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Over the years, the stakes of their beefs have evolved. It started out small and stupid: things like convinience store snacks, skate store goods. Losing a beef got Kojiro a pierced ear; another time, Kaoru got a tattoo. A moon, meant to match Kojiro’s sun, and despite Kaoru complaining about how damn derivative it is, Kojiro knows he still gets it touched up.
They must’ve been sixteen when Kaoru laughingly staked a kiss. Kojiro won, asked him to mean it, and Kaoru kissed him hard enough to cut his lip.
They beefed a lot more, after. Upped the stakes because god knows there’s nothing like vulnerability, and neither of them would say shit unless adrenaline roared loudly enough, so loud that they couldn’t hear what the words were.
It’s stupid and small again these days: who pays for date night, who does the chores.
And then Kaoru goes up against Adam, and neither of them could have ever guessed the stakes would be the swing and crack of a board, the panicked drive to the hospital.
And now Kojiro’s sitting by Kaoru’s side, waiting for him to wake up. The sedatives should wear off soon, and Kojiro doesn’t want to leave without letting Kaoru know. So he waits.
There was a time when Kaoru would keep him at arm’s length, and it was beefing that closed that. It was a chance to get shoulder to shoulder, up in each other’s faces. And Kaoru never kept him too out of reach: all that was ever needed for an embrace was one step forward.
“You’re breaking my damn heart, you know,” Kojiro mutters, running his hand over his face. Like the motion can wipe it all away, and that when he can see again, Kaoru will be just fine.
He peeks through his fingers; Kaoru’s still asleep, still wrapped up and bruised. Kojiro sighs, reaching out to loosely hold Kaoru’s hand.
“You’re not boring,” Kojiro says quietly. “My favorite races are the ones with you, you robot freak.”
He has to exhale shakily, trying to smile at a resurfacing memory: in childhood, Kaoru would only ever cry if Kojiro were crying. So he can’t cry now, not if it’ll set Kaoru off — even if his tearful scoldings are quite the sight to see.
Suddenly, softly, Kaoru’s hand squeezes his. “... Stupid gorilla.”
Kojiro tenses, then relaxes. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty.”
“Beauty,” Kaoru repeats with a scoff. Wincing, he sits up slowly. “Not right now, I’m sure.”
“You’re always a beauty.” Kojiro says. “And a beast.”
“I’m going to kill you,” Kaoru sighs, too tired to really fight. “After I kill Adam.”
“Good,” Kojiro says. “Don’t be selfless anymore. Just be a selfish asshole like usual.”
“ You weren’t hit with a skateboard, so why are you talking about yourself?” Kaoru rolls his eyes. “Confused, gorilla?”
“You’re doing amazing already, baby,” Kojiro coos. “How’re you feeling?”
“Like sunshine and roses.” Kaoru rolls his eyes again. “Obviously I feel like death, Kojiro.”
“This can’t be your last beef,” Kojiro says. “That’s gotta be with me. We’ll be rolling to the grave, but when we’re actually old, okay?”
“Shut up.” Kaoru’s laugh croaks out, dissolves into a cough. “We’re not skating to our graves.”
“We are.”
“We’re not.”
“Will you roll to the altar with me, at least?” Kojiro says. “Next beef, when I win, I’m proposing.”
“ No, ” Kaoru says fiercely.
“Wh—”
“Carla and I already have the perfect proposal planned!”
“If you win, you can propose.” Kojiro cracks a smile. “So get better soon, asshole.”
Kaoru smiles, tired but warm. “Get ready to lose, gorilla.”
“With you,” Kojiro says, “I won’t lose either way.”