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Surprisingly, forging parental signatures isn't that hard.
Kaoru's always had a mature elegance to his penmanship, so Kojiro isn't at all surprised when his best friend shows up to their meeting spot five minutes early with a fully filled out waiver of parental consent. Kojiro would usually be late, himself, but he knows the importance of today for Kaoru, and made it a point to at least be on time.
The train ride is mostly quiet; the dull chatter around them like a protective bubble surrounding muted thoughts. Kaoru offers him an ear bud, and they sit close, listening to the clashing of guitars and shrill voices of Kaoru's music of choice. Kojiro wonders how Kaoru is feeling, sun coming through the train windows to rest on pale, stiff hands. They've managed to create a sort of language, the two of them; built on shifts in body language, blinks of the eye, a subtle set of signals that seems to be both known and understood. It makes Kojiro feel something, he thinks. A flutter in his chest, a weight at the base of his skull, to be granted the gift of understanding all Kaoru wants to say, but so frequently pushes down. But, Kojiro knows there's always the chance that one day, he'll find himself in the wrong, and he won't understand what Kaoru is trying to tell him.
Kaoru glances at him, golden eyes peeking through strands of hair. He smiles, nothing more than a twitch at the corner of his mouth, and adjusts his hold on his backpack as he slouches against the seat. Kojiro feels something flip in his innards, and he turns his head.
"Nervous?" He feels himself mumble, just to — just to be sure.
Kaoru stares, for a moment, then makes to scoff, tucking his hair behind an ear.
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
The smirk he shoots him is pointed, sharp, but Kojiro sees it for what it is, spots the bitten lip, the wavering of his eyes, has his answer.
The train approaches their stop, and as they stand he takes his earbud out, gently, placing it back in Kaoru's waiting hand.
"I would." He smiles, and there's nothing but comfort in it. Kaoru exhales, shoulders relaxing ever so slight.
Stepping off of the train exposes them to the swell of summer heat and cresting murmur of the crowd, ebbing onto the platform and back in again. As people shift around them Kojiro takes a moment to soak everything in — the chatter, the warmth, the intensity of the sun. He's not necessarily one for a sweltering hustle and bustle like this, but every once in a while its... nice. He feels a rush of blood through his ears, can spot the shrill of cicadas in the background, and feels awake, somehow. Alive.
Kaoru presses close to him, earbud still in one ear muffling their surroundings. He manages to look composed, but Kojiro can see the unease, understands that what's a relief to him isn't always the same for his best friend, and starts to gently walk through the crowd, parting the sea with his presence, creating a space for Kaoru to trail behind.
Down a set of stairs, the hot sidewalk greets them, cars cruising past on the road beside. He hears Kaoru exhale, and he turns to flash him a crooked grin, an expression of cockiness and comfort, and something sings in him when the expression is returned.
"Dork." Kaoru huffs, still smiling, but looking towards the ground as they walk. "It feels like you're more excited about this than I am, and you..."
He trails off, but Kojiro understands. When Kaoru had come to him with the plan, it came with a request in-between the lines. He'd been asked, but it wasn't like he'd ever refuse, even if he wasn't.
He puts up his hands, mock placation.
"Hey now," He says, making sure Kaoru's eyes are on him fully, no distractions. "What kind of friend would I be if I wasn't excited? This is a big deal for you! Am I not allowed to look forward to it?"
Kaoru looks like he's considering answering otherwise for a moment, his steps slowing, and immediately, Kojiro thinks maybe he's said the wrong thing, misunderstood. But then he simply glances about, nodding them to a turn they round comfortably, expression soft in a way Kojiro can only identify as grateful.
At the next corner they reach their destination: a tattoo parlour, dark sign worn from age and the elements. The exterior is weathered but well maintained otherwise, a clearly intentional graffiti tag giving the front window a pop of colour. Kojiro makes to grab the door, but pauses when a throat clears behind him, and Kaoru instead reaches out, expression schooled into something professional; poised and proper. He slips on a mask of glass, as he enters first, sharp and clean but delicate. Kojiro looks at his shoulder blades as he follows — backpack slipped onto an arm — protruding ever so slight from the shirt he's wearing, imagines the shape of his spine, and swallows.
The interior of the shop is bright; using the front window to the best of its ability in combination with soft, white paint. The atmosphere is professional, clean, and Kojiro can see Kaoru echo the space in the way he holds himself in front of the counter, and when he places a hand on Kaoru's back, willing his body to stay loose, neither of them pull away.
A woman Kojiro doesn't recognize comes up to the front after seeing them enter; tall and decorated in tattoos. Long, dyed bangs fall across one eye, the other side of her head buzzed almost down to the scalp, and she blinks, looking them over.
Kaoru is still tense, but his voice exits smooth, betraying nothing of what Kojiro thinks must be there, just below, covered by a thin layer of sand; a soft bedrock.
"Hello again, Mako. " He rustles through his backpack for a moment, producing a neatly folded paper and placing it on the counter. "I've brought the consent form you specified prior."
The woman lifts the page gingerly, unfolding it and glancing it over. She manages to give nothing away in her expression, the page giving parental consent signed with a flourish from Kaoru's neat, fluid hand. If she can tell it isn't quite genuine, she doesn't show it, examining it closely.
Kojiro moves his hand from Kaoru's back to a free shoulder, squeezing.
She looks up after another beat, eyes following the gesture to Kojiro himself, and in a flat tone, says, "And I suppose he isn't the guardian listed here, huh."
Kojiro opens his mouth to say — well, he doesn't know, exactly — but Kaoru simply shakes his head, words surprisingly calm.
"My friend," And oh, the way that sends a warmth through Kojiro's limbs. "For support. I assume that's acceptable?"
They get a shrug in response, and the woman places the paper down.
"You wanna pay now or after?"
Kojiro watches as money is placed down between them, a not unsubstantial amount that he knows Kaoru's been saving slowly, week after week. Little bits here and there, stashed away, for a tentative, hopeful dream. Some of it his own, too, added to the pile when Kaoru's head was turned, distracted.
The woman takes the money, writes them a receipt that gets swiftly placed into a backpack pocket. She gestures to a chair, and Kaoru looks around for a spot to place his backpack down. His expression, though still schooled, is tight, and Kojiro quickly gestures to him, picking the bag up and putting an arm through it wordlessly. The look he gets for the action is odd, blank at the edges, and Kojiro isn't sure if that's a good thing.
He tries not to fixate, however, as Kaoru takes a seat, glancing around the space as if he's never seen it before. Kojiro takes the opportunity to look at him a little closer, try to make out what he's feeling, but then the woman closes in, hands in vinyl gloves, a tray of tools in accompaniment.
She takes a seat on a stool, nods at Kojiro to do the same, and begins to speak, setting everything up efficiently. She outlines what's going to happen, what she needs Kaoru to do, wiping the tools down as she goes. Kaoru's face drains of expression, stiffening with each line, and Kojiro tries to give him a comforting look, soft, but gold eyes refuse to meet his own. He frowns, wondering if he's upset, maybe, when the woman leans in and Kaoru jerks back in the seat, flinching.
"W-Washroom!" He says, voice sudden, strung tight. "Apologies I... need the washroom."
"Kaoru — " Kojiro starts to say, but the woman huffs and gestures behind her, and Kaoru is gone in an instant.
Well. Okay, he thinks, and then, when he processes what just occurred; I should make sure he's alright.
The parlour's bathroom is labelled with a small sign towards the back of the space, down a short hallway Kojiro guesses lead to break rooms, admin spaces, things like that. As he approaches he hears running water, and he leans against the wall opposite the door, head tilted in concern. He's never been one to push, to force things out, but Kojiro finds himself a bit confused, a bit unsteady. Unsure.
Is he having second thoughts, maybe? He hopes not. Kaoru's been talking about this for months on and off, looking at him wistfully, fingers brushing along the shell of his ear as he did so. Kojiro sighs, recalls his odd, blank expression, and tries to figure it out.
The sound of water ceases after a couple minutes, and Kojiro perks up with the quiet click of the door. Words of airy comfort, soft concern, catch in his throat as he sees Kaoru, white as paper, hair to his shoulders damp at the neck. He balks as they make eye contact, but before he can retreat back into the space, Kojiro reaches out.
"Kaoru," He says, quiet, taking a step towards him ever so slowly. His brows are etched with concern, struggling to fully comprehend. "Are you okay?"
Kaoru blinks, tugs on the ends of his hair, looks to the smoothed, light floor. He bites his lip, and Kojiro finds himself giving voice to his doubts.
"Hey," He mutters, hands hovering, unsure if he's allowed to touch. If it would help. "You're not second guessing yourself, are you? Or is it me? Did I do something wrong?"
Gold eyes flick up to brown, widened, before giving a sharp shake of the head. Kaoru opens his mouth, closes it, mimics the way a fish moves water past its gills. In this moment Kojiro just feels unsteady, uprooted, reminded of how little he's scratched the surface and how much of Kaoru is still left unknown. How much of the language they've built is still wriggling about in low tide; undefined.
His hand, warm, finds its way to Kaoru's bicep.
"I'm sorry, if it's me—"
“—'s not you" They both say at once. Kaoru blinks, surprised, still drawing tense but closer, stiff but leaning into Kojiro's touch.
"It's not you." He says, again, his own confused expression crossing through. "Why would you—? No, no I'm... glad you're here."
Then, why..? Kojiro wants to say, but Kaoru takes a breath and continues.
"What if this is— What if it's not—" Pink locks twist through his fingers again, tugging to the roots. "I just..."
A clarity passes between them, the sentence finishing unsaid, but understood. Kojiro gazes at it as if it lay between them, a truth exposed, vulnerable.
I'm scared.
He wants to placate, instinctively, but he isn't sure if that's true, isn't sure if there truly is nothing to be afraid of. Wants to be honest with Kaoru, wants him to feel safe, but not because of false reassurance.
"It's okay to be afraid," He mutters, hands moving, now, on feelings alone. They graze over Kaoru's shoulders, settle at his jaw. "It does kind of seem... you know. But you still want it, right?"
Kaoru is staring, but doesn't pull away. He nods.
"Okay... Okay." A swallow. Kojiro searches for the right words intently, lifting them from the water, cresting onto the rocks at the shore.
"I'm here. You aren't... you aren't alone. Can I help you?"
Kaoru pauses, but slowly nods again.
"Okay..." Kojiro thinks. This seems to be alright, right now. Kaoru's eyes are wide but focused, his tenseness eased ever so slight. He wishes he could continue to hold him, like this, relax his jaw and direct his attention so it'd be over with no issue. But the piercer needs to work here, so. So.
"This helps, right?" He says, and Kaoru looks confused a moment, before it registers. His face darkens pink, and Kojiro feels it heat under his fingers, tries to marvel silently as Kaoru clears his throat.
"It... does." Kaoru says, a great admission from him even now. Kojiro nods, thumb tracing skin for a moment before slowly letting go. He gets a tilted head, a flushed, confused face, and for a moment he nearly forgets the thought forming in his mind.
He can't help the teeth he shows: a simple, crooked smile.
"You'll be okay, Kaoru," He says. "I have an idea, I think."
Kojiro nudges him, gently, back out in the direction of their spot and Kaoru fidgets, but follows. He still looks nervous, and when he reaches out to tensely hold Kojiro's sleeve, Kojiro lets him.
"Trust me?" He asks, just to be sure.
"Okay." Kaoru says, throat bobbing as he swallows, unsteady but willing, vulnerable, and Kojiro grows warm at the word, Kaoru placing his fear in his hands, reliant.
The woman from before is still seated on her stool as they return, tools all primed. She looks unfazed, raising an eyebrow as Kaoru moves to sit down again, weakly. He makes to apologize, but she simply shrugs, says it's no problem, and picks up from where she left off.
Kojiro doesn't sit this time, and she eyes him as she finishes explaining, but doesn't object as he slowly brings his hand to Kaoru's, honeyed brown against staunch, chilled white. He stops himself from drawing close enough to get in the way, but he manages to hold secure, fingers laced against Kaoru's own, a rock against waves, solid.
It really only takes a second, in the end, but Kojiro thinks he understands the weight behind it, in it, as she asks Kaoru to inhale, needle in one hand, cork in the other. Golden eyes snap shut, and as he draws in air his fingers twitch, focusing on the touch, squeezing his unvoiced thoughts through his arm and into Kojiro's palm. The gesture sparks up his arm and through his fluttering chest, hyper-focusing his brain anew, as nothing he's felt before was quite so loud, so open.
And then it's done.
The woman is explaining aftercare, handing Kaoru an informational brochure, a shiny, silver stud now gleaming against his helix. Kojiro finds himself proud, then awed, as he realizes the way the accessory compliments pink hair, gold eyes, and heat rises to his face.
"Well?" Kaoru asks, almost shy, brushing his hair back with his free hand, turning to face him. "What do you think...?"
It looks good. Kaoru... looks good.
He clears his throat, but their hands remain intertwined.
"Suits you." he manages, voice cracking. "It's cool."
If Kaoru notices he doesn't bring it up, and blessedly turns back, saying something to the woman as he stands. She nods a reply, and they head towards the front of the parlour, the blood in Kojiro's ears momentarily too loud, swimming. The buzz of chatter continues briefly until they're out the door, warm breeze against skin a stark change from the shaded, air conditioned studio. Kojiro can feel himself snapping back into place, shaking his head to will his blush away.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?" He manages after they cross the street, heading to food by the station before heading back home.
Kaoru huffs, looking at him softly through his lashes, but finally seems unwound, posture slumped again, breathing steady.
"Speak for yourself." He replies. "You weren't the one getting a hole punched through their cartilage."
There's no bite to it, and Kojiro grins, brightening. Tide breaking through stone, a natural process, the glimmer of something new beneath.
"And here I was trying to help! Sounds like all that was just for show then huh?"
"Simply making you feel useful."
"Smartass."
"Idiot."
They slip back into themselves easily, uncertainty dissipating with the rising heat of the afternoon. Back into the light, into known, familiar language; practiced symbols and gestures and sounds.
"Thank you." Kaoru says, outright, and though it throws Kojiro a little, it doesn't leave him unsure.
"Of course." He replies, nudging the other's arm softly, and then. "Always."
The smile he gets is blinding, and their hands find each other again on the train home.