When I get home, I’m greeted by Junichi, Daiki, and Magnus’s laughter while they sit at a kitchen table covered in plastic wrappers, snacks, and beer cans. Before going back to my room, I stop to prepare some rice. The first thing I do after taking my rice bag out of its cupboard is open it to peek inside. No foreign objects today. Phew. I wonder how long I’ll feel the need to double-check it every time I need to make rice. When can I cook in peace again? It’s all because of stupid Shun.

Stupid Shun.

After pouring a cup of rice into the cooker, I turn to look at the guys at the table. They’re all grinning, absorbed in one of Junichi’s funny stories.

“Hey, guys?” I interrupt.

They each turn their attention to me.

“Have any of you seen Shun at all today?” I query.

“Shun?” Magnus repeats as the three exchange looks.

“Haven’t seen him,” Junichi answers.

“Me neither.” Daiki shakes his head.

“Me neither. I’ve been out most of the day,” Magnus says.

“Oh, okay.” I turn back around to finish what I’m doing. The three of them also go back to their conversation.

I guess it’s not that odd to go an entire day without running into most of our roommates, so I’m not sure why I even asked.

On my way down the hall, I can’t help but peek at Shun’s closed door. Inside my room, I sit down for the first time in hours and pull my computer onto my lap. The paused screen of the show I had been watching the previous night is the first thing I see after opening it. I cover my ears with headphones to drown out the sound of the guys in the kitchen.

I use the comedy show to overwrite intruding thoughts until its ending theme song plays. Closing my laptop and taking off my headphones, I realize the sounds from the kitchen are gone. I should probably check on my rice.

Emerging from my room, I am yet again stopped by the door across the hallway. I watch it while I slowly close mine as if I’m expecting it to move. Is he even in his room? He could have gone out at some point. I turn to head down the hallway, but my feet don’t budge. This weird nagging feeling is driving me crazy.

Finally, I give in and approach Shun’s door. I create a fist, but let it hover over the white wood for a few seconds before convincing it to knock. The tapping sound of my knuckles makes my heart stop. Should I say something to accompany it? I wait for a reaction but there’s only silence.

“Shun?” I call, raising my hand to knock again, but the door begins to swing away from me before I can. Shun appears on the other side. At least, I think it’s Shun. I’ve never seen his face so pale. There are bags under his eyes and the color in his lips is gone. Even his choker is absent.
For a moment, I stare at him while trying to remember why I’m here.

“A-are you okay?” I ask.

He says nothing and leans his head against the edge of his door as if it’s too heavy for him to keep upright. He closes his eyes.

“Are you sick?” I try again.

“No.” His voice is small.

Alarmed by his abnormal appearance and behavior, I don’t know what to say. I just end up staring at him until he opens his eyes again.

“Have you been in your room all day?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he nods.

I pause again. Did he ever even come out to eat? Should I ask? Or should I not pry into his business?

“Did you need something?” he asks.

“Have you eaten?” The question tumbles out.

He looks away and mumbles, “No.”

Just as I thought.

“Okay, hang tight,” I order.

I leave him standing in his doorway as I run down the hallway for the kitchen. I stir my rice before opening the fridge. I push the other guys’ stuff around a bit before concluding I have everything I need for cream stew.

I’m in the kitchen for maybe half an hour before I’ve served up two dishes of stew with rice. I carry the plates back to Shun’s door but find it closed again.

“Shun!” I call out, unable to knock with my hands full.

It’s not long before the door creaks open. Shun’s lifeless eyes widen when they fixate on the food.

“Do you want some stew?” I ask.

“You made it?” he asks, surprise taking over his face.

“Yep,” I nod, my smile probably giving away how proud I am of myself.

He just stares at it.

“Here,” I say, holding out a plate.

He cuffs the edges of it with his hands. “Thank you.”

“No problem!” I reply, ready to turn around.

“Makoto,” he says softly.

“Yeah?”

He looks like he has words ready in his mouth, but his lips don’t move.

“Yeah?” I try again.

“Can we eat together?” he asks.

It takes a moment for his words to register in my head. I hesitate for a second before saying, “Sure.”

Shun opens his door wider and backs away to signal I can go in.

“You want to eat in your room?” I ask.

“You don’t want to?” He starts to look timid.

“It’s okay,” I give in, moving forward and into his room. I feel awkward going inside but know if I could live through it the last time I ended up here, I can this time, too.

Shun uses a hand to clear space on his desk.

“You can sit here,” he says, pointing to his chair.

“Thanks.”

He sits at the foot of his bed, holding his plate in one hand and grabbing the spoon with the other. I place my food on the desk and sit sideways in the chair to partially face him. The room grows silent apart from the sound of spoons clanking against plates. I steal glances at him here and there. He’s wearing his choker now, despite still being dressed down. Does he really wear it all the time because of his boyfriend? The guy must be a control freak.

I toss the thought aside as I watch him chew quietly with his eyes pointed downward. More than anything, I’m just relieved to see the color returning to his face.

“Makoto,” he suddenly calls my name.

“Ah?” I respond, my mouth still full.

“You’re not used to cooking, are you?”

I quickly swallow and give him a dirty look.

“I make you food and you complain about it? Be quiet and eat, you ungrateful turd,” I snarl.

Shun’s face lights up and he laughs like a child would at a silly joke. The sound and look of him quickly replace my irritation with a sense of ease. I find myself watching him until his laughter dies down.

“You eat slow,” I complain, placing my elbow on the back of his chair and resting my head in my hand.

“You eat fast,” he retorts before putting another spoonful of rice in his mouth.

Somehow, it’s pleasing to watch him finish the entire dish. He looks satisfied despite his previous comment about the taste. Holding the empty plate in his lap, he mumbles something.

“What?” I ask.

“Thank you for making me food,” he says quietly, his face still pointed downward as he fidgets with the spoon.

I want to say it’s no big deal, but the words are caught in my throat. Why do I feel so amused watching him like this? I want to keep watching him looking shy and embarrassed and keep the words to myself as a result.

“Why are you being nice to me?” he asks.

Suddenly the embarrassment rebounds. I sit up in and look for an excuse. I can’t tell him I was worried about him.

“Is it because you want to touch my thighs?” He looks up at me with a cunning smile.

“What?!” I automatically exclaim. “No! I’m not interested in that!”

Why is my face getting warm?

He laughs again. Does he just want to annoy me? I look around, trying to think of a way to change the subject. My eyes settle on the instrument propped up against his mirror.

“Do you play ukulele?” I ask.

“Ukulele?” he repeats, following my gaze. “Oh, that?”

He sets his dish aside and walks over to it. He tries to grab it by its neck but misses and accidentally knocks it over, failing to try and catch it before it falls on its side, the strings reverberating glumly.

“What are you doing?” I snicker.

What’s with all this clumsiness lately? Has he always been such a klutz?

After retrieving the ukulele from the ground, Shun sits back down on his bed with it in his lap. He holds it in front of him in a playing position before looking up at me with another small smile.

“I can’t actually play,” he admits.

“You can’t?” I shout, pretending I’m about to fall off the chair.

“I just bought it as a souvenir for myself when I went to Hawaii. I never tried to play it.”

I hold out my hand. “Can I see it?”

I turn my chair to face him while cradling the ukulele to my chest. Feeling around the chords a bit, my fingers automatically remember where to position themselves. I begin to strum and sing.

"Listen to the sound of the waves
Feel the warm sand on your feet
When was the last time,
You sat back and looked at the blue sky?
Let's take our time
Forgetting our worries of yesterday,
I head toward the light blue horizon with you
Hey, tell me again why,
We had been rushing so hard
In order to realize happiness,
We need to stop and try to feel it
Let's take it slow today,
And enjoy this moment together
On the cold nights when nothing goes right,
Your smile is warmer than any summer day
When I just want to give up on everything,
You become the gentle waves that pull me back to shore
Your laughter as you splash me with water
Makes me want to stay this way forever with you"

I look up from my hands to find Shun gaping at me. The expression makes me laugh.

“You can play the ukulele?” he exclaims.

“I can play this song,” I clarify.

“That is so cool!”

I grin, fancying the praise.

“How did you learn?” he asks excitedly.

“A friend back home showed me,” I say as I hold the ukulele out to him. “I actually used to take guitar lessons with him. He had a ukulele at home and taught me this song.”

“You play guitar too?”

He’s so hyped up. I’ve never seen him look so animated over anything before.

“Yeah, sometimes. I’m not that good at it, though,” I add.

“How did you do it again?” He holds his ukulele in a playing position and wiggles his fingers around the fretboard. “How do you play the first note?”

“Put your ring finger on the third fret of the bottom string,” I say.

“The third what?” He looks up at me, puzzled.

I stand. “Scooch over.”

Shun moves over so I can sit next to him on his bed. I point to the fret I mentioned.

“This one. Put your ring finger here.”

He places his finger over the bottom string.

“Now try the strings with your other hand,” I instruct.

He runs his fingers over the strings once, letting them resonate.

“There. That’s a C chord.”

“That’s not hard,” he comments, his face lighting up as he looks at me for confirmation.

“Now try strumming like I did,” I say, finding myself smiling back at him.

He runs his pointer finger down the strings over and over. “Like this?”

“Not just down, but up, too,” I say.

“Up?” He runs his finger up and down the chords several times in an awkward rhythm.

“Remember the way I played it? Try that.”

He has a troubled look on his face as he continues with an even more awkward rhythm.

“No.” I begin motioning the rhythm with my hand in front of me. “Like this.”

Shun looks at my hand and tries to mimic it with his own, but misses some of the strings. I can’t stop smiling at the way he struggles. The ukulele bobs up and down while he tries with all his might.

“Here, try this,” I say, moving closer to push the ukulele body down until it sits on his lap. “It might be better to hold it like this for now.”

He strums again, but it’s still out of rhythm. I reach across his chest and grab his right hand, guiding it in the proper motion.

“Like this,” I say.

His hand is soft and warm as I help him create a good strumming sound.

“Try not to twist your wrist,” I advise.

When his hand begins to move on its own, I let go but continue to lean over his shoulder to watch. A pleasant-sounding C note resonates through the room.

“There you go!” I encourage him. “You got it!”

He strums a little more before turning his head to grin at me. Both of us flinch when we realize how close our faces are. His smile fades slowly, but he doesn’t look away. His dark eyes stare straight into mine. I’m holding my breath when suddenly, a weird feeling develops in my chest. It’s warm, heavy, and uncomfortable, all at the same time. Overwhelmed by it, I flick my head away from him and stand up quickly.

“I think you got it, so I’m gonna go now,” I declare, reaching for Shun’s plate and stacking my own on top of it.

I can feel his eyes on me while the ukulele sits silently in his lap.

“Okay, thanks for making me dinner,” he says in a small voice.

“Yep,” I answer, unable to look him in the eye before leaving the room and closing the door behind me.

I approach the kitchen sink and zone out while my hands automatically wash the dishes. I can’t get the image of Shun’s face in front of me out of my head as I try to scrub the feeling of his soft hand off of mine. I feel like I’ve been soiled, contaminated, tainted by those eyes, and the more I think about it, the more that weird feeling swells in my chest. But I can’t stop. My mind keeps replaying it like an awkward chord.

I avoid looking at Shun’s door when passing by it again. I flop onto my bed, face down. Feeling my phone vibrate in my pocket, I pull it out to see who has messaged me. It’s Yuki. Cute Yuki. Yuki, whose five-minute presence was the highlight of my day.

Yuki
Hahahaha 😹
What r u trying to say??

What? Did I say something that came off as weird? I look at my last message.

Makoto
Yeah!
I have 2 cars back gone

Weird. I remember typing “I have 2 cats back home.”

I message her back, careful not to make any typos this time. Immediately after pressing send, ‘Read’ appears next to my bubble. I keep the LIME chat open in anticipation of a new message, which appears within seconds.

Haha 😹
Nice typo
Btw i met Tamura for the first time today
Hes just as bad as u said he'd be 😾

Makoto
Yeah he takes some getting used to 😅
Dont let his unnecessary comments get
to u!

Yuki
Yeah i won't 😿
I wish we could have more shifts together
I have the most fun when im working with u

My heart stops for a second after I read her last message. I re-read it once, then again. Could it be? Is she implying that she might possibly have a thing for me? I know it’s probably too early to get excited, but damn, I’m excited! I type out a reply before deleting it and retyping. I repeat this several times before settling on something. Is this too generic? But I don’t want to go too crazy yet. Simple is best, right? I hit send.