Chapter Text
“It’s not rocket science,” Ann says, her voice garbled by the green straw in her mouth. “Just tell him how you feel, you big dummy.”
“Are you for real? I can’t do that!”
Ann lets go of the straw in favor of reaching for the tips of her pigtails. She twirls and tugs at the strands curling at her neck. “Yes, you can. Just go for it. Don’t think!”
Ryuji props his elbow on the diner table, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. The straw of his own untouched fruit tea (it’s overly sweet, and the flavor’s watered-down and gross) is pinched between his fingers. He slowly pulls the straw out of the plastic lid a little bit before pushing it inside and twisting it around to swirl the ice. The grating sound it makes is surprisingly loud over the other customers’ chatter. It reflects his pathetically sour mood, too. The longer he does it and the noisier it gets, the more it seems to piss everyone else off as well. Especially Ann, whose glare is officially burning a hole in his forehead.
“Y’know, you always say it like it’s so effin’ easy.”
“It is easy. You walk up to him and go...” Ann takes a breath, then in a poor imitation of Ryuji, finishes in a deep voice, “Yoooo, Akira, bro, let’s get some ramen, and go fishin’ and make out under the stars.” She punctuates the last bit with flirty, dramatic kissing noises while fluttering her lashes.
A scowl dips between Ryuji’s brows. He swings one leg up to lay his ankle on his other knee and puts his fist on his hip. Grumbling, he jabs a finger at her. “Okay, listen. I do not sound like that, alright?”
Ann completely ignores him, wrapping her arms around herself and moving her hands around as if she were actually caught up in some sort of tongue battle. It’s pretty gross, and it would’ve been impressive given she can’t act for shit, but her little display is beginning to gain some attention from nearby tables, and Ryuji would like to walk out of the diner alive before the night’s over.
“Will ya cut it out?”
Ann pauses long enough to say, “I will if you get over yourself and finally confess. Make it romantic, you know? Go outside, fish, make out under the starry night sky.”
“Uh, no.”
Ann shoots him a look that sends a shiver of fear down his spine. His brief moment of weakness is swept away, replaced by agitation and frustration when Ann picks up the kissing act. Slowly but surely, Ryuji’s patience snaps.
“Even if I wanna say somethin’, which I don’t, who wants to hang outside anyway? It’s hot as hell out there,” Ryuji says, pulling at the front of his shirt to lure in the diner’s cool air.
“Besides,” he continues, “you shouldn’t go fishin’ at night.”
Ann’s performance gets louder, and louder, and louder, and even more people glance their way. Winking, she blows a little kiss at him.
“And y’know what else?” Ryuji spits out, aiming for casual but ending up on the defensive. It doesn’t help that he’s slightly risen from his seat and leaning over the table, red-faced with embarrassment.
“Makin’ out under the stars? Ha! Lame.”
Ann moans out a soft, “Oh, Akira” while he speaks, and he nearly combusts on the spot.
Ryuji slams his palm down on the table, rattling the ice cubes in their gross teas. He earns a few sharp words from fellow customers as he scrambles out of the booth.
“Welp, see ya later!”
He turns his back to Ann’s, “Come back here, Ryuji, I was just playing with you!” and rushes out of the diner into Shibuya’s evening air.
The summer breeze flutters through his hair and caresses his skin while he strolls toward the train station, cooling the heat in his cheeks and steadying his nerves. Ryuji knows he’s not a coward. Far from it, in fact.
Since meeting Akira, he’s transformed, taking his anger and passion and putting them toward things that gave him a purpose. He faced Kamoshida and won with the Phantom Thieves by his side. Their victory paved the way to new goals, greater dangers, and courageous friends he wouldn’t give up for anything in the universe.
Ryuji feels calmer as well. The world’s no longer spinning faster than he can keep up with while everyone else keeps pace. He knows his sense of relief is due to Akira as well, because he has a place where he belongs now, a place where he’s in his element and thrives: as Akira’s best friend and right hand man. The past is finally in the past. He can move forward with his own kinda fresh start.
But no matter how many times he and Ann talk about his feelings for Akira, Ryuji always runs with his tail between his legs. The whole thing’s a real pain in the ass. Of all the things he could’ve done, he just had to go and develop a major crush on his bro, his best friend.
Soon, he’s squeezing onto the last crowded train for the evening. He finds a place between a bald guy who smells like sweaty balls (baths are a thing y’know) and a kid who keeps kicking him in the leg (he might get thrown off if the little jerk doesn’t cut it out). Once the train leaves the station, Ryuji slaps a hand over his face and groans into his palm.
Shit. He’s so screwed.
At ass o’clock in the morning, Ryuji’s phone vibrates like a jackhammer on his bedside table. He blindly reaches for it, slapping his hand around until it lands on his phone.
Cracking an eye open, he peeks at the text and lets out a sleepy groan—it’s only 06:23, and of course Akira’s all birds and sunshine and ready to drag him out of bed. Sure, Ryuji’s weak for his best friend and would do just about anything he asked of him, but a dude’s got limits. One of them is getting up before 12:00 on summer break.
[Akira] What’re you doing?
[Ryuji] I’m tryin’ to sleep.
[Akira] Get up.
Ryuji pulls together enough strength to roll his eyes. The audacity this guy has sometimes.
[Ryuji] Uh, how ‘bout no?
[Ryuji] I mean, whaddya gonna do? Climb through my window and drag me wherever by my hair?
[Akira] That’s actually a pretty good idea.
[Akira] I’ll be knocking at your window soon, so unless you want me to come in with you naked again, put something on.
If Ryuji wasn’t semi-awake before, he sure is now. Blood drains from his face until he’s a ghastly shade of gray, his stomach twisting with embarrassment.
The last time Akira went creeping around like the creepy creeper he is, Ryuji had been knocked out in bed (luckily, stomach down or else he would’ve died on the spot). And uh, he was sorta naked from head to toe. Akira hasn’t let him forget it.
In his defense, it’s hot as hell; he should be able to sleep buck naked if he wants to. His door is locked, so his mom can’t get in, and he probably shouldn’t be thinking about his mom seeing his pale backside while he’s remembering Akira’s wicked grin and pink cheeks.
Ryuji’s fingers fly across the keyboard.
[Ryuji] Dude, no!!
[Ryuji] Why the hell do you wanna come here anyway?
[Ryuji] It’s not even 7. Go back to sleep, will ya?
[Akira] I promise I won’t take a picture this time.
The picture. Of course he had to remind Ryuji about the evidence of his break-in: a picture of his butt, the same picture he’s been trying to delete every time he gets ahold of Akira’s phone. He can never find it in his camera roll, though. The bastard probably has it locked away like a weirdo.
[Ryuji] I freakin’ hate you.
[Akira] Psh. You love me.
It’s not the first time Akira’s said that to him. Like always, his cheeks burst with color and his heart picks up a frantic beat. Like every other time, Ryuji has to take a deep breath and remind himself that Akira’s messing with him, trying to tease and get a rise out of him.
Akira doesn’t mean it. Why would he? Only Ryuji’s dumb enough to catch feelings for a dude who happens to be his bro. He’s foolish enough to run to Ann to cry about it, too. But he knows how the scenario will play out: he’ll shoot her a quick text to wake her up and panic; she’ll tell him he’s a clueless idiot who needs to confess already, because apparently, Ryuji’s in for a surprise, and she’s going to kill him for waking her up so early in the morning. He’d rather not risk it. Losing his friendship with Akira over a crush isn’t on the agenda.
Despite it all, Ryuji considers texting Ann anyway. He’s milliseconds away from doing so when his phone vibrates.
[Akira] I thought you wanted to go get flowers for your mom?
[Ryuji] Yeah, later, at like 12 when normal people are alive.
[Akira] You could always get up and meet me at 9? I’ll help you pick them out.
[Akira] We can get the flowers, and then head to the beach for the day.
[Ryuji] The beach? Don’t you have plans with Ann to go like shoppin’ or somethin’?
[Akira] I canceled.
[Ryuji] You canceled and lived?
[Ryuji] Nice.
[Akira] I told her I had someplace important I wanted to be.
[Akira] Promises of crepes, crepes, and more crepes helped.
[Akira] Did you fall asleep on me?
[Ryuji] Shit, yeah. Sorry.
[Ryuji] I’ll meet ya there, but you totally owe me for wakin’ me up so damn early.
[Akira] Best ramen I can afford on a thieves’ budget.
[Ryuji] Works for me.
[Akira] It’s a date!
Ryuji’s jaw drops. He blinks at the screen, wide-eyed and stunned.
A what?!
[Akira] I did it.
[Ann] You asked him out?!
[Akira] Does telling him ‘it’s a date’ count as asking?
[Ann] OMG!
[Ann] No!
[Ann] Asking and telling are two separate things!
[Ann] And now he’s texting me.
[Ann] Why do you guys keep waking me up in the middle of the night to talk about each other?
[Akira] Ann, it’s morning.
[Ann] That’s not the point!
[Ann] I hate both of you.
[Akira] I love you?
[Ann] Tell Ryuji you love him. And actually TELL not hint because if either of you idiots wake me up again, you’re dead.
[Ann] Don’t text me until you guys kiss.
[Ann] Wait!
[Ann] Don’t wear your glasses.
[Akira] But I’ll be a blind man walking without them. What if I crash into a telephone pole or get run over by an old lady walking across the street because I can’t see?
[Ann] You’re such a liar, Kurusu. And a dumbass.
[Ann] Trust me on this one.
[Ann] K. Goodnight! ♡♡♡
[Akira] Good morning!
One anxious train ride later, Ryuji’s skipping down the steps and entering the Underground Mall. For a bright sunny day, it’s packed with customers wandering from store to store. At least, weaving through the crowd buys Ryuji some time to calm his frazzled nerves.
Why the hell is he nervous anyway? Sure, he managed to psych himself up on the way to the mall, but there’s no reason for him to be freaking out. He’s just meeting Akira at the Flower Shop to buy flowers for his mom, then heading to the beach so he can bake in the sun. It’s an average day in the life of Ryuji—nothing too exciting.
Well, it would’ve been like any other day if Akira hadn’t called it a date and sent Ryuji’s over-thinking mind skyrocketing to the moon. He can’t help but wonder, as he’s pushing past a guy failing to hit on the girl working at the crepe shop, if Akira actually thinks before he speaks. He’ll be the death of him whether or not he does.
Ryuji inhales a deep breath through his nose (which was a mistake because someone ripped a bad one, and he might actually die before he makes it to the Flower Shop), then slowly exhales through his mouth. He’s got this. He can handle another day with Akira; they’ve spent hours upon hours together, after all. His heart’s only pounding in chest while his palms sweat inside his pockets. It’s no biggie. Right?
So what if Ryuji’s mouth instantly runs dry as he strolls toward SOLE-mart and catches sight of Akira leaning against the wall, or that his stomach twists with nervous excitement when Akira spots him and beckons to him over the crowd. The heat rising in his cheeks at the charming smile directed his way doesn’t phase him at all, either. Nope. Not at all. This isn’t some shoujo manga where the girl’s pining over a dude she shouldn’t be in love with. He’s cool. He’s got this. He’s Sakamoto Ryuji for crying out loud!
Oh, who the hell is he kidding? He’s dying.
Impending death aside, Ryuji manages to get over himself long enough to flash a bright smile. He squeezes between a group of girls shopping for shoes. He’s winding around two guys perusing some roses when he practically collides with Akira. His hands fly up to grip Akira by the shoulders. The smooth skin stretched across Akira’s collarbone burns the pads of Ryuji’s thumb.
Ryuji gazes up at Akira, who’s smiling a pretty smile that tells him absolutely nothing about what he’s thinking, what he’s planning; it never fails to send goosebumps rippling across his skin. As soon as he realizes Akira’s glasses are missing, he knows he’s done for: he’s pinned to the spot with those intense, dark gray eyes.
“Oops, sorry,” Ryuji says, laughing nervously. He casually removes the hand cupping Akira’s neck and brings it to the back of his own so he can twirl and pull the hair at his nape. Similar to the way he’s curling the short strands around his fingertip, Akira’s smile twists into something playful, flirty, dangerous. Whatever’s on his mind, he’s about to slaughter Ryuji’s sanity with it.
“If you wanted to hold me so badly,” Akira begins with a wicked tone, and Ryuji blushes, “you could’ve asked instead of trying to tackle me.”
Akira’s breath is warm against Ryuji’s face as he speaks. The ticklish sensation brings to light how close they’re standing. Ryuji brushes off Akira’s words and moves his hand to his chest before playfully pushing him back. It’s a ruse, of course, but at least there’s enough space for him to have a coherent thought or two.
“I swear, between you and Ann, I’m gonna die,” Ryuji grumbles, even as Akira throws his arm over Ryuji’s shoulder and quietly laughs in his ear. He wonders if Akira’s lips can feel the heat radiating from the shell of said ear.
“You can’t die yet; we have things to do.” Akira pulls Ryuji closer while he drags him toward a row of flowers. “Plus, it’s Wednesday, so we have to find something pink.”
“Pink?! Where’d that come from?”
Akira glances at him out of the corner of his eye. “It’s Wednesday?”
Ryuji laughs. “You’re so weird.”
“You love me anyway.” Akira sounds so confident as he breathes the statement to life, and Ryuji wonders if Ann’s been blabbing behind his back.
The color drains from Ryuji’s face. Luckily, Akira misses the shocked expression because he’s already drifting off, searching through the clusters of flowers.
“Ryuji!” Akira gestures at a vase full of white flowers and waves him over.
Akira explains the meaning behind every flower Ryuji considers, even tossing in a few suggestions of his own when Ryuji finds himself stumped between two kinds representing honor and purity. Once the flowers are picked, Akira takes charge of arranging the bouquet until Ryuji’s satisfied with the outcome.
“Thanks for comin’ with me,” Ryuji tells Akira, waving goodbye to the shop owner once it’s all said and done.
“I’m glad to help.”
They’re climbing the steps to the station when Akira suddenly grabs Ryuji’s arm and chirps, “Oh!” and nearly sends Ryuji jumping out of his skin.
“Wait—what’s wrong?” Ryuji asks, turning to face Akira standing a step below him. He instantly scowls.
If he were to judge the desperate way Akira had clung to him and the worried exclamation, Ryuji believed something had to be amiss when he spun around.
Instead, he’s met with a rare soft, bright smile. Akira looks extremely smug, yet believably innocent; Ryuji imagines a halo over the tiny horns peeking out from his dark hair. There’s a hint of vulnerability in there, too. And his smile is shy enough to be cute. He definitely has something up his sleeve.
Putting his free hand on his hip, Ryuji lifts an eyebrow. “What?”
Akira whips out a small bouquet of three flowers he had hidden behind his back—orange, cream, and red in color. “I forgot to give this to you.”
It’s a smooth move, but they both know he’s lying: Akira never forgets anything. Regardless, Ryuji’s slightly confused. He glances at the flowers, then at Akira. They stare at one another. Ryuji tries not to fidget while Akira bites his bottom lip, his cheeks light with color.
“Umm…” Ryuji scratches at the back of his head, scrambling to find the right words until he settles on, “You helped me a lot back there. I woulda been there for hours if you had left me hangin’ by myself. You didn’t have to get anythin’ for my mom.”
The expression on Akira’s face is priceless, and Ryuji wishes he could’ve taken a picture as payback for the one Akira keeps under lock and key. He looks dumbfounded, like he’s been smacked in the face with a cast iron skillet. His mouth opens and closes. A surprised squeak slips out, and he shakes his head.
“Ryuji, I—” Akira cuts off, clearing his throat before explaining, “I got them for you.”
Ryuji’s eyes widen, his lips parting to mouth a silent, “Oh!”
The back of his neck is burning, and he’s pretty sure his hair is slowly catching fire. He’s never been given flowers before, so it’s a nice gesture that has him sputtering like an idiot. Though the reason why Akira would do it for him of all people is lost to the wind.
He reaches out for the bouquet, taking note of the small white bow as he brings them up to his nose. Ryuji peeks over the petals at Akira; he looks like a fish out of water. It’s funny as hell.
“Thanks, bro,” Ryuji says, grinning from ear-to-ear. “They’re tulips, right?”
Nodding, Akira stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Do you like them?”
“Yeah! I dunno what they mean, though.” Ryuji makes room in his mom’s bouquet to keep them watered, casting a sidelong glance at Akira as he half-jokingly adds, “I didn’t think anythin’ could be prettier than you, but here we are.”
Akira, whose mere presence can break hearts and charm the socks off everyone he passes by, scowls. He’s gorgeous, and he knows it. “I hate you.”
Ryuji swiftly jumps on the opportunity to throw Akira’s earlier words back at him. His grin transforms into something evil, teasing.
“Nah,” he hums, “you totally love me, dude.”
Akira tripping up the stairs and Ryuji’s subsequent laughter makes the entire exchange worth it.
Well, it’s hilarious until Ryuji’s practically fleeing from his mom’s workplace. She was more interested in Akira’s ‘romantic’ gift than Ryuji’s ‘just because’ present for her. He’ll never live down the way she laughed, smiling like the sun. His body will never recover from the bone-breaking hug, either.
He’s also amazed that he survived his mom’s cryptic, “I’m sure you’ll find out soon, sweetie” when he told her he had no idea what they meant.
She’s just as bad as Ann is.
Warm grains of sand dig into his palms and calves, and the late afternoon sun washes over whatever skin it can touch. Wisps of cool wind from the ocean flutters through his hair and brushes his body, quick and feather-light. The occasional breeze to chase away the heat is soothing and refreshing, and Ryuji’s glad Akira asked him to go, albeit a few hours late.
Their trip to the beach hadn’t gone according to schedule. Originally, they had planned to hop on the train right after Ryuji dropped off his mom’s flowers. They were on their way to the station when Boss called and asked Akira to mind Leblanc’s for a few hours while he tended to other business matters. By the time they finally stepped foot on the sand, it was already nearly two hours until sunset. Ryuji suggested that they come back another day, but Akira instantly shut the offer down; school’s less than a week away, and he insisted that they make the most of the time they had left, day or night.
So after a quick change into their swimming trunks, they claimed a spot and sat down to enjoy the view of the water. Since then, they’ve been basking in the early evening sun.
If Ryuji’s lucky, he might tan before dusk truly sets in; the lightest one will beat the burn Akira will inevitably get if he stays as he is under the cloudless sky, so comfortable he’s practically purring, snoozing away with his head in Ryuji’s lap. (Magically, he already has a hint of pink on his chest and shoulders despite the short time they’ve been there in the weakening, end-of-August sun.)
“Dude, you gotta wake up,” Ryuji says, jostling Akira’s head with every bounce of his knee. “You’re gonna be redder than Yusuke’s lobsters if you keep lyin’ around.”
Akira cracks open an eye and literally hisses at him.
Huffing out a laugh, Ryuji flicks his forehead, then tugs at his messy hair. “You’ve been spendin’ way too much time with Mona.”
“Hey, I’m a better person”—Akira grunts a little as he sits up, and Ryuji privately mourns the loss—“now that I’m living the cat-life.”
“Is that why you’re so lazy?” Ryuji drawls, casually eyeing Akira clasp his hands above his head and stretch with a quiet yawn.
“Well, I get to lie around and do absolutely nothing—”
“—Dude, that’s literally the definition of ‘lazy’—”
“—while you play with my hair and let me sleep. I mean, who would complain about that? Unless…”
Akira drops his arms, his hands imprinting in the sand as he glances over his shoulder at Ryuji, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Are you... jelly?”
Before Ryuji could quip back, Akira’s hopping to his feet, muttering, “Come on” and pulling Ryuji with him. He begins leading them away from their spot and fellow beach goers, his fingers burning brands around Ryuji’s wrist.
“So, uh, we’re goin’ where exactly?” he asks minutes later.
They’re strolling along the edge of the shore, the cold water lapping at Ryuji’s feet and sand squishing between his toes when Akira finally answers, “Someplace quiet.”
Ryuji stares at the back of Akira’s head, watching his hair rustle with the breeze. He nods, just as Akira’s grip tightens. “Alright. So...are we there yet?”
“No, not yet.”
“How ‘bout now?”
“No.”
“Hmm...now?”
Akira sputters out a laugh. “Nope.”
“It’s been years, man, are we lost or—” The amused, yet no-nonsense glare Akira tosses over his shoulder shuts Ryuji right up. He flashes a small smile, then faces forward to guide him further away from the main beach.
Birds fly overhead as they move along, screeching, their shadows stretching across the beach while the gentle surf crashes against the rocks they're skipping over. Mist splashes and sprays them; with the suffocating humidity squeezing in on them, every stray drop feels like a breath of fresh air.
Eventually, Ryuji’s mind begins to wander aimlessly, and before he realizes it, Akira’s dragging him into a hidden cove, which happens to be the perfect size for a close group of friends.
“Whoa,” Ryuji marvels. He jumps down from the rock, landing in a low tide with a light splash. Slowly, he twirls in a full circle as he takes in the crescent-shaped area: the ocean takes up the majority of it while a small cave sits in the center of the land, grass and trees lining the outside of the cave and bottom of the cliff side. It’s gorgeous. The setting sun’s light peeking out from the horizon only adds to it, especially with the way it reflects and glistens on the water.
Naturally, Akira’s standing in a spot where the light engulfs him in soft glow. Ryuji freaking hates how lame it sounds, but it makes him look ethereal. Knowing Akira, he probably did it on purpose. As quiet, soft spoken and selfless as he is, the dude’s conceited as hell.
Ryuji’s only human: he has eyes, and he’s been caught staring at his leader once or twice—okay, alotta times. And who just so happens to catch him in the act? Ann, much to her delight. Every. Single. Flipping. Time. He tries to shoot down her wild, “Don’t lie, you totally drool over him in the gayest way possible” but she never cuts the crap. If anything, his angry, defensive reactions only spur her on. His sputtering outburts religiously cue Ann’s evil smile; the usual, “You’re so hopelessly transparent, it’s adorable” line; and her regularly scheduled Let’s Torture Ryuji Hours™.
He puts one hand on his hip and gestures around with the other. “When’d you find this place?”
Akira kicks at the water, shrugging. “Morgana and I were exploring one day and stumbled upon it. You didn’t know it was here?”
“Nah,” Ryuji replies, bringing a hand to scratch at the back of his head. “I only come here to cool off. Don’t do much lookin’ around.”
“Really?” Akira strolls toward him, the water sloshing around his ankles. The sly look on his face has Ryuji’s stomach on the verge of falling out his ass. “I’m pretty sure all the girls you’ve failed to pick up would be upset to hear that.”
“Aw, shuddup,” Ryuji grumbles, and Akira laughs loudly; the sound fills their little area, echoing into the depths of the cave and out into the open sea.
Coming to a stop, Akira claps his hand on Ryuji’s shoulder. He pokes out his bottom lip. It has the nerve to quiver, and Ryuji rolls his eyes when he simpers, “Forgive me, ‘yuji?”
Ryuji huffs. He makes a show of conceding, hunching his shoulders and appearing extremely put-upon. “If it shuts you the hell up, I guess I can. That, or I’ll just drown ya.”
Akira bats his eyelashes, placing his palm on his cheek. His grin’s luminous, teasing, and all around wicked. “You say such sweet things to me. I’m surprised I haven’t swooned yet.”
“Drownin’ it is then,” Ryuji says, wiggling away from the hand on his shoulder.
He whispers a quiet, “You better run” and lunges forward. Akira doesn’t hesitate; he unexpectedly manages to put a decent amount of distance between them before he jumps onto a large rock and spins around, throwing his hands up in surrender.
Skidding to a stop with water kicking up to his knees, Ryuji puts a hand on his hip. “What’re y’doin’?”
“Don’t get me wet,” Akira warns, carefully sliding backward on the slippery stone.
The last brain cell Ryuji owns instantly latches onto ‘get me wet’. It takes every ounce of willpower he possesses to forget what he already thought and will away the heat crawling up the back of his neck.
Shaking his head, Ryuji raises a brow. “Come again?”
“I brought some sparklers with me,” Akira explains, pulling out four long sparklers from his pocket. He tosses two to Ryuji.
“Have you had these the whole time?” Ryuji asks, waving one sparkler around with his right hand while the other twirls between the fingers of his left.
Akira reaches into his hair and begins tugging and twisting at a cluster of strands. Shifting his weight to one leg, he shrugs. “I figured something silly would take some weight off your shoulders.”
“What makes y’think that?”
“I can tell you have something on your mind, so I wanted to do whatever I could to make you feel better,” Akira replies a bit shyly, and Ryuji imagines a pink neon ‘I love you’ sign blinking above Akira’s head. “Are they too lame?”
You’re, like, 99.9% of the time on my mind, dude. Welp, that doesn’t sound gay or anything. Ryuji supposes this is what happens when you’re officially living the shoujo life. He blames Akira. And Ann.
“Nah, they’re perfect.” Ryuji flips a sparkler in the air and catches it with ease. He shoots Akira an excited, goofy grin. “So. Got anythin’ to light them with?”
Akira hops down from the rock. He lands with a light splash, then walks forward. Ryuji watches as Akira whips out a box of matches, and he can't help but wonder how he managed to fit all this stuff in the tiny Velcro pockets of his blue swim trunks.
After Akira hands over his own sticks, Ryuji holds out all four as Akira swipes the match head across the striker, igniting it. He brings the small flame to the tips of the sparklers. They light up and burst into tiny, white and purple sparks with an electric buzz.
“C’mon, hurry up,” Ryuji urges with a few hurried rolls of his wrist; an outline of a colorful, illuminating circle follows the motion.
“Alright, gimme.” Akira carefully takes the sticks from Ryuji’s fingers. The purple sparks cast a glow across Akira’s patented Joker smile, and he mutters, “I’m gonna catch ya.”
A surprised, girly squeak he’ll deny later slips free as Ryuji darts off toward the sand with Akira hot on his heels. Spinning around, he backpedals at a quick pace, smile teasing and eyes bright. “You’re slowing down, man. We didn’t do all that trainin’ for nothin’.”
Jogging, Akira waves his sparklers in swift zigzags and squiggles. He whisks one around in a shape that has Ryuji saying, “You’re nasty, bro” and Akira laughing as Ryuji tries and fails to outdo him.
They sort of make a game out of it: draw what you can before the sparklers fizzle out. Ryuji manages to write out half of his name in wide strokes as he runs past the little cave; Akira succeeds in drawing an outline of his mask against the backdrop of the horizon.
One sparkler reaches the very end, and Ryuji drops it with a startled, “Oops.”
“You shouldn’t litter,” Akira says, walking toward him from the shoreline while he waves around his arm, leaving a trail of light behind him.
“I’ll just pick it up before we leave,” Ryuji replies. The second sparkler’s nearing the end just as he starts skipping over rocks and seashells hidden in the sand. He makes his way over to a spot by the cave.
Ryuji looks over his shoulder to find Akira mere feet away, knees bent and drawing loops on either side of his thighs. He’s sucked into the soothing pattern, distracted enough that the sparkler stings his finger. Just as Ryuji drops it and exhales a sharp, “Ouch!” he stubs his toe on a rock and faceplants onto the ground.
Rolling onto his back, he coughs out the sand that found its way into his mouth; he even sneezes out a bit caught up in his nose. Ryuji dusts off his sand-encrusted palms, mumbling, “That effin’ su—oomph!”
A heavy weight landing on top of him cuts off his complaint. The air is knocked from his lungs, and Ryuji makes a noise like he’s been punched in the stomach. His arms flail until they stretch out on either side of him, hands splayed and sand squished between his fingers. Ryuji opens his eyes. A choked noise catches in his throat, and his cheeks immediately burst with color.
Akira’s lying on top of him. He’s so close Ryuji can see the pink infusing his cheeks and the tip of his nose, the way his lashes fan above his eyes wide with surprise. He can even feel Akira’s breath brush against his skin, his mouth hovering over his own.
Whatever playfulness that bounced between them is swept away in a heartbeat, replaced by a tingling electric charge spreading from where they’re pressed together to the tips of Ryuji’s fingers and toes.
“Umm…” Akira bites his bottom lip. His eyes flick between Ryuji’s own, then down to his mouth. The pink color blooming beneath his skin deepens to a scarlet red.
Oh, man. Oh, man. Oh, man. Ryuji should probably say something to cut the tension, but he’s never been good with words; actions are more his forté. And the best thing he can think to do is lift his head and kiss his best friend. He seriously considers it because why the hell not? It’s not like Akira’s already leaning down anyway, pausing when only a sliver of air rests between them. All Ryuji has to do is close those last few centimeters…
He inhales a deep breath through his nose, then exhales a shuddering breath through parted lips. Blood pulses in his ears and his heart pounds in his chest. The full-body shiver that courses through Akira gives him a boost of confidence. Ryuji’s not sure why, but hey, it works: he’s slowly tilting his head up.
Before he can seal the deal and astral project to the moon, Ryuji feels a sharp, burning pinch on his middle finger.
“Holy, shit!” he yelps, and rather than kiss Akira, he bonks their foreheads together with a loud crack.
Akira leans to the side with a hiss, his hand flying up to the reddened spot on his forehead. He grumbles, “Geez, Ryuji, what the hell was that about—”
“Get it off!” Ryuji yells, shrieking when another pinch to his ring finger nearly draws blood. He pushes Akira off of him, paying no mind to Akira’s startled sound as he hops to his feet.
He stares, wide-eyed and mouth agape at his hand—there’s an effin’ crab clinging to his poor fingers. Ryuji bounces from one foot to the other, wiggling his hand in an effort to jostle the crab loose. It’s no use: the crab tightens its claws, digging into his skin.
“Dude—ow!—I sorta need your help up here!”
Akira’s on his feet in a flash. A hand darts out and wraps around Ryuji’s forearm, steadying it. “You need to calm down.”
“Calm down?!” Ryuji echoes, a bit hysterical; he can hear his shrill voice resonating all the way into the cave’s depths. “Whaddya mean ‘calm down’? There’s a freakin’ crab tryin’ to cut my fingers off, man!”
“If you scare it—”
“—Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!”
“—it’ll only bite you harder.”
Ryuji tosses Akira the dirtiest look he can muster, and grits out, “Then, how about you help me get this mothereffin’ thing off!”
He scowls at Akira’s light laugh and threatens to punch him in the face with the hand that has a new crab friend.
“Alright, alright, let’s go,” Akira says before he snorts, laughing again as Ryuji mutters in a small voice, “It’s not funny.”
They hurry toward the ocean. Akira crouches down in the surf, tugging Ryuji down to his knees. He gently takes Ryuji’s hand and splays his palm out on the sand, the water washing up to lap at his fingers.
“It’ll let go if it wants free,” Akira tells him, and Ryuji swallows harshly as Akira rubs soothing circles on his inner wrist.
“Well, it better get the hell outta here.”
It feels like an eternity, but the crab finally lets go minutes later. Ryuji lifts up his hand and winces as he inspects the bruises already forming where the claws had dug into his skin. Thankfully, there’s no blood.
Akira grabs his hand and flips it over, palm upward. His eyes rove over the black and blue marks, the dotted imprints. He looks up at Ryuji with a bright smile.
“See”—Akira runs his fingers over the pads Ryuji’s own—“there was no need to cry.”
“I wasn’t cryin’!” Ryuji replies hotly. Sure, he had been on the verge of tears because crab bites hurt like a bitch, but it’s not like he’ll admit that.
Akira doesn’t answer. Instead, he keeps his eyes trained on Ryuji, watching him as he brings Ryuji’s fingers to his lips. He places a chaste kiss on the bruises.
Color bursts in Ryuji’s cheeks. He’s pretty sure the heat’s crawling its way up to the tips of ears and curling down the back of his neck. His body’s on fire, and the only thing he manages to do is sputter like a dumbass.
“All better?” Akira whispers, and Ryuji nods.
It’s annoying, really. And not to mention, lame as hell.
Of all things to interrupt his first kiss, it just had to be a freaking crab for eff’s sake.