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It kept happening.
When Arakita walked around the halls of Yonan shortly after he began going out with Kinjou—“dating” was to official of a word and he wasn’t really sure if he was ready to commit himself to such a tall task—he would sometimes run past someone who would smirk at him. It was not a particularly nasty smirk, but it was annoying none the less and made him feel slightly self-conscious.
And by slightly, he meant extremely.
The first time it happened, he was running late to his physics class, choking down a piece of toast and hastily stuffing a notebook into his messenger bag. The halls were littered with people and he was rushing past all of them to try to get there before the professor, who was always late and wore mismatched socks and gave out the dumbest assignments. When he spotted the sign for his class sticking above the door in the distance, he sped up, ignoring the offended squawks of the people around him.
As he neared the door, someone walked out while saying his goodbyes to somebody in the room and walked away right toward him. Arakita nearly bowled the guy over, but years of baseball training had not failed him and he narrowly missed the guy by mere centimeters. Though, he didn’t account for his swinging messenger bag which caught the guy in the stomach with a soft ‘thud’. Luckily he didn’t fall or anything, nor did it look like anything hurt.
“My bad!” He gasped quickly, turning to give the poor man a half-hearted apology that he really didn’t mean because he was late and he could see the professor briskly making his way through the crowd from beyond the guy’s shoulder.
The guy looked at him and opened his mouth, he had that look on his face like he was ready to lecture him, eyebrows drawn behind those glasses and mouth opened. Arakita had his hands on the doorknob, ready to break in—he didn’t have time for this crap! The professor was just mere seconds away—and the guy suddenly gave him a hard look and started laughing, deep yet light-hearted.
Arakita scrunched his face. What the hell was so funny?
The man stood up straight and looked down on Arakita for another moment from behind his frames—a slightly bit too small for his chiseled face—before he gave him a strong clap on the back—the weight of his hand was heavy and precise, like he was used to his strength and knew very well how to control it.
Arakita’s hand slipped from the doorknob.
What the fuck.
The guy laughed again and gave the slack-jawed Arakita another slap on the back. Arakita’s nose twitched. Clean sweat…adhesive, and worn leather.
There was no mistaking it, this guy was strong.
Regardless, Arakita opened his mouth wide, ready to give this person the greatest verbal beat-down of his life when he felt a hand rush past him and open the door. He whipped around and saw his professor, mismatched clothes and all, walk past him and call out a casual,
“You’re late now, Arakita-kun.”
A muffled cry of frustration rumbled deep in Arakita’s throat and he turned to now yell at the bastard who made him officially late for class, but he was no longer there. Or even down the hall which was becoming void of students. Where did he—
Fuck him. Fuck him to hell. Arakita stormed into the room and took his seat next to Kinjou who gave him a questioning look, but said nothing and let Arakita stew in his anger until a pat on his hand left him stewing in embarrassment instead.
The second time it happened, he was running late to meet Kinjou for lunch. He was running across the campus when he saw the guy again. It wasn’t that he recognized him or anything, but something about him—maybe it’s those glasses, all rectangle and a little too small for his chiseled face—that he couldn’t help but take a second glance. The moment he looked at the guy, he smirked at him. It made him stop. That smirk, even from a mile away, told Arakita that the guy knew something and found it amusing.
Arakita drew in a hard breath.
And almost choked on it when a hand found its way onto Arakita’s shoulder. Holy shit.
“What’s wrong, Arakita?” asked Kinjou. Arakita turned and pointed behind him, eyebrows furrowed the way he usually had it when he was annoyed.
“There! There’s some fucking guy laughing at me!”
Kinjou raised an eyebrow and looked behind him.
“I don’t see anyone like that,” he said after a moment.
“HaAH?”
Arakita turned and true to his word, the guy wasn’t there anymore. This was the second time he disappeared like that. Maybe he was going crazy. He dug his palm into his forehead and grinded his teeth. What the hell.
Arakita shook his head and hoped this would not happen again.
There was a third and a fourth and a fifth time.
Arakita began to recognize Smirking Glass Guy—which he will now be known as. Each and every time he saw this guy, he would smirk at him. Oh, the worst one was when he was hugged by Kinjou one day while waiting for him by the school gates after practice. The guy showed up some ways away behind Kinjou and just gave Arakita that same fucking smirk. It was almost enough to make him break out of Kinjou’s gentle embrace to go kill the fucker—not that he was overwhelmed with the display of affection or anything. Who did he think he was?!
He’s going to slap the shit out of that guy’s face one day.
It was several months after they had been dating—Arakita can finally say that now without wanting to die from embarrassment—Kinjou told Arakita to meet him one day after his current class and that it was rather important. Arakita’s heart hammered in his chest when he saw that message, immediately broke out in a cold sweat.
Was something wrong??
Was he hurt?
Did he want to break-up?
Anxiety welled up like a geyser in his stomach, enough to make him want to throw up. He spent the whole lecture—something about the architectural structure of earthquake proof buildings—shaking.
When the class ended, far too soon for his liking, he was hesitant to get up, his negative thoughts weighing him down. Eventually, he found his bearings and forced himself to go—it wouldn’t do to keep Kinjou waiting, regardless of how terrible the news may be.
Is Kinjou dropping university?
Did Kinjou’s knee injury get worse?
Was Kinjou not satisfied with their relationship?
Of course he wasn’t satisfied, he never kissed Kinjou without a fuss; he made Kinjou cook his dinners for him and buy him Bepsi all the time; he would never let Kinjou do anything without him running away—both figuratively and literally; he never actually did anything romantic for him while Kinjou spoiled him rotten; there was that time when they both got soaked in the rain when he decided that he wanted to bike all the way to Meisou to see Fuku-chan and Shinkai—
“Arakita!”
Kinjou’s voice rang out in the alcove where they were supposed to meet. Arakita stopped, wiped his sweating hands on his pants as best his could and nodded. He looked around quickly, noting that among the benches and everything, there was no one there, except Kinjou and one other person whom he couldn’t make out because Kinjou was suddenly standing right in front of him.
He jumped back a little and looked pointedly down, cold sweat beading on his back.
“Arakita?”
“Hey,” He mumbled.
His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his slightly oversized hoodie—which was actually Kinjou’s from several nights ago, but that wasn’t very important. Arakita couldn’t see, but Kinjou smiled and slowly took his hand into his own. Arakita jerked and almost pulled back his hand. Holy shit, this was it wasn’t it. He squeezed his eyes and held his breath. This was it, he was going to break up wi—
“Arakita, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Kinjou said gently.
Arakita’s head snapped up, the feeling of dread drained from his chest in a matter of seconds and a tingling feeling crept up his toes.
“What?”
Kinjou moved to his side and allowed for Arakita to finally see the only other person in the area. Immediately, his stepped forward in front Kinjou, hand still attached to Kinjou’s own, the other pointed at the new—old—comer.
“It’s you, Smirking Glasses Guy!”
“You two know each other?”
The guy laughed gently. It was the same deep, yet light-hearted laugh he gave when they had first met. Doesn’t this guy ever stop?!
“Yes, Shingo. We’ve met before.”
Arakita bristled and stepped, shielding Kinjou. Who was this guy who called Kinjou by his first name so casually? The balls on this guy!
“That makes things easier.”
Kinjou cleared his throat, squeezed Arakita’s hand and stepped forward instead, holding out his other hand toward Smirking Glasses Guy—who was now smiling. It did not make Arakita any more comfortable or make his shoulders go down any more.
“Arakita, this is my older brother. He’s a physics student at Yonan. Normally he’s too busy to talk to anyone, but he had some time today and I wanted him to meet you.”
“Hello, Arakita. I’m Kinjou Shoushi—‘Shou’ as in ‘laugh’, and the ‘Shi’ for aspirations.”
The fight left Arakita’s shoulders and face in an instant and a flush rushed up there instead, dying his ears and neck red. The guy, now known as Kinjou’s brother, continued to smile patiently. With both brothers in his view, Arakita could see that their eyebrows and glasses were pretty much the same, even their jawline and nose. Kinjou’s brother was just slightly taller and paler, thinner and leaner even, though fit all the same. Their eyes and hairstyles were the most obvious differences, but other than that, it was baffling that he didn’t see the resemblance sooner.
He was suddenly transported back to that first day when he hit the guy—who now has an identity—with his bag and almost cursed him out every time he saw him. And wanted to just hop on a bike and cycle the hell away from this place.
“I’m so sorry!”
Arakita upper body fell so fast, it made the two brothers jump and Kinjou’s arm reached out in a sharp turn to catch him until he halted in a deep bow. His neck was covered in sweat and his hand, which still held Kinjou’s, gripped it way too hard, and he was feeling lightheaded and out of breath like he had just taken part in a really sunny race, and—and—
Kinjou’s brother gave another laugh. Man, doesn’t he stop laughing ever? If he wasn’t Kinjou’s brother, he might really lunge over and slap him.
“It’s all right, Arakita. You don’t have to be.”
Arakita craned his head up just so he could see. “Just take good care of my brother, okay? Don’t let him pull any fast ones on you.” Wink, air-nudge. What? Was that supposed to be hinting at something?
“Brother,” Kinjou warned.
Arakita eased up his bow, slowly coming up.
“Haha, don’t let Shingo’s cycling-mania kill you. The guy doesn’t ever stop.”
“Brother! He’s an excellent cyclist, I believe in him.”
“Yes, yes, I know—he’s a great cyclist and he’s the cutest thing ever, I know, I know.”
Arakita felt like he just swallowed several scorpion peppers. What.
“Brother!” A peak at Kinjou’s face showed him that it was red, too. Less than his, but satisfyingly red nonetheless.
His brother came up and gave Arakita a pat on the back, laughing all the while. “If Shingo doesn’t make you happy, let me know and I’ll take care of it.” The hand on his back suddenly tightened and felt heavier than before—full of strength and unbidden promises of destruction. “I look forward to seeing you more often, Arakita.”
“A-ah, no, yes—he…he makes me very…happy.” He stuttered weakly, unable to meet his face. Half because he wanted to sink into the ground from saying that and half because he somehow felt that there would be bloodshed if he said otherwise. Not that he was afraid or anything, but there was caution to be taken when dealing with one’s boyfriend’s family.
“Good, good! Glad to hear it. Shingo, I’ll be heading back now, the assistant professor in one of my classes needs my help with something.”
“Yes, let’s talk later,” Kinjou responded, redder than before and a hand over his face.
His brother began to walk away, and Arakita’s shoulders sagged. Oh thank god. That was a lot less painful than he initially thought this whole meeting was going to be, but it was embarrassing in exchange and he may or may not have felt just a little bit threatened in a strange way.
“Oh, and by the way,” Kinjou’s brother called over his shoulder. Arakita snapped up straight. He could hear the smirk in his voice now.
“The next time you decide to bike all the way to Meisou, make sure you don’t end up getting sick from the rain again!”
“WHAT?!”
“BROTHER!!”