaomi said, “It’s fine, really, you don’t have to—”
“I’ll do it.”
“What?”
Mikado was asking himself the same question. But the truth was he was bored and at least it would be something to do. Slowly, he repeated, “I’ll do it. I mean yes, you can.”
Masaomi did not appear as though he had expected this answer and was dumbfounded for a moment. “Um, okay.”
They both realized quite suddenly that they weren’t sure how to go about this. Masaomi crawled over, near his neatly folded legs. “Should I raise my hands…?” Mikado asked self-consciously, inwardly hoping the answer was no.
Masaomi quickly waved his hand in the negative. “Uh, no, you’re fine as you are. I’ll just… on the count of three, yeah?”
Mikado nodded quickly. There was an excited, nervous anticipation building up inside him and he took a moment to breathe and steady himself.
“One,” Masaomi counted, lifting his hands in preparation. “Two.” Mikado tensed, watching him. “Three.”
Masaomi reached out, gently squeezing his sides. Mikado let out a startled, “Oh!”, and a tiny giggled slipped out. Masaomi repeated the action, this time wiggling his fingers a little for added effect, and Mikado instinctually squirmed back, arms wrapping around himself to protect the offended area.
Masaomi flushed a blotchy red, looking insanely guilty for what had been a relatively harmless action. “We can stop, if you want.”
Mikado shook his head, scooching back in position. “It’s alright.” He was strangely out of breath though they had only just started, and his words came out in a rushed exhale. “I wasn’t ready. You can continue.”
Masaomi raised an eyebrow doubtfully, but did as he asked. This time Mikado was prepared for the jump and bit back a laugh. It was honestly surprising just how much it tickled, especially considering Masaomi was obviously trying to hold back. He was caught off guard as Masaomi clawed at his ribs and he keened forward with a snort, hands shooting out to stop the feeling.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” Masaomi worried.
Mikado giggled in response, arms twitching as he reluctantly pulled back his hands and let the torture continue. “Y-Yeheah. It just t-tihihickles, s’all.”
Masaomi grinned, feeling his heart flutter strangely at the sight. “Well yeah.” He was more confident in his actions now that he knew this was okay, and he slid his hands down to pinch at his friend’s hips, a move that made Mikado jerk violently.
“Ohoho bohoy,” he said, covering his face with both hands. His words were coming out high-pitched and more than a little flustered. His shoulders shrugged and bobbed as he tried to dislodge the feeling. “Thahaha reheally—” He couldn’t continue the sentence as Masaomi took that moment to dig his fingers into Mikado’s armpits.
The boy responded by sliding down on the bed, cackling wildly. A blush blossomed on his neck and spread to his ears and cheeks. His giggles became more uncontrollable and breathless and he eventually found he couldn’t take it anymore. “T-Thahat’s enough! Nohoho mohohore!”
Masaomi stopped immediately, worried he had gone too far.
But Mikado did not seem angry, only faintly embarrassed. They were both silent for a moment, neither sure how to proceed from that point. Finally Mikado coughed, murmuring, “Thank you.”
“Eh?” Masaomi frowned, worried maybe the tickling had been too much and there was something wrong with Mikado’s head. “For what?”
Mikado cupped a hand awkwardly around his neck. “For, um.. for the, you know…” He wiggled his fingers in the air. “It helped. With the boredom, I mean.”
“Oh.” A little of the tension eased from the room. “Well, you’re welcome.”
And one would have thought that was the end of it. A strange moment in their even stranger lives, eventually forgotten in the throes of time. But it wasn’t, for whatever reason. One day Masaomi was having a particularly rough day, leaning against Mikado’s knee. Quietly, so quietly that he almost didn’t hear it, Masaomi murmured, “Tickle me.”
And Mikado did. His fingers reached out and soon Masaomi was laughing wildly, his troubles forgotten in flying fingers and grinning faces.
From that day forth if either of the two was feeling down, they’d request it of the other. Or, if one was feeling to shy to properly request it, the other would ask for them.
As time went on and people moved and friendships drifted, the tradition near faded away entirely. But it wasn’t forgotten, by either of the boys. Now that they were reunited, each found himself longing to ask but unsure if the gesture would still be appreciated.
It was a quiet night, the kind of quiet that comes not from silence but the sounds of nature, wind whistling through the trees and the quiet murmurs of conversation drifting from the city. Mikado and Masaomi sat curled up on top of a joint slide in an abandoned park, joining in on the quiet conversations. The moon shone down on them in eerie fashion, the light beams intruding on their talk.
The event of a couple day’s ago lingered in everyone’s minds and Mikado’s was no exception--a meeting of the Dollars right in the middle of the bustling city of Ikebukuro. It had caused quite a stir, but the excitement was gradually dying down. However, the meeting itself was not the primary focus of Mikado’s thoughts that night. Instead, he thought about what Izaya had said to him afterwards: “If you truly want to escape the ordinary, you’ll simply need to keep evolving—whether what you seek is above or below.”
He bounced the words around in his head for a while, head tilted to one side in an unconscious action of thought. The voice brought a melancholy sense of unease that he couldn’t quite decipher. They were undoubtedly true—Mikado didn’t wonder at that. But it was the truth that made him contemplate what to do next, because of it. He liked his normal life, contradictory as it may seem; longing for the extraordinary yet clinging to the mundane.
The constant appraisal of the sentence was making his head hurt and he sighed, folding his hands behind his head and lying down on the cold plastic of the playground set.
Masaomi glanced back at him without turning his head. “You alright?”
Mikado shrugged. “Yeah.” He was, basically, alright, so it wasn’t a lie, technically. But it was his alrightness that was upsetting him. He didn’t feel that was pertinent to bring up, however, and settled on a simple, ‘yeah’.
Except maybe he hadn’t been as convincing as he hoped, because Masaomi was staring at him strangely. He tried to decipher the meaning for such scrutiny when he suddenly became aware that he had not just said, ‘yeah’. In his tired, relaxed state, half-musing to himself, he had uttered the simple words, “Could you please tickle me?”
Saying this and thinking this were two entirely different things, and Mikado blushed, opening his mouth to take it back before quite suddenly realizing he didn’t want to take it back. He opted instead to turn his face away, staring intently at a tree facing opposite them. Let Masaomi make what he will of it. He probably didn’t even remember. He probably thought he was being weird.
While Mikado waited for the rejection he assumed was inevitable, Masaomi blurted out, “Okay.”
Now Mikado looked back sharply, each of their eyes wide as they stared at each other in surprise. Masaomi quickly added, “I mean, if you’re sure you’re okay with it.”
Mikado nodded slowly. “I’m sure.”
This was different from when they were little kids; they both knew it, though neither was sure why. Mikado wasn’t sure whether he should get up or not and settled on propping himself up on his elbows. Masaomi started forward, but before he could get too far Mikado lurched forward, startling him. There was a nervous franticness about the gesture and Masaomi had to remind himself the boy was okay with this.
“Um, could you be gentle? Nothing intense, I mean.” It wasn’t that Mikado didn’t like the intensity of tickling, but tonight he only wanted to be distracted, cheered up from his dreary thoughts.
“Sure dude, of course,” Masaomi agreed readily.
Mikado lied back down, folding his hands behind his head. It was a bold move that made him feel more vulnerable than he had before, and butterflies danced nervously in his stomach.
Masaomi gently placed the pads of his fingers against his sides and Mikado barely stopped himself from jumping even though he was barely touching him. Masaomi wiggled his fingers against the thin fabric of Mikado’s turtleneck which was doing nothing to protect him. Mikado broke into a smile, clenching his arms tighter behind his head as he fought the urge to rub away the feather-light sensations.
Masaomi repeated the action up and down his sides and soon Mikado was giggling wildly, drawing his legs up involuntarily. He was gripping his hair tightly, eyes squeezed shut with a wide grin. “Is something wrong?” Masaomi asked, raising an eyebrow in an infuriating way. He had never dared to tease him before, always worried he was going to step over some line, and Mikado found that he didn’t entirely hate it now, though it made his cheeks flame.
“Mahahahasaomi!” Mikado protested. Masaomi had decided to move his attack to his stomach, and Mikado was laughing freely now, hands shooting down to cover the spot.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Masaomi clucked, batting away his hands. “You asked for this, you know.”
“B-Buhuhut ihit tihihickles!” Mikado protested, moving his hands to hide his face instead. “Ihi cahan’t hehelp ihit!”
Masaomi snuck his hands under his shirt to get access to the bare skin beneath, and Mikado’s laughter went up an entire octave. He scribbled fingers across the skin and Mikado arched, kicking the ground and bringing down his arms only to have them flail uselessly, bubbly giggles falling freely from his lips. “Plehehease!”
“Please what?” Masaomi asked innocently, tracing random patterns across his belly and giving Mikado a brief reprieve to answer. “Please stop?”
Mikado shook his head, giggling abashedly. “N-Nohot yehet,” he said, not ready for it to be over that soon.
Masaomi was normally a smooth-talking, rambunctious young teen with enough arrogance to make others blanch. But god help him if the sight of Mikado red-faced and breathless and asking to be tickled didn’t do things to his heart. This wasn’t the way you felt about your friend. All of a sudden he wanted to… he didn’t even know. Suddenly the few feet between them was too much distance and too little all at the same time.
“Masaomi?” Mikado asked, giving him an odd look. “Why’d you stop?”
Mikado’s voice brought him back to reality and Masaomi blinked. “What? Did I?” He coughed, trying to disguise his earlier thoughts which he was sure were written all over his face.
Mikado sat up, staring curiously at him. Masaomi shifted under the intense gaze. “Er, what is it?”
Mikado flushed and asked, with strange intensity, “Can I try something?”
And then, just for a moment, his gaze flitted down to Masaomi’s lips.
God. Was Mikado actually trying to kill him? Although he had mentally checked out of reality, Masaomi heard himself saying, “Sure.”
He leaned in, preparing himself for a kiss that never came. Instead, he felt hands latching onto his sides and the unmistakable ticklish squeeze that came after. He jerked back with a squeak. “Mikado? W-What are you doing?”
Mikado smirked a very un-Mikado like smirk and squeezed again. “Returning the favor.”
Masaomi snorted, squirming as Mikado jabbed his ribs, drilling into the sensitive bone underneath. “Whahahait, Mikahado!”
“Why? Is something wrong?” Hearing his own words used against him only served to increase his already heightened sensitivity. Masaomi fell back in a fit of laughter, trying to push his hands away.
Unfortunately, at that moment he had fallen back onto the slide and both he and Mikado tumbled down, landing with a rough thump in the mulch below.
Mikado sat up, rubbing his backside. “Ouch.”
That single word released a torrent of laughter from both sides and they collapsed into the dark wood chips, clutching their stomachs in mirth. They turned to look at each other, their eyes connecting. “Can I try something else,” Mikado asked shyly.
“Uh, sure,” Masaomi agreed warily, tensing instinctively. “But it better not be more tickling,” he warned hurriedly, as an afterthought.
Mikado chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t worry. I think you’ll like this much better.”
Mikado rolled over, cupping Masaomi’s face. Then it was his turn to lean in, and this time it was exactly what Masaomi thought.
Masaomi had never noticed how soft Mikado’s lips were before. Admittedly, he had never had reason to notice them before that moment. They pulled apart for a moment, an odd euphoria building in them at the way their breath mingled in the air between them. Then Masaomi closed the gap, yearning to feel those soft lips again.
After a moment Mikado pulled away, heart thumping. He was trying to read his friend’s face, see if he had experienced the same breath-taking wonder as him. “So?” he asked nervously. “How was it?”
“Way better,” Masaomi agreed breathlessly. Then he hesitated, scooching closer so their bodies were mashed together. “But just in case, I think we should try it again.”
Mikado smiled, and the smile said he saw through his ruse and that he didn’t mind it. “I’d like that.”
There was a small part of Masaomi’s brain that said, I’m kissing Mikado Ryuugamine, my best friend, but an even larger part of his brain that said, I’m kissing Mikado Ryuugamine, the boy I love, and he’s kissing me back.
Sure, they would have a lot of stuff to work out later, but right now he was content to lay there with his nose pressed against Mikado’s cheek, his hand curved around the small of his back, and not worry about the future. In that moment, all that mattered was each other, and Masaomi was perfectly fine with that.
