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If someone were to tell Tadashi that Kei was cold, then he would understand why, if for a moment. Because when they looked at Kei they saw cold and they saw distant and harsh.
In this moment, Tadashi couldn’t fathom how anyone could possibly think those things, because right now, Kei was warm and he was soft and he was safe. And Tadashi had him grasped by his wrists and was spinning them around and around and around bare foot in the grass damp with dew, and clad in pyjamas and Tadashi was laughing and Kei looked… Well, Kei looked stunning, if Tadashi were being honest.
And he got it, really, he did, and it made his stomach tingle to think that this was for him, this was all for him.
Then he stopped, dizzy and light headed and he pulled Kei in and god, the way Kei was looking at him, like he was the most beautiful creature he had ever had the wonder of seeing and Tadashi felt so…
Breathing shallow, and head spinning, but Kei looked clear. Kei looked clear under the light of the stars and it was so, so clear tonight, so so cold though he felt as warm as ever.
He looked up and Kei looked up too and he didn’t let go of his hands and Kei didn’t pull away like Tadashi might have expected. They hadn’t held hands properly since they were seven years old, and Kei had decided that they were too old for that, hadn’t held hands at all since they were nine because Tadashi had still refused to cross the road unless their hands were interlocked, as if Kei could somehow protect him.
Tadashi looked back at Kei to find him already looking, and there was a sort of lopsided smile on his face, soft and just for Tadashi. And then Tadashi grinned, wide and toothy and he giggled, and Kei did too, softer but still there.
He didn’t let go.
Why hadn’t he let go yet? Was he feeling what Tadashi was feeling? He must have been, there couldn’t have possibly been a universe in which he wasn’t.
Tadashi let go.
Kei looked down to his now empty hands but then Tadashi’s hands were on his face, thumbs just in front of his ears and fingers stroking at the ends of his hair and Kei worried his lip between his teeth and Tadashi couldn’t quite bring himself to look away.
‘Kei...’ Tadashi said, no end to the sentence that he had started, just tasting Kei’s name on his lips rather than the nickname he had been calling him for years and he didn’t miss the way Kei’s lips upturned at the sound and then their gazes were locked, searching, searching for something, anything.
And there was everything.
Then Tadashi could feel Kei’s hands tentatively brush over his hips and finally after a few moments settle lightly there and Tadashi kissed him. He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t find it in himself to want to, simply raised up onto his tiptoes and brought Kei’s lips to his own and Kei knew, of course he knew; how could he not?
And they were kissing, and they were kissing, and they were kissing. And then they stopped and they laughed a little, soft and gentle and Kei sounded like a melody, like his favourite song, though he didn’t have one. Their foreheads pressed together and Kei took Tadashi’s hand in his own and pressed it to his chest where Tadashi could feel his heart fluttering inside of his chest.
Trust. That was trust if nothing else was, because Kei couldn’t fake that if he tried and then he kissed Tadashi again and again and again.