Archive of Our Own

It only takes half an hour for Kaoru’s patience to wear itself out.

The couple in front seated in front of him are in their own little world, blissfully unaware of everyone else around them subjected to their gratingly loud bickering, rapidfire French disturbing what he had hoped to be a somewhat relaxing train ride back to Paris. Having lost his headphones somewhere in Normandy, tuning them out isn’t an option. Frankly, he doubts the music would’ve helped anyway, considering those who were smart enough to bring headphones along are still glaring daggers at the couple.

When the woman’s voice hits yet another octave higher than it already is, Kaoru lets an audible groan slip out, slipping his ticket into the novel in his hand and standing up to find an available seat in the next carriage with his small suitcase in tow. They continue on as if he was never there in the first place.

It’s only a little bit enviable.

As luck would have it, there are only a few seats left in the next carriage, which is pleasantly quiet and almost tranquil compared to the one he first chose. He takes his chances with the seat furthest away from the couple, walking ahead until the couple’s voices are but a distant murmur. Apparently, the agitation must show on his face, because the green-haired man sitting across the available seat has a friendly, yet knowing look on his objectively handsome face.

“Is this seat free?” Kaoru asks, willing the tension in his face muscles to disappear.

“Yeah, go for it,” the man replies with a smile.

Kaoru mumbles his thanks, setting his book down on the table and hauling his suitcase onto the luggage rack above them. He spots a longboard beside a duffel bag and pockets that tidbit of information for reasons beyond his understanding, then takes his seat with a relieved sigh, head tipping back as he appreciates the relative quiet for a moment.

It doesn’t last long, not when he feels the burn of a curious stare land on him.

“Is your hair naturally that pink?”

Kaoru blinks, then meets his stare with a flat one, answering the question with another. “Is yours naturally that green?”

The man chuckles, running a hand through said hair and Kaoru is granted a small glimpse of ink on skin when his sleeve rides up ever so slightly. He wonders if it’s intentional or not.

“As natural as can be,” he admits, pearly whites bared in a disarming grin. 

“Then there’s your answer,” Kaoru says, picking up his book to signal the end of the conversation.

Only, the man isn’t as willing to let it end so soon, propping his arm up on the table to rest his chin on his palm, eyeing the cover of Kaoru’s book on calligraphy.

“You can read Japanese?”

Kaoru doesn’t look up from the page when he replies, “I’m from Japan.”

“Oh, thank god,” the man sighs, easily slipping into Japanese. “I don’t think I could’ve carried on with a conversation in just French.”

“You seem to have a better grasp of it than I do,” Kaoru replies idly, turning the page. He spares the man a quick glance, tempted to look away when he finds brown eyes trained on him, lips still curled into a slight smile. He chooses to close his book instead.

The man seems pleased at the action, gaze never leaving Kaoru, curiosity weighing heavy on him.

And Kaoru, never one to be so quickly intimidated, doesn’t avert his stare either, even as the French countryside quickly rolls past them in a blur resembling the shade of the man’s hair.

“Well, you’re bound to pick up on some stuff after living here for two years,” the man grins. “Which part are you from?”

For a moment, Kaoru wonders if there’s any harm in divulging his personal information to a complete stranger. Of course, he could lie, as he did with the few short-lived acquaintances he’s accumulated over his two-week trip around the country. A different version of himself exists in the memory of those acquaintances now. It makes the precautionary measure fun, thrilling even. How many versions of Sakurayashiki Kaoru are out there now? He has an inkling that he’ll end this trip as a far better liar than he was when he first arrived.

“Okinawa.”

Naturally, he tells the truth to the only other Japanese person he’s met so far.

The man’s eyes widen, almost comically, and Kaoru raises a brow in response.

“No way, I’m from Okinawa too!” he exclaims, drawing the attention of the old lady seated across the aisle. “You sure we’ve never met before?”

Kaoru snorts, even if the coincidence isn’t lost on him. But then again—

“I don’t know how long you’ve been away from Okinawa, but it isn’t that small,” he points out.

“Unfortunate, isn’t it?” the man replies, a green curl falling over his forehead when he leans into his palm. “Anyways, I definitely would’ve remembered you.”

For what it’s worth, Kaoru manages to school his expression into one of borderline indifference, refusing to give away how that line shouldn’t have worked as well as it did. 

He changes the subject instead. “What are you in France for then?”

The man’s eyes light up at the question and he’s quick to indulge Kaoru with tales of a cooking apprenticeship, starting with how he hadn’t been expecting to wash dishes when he first landed in Paris but has now worked his way up to a commis chef position, his evident passion practically spilling from the seams. Kaoru listens, nodding and throwing a subdued laugh every now and then as this complete stranger tells him of all the theatrics that goes on in a French kitchen, showing off small burns scattered across his arms as if they are battle scars and— wow , his hands are big.

Before his imagination can get ahead of itself, the man abruptly stops in the middle of his story about a drunken escapade after a long shift.

“Sorry, I’m getting carried away,” he starts, a sheepish smile spreading across his face. “So, what brings you to the city of love?”

“Nothing as interesting as streaking through the backstreets of Paris at three in the morning,” Kaoru smirks, silencing the nagging thought that tells him that would’ve been a sight he would’ve liked to have seen. “I’m just here for a short trip. For fun, I suppose.”

After all, work is the only thing that will welcome him back home and he figures he won’t nearly have as much time to spend on himself once he tackles the long list of commissions waiting for him in his new workshop. The trip is, more or less, one last hurrah before he’ll have to take all his visible piercings out and allow them to heal into blemishes in order to enter a new chapter of his life.

So he’ll forgive himself for getting just the slightest bit attached to this stranger on a train to Paris.

It’s not like they’ll ever see each other again.

“Would you say it lives up to its reputation?” he asks.

The question seems to catch the man off guard then, who purses his lips, evidently in thought as Kaoru waits, wondering if that had been too intrusive, unsure why he even asked in the first place. Maybe it’s because he’d been wondering if there’s something missing in this trip, if he’d been missing out on something when choosing to travel alone and remain alone. It’s an effort to keep the conversation going without leaving it dry, he concludes.

“Depends on what you make of it being a city of love. I probably haven’t experienced it in the way you mean, ‘cos of work and all. But for what it’s worth, I’ve seen it happen. In friends, coworkers, strangers. I guess it’s just one of those places that’s easier to romanticise than others,” the man smiles, edges softer. “So, is Paris your last stop?”

“Actually, I was in Paris before spending the weekend in Normandy,” Kaoru replies, half of his thoughts occupied with the man’s answer to his question. “I just have a flight to catch early in the morning so I’ll be staying the night in the city again.”

“Huh, same. I’m flying to Italy though.”

A second coincidence, Kaoru mentally notes down.

“For work?” he asks.

The man lets out an affirmative hum.

“Must be nice.”

“I mean, I’m beginning to feel like a hot potato being thrown from restaurant to restaurant,” the man chuckles. “But yeah, it’s got its perks.”

Kaoru wonders if he’s imagining the glint in those brown eyes, gone before he can even blink.

They settle into a comfortable silence after a few more minutes of idle chatter, with Kaoru returning to his book and the man simply dozing off into a nap, head resting against the window. 

He steals a few glances as he reads, a break between every few pages or so. The afternoon sunlight hits the planes of the man’s face just right, making his hair seem even more rich in its forest green shade. There’s a certain tiredness that continues to permeate his expression, one Kaoru had noticed earlier, that’s probably a result from his work. 

Kaoru’s never considered himself to be deeply attached to his hometown, yet he still finds himself wondering how the man can stay away for so long.

Then he wonders why he’s so occupied with the homesickness of a stranger, though he supposes they’ve surpassed that point by now. Acquaintances at most, he’d gauge based on how smooth everything has been so far.

Only they don’t know each other’s names and a more authentic version of Kaoru now exists in the man’s memory.

He visibly cringes when he realises how narcissistic that sounds, rewiring his focus to the book in his hand. It doesn’t take long for him to lose himself in the text, dog-earing pages for his future self to revisit as he continues reading.

The train rolls into a slow stop by the time he’s just about to finish the final chapter and Kaoru glances at the man still asleep in front of him. He lets a minute pass, then leans forward to nudge the man’s arm with his book. 

“Hey, we’re at the station.”

As Kaoru sits and watches the man rub the sleep from his eyes, everyone else around them is occupied with lugging their bags off the compartments above their heads and departing the train.

“So, uh, kinda crazy idea but,” the man starts and Kaoru narrows his eyes slightly. “What do you think about hanging around the city ‘til our flights? I just—I dunno, I guess you’re kinda easy to talk to, which is hard to find here, not gonna lie. I can show you all the non-touristy places, y’know.”

A brief pause.

“I already have a hotel room booked.”

“Just cancel it, or you could leave your stuff there, up to you. But the station does have lockers that are considerably cheaper.”

“I don’t even know your name,” Kaoru says flatly, even while entertaining the idea in his head.

“Oh shit, yeah—I didn’t even realise,” the man offers him a crooked grin at that, sticking his right hand out. “I’m Nanjo Kojiro.”

Kaoru eyes his hand for a moment, before tentatively taking it, letting the man—Kojiro shake it as he says, “Sakurayashiki Kaoru.”

“So, is that a yes, Kaoru?” Kojiro asks.

Kaoru decides that he likes the way his name sounds in Kojiro’s voice and how his hand feels in Kojiro’s hand.

He mulls over the idea for a brief moment, lightly tugging at his lip ring with his teeth as he does so. As tempting as it is, it’s also easy to imagine how this could easily go sideways and the last thing Kaoru wants is to return back to Okinawa in a body bag.

Kojiro’s laugh draws him away from his thoughts. “Please, if anything, you’re more murderer material than I am.”

Before Kaoru can recover from the embarrassment of voicing his thoughts out loud, he stares at Kojiro, affronted by the suggestion. “What is that supposed to mean? Also, that did not help your case at all.”

Kojiro brushes the question off with yet another disarming smile, simultaneously proving and disproving Kaoru’s suspicions as he’s slowly drawn into Kojiro’s orbit.

“C’mon, live a little, Kaoru.”

His gaze flickers up. A station attendant is making his way towards them, about to ask them to leave the now almost-empty train no doubt about it, lips tugged into a deep set frown. As the attendant steps into their threshold, Kaoru looks back at Kojiro, meets his inviting stare, and finds that there’s something promising about it, that it sparks something in his chest he can’t quite comprehend, just like how he doesn’t know why he decided to fixate on the longboard above their heads an hour and a half ago, but he thinks he’s willing to learn.

After all, it’s only a day that he’ll be sacrificing.

Oh, fuck it.

⋆

Despite the hours falling away like autumn’s leaves, Kojiro learns a number of things about Sakurayashiki Kaoru.

The first and probably most incredulous one of them all is that he continues to seek out Italian restaurants in France. That doesn’t mean he exclusively eats Italian in a completely different country, far from it in fact, as Kojiro soon found out that Kaoru had dined in the restaurant he worked in before leaving for Normandy (“The food probably wasn’t as good ‘cos I wasn’t there.” “I don’t think it would’ve improved by much if you were there.”). A missed opportunity, though Kojiro thinks that their meeting on the train is far more palatable, since he likely would’ve been glued to his station in the sweltering kitchen if they had met earlier.

So when Kojiro had asked if there were any restaurants he would like to visit, because that is after all where Kojiro’s expertise lies in, he simply asked for Kojiro’s finest recommendation for Italian cuisine in Paris.

Kojiro had to ask twice just to make sure Kaoru wasn’t pulling his leg.

(“Why Italian?” Kojiro asks over his risotto.

“I can never cook it right,” Kaoru admits, swirling the red in his glass, and Kojiro tilts his head, the gesture as curious as his smile is teasing. “It always tastes better in restaurants. Most restaurants, that is—don’t give me that look.”

“So you can’t cook then.”

Kaoru narrows his eyes.

“I can’t cook Italian food.” He fiddles with the collar of his dark turtleneck, then stabs through a sliced piece of parmigiana. “I can cook other stuff just fine.”

Something in the way he mumbles the last bit tells Kojiro that he isn’t entirely honest, which Kojiro points out after a moment. His teasing is meant to be harmless, meant to simply keep their conversation going instead of leaving it stagnant. Thankfully, Kaoru never seems to take any actual offence.

If anything, his jabs are much more cleverly delivered, often accompanied with a scoff or a smirk or both. To Kojiro, it feels like a breath of fresh air.)

After a bottle of red runs dry, Kojiro learns that Kaoru’s inclination towards Italian cuisine stems from his favourite aunt’s cooking habits and how much he misses her now that she’s passed. He only mentions his parents once, offhandedly and without much care, leaving Kojiro to put the pieces together should he want to. Kojiro doesn’t have much time to speculate anyway, as there is still plenty left on their bare-boned itinerary. As it turns out, Kaoru is hyper-aware of time slipping through their fingers.

Kojiro had jokingly asked if that’s something he should really be worried about and Kaoru had replied that he doesn’t have much time left on earth.

He learns that Kaoru has a twisted sense of sarcasm and a stellar poker face.

It’s kind of commendable.

The next stop on their itinerary had been one of Kojiro’s usual haunts.

The record store holds a special place in his heart, having stumbled upon it during his first week in the city two years ago. It offered an alternative mode of communication as well as comfort, with both familiar and new vinyls filling the wooden crates he could pick out to drown out everything else in the listening booths. There was the urge, of course, to simply invest in his own player and collection, but that would’ve robbed him of the excuse to drop by every few days and greet the ageing owner, Louis, with stories of his day in exchange for an hour in a listening booth.

In a sense, it became an escape for him, tucked away in a random alleyway nearby what would come to be his favourite bakery, setting a good distance between himself and the pressures of a new work environment in a foreign country.

More often than not, he thinks he’ll miss the record store more than the restaurant he no longer works for.

He had told Kaoru as much, as they carefully carded through the vinyls the store had to offer. His own movements were absent-minded, somewhat of an empty gesture since it would only be right to let Kaoru pick out the record for them to listen to. 

In one of the listening booths, Kojiro learns that much to his relief, Kaoru’s taste in music meshes well with his, and the feeling accompanying that realisation leaves something for him to dissect later on.

(“Careful.”

“Ow, fuck.”

“I told you to watch your head.”

It didn’t really occur to Kojiro how cramped the listening booth would be until they both stepped inside, closing the door behind them and leaving only their breathing to be heard as Kaoru fumbles with the record player. He opts for pressing himself against the corner where the walls meet when Kaoru straightens his back, leaning against the wall, shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm with Kojiro while the record begins to play.

All the things you said to me today changed my perspective in every way.

A deliberate quiet settles between the two, allowing the song to fill the space in the booth, and Kojiro doesn’t really know where to look if he’s not talking to Kaoru so he stares at the scar in the space on the wall above the door, lips pulled into a soft smile.

Then he feels it. The burn of a stare on the side of his head and he waits a moment before he looks away from the mark. Kaoru’s watching the record spin in place, almost intently, and Kojiro wonders if he’s imagining the slight flush in his cheeks, barely curtained by his rosy pink hair. Kojiro also wonders what’s going on in that head of his for him to stare at the record with such focus.

If you want me, I’ll be here. I’ll be dreaming my dreams with you.

Time feels incredibly slow in the booth, as if it’s at their disposal when actually, it’s the furthest from it with the sun having already set outside, a vividly warm reminder of the temporality of this arrangement. In twelve or so hours, they’ll be at the airport, leaving whatever this is behind in a city he had only just started to understand.

Is this the city’s parting gift to him?

If so, it’s kinda twisted—and awfully late. But he’ll accept it anyway.

His gaze returns to the mark on the wall, thoughts occupied with something else. Someone else, he realises then.

The burning feeling returns not long after, in the middle of the guitar gently strumming without any vocal accompaniment. For some reason, he doesn’t have it in himself to look to his side until the feeling disappears. It’s a mutual avoidance, as it turns out, and a playful one at that unless he’s reading it wrong.

It’s almost like a game, how they end up stealing so many glances in the span of a single song without meeting eyes once. Kojiro has to control the smile on his face to refrain from spreading into a grin, catching a glimpse of Kaoru’s upturned lips as the song starts to draw to a close.

And there's no other place that I'd lay down my face, dreaming my dreams with you.

If they looked at each other at the same moment, a hopeful voice tells him they could’ve, would’ve kissed right then and there, in a cramped listening booth with the spell of Dolores O’Riordan’s wistful vocals floating around them.

When they get around to leaving the store, Kojiro leads the way with a slight skip in his step.)

They make a few more stops around the city as the sky darkens and the stars come out—not here, but somewhere without as much light, he’s certain. Probably the countryside. Kaoru doesn’t complain once, a few sarcastic retorts here and there but never an actual complaint about where Kojiro’s guiding him. His earlier reservations seem to have fizzled out at one point, but Kojiro can’t really recall when. It could’ve been at the Italian restaurant they first visited or their third stop at an underground bar filled to the brim with patrons or the rooftop they snuck onto for a free, uninterrupted view of the glowing Eiffel Tower.

Kojiro wonders if it’s something worth pulling apart because as much as he’s learnt about Kaoru in the past six hours, he’s still terribly difficult to read, golden eyes as piercing as they are guarded. Though, guarded may be the wrong word, but in comparison to how Kojiro tends to proudly wear his heart on his sleeve, it somehow fits. It’s a strange kind of guardedness, because Kaoru doesn’t seem to hold back, whether it be a teasing remark or an answer to one of the handful of questions Kojiro poses about the larger things in life—to which he finds out that Kaoru appreciates the little things while demanding more than just silver linings.

Similarly, Kojiro holds an immense gratitude for whatever the universe offers, so he doesn’t bite more than he can chew, doesn’t cross the line in attempt to understand the flash of emotions that appear in those golden eyes. He’s grateful enough that Kaoru is indulging his request to pull an all-nighter in the streets of Paris before they officially part ways.

Though, by now he suspects it’s a requited feeling.

It all leads up to the present, with the two of them sitting outside another bar, only instead of a bottle of wine between them, there are two cups of double espresso on the table. It’s late, almost four in the morning, with only another small group and a couple occupying the other tables as the establishment nears its closing time. At this point, the exhaustion from all the walking and talking is beginning to settle in his bones and judging from the way Kaoru’s head tips back every now and then, the caffeine is long overdue.

“Okay so,” Kojiro says, nudging one of the cups against Kaoru’s forearm to pull him away from the temptation of falling asleep right then and there. “After all of this is over, I think I wanna open a restaurant in Tokyo.”

Kaoru lifts his head and looks at him, taking a sip from his cup. “Why Tokyo?”

“Seems like the best spot, doesn’t it? I mean, sure, it’s ambitious and it’ll probably run my savings dry, but Tokyo is the dream for most, I guess. That or Osaka.”

“But is it yours?” Kaoru asks around the rim of his cup.

“Is it my what?”

“Your dream.”

“Well, it’s a goal—”

“A goal and a dream aren’t necessarily the same thing,” Kaoru says then. He’s still blinking blearily, waiting for the coffee to kick in. The exhaustion doesn’t really show in his tone. “It’s realistic, but wouldn’t it be better to make a name for yourself somewhere… less boring?”

Kojiro lets the question hang in the air for a moment before a soft chuckle slips past his lips. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re painfully straightforward?”

That seems to startle Kaoru awake and he almost looks mortified for a second before he drags a hand down his face. It catches Kojiro off guard.

“God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way,” he starts, setting his now empty cup down. “Well, I did kind of mean it that way, but what I’m trying to say is that you can flourish anywhere, clearly, so why not pick somewhere closer to your dream than a goal?”

Deep down, Kojiro knows that he’s making a perfectly valid point, that he’s right. However, he’s more fixated on the hidden compliment, so casually slipped in as if Kaoru were pointing out the obvious. He doesn’t voice it out though, or he can’t because Kaoru beats him to it after yawning. Kojiro ends up yawning as well, heart warm despite the callousness of Kaoru’s words.

“But that’s just my two cents,” Kaoru says with a faint smile. “What do I know about the restaurant business anyway… Sorry if I crossed the line or anything.”

“It’s fine,” Kojiro replies before finishing the rest of his coffee. “Seriously—but I’d definitely work on rewording it a little. Others might not be as forgiving or tolerant as I am.”

He clicks his tongue playfully, grinning when Kaoru covers his face yet again. “I already apologised,” he mumbles, shooting Kojiro a half-assed glare between his fingers.

He opens his mouth to say something, but they’re interrupted by the boss telling them that it’s time to leave. Kaoru pays for their coffee this time along with another bottle of red, insistent on using up the rest of his euros because he ‘might as well’ and Kojiro ends up leading the way towards the River Seine.

Amber rays from the streetlights bounce off the water beside them as they talk about everything and nothing, slowly draining the bottle between them, stopping every now and then to lean against the ledge. For the most part, they’re alone, with only a few people scattered here and there, some taking late night walks such as them, others heading home after a night out. And as the minutes tick away, people begin emerging to catch the sunrise due in an hour. At one point, they pass by a couple in a tight embrace and Kojiro feels incredibly bashful, all of the sudden hyper aware of how his hand will brush against Kaoru’s with every step, how the only thing really stopping him from taking it is the wine bottle they keep passing to each other.

“Not looking forward to the hangover after this,” Kaoru says right after taking a gulp from the bottle, passing it to Kojiro.

“Can’t get hungover if you don’t sleep.” He winks, which is received with a pointed stare and flushed cheeks.

“I don’t think that’s how hangovers work, Kojiro.”

“We can just get some water on the way to the airport,” Kojiro trails off, reminding himself of how little time they have left. It brings their conversation to a pause and they end up slowing down into a stop in the middle of the path. Kojiro lifts his stare from the floor to glance at Kaoru, whose face is twisted into an unreadable expression.

“Ireallywanttoseeyouagain,” Kaoru blurts out, right as Kojiro says, “We should probably go get breakfast.”

They freeze.

His eyes widen and his face suddenly feels incredibly warm; it’s probably just as red as Kaoru’s, who immediately averts his gaze and starts walking again, leaving Kojiro staring at his retreating form until he can collect his thoughts and catch up, fingers gently curling around Kaoru’s wrist.

“Wait, Kaoru.”

Kojiro lets out a breath and it comes out as a shaky laugh that he covers up with a smile. Kaoru still isn’t looking at him, but he’s stopped for now and he makes no move to tug his wrist from Kojiro’s hold.

“I want to see you again too,” he says, honestly, earnestly. 

And somehow, despite all that went down in the last few hours, Kaoru looks stunned at the confession, finally meeting Kojiro’s eyes. There’s the beginning of a smile on his lips, but it quickly shifts into a slight frown.

“Would it even work?” Kaoru mumbles. “We’re headed in opposite trajectories. Literally. You have Italy and your restaurant, and I have my own stuff to pursue after this.”

“Is five years enough?”

Maybe it’s because of the wine finally hitting that the question slips out before Kojiro can give it proper thought and he can’t help but finish what he started, everything tumbling out as Kaoru stands there listening.

“Look, I just… I have a lot of feelings about this, about you. And I dunno, maybe it’s because we’re in Paris of all places, but I feel like the universe is telling me not to give up on this. That there can be a second chance.” The for us goes unsaid here, but Kojiro thinks it’s as loud and clear as it can be. “And maybe we can get it right the second time, or we won’t. But at least we’d have longer than a few hours to sort things out... So, is five years enough?”

Kaoru’s silent for a moment, but Kojiro doesn’t find it unnerving, not when the scowl on his face melts away into a smirk.

“The universe, huh?” is the first thing he says.

It takes a few seconds for him to process what Kaoru had said.

“Oh my god, is that really all you took from that?” Kojiro all but sputters, wondering if his face can get anymore red. 

Kaoru laughs, then slips his wrist from Kojiro’s loosened grip only to properly interlace their fingers together.

“I think five years could work.”

And so, a pact is born.

Five years from now, they’ll get on a plane to Paris from wherever they may be at the time. They’ll take five days out from their personal schedules so if things go wrong, they’ll have the remaining time to explore the city alone. But if things go right—and god , Kojiro desperately wishes they will—they’ll return to the record store in that alleyway nearby his favourite bakery and find each other in the listening booth with the scar above the doorframe, the very listening booth where Kojiro is certain these feelings first took root.

When the sun rises, they seal the pact with two woven bracelets from a streetside stall manned by an older woman on their way to the train station. One yellow and one red. Much to Kojiro’s surprise, Kaoru’s the one who insists on tying the red one around his wrist, doing so with a scowl in contrast to his gentle touch.

The final two things Kojiro learns about Sakurayashiki Kaoru, in the middle of the airport just a few metres away from his boarding gate, not entirely hidden from plain sight behind a random pillar, are that he is stupidly good at kissing, and more importantly, he has a fucking tongue piercing.

⋆

In the island of Okinawa, a young business thrives, neglected piercings heal, and life goes on.

From time to time, in those slivers of free time that are hard to come by these days, he’ll think back to that day in Paris. Toys around with the woven bracelet around his wrist more often than he should, to the point where its ends are frayed and faded. He buys a record player two days after moving into his new apartment just minutes away from the beach, and as The Cranberries’ record echoes within the walls, he wonders if Kojiro still wears his bracelet, if the pact is just the product of a romanticised encounter. After all, it’s especially easy to do that in Paris. Even easier when it’s with someone like Kojiro.

Of course, there had been one crucial mistake Kaoru still can’t believe he let happen.

It should’ve been painfully obvious, but it was only after Kojiro walked past the boarding gate and out of his sight did Kaoru realise it never occurred to them to exchange numbers, emails, anything that could’ve been their safety net. It leaves him with only memories and a promise to go by.

Perhaps that might be why he finds himself doubting the strength of the pact whenever he does end up thinking about it.

Perhaps that’s why he begins looking for Kojiro in people who are within arm’s reach instead of someone six thousand miles away.

That’d been the whole point of it, or an unspoken part that much like their mistake, Kaoru only learns of once they’ve parted ways. To not necessarily move on, otherwise the pact would be pointless, but to explore their options and figure out if what they had is something worth a second chance. If they had anything to begin with. And maybe that’s the safety net of the pact, to determine if their next meeting four years from now will be the right decision to make, or if he’s right to question that day one year later.

The more he thinks about it, the more it takes the shape of a matryoshka doll of neverending what-if’s.

And if he’s looking at it with a pair of disillusioned eyes, well, that’s his own business.

He meets Daisuke at a mutual friend-slash-client’s September wedding in Shanghai, outside the hall where the grand reception’s being held with far too many short-lived conversations and business cards being shared. He’d only been able to share a brief moment with the bride before she’d been swept away by some other guests, leaving him to exchange fake pleasantries with people he hasn’t seen in years. It builds up to the point where it suffocates him, driving him to slip past the heavy doors for a breath of fresh air.

So as he’s lingering outside the hotel, leaning against the building wall not too far from the smokers’ area, the doors beside him open and out walks Daisuke, who looks at him with a curious smile that makes Kaoru think back to a train rolling by the French countryside.

“You’re the one who did that piece by the altar, right?” Daisuke asks in lieu of a greeting. “It was beautiful.”

Kaoru allows the corners of his lips to curl into a hint of a smile, even if he’s heard that starter at least eight times in the past hour alone.

“I’m glad it didn’t clash with your tastes.”

They met earlier when Kaoru arrived two hours before the ceremony to ensure his live calligraphy performance would run smoothly. It’d been a brief meeting, with only an exchange of names and a rundown of how he would fit into the ceremony before Daisuke had to attend to other matters as his role of the wedding planner. 

Daisuke chuckles, hands in his coat’s pockets. “I’m sure Yoshiko would’ve insisted on your performance regardless. It’s a shame I didn’t get to see it.”

Kaoru glances at him and is reminded of something he can’t quite have just yet. So he bites the bullet, just like he did a year ago in that empty train carriage.

“I’ll be in Kyoto at the end of the month for a public performance, so if you’re around the area by then…” He trails off, wondering if Daisuke’s reddening cheeks are from the sudden gust of autumn wind. The smile Kaoru offers him is no longer the practiced one clients see.

Daisuke makes it to the Kyoto performance, lingering around until it’s just him left in the crowd with a bright grin. He asks Kaoru out to dinner afterwards and by November, they’re seeing each other as regularly as their schedules will allow, which isn’t much because it’s the peak of both winter weddings and celebratory commissions. In spite of that, Kaoru thinks they make it work for the most part, with the time spent away from each other making the time spent together something to cherish and not take for granted.

The thing is, nothing’s really wrong with their relationship, not on the surface, at least. They hardly ever argue, either because there’s never any reason to or there’s simply no time. Daisuke treats him well and it’s as mutual as can be. On their best days, Kaoru entertains the idea of him being the one. But he realises three months into it that nothing’s really right either. It’s more to do with him than with Daisuke, who doesn’t appear to share the same doubts Kaoru has.

It becomes glaringly obvious to him days after this realisation that their relationship is beginning to turn stagnant, approaching a territory of what might be considered comfortable to one of them, and boring to the other.

And Kaoru has never been one to half-ass something, whether it be a commission or a relationship. He tries to see if this is salvageable, studies Daisuke like the open book he is to find any sign of change, but where Daisuke is unwaveringly comfortable in himself, Kaoru is constantly evolving, never content with simply staying put.

So it really isn’t Daisuke’s fault that Kaoru yearns for something more, something he can’t quite provide. At least, not how Kaoru wants it.

It’s springtime and they’re on the couch in his living room, Daisuke’s head resting on his shoulder as they watch some French film Daisuke picked out, when Kaoru makes his decision. He’s not entirely paying attention to what’s on the screen, instead his interest is caught by the bracelet around his wrist for the first time in a while. Daisuke’s fingers intrude in the scene, ghosting over his wrist and Kaoru looks at him with a raised brow.

“Why don’t you ever take that off?” 

“I made a promise.” 

It’s the first time he’s ever said it out loud. He’s always regarded it as an unspoken rule to never bring the pact up to anyone out of the possibility of unwanted judgement and attention. It’s like something straight out of a movie, he knows that much. The last thing he needs is for someone to tell him something he already knows. If anyone is going to doubt the pact, it would be Kaoru and Kaoru alone.

He breaks up with Daisuke two days later underneath a cherry blossom tree, pink petals floating around them befitting a different kind of confession. 

⋆

All it takes is a single viewing in the heart of Tokyo for Kojiro to question everything that’s led up to this moment.

Objectively, there’s nothing wrong with the vacant property aside from its rental fee that already makes his pockets weep just thinking about it. The space it offers is worth the money and the location has just the right amount of foot traffic to bring in a constant flow of customers without needing to be situated somewhere that’s overwhelmed with restaurants lining the street, to quote the agent accompanying him. In any other case, it’d be the perfect place to open his restaurant.

However, there are two problems at hand here.

The first is that they walked past four Italian restaurants on the way to the vacant property. Well-established ones too, from what Kojiro could gauge as they passed by them. Competition is natural in the industry and it’s not something he’s ever really shied away from, so it isn’t necessarily the main point of this first problem. The problem lies in how something typically trivial leads to the bigger second problem in the form of a two-year old reminder that stops him in his tracks, tuning out the agent as she talks about the landlord’s reputation.

Now that he’s had two years to meditate on the decision of where to place his restaurant, he’s narrowed it down to two options: Tokyo or Okinawa. The former somewhere that’s almost an accolade of its own, especially with the viewings he has lined up. But when he thinks of Okinawa, he thinks of his conversation with Kaoru in that bar near the River Seine. Thinks of dreams, of promises, of second chances. 

It’s been a while since he’s thought of those.

“I’m sorry, could we move onto the next place please?”

“Of course. Is this one not to your liking?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

He nearly bumps into two poles on their walk to the second property not too far from here, trailing a few steps behind the agent who’s on her phone, leaving him alone to wade in this newfound doubt. Though, it isn’t necessarily new; he hadn’t given it much thought before today, but that doesn’t mean it never existed. Working and training in Italy often left him too drained to properly linger on memories, even if from time to time, he’d wonder if his cooking would be good enough for Kaoru’s tastes.

When he eventually returned to Japan after a brief road trip around western Europe, he ended up booking tickets to Tokyo instead of home.

For a city as loud as Tokyo, nothing really calls to him here. It’s all background noise. Not entirely foreign, but not entirely familiar either. Then there are his visits to Okinawa, to his home that fill him with a kind of warmth he didn’t realise he’d been missing. During his last visit, he entertained his sister’s request to check out a vacant building minutes away from the waterfront, nearby her favourite florist, and it’d been perfect, practically singing to him, beckoning him to forgo that goal in Tokyo and remain on the island where everything is familiar and comforting all the same.

Yet, he didn’t listen.

And when he learns the hard way that perhaps he’s making the wrong decision, he leans into the punch. Kojiro can’t find it in himself to be frustrated that it takes him almost a year in Tokyo to realise this, during a property viewing of all times. He takes it as a sign, as his unwavering faith in the workings of the universe tends to suggest, that this will all work out in the grand scheme of things.

Frankly, he just feels guilty for wasting the agent’s time. He lets her guide him through the second property out of courtesy, even if he’s only partially listening, his thoughts mostly occupied with where to go from here. If only it were as simple as packing everything up and getting on the next flight to Okinawa. Things are never quite that easy though.

His phone rings in his pocket, drawing him back to reality. After excusing himself, he steps outside of the building to take the call, only after hesitating for a moment when he sees the caller ID.

“Hey babe.” The greeting comes out more flat than he’d like and he grimaces at his own tone, hoping Eri will let it slip past.

“How’re the viewings going?” Eri asks instead and he can hear the faint sound of something sizzling in the background.

Kojiro leans against the wall beside the entrance, letting his gaze trail over the various businesses across the street. How exactly is he supposed to tell her that there’s been a drastic change of plans, a change that he can’t really see involving her?

“They’ve been alright. We’re just finishing up the second one,” he says, running a hand through his hair. He winces when the bracelet gets caught on the clip pinning down his cowlick a little too hard. As he tries to free it, his stare lands on a familiar face seated inside the restaurant across him and his phone almost slips from his grasp.

Even if it had been implied in the pact, even if he’s caught in the same situation, it’s still a little jarring to see Kaoru with someone else. He can’t even bring himself to fully process how different Kaoru looks, face sharper but no longer donning any piercings that Kojiro can spot from where he’s standing. For all he knows, they could just be friends or business partners. Kaoru never really divulged his future plans and since they’d forgotten to exchange contact information, Kojiro’s never figured out what exactly he does.

Truthfully, the only reason it bothers him is that he can’t really approach Kaoru if he’s on a date of some kind. Not about the date itself, because he likes to think that he isn’t a hypocrite. And even if he were alone, the terms of the pact make the five-year waiting period seem like something he doesn’t want to risk defying. Their second chance could end up being a lost cause because they’re meeting at the wrong place at the wrong time as the wrong people.

It’s a risk he’s not entirely willing to take, so when a curious yearning begins to unfurl in his chest, he nips it at the bud.

“Kojiro?”

He nearly jumps when Eri’s voice is suddenly clear again. “Sorry, the agent was talking about something important,” he lies, finally tugging his bracelet from the clip.

She hums, nonchalant when she says, “Right… Well, as I was saying, do you know if you’ll make it back in time for dinner?”

After checking that the red bracelet is still intact, Kojiro spares the restaurant one last glance before turning to head back inside where the agent awaits him, letting out an affirmative sound.

“Yeah, I’ll see you tonight.”

⋆

These days, Kaoru often feels like he’s constantly in a rush to be somewhere, his work schedule relentless in occupying essentially every fraction of free time he can afford. His clientele growing towards the new year sees his frequent flyer miles increasing too, commissions sending him on domestic flights across the country and international flights to the other side of the world. Funnily enough, he hasn’t gone to France since that solo trip three years ago. 

There’s not much reason to, not for another two years.

His flight for Taipei isn’t due in another three hours and Kaoru decides to use this sliver of free time for himself for once, bringing out his longboard to skate down the slopes by the cliffs overlooking the sun disappearing into the sea. It’s been a while since he’s gone skating here, with what little spare time he has and he doesn’t quite realise how much he’s missed the feeling of the wind in his hair, the thrill that comes with rounding sharp corners until he’s skidding against concrete with a grin underneath his mask. 

As he skates down the winding slope, a peculiar sight ahead makes him slow down until his board comes to a halt in front of a green-haired man on the phone, his broad back facing Kaoru. A motorbike is propped against a streetlight and Kaoru’s about to ask if everything is okay when the man continues to talk, seemingly unaware of the presence behind him.

“Twenty minutes? Okay, yeah, I can wait. Thank you.”

Although he’s seen plenty of people with green hair, there’s no denying the familiarity of that voice. Suddenly, it feels like he can hear his heart drumming in his chest.

“Kojiro?”

The man tenses up as he pockets his phone and when he turns around, Kaoru flushes behind his mask. It looks like their height difference still remains the same, only Kojiro looks deceptively taller from when they last met with the sheer amount of muscle he’s gained. 

Kojiro squints at him and he can’t help but roll his eyes, pulling down his mask. The smirk that spreads across his lips is out of habit.

“Oh, holy shit—Kaoru?” The surprise on his face is quickly overwritten with a laugh. “What’re you doing here?”

“I live here.” For the most part, at least. He glances at the motorcycle behind Kojiro, then meets his stare with a hint of worry in his own eyes. “Is that yours?”

“It’s a rental,” Kojiro grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck. “The engine just decided to die on me. Not my fault, I swear.”

“Didn’t say it was.”

An uncomfortable silence settles between them and Kaoru nearly laughs when he wonders if this has something to do with meeting two years too early. It’s not nearly as easy to fall into the dynamic they once had with the distance forged over time, but is it foolish to hope for otherwise? He bites down on his tongue, willing his fingers not to tighten around the edge of his board, training his expression to not give away how he wants to come up with a flimsy excuse to escape from the present awkwardness. 

Kojiro averts his gaze, as if there’s something far more interesting behind Kaoru.

“I think I saw you in Tokyo a year ago.”

“You should’ve said hi.”

A car drives past them.

Kaoru takes a step closer, further away from the road, and Kojiro offers him a small smile.

“You were with someone,” he replies. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

He nods, even if he can’t quite find the memory. Maybe it’d been when he met with Daisuke—as friends, of course. That said, he can see how that may not be entirely clear to a stranger.

“You wouldn’t have,” Kaoru says anyway, even if it might’ve been for the better, and the question that follows slips out before he can bite it back. “So, are you seeing anyone?”

Kojiro looks at him then and a warmth spreads across his cheeks, highlighted by the hues of the sun setting behind Kaoru. Though mildly embarrassed, he doesn’t regret asking.

“Nah, not right now,” Kojiro smiles, teasing at the edges and familiar all around, causing any lingering awkwardness between them to melt away. “You worried?”

Kaoru scoffs. “I was just curious.”

If he were, and he is, he would never admit it.

“If it’s any consolation—” His glare cuts Kojiro off for a second, making him laugh before continuing. “I’ve had a few flings here and there. Nothing serious.”

His eyes look expectant, but Kaoru isn’t entirely sure what to make of it or if he’s simply reading it wrong. How the hell is he even supposed to respond to that?

“Good for you?” is what he settles for, accompanied by furrowed brows and a slight head tilt.

Kojiro snorts, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Okay, now it’s your turn.”

“Says who?”

“I mean, I told you about my love life, so it’s only fair that you do too.”

Kaoru gives him a look, lips curling up into a smug smirk. “I didn’t ask you to, though. I only asked if you’re seeing anyone, but I appreciate the extras.”

Kojiro gapes at him before laughing yet again, a sound Kaoru isn’t looking forward to missing.

“Alright, you got me there.”

In light of this rediscovered friendliness, the veil of disillusion withdraws and he forgets about any doubts surrounding them and the pact. And perhaps he’s just being uncharacteristically optimistic, or ambitious as usual, but either way, Kaoru hopes that this relief and faith will carry on. He has a feeling that if things were to go sideways, he wouldn’t handle it as cooly as he thinks he would.

“I’ve only been in one serious relationship,” he says nonchalantly, partly because he feels bad, mainly because he’s curious to see Kojiro’s reaction. Kaoru wants to question the look of surprise he receives, but decides to ask something that’s been bugging him instead. “Anyways, what are you doing in Okinawa?”

“Just visiting family,” Kojiro visibly hesitates before he continues. “I might move back here.”

It’s Kaoru’s turn to look surprised. “Really?”

Kojiro nods, rubbing the back of his neck again. Only then does Kaoru notice how long his hair has gotten, green waves curling around his nape.

“Maybe next year. I have some things to sort out in Tokyo first,” he says, looking away for a moment. “But I took your advice. I found a place here to open my restaurant.”

At a loss of words, all Kaoru can really do is nod and offer a measly ‘that’s good’, even if he has so much more to say, only for those words to get stuck in his throat. It occurs to him then that this definitely isn’t their pact ending early, for the timing could not be any worse because he has to catch a flight to Taipei soon, where he’ll be residing for the remainder of the year and most of next year due to a new business venture. He tells Kojiro as much, omitting the stuff about the pact they made only for Kojiro to bring it up with a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t consider this to be our second chance,” he says, understanding. 

The phone in Kaoru’s pocket buzzes right as a pickup truck stops in front of them. A man hops out from the driver’s seat to give the motorbike a once over and Kaoru takes the opportunity to make his exit.

“I should go,” he tells Kojiro, one foot on his board, ready to leave though he doesn’t make any move to do so just yet.

“I’ll see you in Paris then?” Kojiro asks, even if they both know the answer. Kaoru nods anyway, then tugs his mask back up to hide the grin threatening to spread across his lips.

“See you in Paris.”

And with that, he skates off.

They make the same mistake again, parting ways without exchanging any means of contact, but Kaoru isn’t as worried as he was three years ago. This time, it feels like something deliberate, a promise that the next time they meet, they’ll get things right.

⋆

Naturally, as the universe would have it, Kojiro is late to the one thing he can’t afford to be late for. Because who’s to say that second chances should be easy?

Of all things, it’s the rain that catches him off guard, slowing him down even further when he already anticipated being late to begin with. The flight to Paris had been fine, ridden with anxiety but fine nonetheless. Things started going downhill with the missing luggage scare upon landing and when that’d been sorted, Kojiro found himself heavily regretting that he didn’t fly in a day earlier. As soon as he stepped out of the cab in front of his hotel, the sky decided to open up and he only just avoided getting drenched in the sudden downpour.

The same can’t be said for now, with the umbrella lent to him by the hotel proving useless when a constant wind accompanies the rain. Every now and then, it threatens to flip inside out when a particularly strong gust of wind hits him. He presses on, walking down familiar streets, passing by shops he once frequented. By the time he reaches the record store, his arms are completely soaked, the sleeves of his top uncomfortably sticky against his skin.

On the bright side, his shoes are relatively dry compared to the rest of his body.

Kojiro expects to see Louis around the store, but instead finds a young woman manning the counter. She offers him a short greeting and he smiles in return; there’s a framed photo of Louis on the counter and it doesn’t take him long to put the pieces together. Other than that, the store is seemingly empty, a soft song in French playing overhead. He checks his phone for the time as he idly browses through the selection of vinyls, glancing at the listening booths when he sees that he’s an hour late, lips pulled into a faint frown at himself.

None of them are occupied and his heart sinks.

Still, he plucks out a record from The Smashing Pumpkins and walks inside the booth with the blemish above the door frame. He shuts the door behind him, loading the vinyl disc into the player and sitting on a stool when music begins to flow around him, contained within the small space.

He holds onto the hope that Kaoru might be late as well, even if Kaoru isn’t the type to turn up late to these things.

The weather is far from ideal and maybe the universe is giving him a hard time as well. But when the slightest inkling of doubt takes root, he leans back, the back of his head lightly hitting the wall as he stares at the mark. Save for the change in ownership, everything else about the record store is the same. As if everything had been left in place since he was last here. He can’t say the same for himself, or for Kaoru.

Five years, especially during their twenties, leaves plenty of opportunities for change and growth. He’s seen as much when they met two years ago. And while that stands true, he can’t help but feel relieved that Kaoru isn’t different to the point where his personality is unrecognisable. That their chance encounter hadn’t gone terribly wrong. Rather, the only noticeable change in personality is that he’s more careful with his words—well, as careful as one can be in a twenty-minute conversation. Admittedly, he feared that meeting early would jinx it all, so when he told Kaoru that their second chance still has two years and the encounter doesn’t count, it was meant to reassure himself as well as Kaoru.

In fact, remembering Kaoru’s resolute ‘see you in Paris’ restores a little more faith in this, as does the memory of seeing him with the woven yellow bracelet back then, worn with time but still tied around his wrist.

Surely, that means something for them.

His phone buzzes then and he laughs softly to himself when the first thing he looks for is Kaoru’s name on the screen, as if they have any actual means of contacting each other. Instead, it’s a text from his manager overseeing Sia la Luce while he’s away, letting him know that the dinner service is going smoothly. Kojiro replies with a series of encouraging emojis and tries not to pay much mind to the fact that nearly half an hour has passed since he arrived.

Despite them both calling Okinawa home, he hasn’t seen Kaoru at all since moving back and establishing his restaurant there. It makes sense, considering his ambitious plans in Taiwan. Call it wishful thinking, but Kojiro still found himself waiting for a certain rosy-haired man to walk through the doors of the new Italian restaurant in town.

Now in Paris, he finds himself waiting for Kaoru to open the door in front of him.

It takes three more songs for the door to swing open and Kojiro nearly falls off the stool he’d been rocking back and forth from the surprise of seeing Kaoru standing there, looking like he’d just stepped out of the shower, chest heaving and face flushed as he holds onto the door for balance, letting the song flow out into the rest of the store. Behind him, Kojiro can spot the young woman’s curious stare from the counter.

Kojiro nearly pinches himself to see that he isn’t simply imagining things, that he hasn’t drifted off into a wishful dream, but Kaoru steps inside and closes the door behind him that he promptly leans against, dripping water onto the carpeted floor as he catches his breath.

Kojiro realises that this is far from a simple dream and the Kaoru in front of him is very much real.

He buries his face in his palms, muffling the relieved laugh that slips past his lips, before glancing up at Kaoru with a crooked grin.

“I was about to leave right after this song, y’know?”

Kaoru narrows his eyes, but they aren’t nearly as sharp as glares typically go.

“My flight got delayed by two hours,” he mutters, wringing the water out from his hair with a cringe. “There were no cabs from my hotel so I had to walk, then my phone died on me, and then I got lost but when I asked for directions, I ended up going to two completely different record stores. Oh, and my umbrella broke halfway into all that— clearly.”

Having gotten all that off his chest, his gaze turns apologetic, tender almost, and it extinguishes that uncertainty in Kojiro’s chest. Despite that, he’s still hesitant when he reaches for Kaoru’s hands to tug him closer, interlacing their fingers together.

“It’s a good thing you made it before I left.”

“I’m sorry,” Kaoru murmurs after letting out a heavy sigh. “Did you wait long?”

Kojiro’s grin softens.

“Only five years.”