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There were plenty of things that Hiyoshi kind of disliked about Kirihara, but usually they were spaced enough apart that he didn’t just recoil at the thought of spending time with him.
There was the part where he was loud and would ramble on about stupid things that didn’t matter like video games or the cute girl in his class that rolled her skirt and had nice legs. Honestly, the video games were one thing, but the girl… She extra didn’t matter.
Then there was how Kirihara insisted on being surprisingly fashionable right down to the half-laced combat boots and the well-loved leather jacket. He also was completely confident going outside wearing makeup as a boy. Whenever they went out just to hang, his eyes were lined in dark eyeliner that he rocked and the bit of baby fat that hung around in his cheeks was masked with a bit of masterful contouring. That was stupid, of course, because his chubby cheeks were basically his only good feature. That and maybe his eyes.
He always made Hiyoshi pay for everything. “You’re the rich kid,” he would say with a sneer, poking him directly in the Hyoutei emblem on his jacket. “You can buy me shit.” Thank the gods for bottomless ramen or even this Hyoutei boy would have gone bankrupt after only a couple of occasions hanging out with Kirihara. He still had no idea how someone tallied up the sort of total at a McDonalds that Kirihara could manage.
There were also the really insidious things he would do like fall asleep on the bus with his head on Hiyoshi’s shoulder. He was an ugly sleeper and a drooler and just no one should have to see that. Well, there was also the part where Hiyoshi couldn’t help but feel like everyone must be looking at them because of the way that it made him feel to have Kirihara’s weight sagged against him, his arms swaying lightly against his tennis bag with the movement of the bus. Or how when he saw Hiyoshi the cockiness of his expression would just melt away, replaced with a genuine excitement that shone in his emerald eyes and the brightness of his smile.
Worst of all, though.... Absolutely worst of all was this moment.
“Pleaaaaase,” Kirihara had begged on the phone. “Dude, I don’t wanna go by myself. I’m going to be waiting in line foreeeeever.” HIs voice pitched to a whine as he dragged out his words.
Hiyoshi had never been the type to wait outside a store for it to open just to get some limited edition item, but Kirihara had fervently assured him that if he wasn’t lined up before the Pokemon Center opened, he would miss his chance at some limited print trading card, or something. It sounded like some dumb crap that Kirihara didn’t even need, but he was so excited.
And waiting in line was awful. Kirihara was enthusiastically talking to everyone but Hiyoshi, all the people in line that knew more about Pokemon than he did who could keep up with whatever the hell a “gold half-holo first edition Charizard reprint” was. Why even both dragging him along if he wasn’t even going to talk to him. What a moron.
But that was when it happened. The worst possible thing Kirihara could do, the most intolerable thing about him that Hiyoshi was immediately sure he didn’t like.
Hiyoshi felt a warm hand slip into his, lacing their fingers together. His eyes darted to their joint hands, then up to Kirihara’s face, which he was surprised to learn was quietly trained on him. Kirihara was going entirely too long without talking, too, just regarding him as if looking for permission.
Glad for the chill in the air so he would not have to explain the flush of his cheeks, Hiyoshi looked away with a soft, “che.” The hand of this horrible person he barely tolerated tightened in his.
When he was sure Kirihara was distracted again, he smiled.