Chapter Text
Reading romance novels had always been his guilty pleasure.
It was easy for him to get away with it; for one, no one would ever think that Nanjo Kojiro, with his height and his build and his reputation, would willingly read such things. Second, he lived alone; there was only one person who could possibly catch him in the act, and Kojiro had long since learned how to Kaoru-proof his house.
But for all that he enjoyed them, there was one thing about those books that always baffled Kojiro: the recurring formula. The elements to a happy ending were clear-cut — you have the gorgeous love interest, the acceptance of differences, the resolution of conflicts, a sunset, maybe even some wind. Cue the kiss, which signals the start of the end, and you’re en route to the happy ending.
Kojiro thought this was bullshit. This was not the way his life was going at all.
See, he already had the gorgeous love interest; hell, he even had the kiss.
But the kiss didn’t signal the end.
No, that was just the start.
--
One might wonder when Kojiro could have found the time to convince Sakurayashiki Kaoru to kiss him, much less follow through with the act. They were 26-year-old adults who had their own businesses to run after all, and the nights they were free were spent at Crazy Rock, skateboarding to their hearts’ content.
Life was busy. But it hadn’t always been.
The first kiss happened when they were 18.
It was spring; they’d just graduated high school and they were starting a new chapter of their lives in a few weeks. Adam had already left for America, so it was just Kojiro and Kaoru hanging out in their old haunt. They killed time by mindlessly skating back and forth, idly conversing in light voices.
Dusk saw them leaning against the railing, a gentle breeze ruffling Kojiro’s green curls and Kaoru’s pink tresses.
“Things are going to change,” Kaoru said, eyes gazing out into the distance.
“Most of everything already changed,” Kojiro pointed out. He didn’t mention Adam’s name. He didn’t have to. And he didn’t want to stir the coals.
But it seemed like he managed to do that anyway. There was a strange sort of pain in Kaoru’s face, one that Kojiro wished to unsee. He didn’t need the reminder that his crush was in love with someone else — with their former best friend, to be precise.
A heaviness in Kojiro’s chest made itself known and he tried to take a deep breath to dislodge it. It didn’t work.
“Fine Arts, though, that’s pretty cool,” he said.
Kaoru shrugged. “I’m most excited about the calligraphy course.”
“Of course you are.”
“And you?” Kaoru finally turned his head to look at him, pinning him with a golden gaze. “You sure about culinary?”
“Yeah. Wanna have my own restaurant one day.” The course he was eyeing was two years long, and after that, he’d look into how to start his business. Kaoru, on the other hand, would be off to college for four years.
Kaoru studied him for a beat longer than usual before looking away. Shifting his weight uncomfortably, he muttered, “I’m glad.”
Kojiro blinked. “Huh? Glad...?”
“That you’re not leaving.” Kaoru uttered the words quickly, as if he was ripping off a band aid. “That we’re staying in the same city.”
A stronger breeze swept the shorter strands of Kaoru’s hair across his face. Heart racing in his chest, Kojiro unthinkingly reached out and tucked the locks back behind a heavily pierced ear.
Startled, Kaoru whipped his head to face him once more, a frown creasing his forehead. But he seemed to be in a strange mood, because he didn’t whack Kojiro’s hand away, didn’t snap, ‘Don’t you dare touch me, you oaf.’
It made Kojiro more bold. He carefully ran a knuckle down a powdery-smooth cheek, bravely looking up to meet wide, shocked eyes. “Maybe not everything has to change.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Kaoru said, narrowed eyes running over Kojiro’s face, before lingering on his lips. “That’s what life is about.”
Kojiro inched closer, something in his mind yelling, ‘This is your opening, grab the chance right now!’
“Not us, though, right?” he whispered, boring his gaze into Karou’s, resting his thumb on a stubborn chin and curling his index finger underneath.
It was a miracle that Kaoru hadn’t kicked him in the shin and stormed away, spitting curses. It made hope soar in Kojiro’s chest, heartbeat thundering in his ears.
Kojiro was nothing if not aggressive. He listened to the voice telling him to do this now or forever hold your peace.
When Kaoru warningly uttered ‘Kojiro—,’ he swooped in and caught his lips with his, stopping the rest of the words from spilling out.
For a moment, they were both still, mouths pressed together stiffly. Kojiro experimentally moved his lips, and idly wondered if he was trying to make out with a wall; but then Kaoru parted his lips on an exhale and Kojiro was lost.
It was like dropping a match on a pool of gas. Suddenly, they were a whirlwind of motion, fingers grasping at hair, mouths pressing together insistently, furiously, a little clumsily. The metal ring on Karou’s lower lip dug against Kojiro’s and he was awash with the same thrill he gets when rocketing down a steep road on a skateboard. Like he could live forever.
But there was no such thing, and it was proved when Kaoru broke away from him, shoving at his chest as he staggered back. His face was scarlet, his mouth was swollen, and his hair was uncharacteristically dishevelled. It was the most out-of-sorts that Kojiro had ever seen him. He was beautiful.
As always, Kaoru gathered his composure quickly. Avoiding Kojiro’s eyes, he said, “It’s late. We should go home.”
There was no animosity or regret in his voice. There wasn’t much of anything in his voice, or even his face — Kojiro couldn’t read him. Unable to do anything else, he simply said, “Okay.”
They were on their skateboards a moment later, riding across the disappearing daylight towards the familiar path home. Kojiro didn’t have time to dwell over the incident, and neither of them brought it up. They bumped fists before going separate ways, and the moment disappeared sometime between the last of the light filtering out and the stars beginning to glimmer in the night sky.
The kiss would always be etched there though, in the dirty, rundown, graffiti-covered spot only two stupid kids loved.