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The moon was full and high, spilling silvery light down onto the sleeping world below. Humid, tropical air, pushed along by a sluggish breeze, tickled the plants and filled the night with dull rustling and ambience. A single light bled out from the house behind the solitary inhabitants of its porch, and was quickly swallowed by the absolute density of the rainforest beyond. Unseen creatures tittered and buzzed in the darkness. Aside from Korekiyo, sat neatly beside him with a cup of honeyed tea, Gonta was the only soul awake.
“It’s beautiful,” Korekiyo said with an airy tone, forgoing his usual lengthy pattern of speech for something more awestruck and genuine. “We truly are lucky to have the professions we do, for we may see places like this.”
Gonta nodded. Kiyo was right, after all; spending a night in a home deep in the Costa Rican rainforest wasn’t something most Japanese scholars would have the ability to experience. But, after graduating from Hope’s Peak Academy back home in Tokyo, he, Korekiyo, and their mutual friend Rantaro had realized their common interest; to discover; and set off to travel the world together.
Gonta gravitated towards the South American continent, and his companions were happy to accompany him to any end of the earth. He and Kiyo’s studies were prosperous, both running active blogs on their travels and findings. Rantaro’s first book of experiences travelling the world was soon to be published. The unlikely group had much in common besides their success, too; Gonta and Rantaro were avid hikers, and Rantaro and Kiyo just adored talking with locals. The group indulged in something self-cooked when they could, but enjoyed trying local restaurants all the same. The world felt like a great comic to be read, admired, scrutinized, and the pages just continued for a lifetime.
A quiet sip of tea from beside Gonta shook him from his thoughts. He peered over at Korekiyo, his companion (and maybe something more, if his hopes were based in any semblance of truth), thankful his eyes were sharper than most in the dark.
Korekiyo always looked gorgeous, but his beauty only increased tenfold when he was calm and relaxed. Tonight, his hair was pinned up in a wispy ponytail, revealing his snow white skin under a sheer pajama shirt. Under the moonlight, he seemed to glow, and his shirt appeared so loose and transparent that it was more of a memory of the garment, rather than tangible fabric. His long fingers, free of gloves or bandages, curled alluringly around the warm mug settled in his lap. His face was maskless and washed of makeup, revealing his porcelain skin, tired eyes, and gentle smile. Those elusive smiles warmed Gonta’s insides up, like he was being filled with hot honey tea and kisses.
Kiyo’s eyes were trained on the stars, giving Gonta the opportunity to gaze at the anthropologist, to study every line of his ethereal face and commit it to memory. His own torso was bare, as his usual layered clothes made him suffer in the equatorial heat. He felt absolutely at ease in such an exposed state, and he was certain Kiyo did as well; the two scientists shared a deep bond, an innate understanding of one another. They felt safe in each other’s company.
Gonta’s eyes travelled down Korekiyo’s neck, through his arm, and up to his own muscular limb, before slipping down again and catching on Kiyo’s hand. It had moved, fingers now only fractions of inches away from Gonta’s own where it rested, supporting him where he sat.
“You’re blushing,” Korekiyo observed.
Gonta’s attention snapped back into focus, and he glanced up to see Kiyo gazing at him, before looking at the ground sheepishly.
“Uh- um… Gonta not know why…” he mumbled.
Kiyo moved his hand then, placing it reassuringly over Gonta’s own. His typically cool fingers were warm from his mug of tea. Gonta flipped his own hand, properly holding his colleague’s, and scooted closer to him.
“I can always tell when you’re thinking about me, Gonta.” Kiyo’s index finger rubbed little circles against the back of the entomologist’s thumb , and he realized in full that they were indeed holding hands. “You blush. I don’t even think you notice. It’s quite endearing,” Kiyo chuckled.
Only then did Gonta notice the heat under his cheeks, in his ears. His thoughts suddenly were slush. His tongue felt heavy.
“Kiyo…”
“Yes, Gonta?”
“Can Gonta, uhm. Can Gonta kiss you..?”
Gonta swallowed dryly. His heart squeezed in his chest. He couldn’t meet Kiyo’s eyes.
A warm hand met his burning cheek, tenderly tilting his head lower and to the side. Kiyo brought his face mere inches from his partner’s, hesitating for just one moment to absorb the half-shocked-half-hopeful expression, then finally allowed their lips to meet.
Gonta, in complete honesty, had no idea what kissing on the lips was meant to feel like. He’d kissed his own hand before, for practice, but a hand doesn’t have lips. It doesn’t kiss back.
At first, the contact felt strange, foreign. After a split second of ew , however, the sensation melted to pure bliss. Something about it just felt universally correct, like humans were designed to do this. It was a physical closeness Gonta had never before felt.
Kiyo drew away, his eyes soft and crinkly to go with his crooked smile. Gonta was sure now that he was completely red, and beaming from ear to ear. In a rush of joy, he scooped Kiyo’s thin frame into a passionate hug, pressing the anthropologist’s cold, sharp body against his warm, supple one and keeping it there. He kissed Kiyo’s shoulder where his own head rested, and it was the second most natural thing he’d ever done, the first being kissing Kiyo on the lips. They stayed that way for a while, wrapped in darkness and comfort and each other. When they finally separated, to talk a bit and maybe kiss again, Gonta noticed a dusting of red across Kiyo’s cheeks; the first blush of many he would see his boyfriend sporting.