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*
Let it be known that Sakurayashiki Kaoru usually keeps his composure.
His resting face is controlled and unyielding, glacial and shatterproof; completely untouchable.
However, when Kojiro walks into ‘S’ one night with a woman latched onto each arm, both holding him firmly in a death grip, and a helpless, overwhelmed expression on his face, Kaoru's composed expression immediately breaks. He lets out a guttural laugh at the strange image the trio make, and then keels over, hands on his knees.
It takes him a while to put himself back together. But as soon as Kaoru straightens, he takes another glance at his friend still trying — and failing — to make his way over, rosy-cheeked and wide-eyed with embarrassment, and a hysterical bubble of laughter threatens to burst from his chest.
“Cherry,” Kojiro says desperately, once he’s finally in front of him, silently pleading for help.
Kaoru pretends to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your… friends?” The high neck of his undershirt covers his mouth, but the wide stretch of his smile must be visible, because Kojiro shoots him a betrayed look.
“I don’t think that’s—” He starts, before he’s cut off.
“I’m Aoi,” the woman on the left introduces herself confidently, flipping her hair and sending a whiff of lavender into the air. “And that’s Yuuka,” she points at her meek friend, who looks down and blushes. Both are definitely older than them — maybe in their early twenties — and for the first time, Kaoru wonders if anyone at ‘S’ realizes that the three founders are still high school students. “You’re Cherry Blossom, aren’t you? We’ve been hearing a lot!”
Kaoru blinks. It’s a reminder of who he is, at the moment, where he is. He unknowingly slipped back into the person he is outside of ‘S’ — Sakurayashiki Kaoru, rather than Cherry Blossom, the cool and collected founding member. He gets too caught up in teasing Kojiro, sometimes.
He immediately corrects his posture, one hand raised to secure the mask over the bottom half of his face. “I am,” Kaoru nods, voice evened out. “Joe’s been talking about me, has he?”
Kojiro splutters. “You wish.”
“So cute,” Aoi coos, poking Kojiro’s cheek with a manicured finger. Kojiro somehow grows even redder, starting to squirm uncomfortably. “Everyone’s talking about you!” She then says, tilting her head to study Kaoru. “Well, they’re talking about both of you,” she squeezes Joe’s arm, “but mostly Cherry Blossom — you’re the talk of the town!”
Kojiro pouts at that, and Kaoru really wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. “Oh?” He simply says.
Aoi nods. “Mhm. You have a lot of admirers. Joe’s more my type—” She giggles, giving Kojiro an unsubtle look. “But most ladies have their eyes on you!”
“So many of our friends like you, Cherry Blossom!” Yuuka suddenly says, nodding vigorously in agreement.
Kaoru hums, his nose slightly wrinkling where they can’t see. He’s completely uninterested in the turn the conversation has taken. Attracting attention from women isn’t exactly something he’s concerned with, nor a competition he wants to best Kojiro in.
“Please send them my thanks for their support.” Kaoru says stiffly, and doesn’t wait for a reply, reaching out a hand towards Kojiro. He tightens his fingers around the wrist closest to him, and then skillfully dislodges Aoi’s grip. “If you’ll excuse us — we have our own beef to prepare for.”
Aoi’s smile falls, but Yuuka steps away from Kojiro and nods in understanding: “Oh, good luck, then! We’ll cheer you on.”
“Goodnight, ladies,” Kojiro says sheepishly, as he’s being pulled away by Kaoru. “We’ll see you soon.”
“Shit,” he says, once they’re out of hearing distance. “You really saved my ass back there.”
Kaoru rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t have to, if you weren’t afraid of women.” At Kojiro’s indignant protest, he cackles, finally letting down his guard a bit. “Don’t you have two sisters?”
“Fuck you,” Kojiro mumbles. “It’s not the same at all and you know it.”
“Sure,” Kaoru says, playfully pulling on Kojiro’s pendant. “See that I don’t have to come to your rescue next time.”
Kaoru doesn’t know it then, but he’ll soon come to regret that underlying dare.
*
Kaoru is fully aware of Kojiro’s budding reputation as Joe, ‘S’s Resident Lothario, but the first time Kojiro deliberately walks into ‘S’ with someone on his arm is a bit of a surprise.
They all have admirers, it comes with the territory, really — when you’re the best, people orbit around you like a moth to flame. And they, as ‘S’s founding members, are the best of the best, the ones other skaters aspire to reach.
That, Kaoru maintains, has its pros and cons.
Kojiro, however, undoubtedly thinks differently. He practically preens every time, basking in the (usually female) attention, enjoying the spotlight much more than Kaoru or Adam ever do. While they’re always quickly in and out of ‘S’, Kojiro prefers to dawdle, to linger and make fast friends, to unabashedly flirt with the fans and fellow skaters.
So it’s not as much shocking as it is unexpected. Kaoru has known Kojiro since they were practically in diapers — while he’s naturally charming, Kaoru assumes the overconfidence and inflated ego of Joe is at least partially fictitious; a mask worn at ‘S’ that stays at ‘S’, a character Kojiro plays very, very well.
Apparently Kaoru has miscalculated, unless he’s imagining what’s directly in front of him, unless the pretty brunette — with her thin waist, bright smile, and long, flowing hair — is a fabric of Kaoru’s imagination.
And ultimately, that’s what bothers him.
Kaoru used to think of himself as an expert on one Nanjo Kojiro; he isn’t particularly hard to read, what with how disgustingly emotive his face is, but Kaoru could recite his likes and dislikes, strengths and weaknesses, dreams and goals... the various ways to successfully get under his skin just so.
So, Kaoru wonders to himself, how did this change happen? And right under his nose, at that, with him none the wiser. It makes him sick to his stomach, to be so wrong, to lose, but Kaoru can’t tell you what exactly this loss entails, why it almost feels like a betrayal of sorts.
Kaoru decides to do what he does best: set aside the complicated feelings for later dissection and analysis, and channel it into something he is extremely familiar with — irritation.
“You’re late,” Kaoru states frigidly, once Kojiro is close enough, nose high in the air. He doesn’t dare look at him and his… companion. His gaze is fixed straight ahead, on the two rookies about to embark on the first beef of the evening.
“Sorry,” Kojiro says, his tone drowning in smugness. His companion giggles. Kaoru can tell he’s grinning — unapologetically, shamelessly — without sneaking a glace, and the pebble nested in the pit of his stomach makes itself known again. “Time slipped away from us. Ah, you know how it is, Cherry.”
Us. Kaoru wants to retch. And he does not, in fact, know how it is.
“That’s not an excuse.”
Kojiro barks out a laugh, and even that sounds off — almost… forced. Kaoru doesn’t know what to make of it. “Didn’t say it was.”
Kaoru frowns. “When the three of us started ‘S’, you took on a responsibility. You can’t slack off and expect us to pick up the slack, you big oaf.” Wrinkling his nose, he adds: “Adam is never late, is he? And he actually has other obligations.”
“Oh, you know all about his obligations, huh, four-eyes?” Kojiro taunts, after a stretch of silence. “Mind sharing with the class?” Kaoru finally looks at him, then, and his face is unusually closed off. He’s smiling, but it sits unnaturally on his face — fake in all the ways Kojiro never has been. Once again, he wonders, why can’t I read you anymore?
Kojiro squeezes the girl’s waist. “We’re dying to hear all about it, aren’t we?”
For once, Kaoru thinks it’s wise to retreat. Arguing with Kojiro isn’t nearly as gratifying when he’s being so obviously provoked, when the bait is dangling right in front of his face.
He isn’t a fan of having an audience, either.
So Kaoru doesn’t dignify him with a response. He turns on his heel, yukata billowing behind him, and goes to find Adam.
Next time, he’ll corner Kojiro alone — as himself, without any masks — and maybe then, they can have a straightforward conversation.
*
Adam leaves, without much of an explanation, and Kaoru still doesn’t know what to make of it.
Truly, they haven’t known each other for long — a year, give or take — but Adam had looked Kaoru and Kojiro in the eye and called them special. At the time, it had seemed like a loaded word, as if it meant much more than seven letters could convey.
Kaoru felt special.
Seeing Adam’s face felt like a privilege; no one else in the underground skating scene was privy to it, no one else had any clue to what was under Adam’s hood — just him and Kojiro.
Adam was an untouchable entity, more God than man, and for a while, Kaoru and Kojiro had felt like Adam’s inner circle. For a while, they felt like a trio, rather than two naive moons orbiting around him — never close enough, always far, far away.
In a single year — hell, within five minutes of meeting them — Adam had crashed into what was once KaoruandKojiro and left his mark, left a brand that said ‘ADAM WAS HERE’, permanent and life-altering.
Adam leaves, and Kaoru wonders when it became so difficult to talk to his best friend.
Kojiro has been hot and cold for what seems like months — always conveniently too busy to head to ‘S’ together, always has mysterious plans, always quick to dodge any of Kaoru’s attempts to corner him.
Kaoru understands, at first. Adam’s recently established… methods during beefs were harsh, violent, hard to swallow — and while Kaoru wanted to get through to him, to reason with him, Kojiro didn’t think it was worth it, so he started to keep his distance.
Kaoru still doesn’t blame him, not really, but he really thought Adam’s departure would put an end to this childish game of avoidance.
The next time he catches Kojiro at ‘S’, Kaoru finally gets it.
It hits him — why Kojiro has been so busy without so much as a proper excuse.
She’s gorgeous, is his first thought.
She’s way out of his league, Kaoru thinks next.
And he doesn’t know how, but he can tell she isn’t Joe’s usual arm candy; the kind he’s seen with once and never again. She’s too striking, for one, too different from his usual type — all long legs, and warm brown eyes, and wild, chin-length blonde hair.
Kojiro won’t take his eyes off of her.
Kaoru fights the urge to stomp right up to them and demand answers. Instead, he pays them no mind and meticulously prepares for the beef he has lined up. He tests Carla’s various functions and performativity — he has a few new tricks up his sleeve — and decides to, for once, show off.
He wins, which is a given; his challenger had been an arrogant rookie. He also breaks a record, previously held by Adam and untouched since he left, by two whole seconds.
Kojiro is already waiting for him at the end of the course, eyes glittering with excitement — and Kaoru will never admit to this being his goal.
The satisfied smirk on his face promptly drops once he notices that Kojiro still has company.
“Cherry! Holy shit!” Kojiro grins crookedly, all teeth. “You were on fire. What was that?!”
Kaoru just shrugs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “I’m finally getting serious.” He then turns his attention to the woman at Kojiro’s side, raising both brows. “I see you’re still as uncouth as always, Joe. Are you not going to introduce us?”
“Oh,” Kojiro says, as if remembering he’s not alone, and his face softens. “This is, um — Fuyumi.” He sounds uncharacteristically shy, reminiscent of who he was before the attention at ‘S’, before Joe and fangirls hanging off of his arms. There’s even a telltale blush around his ears, which… what?
Kaoru’s stomach twists. “Oh?”
Fuyumi playfully swats Kojiro’s chest, her hand lingering. “What kind of introduction was that?” She asks, her voice teasing, and Kaoru stares at them for a long moment, fixated on how utterly comfortable the pair look — how they just.. fit. “Not befitting of your girlfriend, that’s what,” she adds, letting out a playful tsk and shaking her head, then turns back to Kaoru. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Cherry! Kojiro hasn’t told me nearly enough!”
Girlfriend.
Kojiro.
Kaoru has to clamp down on his tongue to keep himself from reacting.
“Unfortunately, I can’t say I’ve heard of you at all,” Kaoru forces out, gritting his teeth, suddenly grateful for the mask he wears at ‘S’. “Well, I’d stick around and chat, but I have business to take care of.” He relaxes his face, an attempt to look as indifferent as possible. “Enjoy your night, lovebirds.”
Kaoru tells himself, out of sight, out of mind, but the feeling of dread lingers.
He tries to convince himself that it’s merely a matter of pride — that he feels embarrassed, regretful, to have been seeking Kojiro out so vigorously.
No matter how Kaoru rationalizes it, though, what he’s feeling — the tangled knot in his stomach — is raw, unadulterated, irrational betrayal.
When Kaoru’s mother presents him with the opportunity to study under a renown calligrapher in Kyoto, a week later, Kaoru jumps at it.
*
Kaoru’s twenty-second birthday is just as uneventful as his twenty-first — and his twentieth before that — had been.
He’s back home in Okinawa, now, after three long years of seeking out various apprenticeships and living without permanence, without stability.
Three years of blood, sweat, and tears; three years of studying various styles of calligraphy from the best of the best and honing his skills, three years of living in Kyoto, then Tokyo, then very briefly in Taiwan, three years of developing his own Artificial Intelligence, adapted from the code he uses for Carla, to take Sakurayashiki Calligraphy to the next level.
Three years of keeping up with ‘S’ from kilometers and kilometers away.
Three years without skating.
(Kaoru’s skateboard followed him wherever he went, always fully charged, constantly updated and advanced as technology progressed, but still untouched in all the ways that mattered.
Sometimes, even looking at it for too long hurt Kaoru, stinging like an open wound.
It felt forbidden, almost, to skate while so far away from Kojiro.)
As Kaoru lies in bed, in his childhood bedroom, surrounded by everything he’s done his best to avoid for the past three years, he feels bone-weary — tired of running away,
He makes the impulsive decision to visit ‘S’ that night, as a birthday gift to himself.
When Kaoru finally comes downstairs and finds himself face to face with Nanjo Kojiro, cup of tea in hand, sitting at the kotetsu with his mother, he wonders if the universe is toying with him.
Kojiro looks… different.
His hair is longer, for one, but Kaoru doesn’t give pause at that.
He’d started filling out after ‘S’, but Kojiro at twenty-two puts the Kojiro from Kaoru’s memories to shame. His shoulders look strong, broad, the line of his jaw stronger, and the swell of his biceps are downright devastating. It feels a bit daunting to even look.
Kaoru is much too overwhelmed for nine in the morning.
Before he can turn around and stealthily make his way back up the stairs, his mother’s sixth sense kicks in. “Kaoru,” she says. “I can hear you back there. Come have breakfast.”
Kaoru presses his lips into a thin line, but does as she says, settling down next to her. For the next few minutes, he’s silent, with his head down, busying himself with a bowl of rice — indebted to his mother’s rule of no conversations while eating.
He tunes out the small talk between Kojiro and his mother, but at some point the conversation turns to him.
“Kaoru’s taking over Sakurayashiki Calligraphy soon,” his mother tells him, with a gentle smile, and then elaborates with: “I won’t be retiring just yet, but he’ll be at the fore-front, dealing with clients and such.”
“Ah,” Kojiro says, looking at Kaoru and then quickly averting his gaze, unsure. “That’s great!” He clears his throat. “Really great.” The enthusiasm sounds a bit put on, rehearsed, but he’s definitely trying, for Kaoru’s mother’s sake, if anything. “Congratulations, Kaoru.”
His mother conveniently stands up, then, smoothing out the skirt of her kimono. “I’m going to make more tea. You boys catch up.”
Kaoru nods stiffly. “Thanks. You’ve been well, I take it?”
Kojiro rubs at the back of his neck, and the gesture of awkwardness is so familiar and so Kojiro that Kaoru feels sick. “Um. Yeah. Really good. I was just telling your mom that I finally made Sous Chef the other week, so things have been great.”
“Oh,” Kaoru’s eyes widen. He feels unbelievably proud, but he doesn’t know if he’s entitled to it. “Congratulations. That’s a — wow, an amazing feat at your age. You’ve worked hard.”
Kojiro laughs lightly, and the sound of it settles the ball of tension at the bottom of Kaoru’s stomach. “There have been younger, trust me.”
Kaoru scrunches his nose. “You’ve always been way too competitive. Just take the compliment, it’s still impressive.”
Instead of arguing back, like he would’ve years ago, Kojiro gives him a slow, easy smile. “Thanks, then. Compliment accepted.”
Kaoru doesn’t know what to make of it.
“Listen,” he says, quietly, after a contemplative stretch of silence. “I’m heading to ‘S’ tonight. Let’s have a beef for old time’s sake. Catch up properly.” He swallows. There — it’s done.
Kojiro agrees.
Later that night, Kaoru is at ‘S’ as soon as the doors open, holding Carla in a much too-tight, anxious grip
It’s almost as if he’s experiencing the atmosphere for the first time — the air is electric, exhilarating. He’s surrounded by a much larger crowd than he remembers, and while Kaoru can hear the tell-tale hum of whispers around him, he pays them no mind, eyes fixed on the entrance.
Kojiro shows up at the eleventh hour, right before the first beef of the night is slated to begin.
Unsurprisingly, he isn’t alone.
Kaoru lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, because the woman isn’t Fuyumi, who he had convinced himself during many drunken stupors was probably married to Kojiro by now.
He feels relieved, and then feels pathetic for feeling relieved.
When Kaoru loses that night — he’s rusty, unsteady, and it’s his first time trying out any of his upgrades to Carla — he’s still sporting a smile.
The woman, who Kojiro doesn’t introduce to Kaoru, eventually disappears, and no one takes her place on Kojiro’s arm.
Instead, the two of them leave together and find themselves in a nearby bar. Kojiro wants to know all about the upgrades to Carla, how the hell Kaoru managed to program any of it, and Kaoru, proud of his work, is happy to walk him through the entire process.
In return, Kaoru asks about Kojiro’s experience at culinary school (stressful) and if he still planned on opening his own restaurant (of course, do you even have to ask?).
They talk for hours — the longest they have since Adam threw a boulder into their lives.
By the end of the night, some semblance of their previous dynamic falls back into place.
*
Time passes in a blur of taking over Sakurayashiki Calligraphy and all the responsibilities that entails, in a blur of integrating his Artificial Intelligence into his everyday life and frequent beefs at ‘S’ and relearning Nanjo Kojiro until they can call each other best friends again.
It’s been rewarding — to have Kojiro as a constant in his life again.
At twenty-five, Kaoru is much more settled than he was at twenty-two.
Much happier, too.
(He never sees Kojiro with the same woman more than twice, which is definitely a factor, but Kaoru refuses to ever acknowledge that.)
For once, Kaoru is the one running late to ‘S’. His last client of the day was a talker, and no lack of one-worded replies would get him to take the hint.
The crowd at ‘S’ on a Tuesday evening is much more mild, with less high stake beefs and more socialization. Hence, why Kaoru usually skips out, while Kojiro has become a bit of a regular.
Today, though, he promised Kojiro he’d show face, if anything just to meet the mysterious skater Kojiro won’t shut up about. He goes by Traveler, apparently, and is new to ‘S’ and Okinawa’s skating scene, but not to skateboarding. According to Kojiro, he’s only ever seen around ‘S’ on Tuesdays, and Kaoru is intrigued, alright, he can’t help it.
Kaoru spots them instantly, standing on the sidelines of the beef that’s underway. Traveler is shorter than Kojiro, but taller than him and surprisingly lanky, with mid-length, bottle-blond hair that he keeps pushing out of his eyes.
When Traveler smiles, it’s all teeth and dimples.
And the thing is, Kaoru knows that Kojiro has been waxing poetics about Traveler and his skating, but he didn’t expect them to look quite so... close.
He idly wonders how many Tuesdays they’ve spent like this — side by side, without a lick of space between them.
It doesn’t help that Kojiro doesn’t even notice that Kaoru’s walked up to them until he clears his throat, lips pursed.
“Oh hey,” Kojiro says, smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Cherry’s finally here.”
“That I am.” Kaoru narrows his eyes at Traveler. “And you are?.”
Traveler raises a brow, unshakeable. “Joe said he told you about me.”
Kaoru hums, and pretends to think it through. “Maybe,” he concedes. “I really doubt he said anything memorable, though.” He turns back to Kojiro in clear dismissal. “Who’s skating tonight?”
Kojiro, amused, simply shakes his head. “Two rookies are on right now, but we’re getting a real show in a bit.” He nudges Traveler with an elbow. “Traveler’s got his first beef with Shadow.”
Traveler dimples again, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “And I’m gonna win.”
“Wanna bet on it?” Kojiro arches a brow and grins, lopsided, the way he usually does when he’s… flirting.
Ah.
Kaoru has become particularly skilled at ignoring Kojiro’s flirtatious advances — especially at ‘S’, where it’s become part of his identity.
Traveler doesn’t make him roll his eyes the way Kojiro’s many fangirls do.
He makes Kaoru feel the way Fuyumi did, borderline threatened, like whatever he has with Kojiro could actually go somewhere.
Kojiro has never flirted with men in front of Kaoru before, yet he doesn’t seem to be going through a revelation, which could mean that Traveler is an exception to the rule.
His stomach turns.
“I’d like to get in on this bet, too, please.” Kaoru forces out, saccharine sweet. “Ten thousand yen on Shadow.”
Kojiro’s mouth falls open in shock. “You sure?”
“Positive.”
Traveler goes red with embarrassment. “Fine. You’ll regret that.”
And if Kaoru goes to find Shadow before the beef, bribing him to wipe the floor with Traveler, then no one has to be the wiser.
*
Eventually, Kaoru and Kojiro completely align once again. They spend more time together than not, and it reminds Kaoru of when they were both kids and first learning to skateboard, attached at the hip at every waking moment so they would progress similarly and couldn’t leave the other behind.
If Kaoru isn’t working in his studio or at an event, he’s either having a meal with a client at Sia la Luce — at Kaoru’s suggestion, every single time, at ‘S’ with Kojiro, in one of their apartments, or somewhere else, with Kojiro still by his side.
It’s fascinating how easily they fit back into each other’s lives.
At eighteen, Kaoru cannot fathom the two of them ever being separated. At twenty, Kaoru dreams of reuniting with Kojiro, of making things right, but can’t make the first move. At twenty-two, he swears it won’t ever happen, that he missed his chance. At twenty-five, he’s thankful for it, but won’t read into his feelings, because denial is a hell of a drug.
At twenty-eight, he’s older, wiser, and a whole lot less emotionally unavailable.
At twenty-eight, Kaoru knows he’s in love, and probably has been for quite a while, and that the tingle down his spine whenever Kojiro threads fingers through his hair means something.
He knows it’s very likely mutual, too.
A part of Kaoru is unbelievably impatient, now that he and Kojiro are practically together in all ways but one. When Kojiro stares at him for too long, or the air between them becomes too charged, or they get way too carried away while teasing each other, he thinks, is this it? It never is, but he still finds himself hoping.
For the most part, though, Kaoru is assured enough in their relationship that it doesn’t matter as much as it used to.
When Adam shows up, seemingly out of the blue, and Kaoru finds himself at the receiving end of enough injuries to kill his naive nostalgia, it’s Kojiro that nurses him back to health, at his beck and call despite the complaints and teasing.
It’s Kojiro who stocks up on Kaoru’s favourite Bordeaux wine and pours him a glass whenever he has a particularly shitty day, who is — and always has been — loved by Kaoru’s mother, who not only shares his bed without protest, but also prefers to be the little spoon, and who is thoughtful and kind and sentimental and may or may not have Kaoru Senses, because quite frankly, it shouldn’t be so easy for someone to know him like this — wholly, completely, inside and out.
And so, when the moment does finally happen, it is in tune with all that has become KaoruandKojiro at twenty-eight; uncomplicated, effortless, and worth the wait.
Naturally, they’re in Sia la Luce after an eventful night at ‘S’, because of course they are.
Kaoru is in his usual seat at the bar, sucking his lower lip into his mouth in contemplation. “Your fangirls have been rather tame lately,” he finally says.
“Yeah?” Kojiro says, distracted, from where he is in the kitchen. “I haven’t noticed.”
Kaoru rolls his eyes. He won’t fold. “Carla,” he calls out, “tell Kojiro he’s a horrible liar.”
“Master says you’re a horrible liar, Kojiro,” Carla repeats obediently.
Kojiro laughs, loud enough that Kaoru knows his head is thrown back. “Tell your master to eat shit.”
“Carla cannot repeat profanity,” she trills.
Kojiro laughs again, full and rich, and Kaoru is immensely pleased with himself.
“Hey, Kojiro,” he says, and well, the decision is made for him. “Come here for a second.”
Kojiro does come, poking his head through the door, puzzled by Kaoru’s request.
“Closer,” Kaoru prompts, so Kojiro comes closer.
And because Kojiro doesn’t do anything by halves, he’s right up in Kaoru’s face, bending down to level-out the height difference, still entirely trusting despite not knowing where this is going. “Good?”
Kaoru frames Kojiro’s face with his hands, brushes his thumbs against warm cheeks, and then looks at him steadily. He memorizes the line of his nose and his plush bottom lip and his unfairly long eyelashes, smoothing out the confused furrow between his brows. “Hey,” Kaoru repeats. “You should kiss me.”
“I…” Kojiro scans his face. “Repeat that? Um,” he clears his throat, “please?”
Kaoru strokes the hair at his temple. “Kiss me,” he says again. “Now, preferably, but after that, too.”
And Kojiro does, arching forward to press a soft kiss to Kojiro’s waiting mouth. Rather than anything momentous, it feels like a natural progression to Kaoru — the sky is blue and the grass is green and Kaoru and Kojiro would inevitably kiss.
Kojiro smiles into the kiss, pulling Kaoru closer with a grip to his chair. He lets it linger for a few more seconds and pulls away.
“Nope,” Kaoru tells him, tilting his head for a better angle before he pulls Kojiro in again, fitting their lips together. The second kiss is much deeper than the first, wetter, more frantic. Kaoru hums into it, tentatively nipping at Kojiro’s lower lip, and then sucks it into his mouth. Kojiro shivers. Kojiro is surprisingly pliant like this, willingly following his lead, and Kaoru can’t help but wonder if he’s only like this for him.
As if rehearsed, Kojiro muffles a whimper into Kaoru’s mouth.
“Oh fuck,” Kaoru says, catching his breath. He presses his mouth to Kojiro’s in a series of shorter pecks. “Kojiro… Baby. You —” He cuts himself off, kissing Kojiro’s cheek, and then the other one, and then his nose, and his forehead, and the corners of his lips. “I love you.”
Kojiro’s eyes blink open in shock, and Kaoru raises an eyebrow. “ What?” He challenges. “It’s taken us long enough to admit it as it is.”
“Speak for yourself,” Kojiro says under his breath, smoothing his hands down Kaoru’s sides.
Kaoru slides his fingers into Kojiro’s hair and pulls. “Want to repeat that?”
Kojiro grins, then, wide enough to show both rows of teeth, his cheeks turning ruddy. “You’re a bastard, you know that?” He pulls Kaoru closer, until their lips are practically touching.
“Worth the wait,” is whispered into the space between them. “I love you, too.”
When they walk into ‘S’ the next evening, Kaoru is on Kojiro’s arm — as he should’ve always been, and now, always will be.
*