Chapter Text
Heaving a heavy sigh, Mishima Naoya realised he’d ended up in a predicament. He’d missed the last train, he was unimaginably drunk, and he sat at the end of some alley, dishevelled, leaning against the wall, waiting to sober up enough to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do.
As he sat there, he idly wondered how he’d ended up the stereotypical salary man drunkard despite not being the type to enjoy drinking.
At his previous branch office, he was used to receiving consideration from his coworkers and manager. They’d let him off the hook because he was slender and sensitive to alcohol. The evenings hadn’t been this long, and no one had expected him to drink much, especially not in the middle of the week. Unfortunately, his new boss ignored all of this and expected mandatory participation.
Having just moved here, Naoya didn’t know anyone he could call to come and get him. Even if he had, he wondered if he’d been able to use the phone in his current condition.
His cheeks felt flushed, and he was hot, so he tried to open the top two buttons of his shirt, but his fingers would not cooperate.
Somewhere at the back of his mind Naoya knew he was in no condition to be out here alone, but his colleagues had forgotten about him when he’d gone into the restroom, and, when he’d come back out, there had been no one around to make sure he was all right.
They didn’t really know him, so they’d probably assumed he was fine by himself, but he was currently the textbook prime target for theft, unable to keep track of his possessions or fight back if anything happened.
Thankfully, his briefcase didn’t hold anything incredibly important, so if someone stole it, at least he wouldn’t be responsible for leaking any critical corporate secrets. He’d only lose his phone, his wallet and perhaps his keys.
He wasn’t sure where his keys were. Maybe they were still on him somewhere…?
Teetering at the brink of almost passing out, Naoya hardly paid attention to his surroundings, but he eventually became aware of someone approaching him and trying to make contact.
Whatever they said, Naoya couldn't form a coherent reply. He assumed this was a robbery, though, so he made an effort to defend himself by flailing his arms around a few times before feeling too dizzy and giving up.
Whatever. None of it made a difference. He might as well let himself have the nap he was craving. To hell with the rest of the world.
Naoya woke up to his phone’s alarm, as usual, albeit after it must have already been ringing for a while. He knew he was going to be late for work, and there was a sense of dread and panic that went along with that realisation, but first and foremost, where the hell was this? He looked around himself.
A hotel room? On the desk, there lay a tray with a light breakfast. His clothes were neatly folded over the back of a chair. His belongings were placed where he could readily find them. He was fairly certain he’d vomited the night before, but there were no signs of that ever happening.
He could not for the life of him recall the details. There was no memory beyond the vague recollection that he’d sat somewhere drunk out of his mind.
Naoya got out of bed and took a few tentative sips of coffee from a cup on the breakfast tray. He was in no mood for breakfast, and the coffee was probably not a good idea, but he needed the caffeine.
He got dressed and hurried downstairs—if in these circumstances any of his movements could be described as hurrying.
It was a proper hotel. His heart sank as he wondered how expensive this was going to be. He should have been happy that he had his phone and his wallet, but a hotel like this could easily be more than his daily wage. More than double, if not three days worth. He avoided spending that much even when he was on a holiday.
Naoya made his way to the reception and reluctantly requested check out.
“We hope you had a pleasant stay,” the receptionist said with a bright service smile.
There was no talk of the bill, so Naoya assumed whoever had been gracious enough to bring him here, had already given the credit card information at check-in, and he would have to check his bank statements to find out the full extent of the damage.
Dejected, but glad to be alive and almost on schedule, Naoya hurried to go to work.
The second day of work was too hectic for Naoya to check how much the hotel had cost, so when he was again invited to drink after work, he could sense a horrible, horrible pattern and feared indeed for his finances.
If he ended up in that condition again, and in another hotel, what was the use of having an apartment and paying rent? He was already exhausted from the night before but had no choice but to go.
As the evening progressed, Naoya realised to his growing horror that his boss was rapidly becoming more and more fond of him and insisted on having him close by for whatever entertainment he was in the mood for. There was no chance of escaping to the restroom to sober up from time to time. He was going to have to improve his tolerance or die trying.
The third day it wasn’t his boss he had to keep company but an important client.
Fourth day was a going-away party for a coworker.
On all of these three occasions, Naoya ended up hammered and stranded somewhere, only to wake up miraculously in a hotel room the following morning. To top it off, there were no withdrawals from his card. Someone had paid for all of it for him.
On Friday, Naoya vowed he would find a way to not drink as much, even when he was invited to another outing.
This time it was bar-hopping with a client—again something he could not skip no matter how much he wanted to. He was emotionally very invested, though, to find out who it was that came to his rescue despite him passing out at different locations. It had to be someone from the office or someone attending the same events. Only other explanation was that he had a stalker, and he’d rather not entertain that possibility.
Naoya got almost as drunk as the previous times and found himself in an alleyway, unable to see straight. He’d managed to somehow procure a bottle of water from a vending machine and tried to open it. It was frustratingly difficult, but, after a good ten minutes of trying, he finally twisted the top off.
Ah, water tasted so good! He drank half of it in one go.
It was annoying to think that if he were just a little bit better built, he wouldn’t have to be where he was right now. Maybe he could have made it on the last train on time. Maybe he would have dared to refuse some of the drinks he was served.
If this persisted, his health would deteriorate to the point where he would be forced to quit, and if he quit, who would hire him? He was lucky to even have this job.
“This is not good for you,” someone said.
Naoya tried to focus on where he’d heard the voice. It was a man, but that was about as much as he could tell.
“It’sh not like I’m doin’ it on purrr—s.” He was proud of himself for forming an actual answer, even if he’d bitten his tongue struggling with the r.
The stranger helped him up with ease despite Naoya having no sense of balance and being unable to help at all.
“Oh, are you going to try to walk this time?” The man lifted Naoya’s arm over his shoulder.
Naoya snorted and laughed drunkenly. “I wouldn’t be hhh-here if I could!” He leaned on the man and grabbed a hold of his sleeve to avoid falling over.
“Good thing you’re not heavy,” the man muttered and half-carried Naoya from the alleyway.
“Wh-here are you takin’ me?”
“You’re talkative today.”
“Whhho are you?”
“Shh, stop talking and concentrate on walking.”
Naoya tried to cooperate, but his feet were in deep disagreement with his head. He was incredibly relieved when they reached what looked to be another relatively upclass hotel.
Too tired to comment or keep up with any of it, Naoya let himself be hoisted onto a bed in one of the rooms. The stranger pulled his shoes, socks and trousers off and loosened his tie. Naoya was appreciative to be rid of the clothes and be tucked in under the covers.
“Do I know you fromm somehwhere?” he asked.
“No.” The man used a moist towel to wash Naoya’s face. It felt pleasantly cool. He was sad when the man stopped.
“Then hy-whey are you hhelping me?”
“Drink this.” The man offered him the rest of his water. “You should sleep.”
“I’m sure I’ve sheen you someherr…”
“Sleep.”
Naoya was thankful to have the weekend off to recuperate. He spent most of it in bed.
Next week’s schedule had to be slightly less awful since there were no office parties, and he had a lot of pending paperwork. He’d have an excuse for at least a day or two to not attend anything after work.
On Monday, he found himself in the gutter. Tuesday and Wednesday were packed with work, and he actually slept at home for two nights. Thursday was a complete disaster that he could remember nothing about, and on Friday, he was pulled along to a staff karaoke party.
Having learned from his past mistakes, Naoya was finally getting slightly better at pretending to drink. By the end of the night, he was drunk, but not nearly as badly as the times before. He was actually hoping to not miss the train this time.
It was only nine o’clock when Naoya managed to escape the karaoke booth with a mild buzz from the last drink. It was raining, but he didn’t feel cold. He hadn’t brought an umbrella and was quickly soaked, but it didn’t matter much, since it was a mere five-minute walk to the train station. More likely ten for him, but not a long way, regardless. The train ride was less than twenty-five minutes and, with another ten or so minutes from the station to his apartment, he would be home in less than 45 minutes. Probably.
The rain felt rather nice, at least to begin with. He walked past the alley he’d previously passed out in twice, and a thought came to him. He was not in a hurry, yet, was he…?
He sat down on a bench, leaned back and closed his eyes. He let the rain wash his face for a while and enjoyed, for once, the comfortable drunken buzz, knowing that he would not have to drink anything more, and thus didn’t have to worry about being rendered defenceless.
After five minutes of rest, the rain seemed to stop. Naoya opened his eyes to look up. It was an umbrella.
Quicker than expected, unless this was a surprisingly considerate mugger.
He followed the umbrella to the hand and arm holding it, and, with some lag, to the face of the holder.
“Hello.” He gave the man a bit of a rare smile. This seemed to startle him, and he frowned at Naoya.
“You’re soaking wet,” the umbrella man noted. He looked displeased, but he had the sort of face that didn’t reveal much besides discontent.
Naoya was sure he’d seen this person somewhere before, at work perhaps, maybe in another department but working in the same building? Presumably not a stalker then. That was a relief.
Since Naoya didn’t respond, the umbrella man helped him up in his usual manner. Having sat in the rain for some minutes, the hotel now seemed increasingly alluring, so Naoya let himself be half-carried away again from the alley.
It was the same hotel from a few of the previous times, but it looked a little different in this lighting. Naoya remembered it best from the mornings he’d rushed out, so it felt odd to be sober enough to see it lit in the dark.
His benefactor helped him take a seat while he took care of the check-in, then helped him into the lift.
The receptionist hadn’t asked any questions, but since this wasn’t the first time, the umbrella man had probably given an explanation the first few times.
For a moment, Naoya felt ashamed of himself for having already been in this situation so many times. Then he was distracted by their arrival to the room.
It was unexpectedly embarrassing to be treated like he was drunk senseless when he still had some wits about him. As a passing thought, Naoya wished he’d had another beer to help him get through it.
When he sat at the end of the bed, he realised he was going to be undressed and taken care of by what was essentially a complete stranger. It seemed silly to allow it, so he opened his mouth to decline.
“Ah, I appreciate this, but I think I can do the rest myself.” As nice as it was to be pampered, it was a tad too embarrassing.
The umbrella man was clearly taken aback by this comment, but it was to be expected, considering how drunk Naoya had been the previous times.
“I’m not drunk. I didn’t mean to deceive you.” Naoya tried to gauge how upset he was. He didn’t look happy, that was for sure.
“You’re not?”
“Well, I am, but not like before.”
“You should stop drinking so much; it isn’t healthy.”
“Oh, it’s not that I drink a lot,” Naoya wanted to defend himself, “I have a lousy tolerance for alcohol.”
The man looked sceptical, so Naoya added, “that, and I guess I drink too much. But it’s for work. It can’t be helped.” He wouldn’t have loathed it so much if he could have done it at his own pace, with friends or at least someone he could trust and enjoy it with, but these work occasions were horrendous. “Anyway, I wanted to thank you for taking care of me. I’m sorry for the trouble.”
There was a moment of silence before the stranger replied.
“It’s nothing.” He was evidently not a talkative man.
“I should pay for all of this myself,” Naoya offered.
“You don’t have to.”
“Can I at least buy you dinner, sometime?”
No answer.
Naoya kicked off his shoes and loosened his tie. He was starting to feel cold and considered taking a shower. It might be nice to feel clean for once when he went to bed. The thought made him smile.
“Are you sure you can manage?”
“Yes, yes. What’s your name by the way? I’m Mishima Naoya.”
“I know what your name is.”
“And you are…?” Naoya tried again.
“Iwamura,” the man said, clearly reluctant.
“Iwamura…?”
“Yes.” Evidently that was all he was going to get.
“All right, well, thank you, Iwamura-san. I’ll try to be more careful in the future,” Naoya said.
Iwamura-san turned to leave, so Naoya started to unbutton his shirt to get ready for the shower. Before he opened the door, the man stopped and turned to Naoya.
“Will you really?
“I’ll try.” Naoya shrugged. What else could he do?
“Do I need to turn up on Monday?” He definitely looked annoyed then.
“No…”
“Let me rephrase that. If I turn up on Monday, will I find you passed out on the street again?”
“It’s possible.” Naoya didn’t want to rely on Iwamura-san’s kindness, but he did dread not having that safety net. Iwamura-san sighed.
“Tuesday?”
“It depends—”
“Wednesday?”
“I don’t know, maybe?”
“How long will you be able to go on like this?”
“I don’t know.” He hadn’t thought that far. He’d hoped a solution would eventually present itself.
“Take off your clothes.”
“What?”
“Take them off. You’re wet, and you’ll catch a cold.”
“I won’t.” Naoya chuckled. “But it is uncomfortable.” He unbuttoned the rest of the buttons. It took a while, but he figured he was doing an OK job. “Weren’t you going to leave?” he asked, before he took his shirt off.
“I don’t trust you,” Iwamura-san said and returned from the door to help Naoya remove his trousers. They were a little tricky from being soaked, but Naoya was fairly confident he could have gotten them off on his own.
“I’m going to go take a shower. Are you going to follow me in there, too?”
For a moment, Iwamura-san looked like he might.
Naoya hadn’t expected Iwamura-san to still be there after the shower, but at least he was now more comfortable and wrapped in a robe, so he did not mind the company.
“Call the reception for your clothes in the morning, if they haven’t brought them back by the time you wake up. They should be clean and dry.” Iwamura-san tossed Naoya a sports drink bottle.
Not quite as sober as he’d implied, Naoya had to retrieve it from under a desk.
“You could have warned me you were about to throw something.” From such a short distance, it was embarrassing he'd failed to catch it.
“I have a business trip coming up on Wednesday.” Iwamura-san was checking his phone. He looked up at Naoya as if this were a legitimate scheduling conflict. Was he really going to try to be there every time he possibly could? Naoya appreciated it, but… Why?
“All right, so…?” Naoya sat on the bed and drank the sports drink. Iwamura-san glared at him. His expression grew dark.
“Please take this seriously. You can’t be out there on your own.”
Naoya appreciated the concern, but this was Japan. The likelihood of something happening was slim.
Sure, it wasn’t entirely impossible that, in a city such as this, in a back alley somewhere, he would get mugged or something might get stolen, but most likely nothing would happen. If anything, he’d probably misplace something himself.
“Do you have someone who could take care of you?” Iwamura-san asked, still serious.
“I moved here recently, so no,” Naoya replied. “But I’m sure it’s all right. I’ll live.”
Iwamura-san looked at him frustrated but seemed to give up.