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Hyperosmia, a medical condition which heightens one’s sense of smell. Adachi wouldn’t even know the name of such phenomena if his mother hadn’t lost the ability to smell when he was a teenager. Hyperosmia was thrown between trips to the doctor and family gatherings, and it was the only from that whole ordeal that stuck. Adachi kept repeating it until it was nothing but a bunch of sounds rolling off his tongue.
Even now, fifteen years after finding out what Hyperosmia is (although his mom suffered from the polar opposite medical condition), sometimes Adachi stops every now and then to wonder what life would be like if he could sense every smell in the room. How overwhelming it would be, or maybe how soothing it’d be once back at the familiarity of his house. What familiar smells like. He never cared too much to research about it, so he just wonders.
Wonders if the bartender would smell of alcohol, or maybe if the smoke of all the cigarettes Adachi has seen him smoke in the alley, would overcome the man’s odor. Perhaps it would be the bleach in his hair, residual yet still reeking of chemicals. If that would become his new normal. His new familiar.
Adachi wonders when the bartender started being the focus of his fantasies.
“What’s wrong, Kiyoshi?” Asks Tsuge looking up from his phone. “You’ve been staring at the bar for a while now, want another round?”
Tsuge adjusts his glasses, places his phone face down against the table and takes another swing off his beer before Adachi can peep an answer. Tsuge would smell of ink, freshly printed pages, maybe even cat fur. But the taller drowns his height in expensive colognes, so Adachi pinches his nose unconciously at the thought. Adachi never got quite used to the overwhelming scent.
“Even if you don’t, can you get me another drink?” Tsuge asks. His smile is already lopsided, the façade that he was fine with his editor refusing his new project, slowly decaying after each glass.
Still, Adachi hads made peace with the fact that he'll be carrying his two sizes taller friend home tonight. “You sure?”
“I’m fine, Kiyoshi.” Reassures Tsuge and takes off his glasses in a silent gesture of defeat. Adachi nods more to himself than to his now blind friend and stands up. Leaving Tsuge alone with his thoughts for a bit has always proven to be a good choice. The taller needs time to shelf his emotions within his brain. Organization and structure are the keys to best-selling books.
If only Adachi had some sort of shelving system himself. He woulnd't need an inner pep talk before facing the bartender.
Lately, standing up in front of the counter was becoming a progressively more arduous task. Sure, Adachi stutters, stumbles over his words, sometimes the words won’t even come out. But, his clumsiness has never been an issue when he's at the counter. Until now. Until Kurosawa.
“Hello there, little mouse.”
Until Kurosawa kissed him.
“One more round, please.”
Adachi lets out a sigh. A sigh expresses nonchalant-ness, right? He isn’t sure. When it comes to Kurosawa, Adachi can’t be sure of anything really.
“How can I say no when you ask so politely?” Kurosawa smirks and turns around to fix him the beers.
At first, Kurosawa would put on a show: throwing the glasses around and filling them up to entertain the clientele, but Adachi flinched every time he threw a bottle in the air and even once reached to grab it in fear of it breaking at Kurosawa’s feet. The bartender has, since then, decided to channel his charisma through winks and nicknames.
Or maybe the detonant was the kiss.
Adachi can’t be sure.
Still, Adachi stares. Kurosawa’s roots are starting to poke out, black as a flock of ravens, sometimes he imagines Kurosawa’s head on his chest, Adachi’s own shampoo invading his nose as he buries it in the other’s beautiful locks. Kurosawa is always wearing those damn button up hawaian shirts, sometimes without anything underneath, abs and chest on display. Those days Adachi can’t stay three feet near the counter, afraid he will positively burst into flames on the spot.
But tonight, Kurosawa has tucked the shirt into his pants, haphazardly, maybe on a rush, and when he bends down to pick up his lighter that he accidentally dropped, Adachi can see a glimmer of skin. And that, somehow, is even worse.
“There you go.” Kurosawa brings two overflowing glasses of beer on the counter. “On who’s tab do I-”
“Mine.” Adachi interrupts, still trying to come down from his stupor. Force of habit taking over, he had to shake his head to physically snap out of it. “Mine, please.”
“So, how is that project coming along?” Kurosawa asks. “You did tell me it was exciting.”
Adachi vaguely remembers anything before or after the kiss, but he nods anyways. “Yeah, it’s nice to finally be in charge of the designing team.”
Letting himself smile at the thought, Adachi’s eyes follow the lines on the wood of the bar. Finally having the opportunity to be in a leading position, and in a creative team no less! The little adachi who filled corners of his notes with gadget ideas, is thrilled.
“Look at you.” Kuorsawa lets out in a soft chuckle. “I’m glad to hear it. However, how did a smart cookie like you not get that position in the first place?”
He’s smiling so wide his cheek whiskers are showing. If Adachi is a mouse, Kurosawa would be a cat.
Wait. Not like that.
Shrugging Adachi doesn’t raise his head. “I’m not really that reliable.” Knowing it’s high time for him to look elsewhere, his eyes find Tsuge, slumped forward on the table. “Unlike Tsuge, he might be a bit down today, but he was always the best in class. Got an editor in college too. He’s amazing.”
Kurosawa hums, well more like hisses, and Adachi turns without a second though, finding an unreadable face on Kurosawa. Which is not that unusual.
“Are...Are you two okay though?” Kurosawa asks hesitantly, if anything, a bartender shouldn’t ask questions. “This is his fifth one.”
“Rough day.”
Adachi is about to take the glasses when a hand stops him. “The one on the right is alcohol free, the one on the left is normal. If he doesn’t take a break, he’s gonna pass out and regret it tomorrow.”
Adachi blinks. Blinks again. His brain needs to process the words but right now it is too busy trying to forget about Kurosawa’s lips. This beautiful heart shaped lips that found their way to his own that one fateful night, that three o’clock shadow that tickled just slightly as it moved against Adachi’s mouth.
Oh, right.
“Okay?”
“Or you can do whatever you want. I’m not your boss.”
“Nor my boyfriend.”
“What?”
“What?” Adachi takes the beers. “I hope you didn’t charge me two regular beers though!” He yells on his way out, because really he just has to get out of there immediately.
Adachi is sitting back down when Kurosawa replies, scoff muffling his words. “And here I thought mice were supposed to be more sneaky.” And with a smirk that never quite leaves his face, Kurosawa starts crafting a masterplan.
-
Nor my boyfriend .
Yes, it’s been two weeks and Adachi is still thinking about how his brain had a little meltdown and just let his mouth say anything without a filter. He has gone through the events of that night as many times as he has revisited the kiss. They just live in his mind rent free. One making him have butterflies in his stomach, making him smile in the middle of a meeting; while the other makes him want to rip his hair out.
What the fuck was he thinking?
Of course Kurosawa wasn’t Adachi’s boyfriend and he would never be. Kurosawa was a man for the night, the mystery behind his eyes, the double meaning sentences, his fingers rough yet subtle. His lips.
Cut it out.
Kurosawa and Adachi couldn’t be more different. And not even in a cathartic, historical or literary way; but rather in a very blatant, mundane kind of way. Some people aren’t supposed to meet, supposed to know each other. Supposed to kiss.
That’s enough!
And why was Adachi giving it so much importance, it wasn’t as if Kurosawa was thinking about it half as much. Adachi could bet his left leg on it.
-
“But he sighed into the kiss!”
“If I have to hear you swooning about that guy one more time, I swear to every God, Yuichi .” Rokkaku threatened, whisk raised with the gooey mixture still dripping from it.
Kurosawa yells into the plushie he is holding onto. Then suddenly raises up, hair a mess from rubbing his face against the ikea shark soft friend. Eyes fixed on the wall, he deadpans. “I will marry him.”
“Go!” Rokkaku yells, gesturing to the door with his head. “Go! Just fucking go get him, for fuck’s sake I’m begging here.”
Kurosawa gets up, losing his balance for a moment. “No. No, I shall do this right! I will make him my boyfriend, treat him to nice dates, good food, hold his hand, compliment him a bunch, because he is so cute when he blushes - have I told you how cute he looks when he blushes, Rokkaku?”
Kurosawa is running out of breath and Rokakku groans “If I got a dime.”
Kurosawa holds the shark up to his face, talking as if he was making a statement, and the plushie was his witness. “I, Kurosawa Yuichi, will try my best to make Adachi my boyfriend.”
“Dude, you are literally so lame.”
-
The next time Adachi sees Kurosawa, he is at a business dinner with his coworkers. This time the boss isn’t joining them, hence why they end up at a shabbier place. The night is closing in, and there's a dampness in the air from the rain that sticks to Adachi’s bones. He is shivering by the time they make it to the door.
Some of the youngsters are making a fuss in the entrance, one of the bartenders who Adachi knows as Minato, is laughing at the youngster’s loud greetings. Adachi has always thought that Minato was like sixteen, or maybe too young to even be this close to drinks. A shove from the younger (and Kurosawa placing himself before Adachi to prevent Minato from actually hitting him) later, Adachi knows better than to ask too many questions.
Kurosawa is still breathing out smoke when he enters through the side door. He doesn’t say much. Kurosawa never says much, only what he must. Only what he seemingly allows himself to. Instead, Kurosawa winks at him and bows with a flouriture of his hand.
Adachi gapes a couple of times but bows back, simple and stupidly, before quickly catching up to his party of friends.
Kurosawa tugs Minato out of the way when Adachi pops his elbow onto the bar. “Can I have, uh- what was it agin? T-Two more beers, and another bottle of sake?”
Adachi is looking at the group of people, as if he is doing some sort of headcount. He looks down at the borrowed credit card and hands it to Kurosawa, making a one second-long eye contact with the bartender.
“Celebrating?” Kurosawa asks while grabbing the glasses. God, that lower back on display is a sight to see, and Adachi hates to admit he’d like to have a private meeting with it. He jumps on the stool right as his mind starts fantasizing about helping Kurosawa out of the hawaiian shirt.
“Sure!” Adachi replies. “We uh, we scored a great deal earlier this week and haven’t had time to celebrate.” He explains fumbling with his fingers. “It’s not like I did much, though.”
“What do you mean?” Kurosawa presents the two glasses, but he doesn’t seem to be interested or remember about the liquor.
“Oh, nothing.” Still having a hard time to keep eye contact, Adachi tries to look for the sake with his eyes.
“Hey.” Kurosawa calls. And it’s the softest Adachi has ever heard him speak. It feels...cozy? It smells like snow pulling out the window while a blanket is wrapped around you. Kurosawa smiles and that too, feels homey. "I thought the project was going well?"
Adachi could cry. He hasn’t felt that comfort in years. He left home long ago.
"What-"
“I’m a bartender, licensed in mixology and in listening to people’s problems.” Kurosawa continues, he is grabbing a folding chair from under the counter. Chin resting on his hands as he leans in. “I can tell something’s wrong. Go on.”
Baffled is an understatement. Adachi is overwhelmed. He can’t process what he is feeling. There’s something tickling behind his eyes, his knees seem to be buckling so he leans his other elbow on the bar. Yet he doesn't dare come closer. Adachi just needs a moment.
And just like that night.
His brain shuts down.
He closes his eyes.
“And why would you care?” Adachi blurts out. “What would I gain if I was to tell you, huh? Why the fuck would you care about me anyway? You just want something to laugh about, with I don't know, Minato or whoever you are kissing next and forgetting about just as quickly. Honestly? Screw you and your fake sympathy.”
Adachi doesn’t remember what he’s just said. But he knows he’s fucked up when Kurosawa gets back up, frown so deep in his forehead it’d be comical if it wasn't that scary.
Kurosawa scoffs. And reaches out.
Wrapping Adachi’s tie around his knuckles, Kuorsawa uses that as leverage to pull Adachi in, himself also leaning closer. They bump the drinks down the counter and onto the floor. Kurosawa is hairs away. And he is seething.
“Listen, you-”
“Kurosawa.” Minato calls, loud and strong.
Suddenly everything is quiet. Not even a gasp breaks the tension in the air. Adachi can feel everyone’s eyes boring onto the back of his skull, yet he knows they all feel pity. They all pity the stupid, dumb Adachi who happened to run into trouble once again. Good ol’ Adachi Yuichi, good for nothing.
Adachi pushes away.
Kurosawa lets go of the tie.
“Out.”
“What?”
“I want you out of this establishment.” Kurosawa doesn’t raise his voice, the place is already quiet enough for everyone to hear.
Adachi nods unconsciously and turns to the door.
Only when he is shaking out of cold and out of how hard he’s crying, he realises he’s left his coat at the bar.
-
“So, he kicked you out?”
Adachi sneezes before taking the offered mug. “I kinda deserved it.”
“No, you did not, Kiyoshi.” Tsuge sits down besides the mountain of blankets that is Adachi. “You aren’t anyone’s doormat.”
“And what should I have done then, huh?” Turning around is a bit of a struggle, and raising his voice hurts his throat. But Adachi is pissed. “Punch him in the nose? He looks like he was part of the High&Low movies, the last thing I want is to fight him.”
Tsuge sighs as he let’s Adachi take a sip of his tea, but it’s clear he is leaving the floor open for Adachi. Ten years of friendship, deciding to move in together at eighteen and, practically being glued to the hip, has resulted in the two men knowing each other even in their silences.
Adachi is sniffling, once again, he can’t point if it’s the cold or because he is crying.
“Why is he always like this? What does he want from me? At first I thought he was into me, but it’s clear he just wanted to take the piss of me: oh poor Adachi hasn’t had his first kiss since he came out, here oh pity you.”
“Kiyoshi.”
“Oh poor Adachi, look at how pathetic he is trying to take over a team he knows nothing about, oh poor stupid clumsy Adachi there he goes again! Mistaking simple friendly flirting with actual feelings.”
“Kiyoshi, stop.” Tsuge is wrapping his arms around the mess of blankets, his hand swimming through the layers to pet Adachi’s head. “It’s okay.”
It’s not. But that’s not what Tsuge is referring to: it’s okay to let it out, it’s okay to stand up for himself, it’s okay to be mad. It's okay to misunderstand and mistake situations, specially a whole kiss. It’s okay to hate Kurosawa. It’s okay.
So, Adachi just nods, and scoots closer.
Knowing it's not. Because he doesn't hate Kurosawa.
How could he?
-
How dare he?
Was all Kurosawa could repeat on his way home after that night. How dare Adachi think of Kurosawa in that way? Charity work is for food banks and saving the turtles or something, not when it comes to Adachi. Falling for Adachi had been so easy, so earthly natural. Two distinct opposite poles gravitating one towards the other. His whole world moved its axis to Adachi every time he comes into Kurosawa's periferical view.
Kurosawa might have not finished college, might have dropped out of many courses, might have been fired dozens of times before finding something he enjoyed. Because Kurosawa is genunine, he knows what he wants, what he likes. He isn't affraid to go after them.
How dare he.
Two weeks later however, the indigance fled away scared off by the overthrowing sense of guilt and regret.
Kurosawa is genuine, not violent. In a moment of blind frustration he'd reached out to Adachi. He wanted to kiss Adachi's thoughts away, all the fears, and all the insecurities clouding Adachi's voice, Kurosawa wanted to chase them away with his mouth.
But, Kurosawa, ultimately, is a coward.
“He hates me.”
“You kicked him out of the bar.” Rokkaku stats matter-of-factly.
“He said I don’t care.” Kurosawa’s voice is muffled by the pillow he’s hugging. "He thinks he isn't important to me."
In the poorly lit room, Rokkaku rolls his eyes and sits on Kurosawa’s bed, patting his back. “There, there. You are an absolute idiot, but everything will be okay.”
“How? Didn’t you hear what I just said?” Kurosawa wriggles into a sitting position. “He thinks the kiss meant nothing. What kind of man does he take me for? I don’t just go around kissing people. Specially not Minato like, what the fuck?”
“We are getting off topic here.” Rokkaku shakes his head, leaving room on the bed for Kurosawa to sit cross legged in front of him.
“What should I do?” Kurosawa sounds as defeated as he looks, and by the bags under his eyes, Rokkaku can guess the older man hasn’t slept much.
Rokkaku would have never guessed he was going to find high-school drama in the life of a thirty-year-old man. But there he was, sitting on the bed of said man, one of his many plushies poking his lower back, and arguing about why his crush won’t like him back.
Rokkaku sighs again. “Talk things out.” Finally he fishes the plushie and gives it a good squish. “Listen, you have to drop this big boy bartender façade and just come clear with him. Shame on you for not doing it right after kissing him.”
“But he looked uncomfortable!” Kurosawa defends. "Like wouldn't return my gazes or even flirt back like he used to! What was I supposed to do? Scare him off?"
“What if he wasn’t uncomfortable?” Rokkaku hits him with the plushie. “Stop assuming everyone’s feelings, and specially stop assuming the worst case scenario." Rokkaku throws the plushie at Kurosawa and continues. "Let me blow your mind real quick” Rokkaku stands up from the bed. “What if he wasn’t uncomfortable? But instead he was feeling just shy, because the man he likes kissed him? What if he has been waiting for you to make a move? What if he has misunderstood all the teasing and flirting? Because, newsflash, some people are still very romantic in this day and age and don't normally engage in casual flirting like you Ricky Martin looking ass does.”
“Hey! I’m also very romantic, fuck you.”
Rokkaku throws his hands in the air. “Then use your romanticism to fix this!” And he is out of the room.
Kurosawa is frowning as he goes back to Rokkaku’s words. And suddenly he jumps out the bed and almost straight to the floor before yelling.
“Wait do you think he likes me?”
----
Two months ago
“Stop! You put that on a calendar?” Adachi giggles, thumb still playing with the rim of his glass.
“I'll have you known that I keep a diary.”
Kurosawa admits as he passes to a white page of the notebook. However, he shrugs the situation off by grabbing another plate that suddenly has grown two more dirty spots he had to clean immediately. Actually, he is scared he will outright coo if he keeps looking at Adachi.
“A diary?” Adachi asks before drinking some more lemonade. “If you had said so earlier I would have sent you our company’s catalogues and whatnot!”
“Look at you being a sneaky little mouse, trying to plug your merch like a clickbait-y youtuber.” Kurosawa has to refrain himself from reaching out and messing Adachi’s hair. Kurosawa has been wanting to see that guy’s forehead ever since the first time they met.
“I don’t understand half the things you just said, but introducing myself as a stationary items salesman sounds better than- what was that again?” Adachi reaches over the counter to read, what apparently had been Adachi's first words to the bartender, on the notebook notebook but Kurosawa closes it before Adachi can reach it.
“The human equivalent of Friday the 13th.” Kurosawa quotes by heart, moving to clean the bar’s surface. “It was a hell of an introduction though.”
“Enough to warrant a place in your diary, I see.”
Adachi finishes his glass and scrunches his whole face at the sour taste of the citrics. Kurosawa has learned that the boy would come and ask for drinks that look alcoholic but don’t have a tear of it, unless it’s a very bad day. Or a very good one. Kurosawa has yet to determine what the lemonade and/or ice tea days are about.
In fact, there’s a lot to find out about Adachi, and that’s the best part. He isn’t the reason Kurosawa wakes up everyday, his job fulfills him enough as it is, but every day Adachi comes through the door it’s just like that last punch in a tequila shot.
And there he goes again comparing stuff to alcoholic drinks. Rokkaku was right about Kurosawa overdoing those metaphors.
However, the things Kuorswa knows about Adachi are enough to have him head over heels. From the way Adachi would react to a joke, to the way he leans in when Kuorsawa gossips about other customers. Which he shouldn't do, but the risk of being caught and maybe even get punched are worth it just to see Adachi cover his giggle with his hand and almost fall off the stool.
Kurosawa knows Adachi loves manga, and fantasy in general, they always talk about watching the whole saga of Lord of the Rings Together, because admittedly, Kurosawa has never seen it before. They also talk about their dreams, how Adachi has always wanted to have more creative roles in his job. And how Kurosawa didn’t know what he wanted to be until two years ago, when he got his mixology degree.
There’s so much to admire about Adachi, Kurosawa has learnt: he is ambitious, and kind, and soft spoken, and caring and his heart is so big Kurosawa still questions how it can fit in such a tiny body. Adachi is beyond beautiful, and the mole behind his ear...Kurosawa could spend hours kissing it just for the hell of it.
And Adachi is also evil.
Adachi has a habit of biting his lips, and Kurosawa loses it internally. His hazel eyes follow Kurosawa’s face and it feels like he is being X-rayed or something. It just feels warm and itchy. Adachi makes Kurosawa feel desired in the most comforting way.
And maybe it's the air of November, maybe it's the sun going down faster, maybe it's Adachi’s new haircut. But Kurosawa can’t take it tonight.
“I’m going out for a smoke. Don’t leave before I come back.”
Adachi doesn't know why he has followed Kurosawa outside. His first thought is that he doesn’t want to be without Kurosawa. A stupid thought, it's irrational just like all primal thoughts are. The next is about how he also feels kind of stuffy inside, and the third is his mere need to just see that look on Kurosawa again.
Like he is on the brink of going nuts.
Kurosawa makes Adachi feel powerful. Not in a dominant way or anything, but in the fact that the impact Adachi has on Kurosawa is so obvious. Kurosawa makes Adachi feel wanted, desired in a way that feels like an arrow through his gut, he can feel his own blood suddenly spilling hot all over his own stomach. His knees buckle and he just wants more. Wants to see how much more Kurosawa can take
Adachi also wants to see what Kurosawa will do when he can’t take it anymore.
Finding Kurosawa isn’t hard: the alleyway is not very well lit, but the man is crouching down under the only working streetlamp. Adachi crouches in front of him.
“Oh, you are leaving?” Asks Kurosawa getting up and throwing the cigarette bud.
“Wanted some fresh air.”
Adachi steps on it without even looking. He still doesn't know how he manages to avoid Kurosawa’s feet. He also can’t remember when they started standing so close to each other.
He doesn’t remember when Kurosawa flicked a piece of lemon pulp out of his cheek. He doesn't remember if he leaned into the touch first or if Kurosawa cupped his cheek before that.
All he can register is Kurosawa pulling him in, their lips finding each other.
And then the smell of smoke, alcohol and bleach.
---
“We are closed.” Kurosawa doesn't even look up from where he is cleaning the tables.
The doorbell doesn’t often chime in the morning, and when it does it’s because drunkards want their morning fix, or someone mistakes the bar for a millenial owned café and comes asking for a coffee which has more italian words in it than Kurosawa will ever be bothered to learn.
“I’m not here to drink.”
Kurosawa recalls the voice between his usuals, and as much as he’d love some conversation he is too busy making up a plan on how to apologize to Adachi and confess under the rain and kiss the guy senseless. Maybe the last part was taking a bit too long to plan. One doesn’t usually transition from one to another. Especially if Adachi doesn’t forgive him. The movies always skipped that part.
“Tsuge!” Because, all in all, he is Kurosawa’s friend too. “What’s up, bud?”
“Adachi left his blazer here the other night.” Tsuge talks, slowly, with his lower voice. Kurosawa has only heard him speak like that once when an asshole was bothering Minato. It wasn’t a nice scene. Moping someone’s pee off the floor isn’t something Kurosawa wakes up expecting.
“It’s in the back room.” Kursawa points to the door next to the bathrooms.
And with that Tsuge is gone. Probably will come back to say bye and leave Kurosawa alone with his plan.
If only things would go Kurosawa’s way.
Tsuge comes back and stands in the middle of the bar, arms crossed. This dude’s been working out lately, or maybe it’s the turtleneck, but Kursoawa is suddenly regretting dropping his gym routine. Nonetheless, he puts his wet wipe on his shoulder (bad idea), and crosses his arms (good idea), before stepping into the space between the counter and the tables.
“Something the matter?”
“You know exactly what the matter is, Yuichi.”
“Oh? First name basis? Okay, Masato.” Kurosawa smirks before continuing. “I’m trying to fix it. This is none of your business.”
Tsuge’s fists shake on his sides, he looks like that meme but Kurosawa knows better than to make such a remark now. “How is it not when I have to take care of Kiyoshi and hold him while he cries.”
Kurosawa tries to swallow down a gasp. However, he can feel his own heart breaking, physically, like a fragile and expensive chinese vase, it falls down to his feet and he is tempted to just follow it with his whole body. He made Adachi cry.
He hurt Adachi more than he thought. Well, putting it in perspective, he did kind of just embarrass him in front of everyone, and kick him out. And kiss him to never follow it up with an explanation, or something. Or anything.
“Fuck.”
"Yeah, I’d say so.”
“Tell him I’m sorry. I will fix this.” Kurosawa has all but forgotten about the front he was puting for Tsuge. He all but wants to hug Adachi, or beg on his knees to forgive him. Anything.
“What is it with you and never communicating openly?” Tsuge takes a deep breath, he really is trying hard not to yell Kurosawa’s ears off. “Not talking to Adachi put you two in this situation to begin with.”
Kurosawa can’t take it. How dare Tsuge think Kurosawa would ever actively want to cause harm to Adachi? How dare he when Kurosawa’s only waking and sleeping thoughts were about Adachi, and his sweet voice, his mousey front teeth and beautiful pink lips?
“You don’t know a damn thing.” He sido instead. “Am I not allowed to fuck up? Am I not allowed to misunderstand? Fuck you, honestly. You want to know why? I'll tell you why. He looked distressed after the kiss, didn't even say a word to me for days. Fuck! I thought he hated me.” Kurosawa has to pace around, or else he will just catch on fire. “I thought I lost him because I finally got the galls to kiss him. I’m not a good talker, and he knows that. I thought he knew I-”
“That’s enough.”
Kurosawa’s loud voice gets stuck in his throat when another chims with the bells at the door. Sweet and raspy and jumpy and so beautiful. The voice of gold covering the sharp ragged edges of a broek china vase.
“Tsuge, I don’t need you fighting my battles for me. I’m thirty-years old for fuck’s sake.” Adachi never looked so enraged.
Ember in his hazel eyes, yet a serene expression. Chest puffed up and head held up high, Kurosawa has never seen someone so majestic and powerful.
“I know your intentions are good-spirited, but this is ultimately between Yuichi and I.”
Okay no, what the fuck? This is a serious situation, why does Adachi have to make it hot?
Kurosawa is so lost in this whole new Adachi he is getting to see, to really hear what the two friends say now in hushed voices. All he knows is that Tsuge is patting Adachi’s shoulder and he is leaving.
The bells chime once more.
And then silence.
“I’m sorry, Adachi.” Kurosawa finally finds his voice after a pause that weighs years. “I shouldn’t have assumed-”
“I’m sorry too.” Adachi takes a step forward.
His eyebrows are turned upwards ever-so-slightly, the gentle Adachi coming back once again, but not fully. Actually, Kurosawa likes this. Likes when Adachi steps forward and defends himself, that's what Kurosawa has been telling him to do at work, to go for that position he’s always wanted, to confront whoever opposes him. However, Kurosawa never thought he’d be in that side himself, standing in front of Adachi as a foe. Hurting him.
Taking another step closer, Adachi continues. “I shouldn't expect you to take the first step every time. I should have made it clear that I did not regret it.”
Wait. What?
Okay Kurosawa was not expecting that. He was expecting another outburst, Adachi saying he doesn’t care, just like he thinks Kuorsawa does. That they made a mistake and that they aren’t compatible or some shit astrology bitches say. Kurosawa was an aquarius apparently. Whatever that meant.
“So, let me be clear.” Adachi is at arms reach. “I like you, Kurosawa.” He is at hands-reach. His eyes are shaking slightly. “The other night before kicking me out, you made me feel so...cared? I don’t know, like finally someone was on my side, and that threw me off. People usually pretend to be nice only to laugh at me. You know that.”
“I know that.”
Because if anything, Kurosawa had listened to Adachi talk, more than once Adachi had to stop him from jumping the bar and coming down on a punch storm against all the coworkers that had laughed, fucked Adachi over or simply didn’t like Adachi. Because Kurosawa knows Adachi in a way that isn’t friendly, that isn't bartender-client either. He knows Adachi in a way only Kurosawa can know him.
“So, since you-we didn't talk about the kiss, I assumed it meant nothing to you and that it was just a joke or something because you know I’m a virgin at my big age, and the thought of you pitying me made me furious and I should have known you would never do this to me, and I shouldn’t have said you don’t care, because if anything you are the only one who does, I projected my frustration to you because you make me so comfortable- and you should probably kiss me again right now.”
Kurosawa can’t remember if he took the step first, or if Adachi was that close before.
Kursoawa can’t remember if Adachi was holding onto the front of his hawaiian shirt first, or if it was Kurosawa who found the back of Adachi’s shirt before that.
All Kurosawa remembers is his hand on Adachi’s jaw. Pulling him in. And kissing the lights out of him.
“For the record.”
Kurosawa says gasping for air. Adachi’s hands have probably made a number on his hair, short but still mess-able. His hawaiian shirt is half unbuttoned, clinging onto his shoulder, his lips feel raw and his head is spinning.
This is bliss.
Adachi looks down from where he is sitting on top of the counter. Tie loose, shirt open chest rising and falling like it is begging to be touched again. Like he is in a daze. Adachi looks as desperate as Kurosawa is feeling right now. But Kurosawa has to say it.
He has to let it out before he can’t take it anymore. They can go into details later. Kurosawa maybe will recite the sonnets and poems he wrote in his head. Later.
But he has to say this. Now.
“I like you too, Kiyoshi.” Kurosawa kisses his nose. “So.” His jaw. “So.” His neck. “So” The mole on the back of his ear. “So much.”
And on the mole once again. For the hell of it.