Chapter Text
When summer burns through the windows of Jurer, there are two different, distinct types of warmth that Kairi can feel. There’s the one of the sun, casting the dining room in a faint glow, and the other that he can feel from the inside, pouring outward only to glide along his skin.
In the back of his mind, he knows what it means—is embarrassingly, terribly aware of it.
It wasn’t as if he had never noticed. He could feel Keiichirou staring, unintentional or not, whenever he walked through the dining room. He could tell, just by the sound of Keiichirou’s voice, that he was always a bit disappointed when it was Umika waiting on him, instead of Kairi. It was a small change, a barely there tilt to his tone, and the only reason Kairi had ever noticed was because he had strained his ears for it. It left him feeling strangely elated yet crawling out of his skin all at the same time and it left him wondering—is it okay to feel like this?
He had asked the not so empty dining room one night, which is something Kairi swears up and down he’ll never do again. How could he, after the looks the others gave him? There had been a mischievous glint in Umika’s eye (that told him she knew all along), and an impish grin curving her lips (that told him she would never let him forget it for the rest of their lives). Touma had turned stone behind the counter, his movements robotic as he attempted to stack dishes away. His eyes were wide with surprise, his tone was questioning and careful—not overbearing, no, just... protective.
Kairi sighs, all to himself and the warmth surrounding him.
Right now, at three twenty two in the afternoon, that same warmth Kairi felt seemed to put its own mark on his skin. The temperature climbed higher and higher the more Kairi’s mind raced, and he couldn’t get a grip no matter how much he tried. His focus was undoubtedly elsewhere, and his own wandering thoughts made sure his focus stayed off track. Soon, the question is it okay…? began to morph into another—one along the lines of: wasn’t it ridiculous, feeling like this? No matter how much Kairi asked himself whether or not it was ridiculous, though, he found that he would soon be catching himself glancing Keiichirou’s way more often than not.
Like now, for instance—his eyes wandered, quite predictably, toward the table of cops.
Keiichirou sat there, in his usual spot, the backs of his fingers against his lips because he once again burnt his tongue on the cup of coffee he ordered, and Kairi has this thought, that if he kissed the guy and coaxed his mouth open—would his tongue relieve the burn on Keiichirou’s?
It’s a dangerous thought, one that he almost acts upon, and one he has to struggle against, because surely that could get him into trouble. Maybe, he thinks, recalling the one afternoon where they’d bumped into one other only to reach out to steady each other, recalling the smile that almost split Keiichirou’s face in two. He could still see it, plain as day, as if it were happening at that very moment in front of him.
Maybe not, he concludes, the warmth from the memory almost suffocating. Its then, with Keiichirou’s smile still very present in his forefront of his mind, that Umika decides to hit him on the shoulder.
“Kairi,” she whispers, but it might as well have been a yell. Kairi turns toward her, trying for nonchalant as he tears his gaze and thoughts away from Keiichirou. Kairi finds that he has trouble deciding whether or not to smother her face with napkins as he comes face-to-face with her wide, knowing grin. “You’re staring,” she tuts, her tone disapproving yet her eyes full of glee.
Kairi releases a breath that sounds all too much like a hiss, and extends a hand only to pinch her nose in favor of smothering her with napkins. “So what?” he says, forcing Umika’s head left and right. “He stares all the time.”
Umika waves her hands frantically, making a face that says just how displeased she is. She sticks her tongue out at Kairi when he finally lets her go. “He’s a customer,” she mocks.
(“I shouldn’t flirt with him,” Kairi said seriously, causing the other two to look up in alarm, their eyes wide. They were right in the middle of closing, and his words seemed to bounce around in the empty dining room. “I shouldn’t, right? He’s a customer.”
He kind of hated how he hadn’t needed to clarify just who he shouldn’t flirt with.
Umika hummed, mischief in her eyes as she twirled a washcloth around in her hand. Touma stared at him like he had grown two heads as Umika said, “Who cares?”)
Kairi squints up at her, recalling the smug look on her face. It looked far too similar to the current smug look she had on her face for his liking. “And just who is the one that said, who cares, when I asked?” he hisses, and judging by the way she pretends not to hear him, he’s won this battle.
He can’t help but vaguely wonder if he will win the war.
With a sigh, Kairi shifts his attention back to the little table of cops, although he should know better by now than to give into his impulses, or even give Umika more reasons to tease him. He pushes the thought aside and opts to just not think about it, and watch instead.
Keiichirou’s got his shoulders hunched over, pen in hand, his brows furrowed in concentration. Beside him, Sakuya’s eyes are wide as he tries not to openly stare back and forth between Keiichirou and Kairi, failing miserably. On Keiichirou’s other side, Tsukasa’s gaze is fixated pointedly at the table as she hides her smirk behind her mug.
Kairi’s stomach drops and he can’t make up his mind, whether or not he hates it or loves it, that the mutual (obvious) crush he and Keiichirou have on each other is (obviously) known to everyone.
Maybe he shouldn’t stare—maybe he shouldn’t be watching the way Keiichirou’s expression smoothens out only for his nose to scrunch up again, and maybe he shouldn’t be watching the way Keiichirou lifts his free hand only to scratch at his head, causing his hair to stick up a bit in the back. It’s stupidly, annoyingly endearing and Kairi forces himself to look away before his emotions show too clearly on his face. It’s a struggle to keep his expression neutral as he sits there at the counter, legs crossed, trying to focus his gaze on anything that is not the cop in red.
“I think we’re done here,” Tsukasa says aloud, a bit too tightly.
“I’m done. Yeah. I’m done, yep,” Sakuya squeaks.
Keiichirou says close to nothing as he stands, apologies spilling from his lips as his legs hit the table, causing everything atop it to shake and clatter. Kairi lifts a hand, hiding the way his lips automatically curve into a smile that dances on the edge of laughter. He stays in his seat at the counter, watching as the cops pay one by one, and Kairi could just kill Umika for the way she’s overly nice to Keiichirou, beaming as she throws Kairi occasional glances, as if trying to influence Keiichirou into looking his way.
Kairi’s sure whatever deities that are out there are currently laughing at him as Keiichirou does, in fact, look his way.
Who would he be, if he didn’t stare back?
It worsens, of course, when Keiichirou walks toward him.
Kairi’s almost positive his heart should not be allowed to beat that quickly—it strums rapidly against his eardrums, and he’s surprised his bones don’t rattle with the force of it, surprised that his teeth haven’t started clattering. His skin prickles with anticipation, the fine hairs all over his body stand on end as Keiichirou comes to a stop in front of him, looking handsome and nervous and oh, God, Kairi thinks, he’s looking right at me.
“Do you have a moment?” Keiichirou asks, and Kairi is impressed at how even and free of hesitation his voice is.
“Oh, he’s got nothing but moments,” Umika chimes in from somewhere behind the register.
“Yeah, ‘course,” Kairi says, opting to ignore Umika, thankful for the way Touma seemingly disappeared from the line. He had just been there, prepping food for the dinner portion of the night, and then he wasn’t.
Touma had never been good with secondhand embarrassment, Kairi recalls.
“Great,” Keiichirou murmurs. He shifts from foot to foot in front of Kairi, and perhaps he shouldn’t be as nervous as he was, but—Kairi’s looking up at him, wide-eyed, and the flush on Kairi’s face definitely isn’t some sort of trick of the light. It’s endearing, Keiichirou thinks, and he would not mind to see it more often. “I wanted to ask you, that is—would you like to... go out, sometime?”
Kairi says the first string of words that pop into his mind. “You mean, together? You and me? Go out, together?”
“Oh, no,” Umika says, covering her eyes with a hand while Sakuya and Tsukasa stand by the register as if made of stone. “I can’t watch this. Tell me when it’s over,” she pleads.
“Uhm, that is—if, uh…” Keiichirou mutters nervously, gesturing with his hands as if it were something he could even use hand gestures for. Was it supposed to be this hard? He had just practiced the line in his head not five minutes prior. “If, you know, if you’d… like to. I mean.”
“Oh, god,” Kairi gasps. He raises a hand and points at Keiichirou from where he’s glued to his chair. “You—you’re asking me out?”
“In simpler terms… yes. I suppose I am,” Keiichirou says carefully.
“I—uh, yes. Yes? Yes.” Kairi rambles, and he kind of hates how out of his own element he feels—but at the same time, he cannot help but indulge, just a bit; especially as Keiichirou’s face lights up with a smile. A breathless huff of laughter escapes Kairi as he looks up at Keiichirou incredulously. “If you’re sure. I mean. Yes, yeah, totally.”
“No, if you’re sure, Kairi—“
“Please, I really can’t take this anymore,” Umika groans. Out of the corner of his eye, Kairi can see her shielding her eyes away from the scene. “He’s sure, I swear that he’s sure.” She looks up at the other cops as she continues to hide her face with her hand. “Keiichirou’s sure too, right? Right?”
Kairi doesn’t look away from Keiichirou as he says, “Shut your huge mouth, Umika—“
“Then, here,” Keiichirou says, interrupting what could have very well been a fight right in the middle of Jurer. Kairi watches as Keiichirou digs into his pocket only to procure a tiny, deliberately folded piece of paper. He takes another small step forward and offers it to Kairi, who takes it carefully, holding it as if it were something rare (or something that may burn him). “That’s my number,” Keiichirou explains.
“Oh. Oh.” Kairi stares at the piece of paper in his hand, thinking, so this is what he was doing, this is what he was writing, as he gapes at it for several moments until his brain finally catches up with reality. “Wait! Hang on! I’ll, I, I need to—“ Kairi stands up quickly, feeling so uncharacteristically giddy as he walks past Keiichirou and behind the register to where Umika was sighing, exasperated, and rolling her eyes. Quickly, Kairi scribbles his number on an order pad and hopes it is legible enough to read as he elbows Umika anywhere he could get her, simply because she kept giggling and mumbling told you so’s under her breath.
Kairi mumbles under his breath right back at her, hissing shut up, Umika-s, and when the cops leave you’re so gonna get it. He pointedly ignores how loudly she snorts as he makes his way back to Keiichirou. There are a lot of things he feels at the moment: what seems like a million pairs of eyes on him, his heartbeat rattling his entire core, and what could very well be a spotlight shining right on him. Kairi clears his throat, furrowing his brow as he stares at the messy scrawl that is his number, until finally he looks at Keiichirou.
There’s something there, in Keiichirou’s expression—soft, tender yet amused all at the same time, his lips quirked into a little smile—that makes all the tension in Kairi’s body disappear as if it were nothing. Kairi finds himself thinking, maybe it was as easy as that.
“Here,” Kairi says, hoping to whatever deities are out there that his does not shake as he offers the paper.
Keiichirou reaches out, and Kairi wants to think that it is on purpose, the way their fingers brush as Keiichirou takes the piece of paper from his grasp. “Thank you,” he murmurs, and it’s incredibly endearing, how shy and quiet the words were said. “Then, uhm, I suppose I should say you will be hearing from me?” Keiichirou says, but it sounds more like a question than not. “Though, I guess you already know that.”
In spite of himself, Kairi laughs. He crosses his arms, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth with the back of his hand, because he’s sure his smile is dangerously close to splitting his face in two. Kairi feels totally out of his element as he tells him, “Yeah, Keii-chan. I’ll be expecting something. Just as you should.”
“I should?”
“Definitely,” Kairi says, and he may have said it more smugly than he intended.
“Okay!” Tsukasa clears her throat loudly, effectively pulling the two of them from their own little world. She clasps her hands together as she speaks. “We should get back to work, just as these guys should. Right, Sakuya? Keiichirou?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
“Oh. Right. Of course,” Keiichirou agrees hurriedly, suddenly aware of the audience.
“Right. Come on, then,” Tsukasa urges pointedly, shoving Sakuya out the door before stepping out too, all the while mumbling about how she was thankful Noel was in France and something about how they lucked out.
“Coming!” Keiichirou turns toward Kairi, and his lips tug upward into a smile automatically. “I’ll be around.”
“More than usual, I take it?” Umika asks, mischief in her eyes.
Kairi opens his mouth, the snarkiest comment he could think of on the tip of his tongue—
“Umika, be polite,” Touma chides quietly, making such a sudden appearance that the others in the room jump at the sound of his voice.
“Don’t tell me that when you tucked tail and ran!” Umika hisses as she spins on her heel only to point a finger accusingly at Touma. She waves it in front of his face before he bats it away like nothing. “I had to watch that all by myself, and I suffered! It was completely—“
“Embarrassing, I know,” Touma agrees. He raises an eyebrow at her. “I heard it all. I have ears, you know.” Umika opens her open, a retort on the top of her tongue, before Touma interrupts her. “Must I remind you, you didn’t watch by yourself? I’m sure his coworkers are just as scarred as you are.” He pauses, and then a low laugh escapes his lips. “She was right, though. It’s a good thing Noel wasn’t here to witness that.”
Umika rolls her eyes dramatically, shoving past Touma to bee-line for the kitchen. Hushed, angry murmurs of who would have thought you’d have ears and they turned to stone, Touma, how could they be scarred and if only Noel had been here to make the suffering funny trail behind her as Touma strides after her, apparently having obtained selective hearing as he wonders aloud how many more vegetables he has to prep.
Keiichirou stands there silently, watching it all unfold until the solid, repetitive sounds of a blade against a chopping board fill the air. Just like that, the natural order of Jurer resumed, almost as if nothing had happened at all. Keiichirou can feel the corners of his lips twitch upward with held back laughter as he glances at Kairi, who shares the same expression. “Did they realize we were still right here?” he asks, thoroughly amused.
Kairi lifts a shoulder in a lazy shrug, the smile on his face matching the mischief that had been on Umika’s. “It was kinda hilarious though, right?”
Keiichirou hums thoughtfully. “There’s never been a dull moment here,” he tells him earnestly, his smile soft and easy as he looks over to Kairi. His next words leave him easily, without restraint. “But, then again, I’ve mostly been watching you.”
***
The air is crisp and cool outside. It’s a striking contrast compared to walking inside of Jurer—one minute, there’s a slight chill in Keiichirou’s bones and then next, warmth seems to blanket over him. He would take far more pleasure in that if it were not for the way something immediately seemed… off.
It takes him a moment to realize what, exactly, is off.
Keiichirou turns to Umika, who is sporting her usual mischievous smile. Momentarily, he wonders whether or not she has any other smile—surely, he couldn’t be the only person she directs that cat like smirk to. “Uhm…” he clears his throat, a strange sensation overriding his senses.
“Yes?” Umika says with a particular tilt to her voice. “What is it?”
Was she scrutinizing him, or was it just… his imagination?
“Where’s Kairi?”
“Oh?” Umika purses her lips, tilting her head this way and that. She doesn’t mean to take her irritation out on him, really, she doesn’t, but… “I could have sworn he texted you. I’m sure he had me get his phone from his charger that is right next to his bed just so he could text you.”
Keiichirou pauses and opts to choose his next words carefully. “I forgot to put my cell on the charger last night,” he explains slowly. “It died while I was at work. We had made plans to, uh… go out tonight, so if anything changed…” he trails off, unsure. To further prove his point, he takes his drained cell phone from his pocket and presses the power button, and shows her the little red battery icon that flashes on the screen.
She hums, nodding to show she understood, and yet her eyebrows never lower from how high they sat on her forehead. “That’s reasonable,” she says, and Keiichirou wonders if he was imagining how defeated she sounded. “He’s sick. He’s upstairs sleeping right now.”
“W-What? He’s sick?” Keiichirou gapes at her momentarily before his gaze settles on the doorway to the stairs. Would it be brazen of him to even ask—?
In the midst of his inner turmoil, Keiichirou doesn’t see the way Umika looks at him. Studying him is probably the correct phrase, but Umika would deny up and down the implications of what that really meant, although she knew all too well. She looks the guy up and down, her heart wavering. Keiichirou is a good guy, she thinks, she knows this for a fact, and yet she cannot help but feel a bit overprotective of Kairi.
(“You’ve got nothing to say?” Umika had asked, a week after Kairi and Keiichirou officially started throwing the word dating and boyfriend into casual conversation.
Touma hadn’t looked up from the little cake he’d been decorating. “What are you talking about,” he says, his focus too intense to even put that questioning little tilt at the end of his words.
Exasperated, Umika had pouted a little—only a little. “About them. Ya know, Keii-chan and Kairi.”
Touma hummed thoughtfully, spinning the display stand slowly to inspect for anything amiss. “Are you feeling… protective, Umika?”
Umika made a face at him. She scrunched up her nose, rolled her eyes, and she might have even stuck her tongue out at him. “You aren’t?” she asked.
Finally, he looked over at her, setting the bag of icing to the side. “Not as much as you, apparently.”
“What is that supposed to mean?!” she shrieked.
Touma glared at her, putting a finger to his lips to indicate she should be quiet, even if there were no customers currently seated in the dining area. Her shouts were bound to keep anyone outside away, anyways. “Why is it that you feel so protective of him?” he asked curiously, raising an eyebrow. “He’s older than you. If I recall correctly, weren’t you the one always encouraging him onward? I’d figure you’d be happy, Umika. Are you jealous or something?”
“What?!” She fake gagged, face contouring in disgust. “Ew, Touma! I’m definitely not jealous!” Swiftly, she picked up the closest thing to her—a spatula. It wouldn’t do much damage, but it would work. Umika went to swat at him with it, only getting a few jabs in before Touma rolled his eyes, snatching it from her grasp easily. “Take it back! It’s just—it’s Kairi. It’s Kairi! You know how he is! That’s why you were worried, in the beginning!”
“By now, though, Umika… Just because we know how Kairi is…” Touma paused, mulling over his next words before deciding to just say them. “I mean, don’t we know just how Keiichirou is, too?” he pointed out, and rolled his eyes at the way Umika glared at him pointedly before storming off.)
Umika looks away from where Keiichirou stood, eyes to the doorway, and instead looks at her hands. I mean, don’t we know just how Keiichirou is, too? rings out in her mind. She knew, Touma knew, and Kairi knew better than anyone, and she’s sure that Tsukasa and Sakuya and Noel knew, too. Vaguely, Umika wonders why she’s been so worried; though, a nagging feeling at the back of her mind tells her it would never really go away, because Kairi was Kairi, after all, and she saw firsthand how hard he crushed on Keiichirou.
And yet, she had seen the same look on Keiichirou’s face, too, numerous times—the very same one Kairi had on his face, numerous times.
She sighs, quiet and mostly to herself, as she looks at Keiichirou again.
“You… you gonna go take care of him?”
Keiichirou whips around, wide eyed. “What?”
Umika rolls her eyes, amused at his one track mind. She closes the distance between them and narrows her eyes as she looks up at him. “I asked, are you gonna go take care of him?” she repeats herself, crossing her arms over her chest. “I tried, but he wouldn’t let me, said he wanted Keii-chan to take care of him. When I pointed out you didn’t get off work for another two hours, he said he didn’t care if he turned to dust waiting for you.”
“Uhm,” Keiichirou stutters, embarrassed, “well, that…”
“But, Keiichirou,” Umika interrupts him. She extends an arm and points a finger at him only to poke Keiichirou in the chest, trying for threatening. “I’ll only let you go up those stairs if you promise to always care for Kairi.”
Out of all the things Umika had expected Keiichirou to do, being confused wasn’t one of them.
“What are you talking about?” he asks, genuinely curious. Keiichirou tilts his head, and Umika can only wonder what she looks like in his eyes, in the moment—a fool probably being the most logical choice. Before she can apologize, or even take away the finger that digs into his uniform, Keiichirou speaks again, “wasn’t that the only option to begin with, Umika?”
She feels so silly, all of a sudden. With rushed laughter, she drops her hand and ducks her head. Umika can feel the laughter continuing to bubble up, constricting her throat; suddenly it all feels like some elaborate joke. She begins to wonder if Kairi was really even sick, if he hadn’t just roped Keiichirou into some clever scheme to completely throw her for a loop. Umika nods her head vigorously, struggling to contain her laughter the more it shakes her shoulders.
“Umika? Are you alright? Did Kairi get you sick?”
“No, no,” Umika says, laughter spilling from her lips. She covers her mouth with the back of her hand, shaking her head at Keiichirou’s concern. “No, I just—ha ha… ha ha ha…” She snorts with laughter, biting the insides of her cheeks to ground herself. “It’s…” Umika takes a deep breath as she tries to pull herself together. She looks up at Keiichirou, who is looking at her still with worry laced in his expression, and Umika cannot help but think that it’s a good thing that the guy in front of her and the guy sick in bed upstairs with a cold found each other. “It’s nothing,” she says gently, and before he can say anymore, she’s grabbing his shoulders and spinning him around toward the staircase.
“Wha—huh? Umika?”
She pats his shoulders and gives him a gentle shove. “What are you waiting for?” she laughs softly and only feels a bit irritated at the shadow of Touma’s silhouette in the corner of her eye. Always avoiding embarrassing situations, she thinks, and tells Keiichirou: “Kairi’s waiting, ya know?”
*
Keiichirou takes the steps one at a time only to stop at the second door on the left. He raises a fist, contemplating whether or not to knock. He does, and waits for any sort of confirmation on the other side before softly announcing, “I’m coming in, Kairi,” and opening the door slowly.
In the dim lighting that filters in from the window, he can see Kairi lying on the bed, blankets on half of him while the other half drapes toward the floor. Keiichirou’s lips quirk upward in a smile, and he can’t help but shake his head as he closes the distance. There’s a small basin empty of water on the nightstand accompanied by unused, neatly folded washcloths.
He discards his gloves, stuffing them into a pocket before extending a hand. Gently, Keiichirou rests the back of his hand against Kairi’s clammy forehead, frown etched onto his lips as he pushes Kairi’s sweaty hair away from his face. He moves his hand, the shell of Kairi’s ear hot against the pads of his fingers. Keiichirou recalls Umika’s words, about how this sick boy in bed supposedly said he’d wanted Keiichirou to care for him, and he shakes his head although fondness blooms in his chest.
Kairi’s cute, Keiichirou thinks, but sometimes so difficult to handle.
Keiichirou retrieves his hand, giving Kairi’s sleeping form one more lingering look before he takes the empty basin and slips quietly out of the room. Two doors down, the door to the bathroom is wide open, so he flicks on the light before turning on the faucet, waiting patiently for cold water to fill it halfway.
Once satisfied, Keiichirou carefully carries it back to Kairi’s room.
He nudges the door open with his foot carefully, brows furrowing because his boots must sound so clunky against the hardwood floor, but Kairi doesn’t stir once; he lays there, his breathing steady, soft murmurs of dreams tumbling from his lips. Still, it doesn’t stop Keiichirou from holding his breath as he presses his back to the door, shutting it just as carefully, only releasing said breath once he hears the click of the latch.
Slowly, Keiichirou walks toward the bed and sets the half-full basin on the nightstand.
He’s never really done this, before—and it seems silly, but Keiichirou couldn’t help the nervous flutter in the pit of his stomach. He takes a deep breath, eyeing Kairi once more and it is then he notices how sweaty he is; it dampens Kairi’s hair and makes his skin look shiny in the filtered sun that shines through the curtains.
With furrowed brows, Keiichirou gathers up the blankets and sets them messily onto the floor.
It’s after he brings the chair from the desk on the other side of the room over to the bedside that Keiichirou realizes he cannot stall, anymore. With butterflies in his stomach, he grabs a cloth from beside the basin and dunks it into the water, and he’s eternally grateful that Kairi is asleep, dreaming whatever it is he dreams of, because Keiichirou forgot until it was almost too late that he had to ring out the cloth before setting it on Kairi’s forehead. It results in his right thigh getting soaked, but he figures he’d rather have soaked pants than have a mess on the floor.
He can feel his ears burn as he leans forward a bit, laying the cool cloth on Kairi’s forehead as if it were the most challenging thing he’d ever done. He smoothes it over the other’s forehead, and it is then Kairi decides it’s a good time for his eyes to flutter open.
Keiichirou snatches his hands away as if caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing. “Kairi—“
“Ah,” Kairi murmurs, his lips tugging upward in a sleepy, lopsided smile. He swallows thickly, throat dry, but now that Keii-chan was here, nothing else mattered. “Keii-chan? Keiichirou? You’re here.”
“I’m here,” Keiichirou confirms simply, softly. There’s a small tilt of humor in his voice as he says, “I don’t think you have such a high fever that you’d be hallucinating.”
Kairi hums, half lidded eyes closing momentarily before opening back up. “Maybe it’d have been a dream...”
Keiichirou quirks an eyebrow and asks, before he can stop himself, “You dream about me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Kairi murmurs.
It’s Keiichirou’s turn to hum, the corners of his lips twitching upward. He stares at the length of Kairi’s arm without really looking, and he only shakes out of his daze when Kairi speaks again.
“Are you saying you don’t dream about me, Keiichirou?”
“I have,” he admits, reaching forward to cover Kairi’s exposed left hand with his own. “Though, I haven’t recently. I have you right in front of me, after all.”
Kairi laughs, breathless and a bit wheezy all at once. He squeezes Keiichirou’s hand and says, “always trying to one up me, Keii-chan.”
“That’s not it.” Keiichirou shakes his head and reaches with his free hand to adjust the damp cloth on Kairi’s forehead. He grazes his knuckles against Kairi’s cheek, heart hammering in his ears as Kairi leans into the touch. Keiichirou adjusts his hand, palm to cheek, thumb grazing the clammy skin. “It’s just the truth.”
Kairi sighs and wishes he had enough strength in him to roll his eyes. Instead, he smiles, unbidden as he continues leaning into the touch. “I wish I could kiss you.”
“Huh?” Keiichirou gives him a look, confused and amused all at once as he furrows his eyebrows. “Kairi. I can kiss you,” he points out, leaning in.
“No! Not a chance,” Kairi says, raising a shaky hand only to press it to Keiichirou’s chest, stopping him in his tracks. “You can’t kiss me, I’m sick. You could—“ he pauses abruptly, brows furrowing in confusion. He pats at Keiichirou’s clothes, “—are you in your uniform?”
“Mm. I didn’t change. My phone died at work, and I didn’t want to waste any time so I rushed here,” he explains hurriedly, rolling his eyes with no ill intent. “But that’s not the point, Kairi. I can kiss you.”
“You—“
“I want to,” Keiichirou tells him earnestly, and closes the distance.
It’s easy, and chaste, but it still causes sparks, just like any other time. It’s just a simple, firm yet gentle press—but it still has the both of them smiling, still has their hearts quickening, and it still has their faces flushing the lightest shade of pink.
Even when Keiichirou pulls back, he has to admit defeat, even just a little. He leans in for another; he lingers, brushing his lips against Kairi’s softly because he’s been allowing himself to indulge a bit more, lately. His skin feels white-hot as Kairi’s lips part, just a bit, and it worsens when he sighs like he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
Keiichirou pulls away, feeling weightless as he rests his forehead to the cool cloth on Kairi’s.
It’s quiet, for a few moments, with just the two of them in each other’s space, with just the two of them breathing in each other. Keiichirou’s eyes are open, and he’s looking down at the upward curl of Kairi’s lips; he doesn’t even mind that his hair is getting damp from the cloth.
Kairi laughs, a little huff of breath, and Keiichirou leans away from him just as Kairi’s saying, “if you get sick, you can’t blame me for it.”
“It’s alright,” Keiichirou says, his eyes all but fond as he looks at Kairi. It’s darker in the room, now—the sun’s setting, and the streetlights are coming on, covering the room in sharp shadows and an orangey yellow glow. Kairi still looks a bit clammy, still looks like he’s running a bit of a fever, but regardless of being sick, he still looks content. “It’ll be worth it, if I do,” Keiichirou tells him.
“Trying to one up me again, Keii-chan?” Kairi sighs sleepily after stifling a yawn.
“No,” Keiichirou tells him, and gently takes his hand away from Kairi’s own. As quietly as he can, he scoots the chair back only to get up, rummaging through the pile of blankets for the thinnest one. “Not at all,” Keiichirou says, and Kairi hums in response, amused. Keiichirou drapes the blanket over his legs before taking the cool washcloth off his forehead. Diligently, he dunks it into the basin before ringing it out, and by the time all that’s done, Kairi’s breathing is beginning to even out, deep and soft.
Keiichirou can’t help himself. He bends at the waist, brushing his lips against Kairi’s forehead before setting the cold cloth there. When Kairi doesn’t stir, Keiichirou whispers his name softly, questioningly; Kairi’s eyebrow twitches, but all he does is sigh and settle even more comfortably into the bed.
With a smile that edges on laughter, Keiichirou reaches out only to graze the backs of his fingers against Kairi’s cheek again.
Trying to one up me again, Keii-chan?
He isn’t sure why the remark pops into his mind again, but it does. That wasn’t it, far from it—and it’s then he realizes just how much Kairi brings out in him. He’s awkward, yes, but with Kairi, some things came easier. Keiichirou could be clumsy with his words, sure, but with Kairi, it was easy—with Kairi, he wanted to show it not just with his actions, but with his words as well, no matter how clumsy. He was able to be blunt, and he was able to show just how much love was nestled in his chest, like a tiny garden, threatening to grow unruly.
Love.
Keiichirou’s eyes grow wide and he snatches his hand away from Kairi’s face as if suddenly shocked.
Love.
It had never really occurred to him, before. He knew there was emotion—intense affection, complete and honest adoration—when it came to Kairi. There was a desire to be next to him at all times, a strange sense of loss whenever his hand wasn’t in Kairi’s, or when their arms weren’t pressed together as they slept or when they walked side by side. There was an urge to be hopelessly and honestly and embarrassingly straightforward. He was content no matter where they were, no matter what they were doing; Keiichirou knew he could look over, and Kairi would be there, his expression honest and happy with just a little bit of his usual mischief.
He thinks about it again: love. His lips part in slight surprise before a small huff of laughter escapes, and then he’s smiling.
Perhaps, it was that easy to put a name to it all.
It’s like he has no control over his body as he swoops down again; it really can’t be helped, this time.
Keiichirou brushes his lips against Kairi’s once more, feather-like and tender, with a murmured promise that he’d see him again, later.
***
Winter frosts the windows of Jurer when Touma cooks the three of them dinner.
It was at Touma’s request—I’d like to have dinner with the two of you, if available, he’d sent to the group chat three days prior. Umika had immediately replied with ‘but YOU’RE cooking, right?’ and Kairi had laughed, booming and obnoxious, as he sent laughing emojis to which Touma followed with his own, ‘Well, really, who else would?’
He was waiting for them at the counter, scrolling through his phone and sending messages back and forth with Keiichirou when the two of them walked in.
“Sorry we’re a bit late, Kairi!” Umika says, the warmth of the bistro melting the snow in her hair. She’s unraveling her scarf and tugging off her jacket alongside Touma as she says, “We stopped and got some ingredients. We’re—“
“We’re having hotpot,” Touma says, carrying the bags into the kitchen.
“—having hotpot!”
Kairi laughs, his smile lopsided as he looks over to Touma, who’s now behind the line. “Need any help, Touma?”
“Yeah, yeah!” Umika plops down in the chair next to Kairi. “We could always help.”
Touma groans, a drawn own ugh. “No. I don’t trust either of you back here.”
“Huh? Excuse me?” Kairi gapes at him, trying for scandalized. He points up to Touma, who is already laying out the ingredients and gathering the utensils needed. “You don’t trust us? I’m the one who had to stop you from putting laxatives in Sakuya’s food.”
“I don’t recall,” Touma says easily, over Umika’s bark of laughter. He points the knife he had just sharpened at Kairi. “Besides, even if you did have to stop me from doing such a thing, it was for Umika’s sake.”
“He’s got a point, Kairi,” Umika says through a series of giggles.
Kairi rolls his eyes as the steady sounds of a blade against a cutting board filled the air. “So, anyways, Touma.” He looks over to see the top of the guy’s head, his hair as pristine as ever. “What’s the occasion?”
There’s a brief pause in the sound before it picks back up again.
“What do you mean,” Touma says.
Umika looks over to Kairi, her brows raised. “Now that you mention it…”
“It’s not like you’d just offer to cook for us if something wasn’t up,” Kairi says, and Umika hums loudly in agreement.
Touma sniffs indignantly. He feels like a robot as he carefully sets the knife down only to look up to see his friends staring up at him curiously. “Do we still have that tabletop burner?” he asks.
“Changing the subject?” Kairi raises an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Really.” Touma nods. “There are steps to making hotpot although it looks fairly simple.”
Kairi gives him a Look, but it disappears quickly as Umika stomps on his foot.
“Come on, boys—“
“He started it,” the two of them say in unison.
“—no matter the occasion, this is supposed to be a fun night for us!” Umika says cheerily, her eyes as bright as always. “So, c’mon, Kairi.” She stands so quick the chair behind her almost topples over; but she pays it little heed as she grips Kairi’s sleeve, vice-like. “Let’s go look for that burner.”
“What? Look yourse—“
“Maybe it’s in the back,” Umika interrupts, dragging Kairi behind her. “I’m sure the two of us will be able to find it in no time.”
“No—“
“And maybe the larger skillet, too,” Touma yells over Kairi’s wails of complaints.
*
The three of them have already settled comfortably around the table, making a dent in the hotpot once Touma decides to gently ease into the topic.
“So,” he murmurs, carefully plucking a piece of meat from the skillet as if it required all of his attention. “Umika.”
Umika perks up, eyebrows raised high as she swallows her mouthful of food. “Yes?”
“How is it, living with Shiho?”
Kairi laughs, and Touma relaxes instantly when the guy actually has the decency to cover his mouth. The last thing he wanted was Kairi’s chewed up food littered around on the table. “Man, Touma, are you out to embarrass her?”
“What! Shut up!” Umika yells, kicking Kairi under the table as though it would help lessen the heat flooding her face. It doesn’t, far from it, but she enjoys seeing the scowl on Kairi’s face, and calls it a win. “I-It’s going fine, thank you. We… we’ve been friends for such a long time, after all. Of course it’s going okay.”
“But only girlfriends for a year and a half.”
“You really are out to embarrass me, aren’t you, Touma!” she shrieks as Kairi laughs. “Shut up, Kairi! You still live here!”
Kairi rolls his eyes, but he stops laughing quickly, and Umika only has a moment to feel a pang of guilt before Touma opens his mouth again.
“Aya and I are having a child,” he says in a rush.
His friends, normally so rambunctious and loud, become speechless. Touma can feel their stares but he doesn’t dare look up.
“We’re having a boy.”
The silence stretches on, and Touma isn’t sure if he wishes to look away from little red light on the tabletop burner. He can feel the words burn on his tongue, can feel a stampede of emotions rage inside his skull, and for a moment he wonders if it was too early to bring it up—
“Touma!” Umika shrieks, just as Kairi’s yelling, “wait, seriously?!”
Touma looks up, and upon seeing the happy, surprised looks on his friend’s faces, he smiles. “Took you two long enough to react,” Touma sighs, unable to deny the relief.
“What do you mean, took us long enough?!” Kairi laughs, kicking him under the table.
“Yeah!” Umika points at him, shaking her head. “That was a major shock, you know! So, come on, tell us, spill the beans!” Umika leans in, excitement etched onto her face. “When is she due? Is she alright? Healthy? When did you find out!? This is so exciting! You guys are really starting a life together, huh?”
Touma laughs softly, and while the room was not as suffocating as it was moments prior, he cannot help but notice how lost in thought Kairi seemed to be.
*
“Something’s bothering you,” Touma says an hour later.
Jurer is empty aside from the two of them, now. Umika had left twenty minutes prior upon seeing the late hour, apologies and congratulations tumbling from her lips much like word vomit as she headed out the door. Touma now stands behind the line again, forearm deep in a sink full of bubbles as he cleans up. Kairi comes and goes, bringing back more dirty dishes and utensils until there is no more left at their table.
He hums in question at Touma’s remark, fiddling with a cloth as he weighs the pros and cons of helping dry the dishes.
“Something’s bothering you,” Touma repeats.
Kairi rolls his eyes, tossing the cloth to the side. He thinks about wiping down the tables, and wonders if Touma would point out that Umika already did that before she left, and knows that he would. Kairi sighs, making sure not to look at Touma as he says, “not really.”
It’s Touma’s turn to roll his eyes. He focuses on the large pot they had used, weighing the pros and cons of continuing this line of conversation. In the end, he gives up. “How long have we known each other, Kairi?”
“Uh. I mean, for a while now, I guess…”
“Almost three years.”
“…Yeah.”
“I don’t…” Touma starts only to stop. He isn’t sure how to word it exactly, but if he didn’t try, he couldn’t help—and that in itself shows just how much he’s grown to care for Umika and Kairi. He recalls Umika’s wailing, about how worried she was because this is Kairi, and we’ve both seen firsthand just how not in tune he is with his feelings! And he recalls the moments he’s seen Kairi hide a smile at something Keiichirou did, just as he’s seen the softness in Keiichirou’s expression when he’d look at Kairi from across the dining room.
He wonders, for a moment, if he had been that awestruck when he’d first met Aya.
Carefully, Touma sets the pot they’d used for their meal aside, and rests his arms against the edge of the sink. When he looks over toward Kairi, he can see the deliberate way Kairi stands as to not meet Touma’s gaze. “I think… I have known you long enough to read you.”
Kairi snorts, and Touma fights a laugh, because finally, the guy was acting a bit more like himself. “Oh, yeah?” Kairi hums.
“I said, ‘I think,’” Touma points out. “But, that’s not the point. What I mean is… I can tell something’s bothering you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah—and I just… want you to know, that you have people you can talk to… if you can’t talk to… Keiichirou,” Touma says carefully.
“That isn’t—“ Kairi begins quickly, only to clamp his mouth shut. In spite of it all, Touma laughs, and tries not to think too hard about the death glare he’s given.
“Isn’t it, though?” he asks, watching as Kairi scratches as the back of his neck.
“Not… ugh, I can’t believe I’m going to talk to you about this.”
“I can always call Umika, if you’d prefer.”
“And give her something else to taunt me with? Right, no thanks.”
Touma smiles at him and tilts his head to show he’s waiting.
“I still… live here,” Kairi says. He stares at the floor, searching for any specks of dirt or grime that may be there, but he finds none. “It didn’t really bother me when Umika said it, but then… I don’t know. Just like she said, you two… you and Aya are starting a life together. Even Umika and Shiho, they’re… living together. I just wonder… man, this is so stupid.”
“But it isn’t, Kairi.”
Kairi pauses, letting Touma’s words wash over him.
But it isn’t. It isn’t. It isn’t.
He knows that, of course—it really isn’t, but there is a small part of him, that is riddled with fear and anxiety, that doesn’t let him believe it fully. Kairi shifts from foot to foot and wonders just how much Touma would hold it against him if he tucked tail and ran, but he doesn’t.
“It just has me…” he mumbles slowly, lifting a shoulder in a lazy shrug, “thinking… of the future… I guess.”
“Really?”
“Yes, God, why do you sound so surprised?” Kairi groans.
“Just to mess with you,” Touma tells him, and ignores the way Kairi continues to groan in favor of recalling a memory—one of Keiichirou. He remembers the guy coming into the restaurant when Kairi was away visiting his brother, and he remembers being surprised when Keiichirou had asked to speak to him, and not about where Kairi was. And Touma remembers thinking, perhaps not so shockingly, that he was glad Kairi had someone who could understand him, maybe even better than Kairi understood himself. There’s a small, private smile etching itself onto Touma’s face, now. “I think that… you aren’t the only one thinking of the future.”
Kairi side-eyes him skeptically, unsure of Touma’s choice of words. It makes him feel something he isn’t sure how to describe and if he would even want to. So, instead of the retorts coating his tongue, he says, “sorry to say I’m having a difficult time taking you seriously with bubbles all over your hands.”
Touma shrugs, submerging his hands in the sink to get the bubbles off. He turns to Kairi and raises an eyebrow. “What about now?”
Kairi rolls his eyes and makes a bee line toward the dining area. “I’m gonna wipe the tables.”
“Umika already did that,” Touma says under his breath.
**
“Is something bothering you?” Keiichirou asks three days later. He regards Kairi kindly all the while fighting a smile. “I told you, it’s alright you burnt the meat.”
They’re sitting across from each other in Keiichirou’s academy appointed apartment, empty take out containers littered across the little table between them because, yes, Kairi may or may not have accidentally burnt the meat they were going to have for dinner. Kairi doesn’t look up, but he does feel his shoulders tense up before he forces himself to relax. He cannot decide whether or not he loves it or hates it, the way Keiichirou’s getting better and better at reading him.
(Though, he must admit—of everything that Keiichirou has seen thus far, he is still sincere.)
Kairi shakes his head slowly, hoping that it seems as if he’s engrossed in his phone and not trying to figure out a lie to tell.
“Is something… else… bothering you?” Keiichirou repeats gently.
Kairi’s mind goes blank momentarily. He clicks a button on the side of his phone, darkening the screen. He thinks about washing the silverware they used only to remember they ate with chopsticks, and then he begins to wonder why this line of thinking was giving him déjà vu. Kairi shifts in his seat, glancing up toward Keiichirou. “Not, uh…” he trails off, unsure.
Keiichirou simply sits there, and Kairi has this thought, that it wasn’t the first time he’s ever seen this look on the guy’s face before. Soft, tender yet amused all at the same time, with his lips quirked into a little smile—it makes all the uneasiness fade away as if it were nothing. Kairi finds himself thinking, maybe it’s as easy as this.
He clears his throat, and gives a small nod. Kairi fights down the last remaining bits of his anxiety as best he can. “I… it’s just, I’ve been thinking.”
Keiichirou nods, his eyes never straying from Kairi’s—and it’s still there, that expression. Kairi wonders how he manages it. How could it be, that that expression is seemingly ever present? Since they’ve met, it seems as though it’s always been there—hidden, at first, just a swell of emotion that budded further the more time passed. Kairi stares at the black screen of his phone, and thinks about all the times he couldn’t hide his smile quick enough, couldn’t muffle his laughter fast enough; he remembers Umika’s smirks and the way Touma would bite back a smile only to shake his head.
It’s then, he realizes, how easier it all is. It was easy to smile, and it was easy to laugh—easy to just slip his hand against Keiichirou’s, easy to just scoot a bit closer and press their arms together as they slept. And it was easy, terrifyingly so, how he could just gravitate toward Keiichirou as they walked side by side. There was a yearning, there; a feeling that could never be fulfilled, no matter how much time passed, simply because it kept growing, much like lo—
“Kairi?” Keiichirou murmurs gently, and Kairi shakes himself back into the present, where his heart is thudding against his ribcage as if trying to claw itself out.
He came dangerously close to a word he never thought he would use, and maybe it’s not so surprising, Kairi thinks, how much it fits with Keiichirou at the end of it.
Kairi clears his throat, scratching at the back of his neck just for the hope it would distract him from his thoughts. It doesn’t, far from it, and soon Kairi knows he can no longer stall. “About… the future,” he mumbles.
A beat of silence passes.
“Oh?” Keiichirou says, breathless.
Kairi isn’t sure how to take that—good or bad or something in between—but it was too late to back away now.
“I just, you know, I still… live in the restaurant. It’s alright, you know; I don’t mind. I’m rarely ever late to work. But, I, uh.” A dry laugh escapes him before he pauses and lowers his gaze. Kairi focuses on the tabletop and the little nicks and chips that are on the surface, and thinks about how many more could be there in the future. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. “I… the future. That’s what I’ve been thinking about. Touma and Aya… they’re, you know. Having a kid. Umika and Shiho, they’re… living together. So, I don’t know, I’ve just.” Kairi cuts himself off, hating how he feels, at that moment—on fire yet on ice all at the same time, his heart in his throat, the words on the tip of his tongue but the lunge he knows he must take to say them aloud feels too steep to conquer.
He glances up at Keiichirou, and what he sees there is enough to just take that step.
“I was thinking about… the future,” he says again, “t—“
“—together?”
Kairi stops short, and he’s sure he must look strange. He’s sure that his eyes are wide, and he’s sure that his ears are redder than ever, and he’s almost positive his mouth is hanging open. Kairi does his best to collect himself, but he can feel the heat spread to the back of his neck. “I—“ he gapes, and narrows his eyes. “How did you know I was gonna say that?”
Keiichirou laughs, disbelieving and breathless, before he scoots away from the little table between them. Kairi watches as he turns, and he cannot help but wonder what was so fascinating about the cube shelving and its fabric storage containers. He watches still as Keiichirou rummages through one only to move onto another one, sliding it out with a noise of triumph before taking out whatever it was that was inside. Keiichirou sits back down quickly, placing what looked magazines in his lap.
Kairi narrows his eyes, but softens a bit at the joke that leaves his mouth. “I’m not here to see your dirty mags, Keii-chan.”
“What? No, that’s not… no.” Keiichirou gives him a look as he shakes his head. “I’ve also… been thinking about the future,” he explains, and slides the magazine toward Kairi.
Kairi leans forward, peering at the cover warily. He stares at it, taking in the photos of the houses and the tiny apartment balconies on the cover, until it finally clicks.
***
When spring begins to soften the air around them, there are two different, distinct types of warmth Kairi can feel. There’s the one of the sun, casting his empty room in a faint glow, and the other that he can feel from the inside, pouring outward only to glide along his skin.
He looks inside the box in front of him and barely manages to fight off the rush of emotion. It’s there, of course—strumming along his skin pleasantly along with memories that resurface upon looking at the pictures, much like when Keiichirou had first handed the box over to him a few hours previously.
(“What is this?” Kairi had asked, messing with the untapped flaps. He could barely see inside of it, but with what little he could see, Kairi had an inkling feeling.
Keiichirou grins at him, gesturing to the box he had handed over. “Pictures and the like,” he tells him, and Kairi can feel the blood beneath his skin begin to simmer. “With everything I had at my place, it’s already half full. I figured with the ones you have here, you could fill it up the rest of the way.”)
He’s aware he had just, no more than a few moments prior, completed the task of carefully continuing to layer framed photos and polaroids in between bubble wrap, but the urge to indulge is strong, and Kairi’s been trying to allow himself little things, lately.
So, with that in mind, Kairi picks up a polaroid and grazes a thumb across the writing at the bottom. This one wasn’t too long ago.
01/20XX: SHRINE VISIT
He remembers it was cold that day, and he remembers it was the first time they’d gone to visit the shrines by themselves. Kairi remembers waiting in line, the sound of the bell and people’s hands coming together greeting his ears more pleasantly than all the times prior. Even now, a few months later, Kairi can still remember how it felt to feel his hand brush against Keiichirou’s; and still, even now, he can recall how sly he had felt, how sure and right his heart had beat and felt, when he slipped his hand in Keiichirou’s.
Kairi smiles as he sets it aside, onto the bare surface of the desk. He picks up the next one—a framed picture of the Jurer Trio, as Noel dubbed them. He remembers Umika had whined because it was a bad hair day, and he remembers Touma rolling his eyes and telling her she looked the best out of the three of them, and Kairi remembers scoffing. He may or may not remember the painful pinch to the arm he’d gotten at that. Kairi studies the photo—they didn’t look too awkward standing next to each other, and with no date readily visible to give him a timeframe, he comes to the conclusion it must have been taken a few months or so after Noel had come from France.
He’s still smiling as he sets that one aside, too.
The next one he picks up is a polaroid, and he knows this one has a pair. After a few moments of careful digging (in which he admires pictures of Keiichirou as a trainee in the academy, and laughs at Sakuya’s face in the one where the Cop Trio is saluting), Kairi finds it. He picks it up with his other hand and holds them up, side by side, all the while suppressing the urge to roll his eyes.
10/20XX: LUNCH AT THE CAFÉ
He focuses on the one of Keiichirou.
They had gone to a café in the city, a little mini-date which they were able to scramble up on Keiichirou’s lunch break. He remembers it clearly, and not just because of the photograph—it was rare to see Keiichirou out of uniform, aside from lounging around and going on outings. It wasn’t required during monthly meetings at the GSPO office, so it was one of those rare times Keiichirou had worn a suit to work. Kairi remembers staring at him—really, really staring, as if it was the first time he’d stared at him in Jurer, only a bit unabashed and open.
(“Is something on my face?” Keiichirou asked, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand although he had only ordered a glass of water. “In my hair?” He patted his hair for any stray leaves or debris although there hadn’t been any wind outside.
Kairi shook his head, a huff of laughter leaving his lips. “Nah. Just looking you.”
“What? You always see me.”
“Yeah, well.” Kairi shrugged, and then raised a hand to gesture at the guy across from him. “You’re out of uniform.”
“You—“
“—‘always see me out of uniform,’” Kairi imitated, suppressing a smile at Keiichirou’s narrowed eyes. “I know that, too.”
Keiichirou leaned back, crossing his arms and tilting his head as he watched Kairi rummage through his bag. “I’m not sure I’m following,” he admitted.
“That’s alright,” Kairi tells him, and brings the polaroid camera up to his eye.)
Kairi’s sure the expression on his face is fond and soft, something he’s still getting used to, even after all this time. In the photo, Keiichirou’s leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed with his head tilted the tiniest bit, and his expression looks one part confused, one part amused. He remembers taking it out of his wallet one day during a slow spell at the restaurant, and he remembers Umika cooing over it and insisting he decorate it with stickers (the heart ones, Kairi, the heart ones! she’d said) and Kairi remembers refusing profusely, his ears turning an embarrassing shade of pink, but Umika had a knack for persuasion.
That’s how this particular polaroid ended up with tiny heart stickers hovering over Keiichirou’s head.
Kairi sets it aside carefully, and this time, he does not suppress the urge to roll his eyes as he looks at its pair.
(“H-Hey! I wasn’t ready for that!” Keiichirou gasped, lunging forward and grasping for the camera.
Kairi laughed, only struggling a little to stay out of reach. He plucked the photo from the slot and tucked it away safely in his still opened bag only to press the bag protectively against his abdomen. Keiichirou lunged forward again, and with the way Kairi was doubling over with laughter and taking priority over the photo rather than the camera, it was easy to take it from his grasp.
“S-Stop, K-Keii-chan, that—“ Kairi wheezed, tears in his eyes from the intensity of his laughter.
“Kairi, get your hand away—“ Keiichirou reached across the table with his other hand, curling his fingers to the side of the hand Kairi had been trying to cover his face with.)
In the photo, Kairi sees himself laughing. Keiichirou’s hand is there in the picture too, and since he had been keeping a hand away from Kairi’s face while trying to take the picture, it came out kind of lopsided, but Kairi thinks it fits. He remembers the laughter, the way tears had spilled from his eyes, and he remembers the looks they’d gotten from the other patrons.
Most of all, he remembers Keiichirou seeing the pair to this polaroid and pointing at the heart stickers stuck to his hair—and he remembers Keiichirou asking, do you happen to have more?
Kairi doesn’t suppress the small smile that curves his lips now as he looks at the sticker.
It’s there, just one single heart, placed over their hands.
This polaroid, too, he sets aside carefully, right by its pair.
He gives the box another look—it’s a bit messy now, more of its contents on the tabletop rather than inside due to his indulgence. Kairi lets his gaze travel aimlessly, and just seeing little bits and pieces of the polaroids and picture frames causes bits and pieces of memories to come back. He can see a polaroid from their date at the aquarium, a framed picture of the Jurer crew and the cops gathered around a table full of Halloween decorations.
It’s as he’s reaching for one in particular (that looks suspiciously like himself, but asleep) that he hears a crash downstairs.
Kairi thinks better of going to investigate (he doesn’t want to clean up messes that aren’t his) and instead decides to listen in (for amusement purposes only, of course). He can hear Umika chatting excitedly, but soon it is drown out by Touma growling at Sakuya—cue Sakuya tells him it’s fine, it’s fine, I barely even dropped it! Kairi rolls his eyes just as Noel’s voice filters in. He talks about the endless joy he feels to be back in Japan for the occasion while Tsukasa hums along and asks him how France HQ is.
He laughs quietly, all to himself and the warmth surrounding him, as he continues to listen in on the conversations. Kairi only has a moment to wonder why he doesn’t hear Keiichirou downstairs before he hears a familiar noise behind him.
“Keii-chan.” He turns just in time to watch as Keiichirou slips the film into the breast pocket of his shirt. Kairi squints at the camera—it wasn’t his; he remembers wrapping it up securely in a black and white scarf before stuffing it in his bag. “New camera?”
Keiichirou smiles at him sheepishly as he comes to a stop beside him. He raises an eyebrow at the desk—littered with polaroids, framed pictures, bubble wrap and little memoirs (a rock that’s shaped vaguely like a cat, charms from the shrine, movie ticket stubs) from their outings. “Yes,” he says instead, glancing down only to fiddle with the camera. “Umika and Tsukasa pitched in to get me… a… house warming gift? They said, uh… it’d be nice… for us both to have one.”
Kairi rolls his eyes but with no ill intent. “Kinda weird for a house warming gift.”
“Well, our friends are not normal.”
“That sounds even weirder, coming from you,” Kairi laughs.
Keiichirou hums and then nods to the desk. “Having second thoughts?”
“What? No.” Kairi gives him a look, narrowed eyes and all, before gesturing to everything laid out on the desk. “I don’t know. I just. I was all done, but I…” he pauses for a moment, and he doesn’t really want to say it aloud, but he does anyways: “I wanted to look at them again.”
“We’ll put them right back up, you know.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything.” Kairi glares pointedly at Keiichirou’s smile—soft and tender, just like any other time. He has to look away or else he’ll start smiling, too. “Could you not look at me like that? I’m sure you would have done the same.”
“I did,” Keiichirou tells him easily.
It’s Kairi’s turn to hum. He leans over, bumping their shoulders together—once and then twice, before leaning against him. With just a glance, Kairi is able to see that Keiichirou, too, is looking at the pictures and keepsakes in front of them—all the memories they’ve gathered, little pieces and fragments of them. He thinks that it’s nice to think about it that way, because it’s true: everything on the desk did, undoubtedly, have a little piece of them in it.
“Let’s take a picture now,” Keiichirou says, and it’s so sudden that Kairi can’t help the surprised tilt of his voice.
“Huh? Now?”
“Yes, come on,” Keiichirou urges, wiggling his shoulder a bit. He smiles at Kairi once he leans away and holds up the camera. “Isn’t this something else to remember?”
Kairi can feel his eyes widen before he laughs, abruptly and amused. The smile he fights back is only fought back half heartedly—really, it’s difficult not to smile when Keiichirou says it like that. It isn’t the first time he’s had this line of thinking, but Kairi is still a bit mystified over how much Keiichirou brings out in him. It’s as easy as it’s ever been—to feel and give in and let himself be. It’s a strange feeling, but he thinks that it really isn’t anything he couldn’t get used to.
And so, he nods a bit as if he’s thinking about it, and wraps an arm around Keiichirou’s shoulders. “Yeah,” he says, and presses his temple to Keiichirou’s. There’s a warmth that is just shy of suffocating that settles deep in his chest, but it’s a warmth that speaks of love. “You’re right, Keii-chan. Come on then, take the picture.”
Keiichirou’s laugh is all but a huff of amusement as he lifts the camera—and even as the lens is pointed at them, and even as Keiichirou’s saying alright, smile on three, Kairi’s eyes are on Keiichirou.