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"Stop following me," Kakeru says, speeding up his jog.
Haiji is on his bike, keeping pace, and Kakeru can't help remembering the night they first met—him running from the store owner after getting caught shoplifting (very uncool), Haiji speeding beside him on his bike, screaming into the wind by his ears a question that changed his life.
"Where are you going?" Haiji asks, voice clear and cheerful, trailing in the breeze. Kakeru doesn't need to look; Haiji's smile comes all too easily to his mind.
"I told you already. I'm taking an evening jog." It's not as though Kakeru can just tell his roommate, I realized I wanted to kiss you just now and I'm trying to chase it off. Run away. "I'll remember to lock the door and everything when I'm done, so you can go back first. It's late. You have work tomorrow, don't you?"
"Yes—and you have an interview tomorrow morning, so the argument applies to you, too," says Haiji.
A few months ago, Haiji had offered for Kakeru to share his apartment after graduation, and Kakeru had agreed—because it's convenient and practical and they're friends.
Friends.
But then earlier tonight Haiji had leaned too close and their eyes had met and in that moment Kakeru had wanted to swallow the five centimeters between them and kiss him.
"I won't stay out too long," Kakeru tries. "I just needed to… loosen my nerves."
"Then I'll accompany you," Haiji replies, matter-of-fact. "It's perfect. Temperature's nice tonight too."
Kakeru would sigh if he weren't running and already preoccupied with trying to manage his breathing along with the conversation. He's too familiar with Haiji's persistence. He can't out-argue him—not back then, not now.
"Ahh," Haiji lets out a nostalgic exhale. "Doesn't this remind you of our first meeting?"
Kakeru manages a grunt of affirmation, but otherwise says nothing.
Haiji continues, "You were such a kid back then."
The corners of Kakeru's mouth twitches in a scowl. "You're only three years older than me, Haiji-san."
Haiji's short laugh rings in Kakeru's ears, echoing in a way that surely defies physics. "I remember dragging you to the store to apologize—you were pouting the entire time."
Kakeru feels heat in his cheeks, the caress of air over skin making the warmth even more definite. "I was not."
Another laugh, and when Kakeru blinks, he sees Haiji's face behind his eyelids, unwitting. He imagines feeling that laugh against his mouth, and almost stumbles.
"You totally were," Haiji says. "It was adorable."
"Haiji-san." A plea. "Please forget that."
"I won't."
Kakeru does sigh aloud this time. "Haiji-san…"
"Kakeru."
Something in the way Haiji says his name compels Kakeru to slow his feet, in an unspoken Go on.
"Why is it that you're always making me chase after you for theft?"
Kakeru hadn't expected that. "… Huh?" He turns to glance at Haiji, the pace slow enough that their eyes meet, their gazes hold. "I haven't stolen anything…?"
Haiji seems to smile, the small kind, with only the slightest curve to his lips—and Kakeru's thinking about his mouth again, damn it.
"You have," Haiji says, and Kakeru swears his eyes are glittering.
"What?"
And then Haiji's barely-there smile evolves into a grin, and it takes Kakeru's breath away (because there can't be any other reason that Kakeru's feeling so out of breath, not for something as light as a night jog).
"Did I take something of yours by mistake?" Kakeru manages to ask. Perhaps he'd accidentally taken Haiji's pen or used one of his towels. It's plausible, what with them living together, but—
"No." Haiji lets go of one of the handlebars of his bike, puts a hand on his chest, blinks almost theatrically, and says, "Kakeru, you've stolen my heart."
Kakeru trips over his feet and loses his balance. A strong hand gripping his bicep is the only thing stopping him from falling onto his face.
"… That's very cliché, Haiji-san," he says, pretending to be inspecting his shoes to avoid meeting Haiji's eyes. Surely this is a joke, surely Haiji isn't serious.
"Now that I've caught you," Haiji is saying, "I'm thinking we can make a deal."
"A deal?"
"Yep. Let's settle it between us, so I don't have to turn you over to the police."
"I didn't steal anything," Kakeru mutters, doing his best to ignore the pounding against his ribcage, warring between hoping and wondering when the punchline is going to land. He braces himself and finally looks at Haiji in the face. "… What deal?"
And then Haiji's suddenly close, as close as he'd been earlier, when they'd been sitting on the couch in the apartment. And Haiji's eyes are definitely twinkling.
"Kakeru," Haiji says, the syllables falling like gentle dandelion seeds, tickling Kakeru's lips, burrowing through the crevices between his ribs. Haiji releases Kakeru's bicep, the hand moving, leaving a phantom trail, then there are fingers pressing into Kakeru's chest, roughly over his heart, and it really is cliché, all of it. It makes all of it seem surreal.
Haiji says, "You can keep mine, if you'll give me yours."
It feels like he's forgotten how to breathe for an instant, and it feels like he'd never taken a real breath until this moment. He opens his mouth, but no words fall out; they're all stuck, jumbled in his airway, tangling up his vocal cords. He wonders what kind of expression he's making right now. He wonders if some part of him is still waiting for a punchline. He wonders how he had gone so long without realizing that he's been wanting Haiji in this way—more than as a friend or a teammate or a roommate.
Touch. Smiles. His own reflection in those eyes. That mouth, curving for him.
Those lips covering his, burning and soft and a little chafed.
Kissing, Kakeru realizes. They're kissing. That's what this is called.
"Haiji-san," Kakeru says, breathless, breathing too fast, not quite enough. "—What."
Haiji's smiling at him, softly, fondness written in the way his eyes catch Kakeru's. His palm, which has somehow moved to cup Kakeru's nape. His voice, as he says, "I was waiting for you to do this."
Kakeru stares.
"But then you ran off and left me hanging," Haiji continues. He lets out an exhale that's somewhere between a sigh and a laugh, shakes his head. "I can't believe you did that to me."
"I—I'm sorry?" Kakeru says. "But—you—why?"
"'Why,' you ask." Haiji lifts a brow at him, expectant. "And here I was thinking you'd finally worked it out."
It's impossible. The world doesn't work like this. Wishes don't get answered as soon as they're made. This can't be, but—
"I'm in love with you, Haiji-san."
"I know."
"I wanted to kiss you."
"Mm."
"… Can I kiss you?"
The sound of Haiji's soft chuckle sends warmth weaving through Kakeru. "You're asking now?"
Kakeru feels his face burn. He screws his eyes shut and pulls Haiji close once more. A little rough. Their noses bump together before things slot into place. Kakeru has no idea how to kiss, has no idea what he's doing, but Haiji's mouth is both pliant and responsive and Kakeru lets himself believe that this is fine, they're fine. More than fine.
"… It's a deal, Haiji-san," he says, when they pull apart.
"Good," Haiji says. "I'd really have hated to turn you in."