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Petty theft was not something Kiyoomi wanted to be remembered for. And yet he stands across Miya in the changing room, with his jacket draped over his shoulders.
He watches Miya’s frantic search for the jacket which is right in sight – just out of arm’s reach, as Kiyoomi likes to keep his distance, even when he desires nothing more than closure.
Kiyoomi sees the world in slow motion. It’s one of those moments of silence before the storm when he can already smell the rain in the air and regrets not having packed an umbrella.
Miya is not dumb. No matter how eccentric, egocentric, insufferable he could get, Miya has the brains to figure such a simple scheme out.
The one who’s an idiot is Kiyoomi, for letting a sudden urge overcome him and for what? What could Miya’s jacket give him that his own did not?
Germs. Most definitely.
Miya’s stench. Maybe.
“I have your jacket,” he sighs.
“What?” Miya asks back. His head flips in Kiyoomi’s direction so fast, his ridiculous hair comes undone, strands landing on his forehead, sticking to the after-shower wetness.
Kiyoomi is most certainly fucked. He couldn’t possibly be more fucked.
“I think I mixed things up,” he reaches in his bag, pulling his own jacket out.
“Ah,” Miya says. He steps closer, reaches out. Their hands brush as he grabs the jacket in Kiyoomi’s hand.
Kiyoomi’s jacket.
He takes it with a casual nod and a short “thanks”. He is halfway out the door and already pulling it on when Kiyoomi finally, finally breathes.
“Hey,” he raises his voice. He catches up to Miya in a few long strides – he is shorter, after all – and with his free hand, he grabs onto Miya’s shoulder. “That’s mine.”
For a moment, Miya doesn’t turn.
But his ears burn.
“I know,” he says finally, turning slowly and sending a crooked smirk towards Kiyoomi.
“Then give it back.”
“Don’t wanna,” he replies.
Kiyoomi can clearly see his blush now, and if the hotness he feels in his face is any indication, he imagines he could be just as red.
“You keep mine,” Miya says sticking his tongue out, “n’ I keep yours.”
In retrospect, Kiyoomi would very much prefer petty theft.
Public displays of affection are much worse to be remembered for.