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mementoasts · 1 year

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masadai fic that i took too seriously

rating: T word count: 3676 context: that ridiculous chart i made

it’s the fireworks fic woooo. they argue a little, they make out and make up (not really), and they're gonna break up again after a few days anyway bc that’s how they are </3 i mean it, i put too much effort into it until the end when it just becomes a comedy LOL

slapping this bad boy under here ok bye

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A screech rings out into the skies, bringing with it a tranquil moment of anticipation before evolving into a thunderous roar, screaming out from above the resort and blooming into a radiant spread of colors.

Masato sits beside an ornate wooden bench placed near the base of a short, wide tree, its remaining autumnal leaves swaying overhead with the cool breeze. He quietly observes from this lone spot as the vibrant flames rain down and fizzle out, returning darkness to the sky. The faint cheers of awe that drifted his direction die down with the display as the crowd patiently awaits what will come next. The massive group of onlookers are gathered far enough away that Masato can’t see them, and not a soul has passed by since the show commenced.

Two more fireworks are launched upwards, peering down from their peak upon those watching for only a split second before bursting, illuminating the area with their glowing lights. Masato is distracted enough by the sounds and colors that he doesn’t notice anyone approaching, and he jumps in his seat when a white puffer jacket is thrown into his lap.

“Looked cold.”

Daigo passes in front of him, fading lights outlining his figure (making Masato notice he was still wearing his headband, adorned with mouse ears and a polka-dotted bow) as he flops down onto the bench without so much as a glance at Masato. He slouches against the wood with his legs stretched out in front of him, staring outward at the fireworks– now having almost entirely disappeared by now– and seemingly trying to avoid Masato’s intense leer. It’s moderately chilly outside, but all Daigo has on top is a t-shirt from the gift shop. Masato is wearing a thin sweater, at least.

“What, still trying to earn brownie points? Dad’s not here to see,” Masato bites immediately, narrowing his eyes at him. “Don’t bother acting nice to me just because you feel obligated. I really don’t fucking care about it.”

He grabs the jacket and thrusts it back towards Daigo. However, Daigo firmly pushes it away with his forearm, urging Masato to calm down and just keep it. Masato huffs, withdrawing his hand and slipping his arms through the sleeves. “Fine. Whatever. I’m not giving this back.”

A beat passes before Daigo speaks up again, just after another firework explodes in the sky.

“Y’know, believe it or not,” he begins softly, turning his gaze a bit further away, “Sometimes I’m just trying to be nice, Masato. I’m not always going out of my way to piss you off or anything.”

“Just trying to be nice,” Masato repeats, mockingly. “Well, apparently you’re not trying hard enough, because you are just pissing me off.” He sinks into the wheelchair, folding his arms over his chest as he adds, “You’re really good at doing that, actually.”

“Yeah,” Daigo simply agrees, looking down toward the sidewalk. Masato is unable to get a good look at his expression when he flatly says, “I am, aren’t I.”

His reply comes out too easy, too heavy, too exhausted, that Masato is admittedly unable to find the words to form another snide response. He ends up choosing to change the subject, too drained from the day's events to want to dig any deeper. “...Why the hell are you over here anyway? Everyone else is standing down there to watch the fireworks.”

Daigo inhales slowly, raising his head back up. “Honestly, I thought you’d be back at the hotel, so I just, uh,” he trails off for a second, rubbing the back of his neck, “tried looking around for a place outside to chill by myself for a while. But then I spotted you up here, so…”

“You can just leave.”

“I know.” Daigo peeks over, meeting Masato’s dark eyes for a brief moment before looking away again, but remaining facing him. “And, I… I don’t know. I guess I was just surprised to see you, so I ended up coming up here anyway. Figured it wouldn't be too bad watching the fireworks with the only other person here who doesn't wanna be down there with the crowd.”

"Thought you were having fun with the rest of them?" Masato replies. "You like hanging around Dad and Ichi enough that you even came on this stupid trip to begin with."

Daigo shakes his head at Masato’s words. "I don't think I'm ever going to understand what your problem with them is."

"There's no point in me trying to explain it," Masato cuts in like a knife. "I don't expect you to ever get it."

"I'd like to get it. With how you used to describe him to me, I imagined that he'd just be a huge prick, but I don't think Arakawa-san is like that at all."

Masato is already trying to tune him out. Daigo wasn't going to convince him. He just doesn't understand.

"He's a much better man than my father ever was, that's for sure. He was just a piece of shit. Even you would have agreed with me on that one," says Daigo, bitterly. "And there's also– ugh, whatever. Nevermind.”

He groans as an unsavory memory surfaces, hunching over in his seat and clasping his hands together over his knees. Masato can tell that he is itching for a cigarette– he'd barely had the opportunity to smoke all week– but they've spent enough time with one another that he's grown used to not smoking around Masato.

“We are not doing this right now... Listen. I think Arakawa-san is great. He's been good to me. And I really like spending time with Kasuga, too– but I'm just trying to say that I can still want to be alone sometimes."

"Alone with me?" Masato scoffs, tone pitching up with a hint of dry amusement.

That finally gets Daigo fully looking his way. “Shut up,” he grunts, shifting so that he's turned toward Masato, knee pressed against the metal arm of the bench. He props his elbow on it, resting his chin against the palm of his hand, and gives Masato a miffed look. "I just wanted to tell you something, and I thought this’d be a decent time to try doing that, okay? I haven’t been able to get you alone the entire time we’ve been here.”

“Uh-huh?” Masato says, raising a neatly plucked eyebrow at him. “Go ahead then, I’m all ears. Doubt this could put me in any worse of a mood.” Another firework goes off.

“Now I feel like I shouldn’t have come up here at all,” Daigo grumbles, expression twisting into a scowl. “Look, I just figured I’d say sorry for showing up. It didn’t feel right to refuse the invitation just because of–” he gestures between himself and Masato with his other hand, “–you know.”

"Yeah, I know. You're obviously not here for me. It's not hurting my feelings." An icy gust of air passes over them, matching his harsh tone. Masato suppresses a shiver, begrudgingly moving to put the jacket on properly and wishing he'd brought his own. (He pays no mind to how much it smelled of Daigo's cologne.)

"I'm not not here for you though," Daigo tries.

"Right, and that's why you've been avoiding me."

Daigo rolls his eyes. "You've been avoiding me too, jackass. I just didn't want to make this trip any worse for you than it already has been. I've had a little fun with those two, but I know you just hate all of this."

Masato clicks his tongue, frowning. Another firework. "Don't pretend to know how I feel, because you don't have any idea."

"In regards to this trip, specifically? I'm pretty damn sure you hate every part of it," Daigo states, matter-of-factly. "I don't know why you have to act like I don't even know that much about you."

"Because you don't," Masato emphasizes, not backing down. He wouldn't admit it to Daigo (or himself) that he was correct, even if, somewhere deeper down, Masato did know it was true.

"In that case, then maybe I would, if you would just let me," Daigo says, raising his voice in frustration. "I want to know you better because I like you, Masato. You're actually someone worth spending any time with in fucking Kamurocho."

Another, another, and another, erupting against the moonless canvas one by one.

Masato couldn't care less about deescalating this conversation; truthfully, he tends to enjoy seeing Daigo get worked up. He doesn't care about what Daigo is saying, and he doesn't think it will amount to anything when all is said and done. They could bicker for hours into the night, both of them usually too stubborn to stand down after being provoked.

Usually. So maybe Masato can blame it on the fact he's had such a long, shitty day that he also doesn't try pressing any further into that particular topic, for once. Nothing more.

"Seriously?" he eventually says, voice quiet and somber. He pauses, allowing another row of fireworks to spring up and fill the theme park with their deafening roars. "You can still say you like me, even after what happened?"

"I–" Daigo appears partially startled by Masato's question, most likely because he expected this to devolve into a full blown argument. "You're stupid," he huffs, quickly tacking on, "We both are. And we keep fighting over stupid fucking shit. But..." he trails off for a moment. "You’re still, y'know. Important. I still care about you."

Masato almost laughs. "Is all this some roundabout way for you to ask that we get back together?"

"Well– I mean–" Daigo stammers, suddenly sheepish. "No, not necessarily. I'm just trying to be honest. It’s still kind of nice being around you."

"Nice enough that you'd hike all the way up here and watch fireworks with me with no one else around, apparently," Masato says, now blatantly teasing Daigo. "Even after you were the one who broke up with me this time."

"God, fuck off," he sighs, though it held no malice. He runs a hand through his messy hair, getting visibly more flustered when it’s clear that he’s forgotten he was wearing a headband. He removes it, placing it on the bench beside him. "I was really pissed. That's also part of why I wanted to talk to you tonight."

"Uh-huh."

Their bantering continues for a few minutes now that they've both simmered down and steered the conversation away from the actual issues. (They could calmly talk through them some other night, surely. Definitely. Totally).

Eventually, they settle into a comfortable silence. They stay somewhat attentive to the view, watching with mild interest as the shapes of mascots take form in the otherwise empty sky and trickle down into specks of color.

"Have you ever watched the fireworks show they do in Theater Square every year?" Daigo pipes up again. "The one the city puts on to celebrate New Years."

"Can't say I have." Unsurprisingly, Masato had always turned down his father's invitations until he stopped asking altogether. The closest he'd ever been was catching a glimpse through the curtains of his apartment window and drowning them out by blasting heavy metal.

"I haven't for a couple of years, but uh... back when he was still around, a close friend of mine used to take me when I was younger. Obviously weren't as impressive as these, but they felt more… special I guess? I don't know." Daigo sticks his hands into the pockets of his black jeans, looking off to the side in thought. "...Wanna check it out with me next time?"

Masato attempts to muffle his laugh into the collar of the jacket, failing the more he realizes what Daigo is asking. "I haven't agreed to anything yet, and you're already asking me out on another date? On my goddamn birthday, too? That's cheesy as hell."

It's much too dim where they are sitting for Masato to actually see, but judging from Daigo's unsteady tone, he has to be flushed a pretty shade of scarlet all the way to the tips of his ears from embarrassment. "Fucking– I forgot about that, okay! I was just thinking about the fireworks!" Masato only laughs harder.

It's a rare sight.

Daigo ends up muttering his name as he watches, stricken with the realization that he’d ever seen Masato laughing so much in the past. Never this… real, either.

"Masato…"

Masato dabs at the corners of his eyes with his sleeve, trying to relax before he ends up giving himself a coughing fit. Another firework briefly grabs his attention, the sound of it nearly suppressing his breathy tone as he asks, "Yeah?" He turns back too quickly and finds himself mere inches away from Daigo's face, meeting his widened gaze straight on.

From their close proximity, Masato is rendered speechless as he watches the fireworks' sparks cast their muted hues across Daigo's features, painting him in a mixture of colors until they vanish, the last traces of them trailing along his cheekbones and down toward chapped, parted lips.

Perhaps Daigo was seeing a similar view as well, because they're both leaning forward almost simultaneously.

What starts as something that could almost be considered soft or meek devolves quickly, becoming feverish as it deepens. That's always how it goes– making out usually solves whatever they’re going through. (Was anything really solved, though? Well, it didn’t matter right now either way.)

Masato takes the lead– again, that’s how it tends to go. Daigo is more than happy to cooperate when Masato bites down harshly, his tongue delving into the warmth of Daigo’s mouth, prodding against a familiar piercing and drawing a long moan out of Daigo. Daigo slowly shifts in his seat, getting into a better position to bridge the space between the bench and wheelchair. Masato can’t readjust as easily, keeping his head tilted at an awkward angle.

“Hey,” Masato exhales, managing to break away in order to ask, “could you–”

But Daigo has already leaned back in, reclaiming Masato’s lips and causing him to grunt in weak annoyance. Daigo smiles against him at the reaction, opening his eyes halfway when he draws away again. He hums lightheartedly in acknowledgment, already getting up to stand in front of Masato. He bends down, allowing Masato to wrap an arm around Daigo’s shoulders. In turn, Daigo begins to lift him up, grabbing him by the waist and assisting him toward the bench. When Masato is seated, Daigo doesn’t hesitate to climb onto the bench as well, placing his knees on either side of Masato’s thighs and settling down nicely onto his lap. Masato automatically places a hand on Daigo’s hips, giving a light squeeze before traveling around to his backside, slipping under his shirt and eliciting a sharp gasp from Daigo as he jerks away.

“Shit, your hand is fucking cold,” he hisses, his own hands wandering up against Masato’s chest, underneath the white jacket.

"Because it is kinda fucking cold out here." Masato’s hand inches higher, the pads of his fingers almost ticklish with the way they skim across Daigo's inked skin.

Daigo sighs, cupping Masato's face with his hands and tilting his head up to continue their kiss. "And you still just had to bitch at me for the jacket anyway."

Somewhere behind them, the fireworks are ramping up towards the finale, signified by the increasing frequency and intensity. Daigo and Masato are too preoccupied to pay mind to it anymore, fully engrossed in every pleasing sound and movement the other makes.

There’s a twinkle in Daigo’s eyes, hotter and brighter than the spread of fireworks shimmering behind him, when he pulls away to catch his breath. “Isn’t this romantic?” he jokes, once he’s able to speak. “Us two pieces of shit making out during the fucking Disney fireworks show.”

Masato smirks back at him, still breathing heavily. “It’s fitting. You should just admit that you only came out here because you’ve missed having my hands all over you.”

“I’m sure you’d love to hear that.”

"Because I know you’d hate having to say it.” Masato ducks down into the crook of Daigo’s neck, lavishing the sensitive skin with quick pecks and nibbles as Daigo lifts his head to grant Masato better access. “But I could probably make you. Maybe we should go back to the hotel," he suggests in between kisses. "Make the most out of our last night here." He punctuates it by sinking his teeth in just above Daigo's collarbone, dragging a pleased whine from Daigo's lips.

It’s nothing if not a miracle when Daigo happens to open his eyes.

From a notable distance, he notices a lone figure briskly making its way toward where they were sitting from the direction of the hotel. The figure, too far for Daigo to make out any distinct features, seems to be looking around as though searching for something. It only takes a few more seconds for it to dawn on Daigo that this person was very likely to be out there looking for someone.

“Oh my god,” Daigo utters, pulling away abruptly. Masato chases after his jawline for a moment before opening his eyes as well, peering up at Daigo in mild irritation.

“What?” he sighs, turning his head around to follow Daigo’s panicked gaze.

“That’s Sawashiro.”

Squinting, Masato boredly responds, “Yeah? So? Let him come over here. It’ll be funny.”

Sawashiro’s silhouette stills briefly, appearing to have spotted Daigo and Masato. Daigo isn’t sure he knows it’s the two of them on the bench, but he doesn’t want to stick around to find out.

“No,” Daigo whispers, still keeping his voice down as if Sawashiro could possibly hear him from this distance, “no no no.” In the blink of an eye, he’s standing up and wrapping his arms around Masato, carefully but urgently picking him up and sitting him back into the wheelchair before circling around it, grabbing the handles, and running down the sidewalk as fast as he is able.

“What the fuck?!” Masato exclaims, holding on to the arms of the wheelchair as he lifts his head up, giving Daigo a bewildered look. “Holy shit, what is wrong with you?!”

“Did you tell him you were going back to your room!” Daigo shouts frantically.

“Wh– I did, yeah! Because I didn’t want him hovering around me for the rest of the night!”

The fireworks have reached their climax. An array of them, all different colors and shapes, bombard the empty night sky, keeping the area solidly lit for a long enough period that there was no way Sawashiro hadn’t identified them by now. Daigo clings to the faint sliver of hope that he hadn’t: they could just be a different pair of gloomy guys! He dares to toss his gaze over his shoulder, and when he does, he finds that Sawashiro had broken out into a complete sprint.

“Dojima!” he yells at their retreating figures.

Daigo runs even faster, despite Masato’s growing complaints– and for once, he had every right to be upset. “Daigo!”

“How have you not noticed!” Daigo pants, responding to Masato’s previous question.

“Noticed what!”

“The captain wants me dead!”

“Why the fuck would he want you dead!” “I don’t have any fucking clue!”

The two of them continue to scream at each other while Sawashiro remains hot on their tail. With the show now being practically over, members of the audience have begun making their way back up the hill, preparing to turn in for the night. Daigo veers off of the main street, taking the both of them down an adjacent path and seeking shelter behind a decorative building. He leans against the wall, breathing heavily, risking a peek around the corner to see if Sawashiro kept up– and behold, Daigo is met with–

“Kasuga!?”

Ichiban stares at him, wide-eyed like he had just seen a ghost. “Uh, hey!” he greets with a forced smile, very clearly puzzled. “I thought I saw you! Um,” he steps around Daigo, nodding his head at Masato, “and hello to you too, young master. Could I, uh, ask what… you two are doing? I saw you guys run through the square all the way over here.”

“I’d also love to know what we’re doing here, Daigo,” Masato gripes.

Daigo grabs Ichiban by the shoulders, tugging him behind the corner and out of view. “I’ll explain later. Kasuga, have you seen the captain, by any chance?”

“Captain Sawashiro? Uh, yeah, he’s over there talking to Arakawa-san.” He points out toward the main street. No more than a handful of meters away, slightly obscured by the passing crowd of people, are Arakawa and Sawashiro speaking to one another. Arakawa gestures to the general direction of where the three of them were presently hiding. “We were just leaving the show together when we spotted you guys, and then the captain showed up at the same time.”

Daigo curses beneath his breath. “Kasuga, could you keep them distracted for me? We need to get back to the hotel.” “We?”

“Yes, we, because if we don’t convince him that you were there by yourself the whole time, he’s going to kill me.”

“You have lost your fucking mind.”

Daigo ignores his comment, patting Ichiban on the shoulder and flashing a charming grin. “I owe you big time, Kasuga!”

“Wh– wait!” But before Ichiban could inquire any further, Daigo and Masato were already making their way down the narrow street. Suddenly, a hand lands on his shoulder, making him jump right out of his skin.

“Ichi? Did you see them?” Arakawa looks at him curiously.

Sawashiro stands behind him, staring through his soul like he knows Ichiban is hiding something. “You remember what you and I discussed, right, Ichiban?”

“A-ahahah, of course! No, I didn’t see Dojima or the young master! It was probably just my wild imagination!” he laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his head.

This was going to be a long rest of the night for everybody.

*the episode ends. silly outro music plays and the credits roll*

#the void given form #I GOT TOO EXCITED BY PLUSHIES EARLIER TO FINISH THIS BUT I FINALLY CALMED DOWN #not tagging it not putting it on ao3 (probably) i'm just hoping the masadai fans see this and hoping they maybe like it LOL #its bc i put actual effort into this that i feel so embarrassed sfkjshfhjds I DUNNO I DUNNO IT'S LIKE. AAAAAAAAAA it's soooo aaaaaaaa #there's so much i wanna get across and it's hard i hate writing /weeps #sorry it's kinda word heavy it's bc i was just visualizing this as a comic in my head (i quickly realized Oh this is a Lot i cannot draw it)#er dialogue heavy i mean #I WANTED TO MAKE IT SILLY BUT THEN I WAS LIKE no it'd be annoying if this whole thing was a joke. so what if i --#im leaving the internet now goodbye

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