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When it happens, the world slows down enough for Kaoru to commit it to memory.
He has one foot on the platform, leather sandal still in place, when he lugs his suitcase off the train. As a seasoned traveller who’s gone through these motions before, he doesn’t so much as stumble when he hauls it onto the platform, but the suitcase does, however, nudge his other foot and that’s when it happens.
His other Birkenstock sandal slides off his foot, falling between the gap between the train and the platform, lost to the abyss.
All while the announcement dishing out reminders about said gap echoes throughout the station, as if to add salt to the freshly-opened wound.
Uttering a soft fuck under his breath, Kaoru stares at the gap, barely able to make out the brown leather of his sandal in the dark, growing more aware of how he’s standing at the platform with one shoe on.
Perhaps the delayed departure of his train had been a blessing in disguise all along, because were it not the last train of the night, surely someone would’ve witnessed that by now. Even better that he chose to stay in his seat until most of the other passengers had departed.
It’s hard to look away, really, even if the damn sandal isn’t going anywhere, but when he does come to his senses, Kaoru looks around the station and finds only a handful of people scattered about, all of which seem to be minding their own business.
Well, all except for one green-haired man, who is staring at him with furrowed brows, his mouth slightly agape.
Kaoru nearly pulls a muscle when he looks back at the gap and tries not to pay much mind to the stare burning holes into the side of his face, which is considerably easy since his attention is quickly brought back to his poor Birkenstock on the train tracks.
What the hell is he meant to do now?
The thought of approaching a staff member leaves a sour taste on his tongue, as does the thought of him trying to reach for the sandal by himself. Either way seems awfully embarrassing and he’d rather join the sandal on the tracks than bring this incident to anyone’s attention other than himself.
And the green-haired man.
So, it’s for the sake of whatever shred of dignity he has left that he decides to surrender the sandal to its fate, praying to whatever higher being that it doesn’t cause some Final Destination freak accident when the train promptly rolls out of the station.
It doesn’t. It doesn’t even look beat up at all, which makes walking away feel like even more of a pathetic decision.
Kaoru grimaces, then schools his expression to one of indifference before turning away, as if he isn’t taking longer strides than usual with one foot completely bare and horribly exposed. He keeps his gaze straight ahead with his suitcase in hand, unwavering until a pole appears out of nowhere and he stubs an unprotected toe against the hard steel.
The pain shooting up his leg is immediate and his knuckles go white around the suitcase’s handle as he doubles over, nearly crashing into the source of his suffering.
“Are you fucking kidding me—”
Then, because things can apparently get much worse, a pair of sneakers enter his line of vision. Kaoru has no choice but to look up, but he regrets it nonetheless once he finds both worry and amusement in the green-haired man’s lovely brown eyes.
It’s reassuring, at the very least, to know that his sight hasn’t given up on him to make the man out to be much more attractive than he actually is. If anything, he looks far better up close.
“Hey, uh, did you really drop your sandal into the gap just then?”
Underneath the confusion, there’s a teasing lilt to the man’s words, and Kaoru scowls, deciding then and there that the visuals on offer are simply not worth it anymore.
“It slid off. There’s a difference,” he replies, urging himself not to look anywhere but the man’s stupidly attractive face.
When his gaze does inevitably drift away, he ends up learning the man’s name thanks to the nametag pinned to a rather tight polo shirt.
“Right, my bad.” Kojiro doesn’t sound apologetic at all, nor does he look the part with the slight smirk on his face. He glances down, then offers Kaoru a raised brow. “Your foot’s kinda busted.”
He’s overestimating because Kaoru looks down and only sees his toe going red from the hit it took, but the words slip past his lips before he can point that out.
“Did you just call my feet ugly?”
Face growing warm, Kaoru finds himself feeling grateful, for the first time this night, when Kojiro replies with a poorly stifled snort.
“I can help you get your sandal back if you want,” is what Kojiro says in lieu of the apology Kaoru's been expecting, but he supposes the offer is as good of an apology as he’s gonna get.
Still, he eyes Kojiro up and down, makes it about as obvious as Kojiro’s glaringly green hair that stands out against the drained colours and fluorescent lighting surrounding them.
“You don’t look like you work here,” Kaoru points out.
“Technically, I do,” Kojiro gestures at a now-closed cafe behind him, one that Kaoru’s sure he’s been to a handful of times. He’s never seen Kojiro though, often greeted by a red-haired teenager in his stead; he’s certain he would’ve remembered otherwise.
“Anyways, I can’t believe you were just gonna leave it there,” Kojiro continues. “Though, I guess people just don’t drop their shoes into the gap that often.”
As he talks, he walks towards the spot where it happened and that, unfortunately, proves Kaoru’s suspicions that he’d witnessed the entire thing.
“I wasn’t—I was going to get help,” Kaoru lies, lips curling into a frown.
“Sure you were,” Kojiro says and Kaoru can picture that same smug smirk from earlier all too clearly.
He glares at the back of Kojiro’s head and wonders if it’s socially acceptable to kick the back of a stranger’s knees, careful to avoid any toe-stubbing hazards on their short walk back.
All things considered, no one’s really around to notice if he does choose to cave into the temptation.
When they do reach the spot, the last thing Kaoru expects Kojiro to do is to get on his knees then lower himself till he’s basically on his tummy and dangle his arm off the platform without much care.
Once he gets over the flexing biceps Kojiro’s shirt fails to contain, Kaoru glances around to see if anyone else is seeing this as well. But it’s practically a ghost station at this hour, with a few salarymen scattered around after one too many nightcaps.
No actual station staff to be spotted.
His gaze returns to Kojiro. “Don’t they have a tool for this?”
“For picking up lost Birkenstocks?” Kojiro looks up at him momentarily with a grin before turning to fish for Kaoru’s sandal. “This is less of a hassle anyway.”
“Doesn’t seem like it.”
“I don’t see you down here trying to get your sandal back.”
Kaoru lets out an indignant huff at that. “You offered—”
He chokes on his words, though, when Kojiro stretches out a little further, shirt slowly rising up and granting Kaoru a glimpse of a very toned torso. Then Kojiro lets out a low whistle and waves the rescued sandal at Kaoru before pushing himself off the ground.
“Here you go, Cinderella.”
Kaoru expects him to toss the sandal back to him, so when Kojiro sets it down normally before him, Kaoru’s initial response dies on his tongue. The bar is in hell, truly.
“Guess chivalry isn’t dead after all,” Kaoru mutters to himself, slipping his foot back into the sandal.
“What was that, sweetheart?”
Only then does Kaoru notice that Kojiro has to lower his gaze to meet Kaoru’s eyes. That and that he’s standing close enough for Kaoru’s cheeks to grow warmer by the second, if they could get any redder.
In spite of that, Kaoru narrows his eyes at Kojiro. “Don’t call me that.”
“What should I call you then?” Kojiro asks, falling into step with Kaoru when he begins to walk back to the exit.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Kaoru asks back.
“There isn’t any other exit, you do know that, right?”
Instead of answering, Kaoru ups his pace, refusing to look at Kojiro as he heads straight for the turnstiles.
“I wouldn’t use those if I were you,” Kojiro says and Kaoru thinks the same as well, only his need to get away before he embarrasses himself anymore in front of Kojiro overrides any logical thought.
“I’ll be fine,” he snaps.
He taps his card on the turnstile, pushes through with his suitcase in front of him, and expects to make it out to the other side, only for it to stop halfway through the rotation when his suitcase ends up jamming it in place, leaving him sandwiched between the metal bars.
Just when he thought the night couldn’t get any worse, Sakurayashiki Kaoru finds himself stuck between the turnstiles at the train station, any hope for a graceful exit immediately nipped at the bud.
It’s a humbling experience, really.
On the other side past the turnstiles, Kojiro doesn’t even try to hide his amusement. “Oh my god, you are on a roll—”
“Don’t you dare say it,” Kaoru hisses, trying to finesse his suitcase under the bar it’s caught in.
The smug smirk returns.
“I told you so.”
Being trapped in the turnstiles is the only thing holding Kaoru back from lunging at Kojiro. Kojiro, who rather than leave Kaoru behind, takes a few steps towards him and glances down at Kaoru’s suitcase.
“Just let it go, I’ll carry it over to the other side,” he offers.
Kaoru tightens his grip around the handle and grits his teeth. “I’ve got it.”
He most certainly doesn’t.
After another twenty seconds of trying to free both himself and his suitcase from the metal deathtrap, Kaoru surrenders with a defeated grumble and lets go.
“Could you move back a little?” Kojiro asks as he begins to pry the suitcase out with far more success than Kaoru’s earlier attempts.
Kaoru rolls his eyes, but leans back on the metal bar pressing against his spine anyways.
“If I had the space to move back, I wouldn’t be stuck here in the first place.”
“I think you mean if you listened to me and used the other turnstile instead,” Kojiro corrects. “Y’know, the one made for people with excessively large suitcases.”
“It’s a perfectly normal-sized suitcase!”
“For keeping a dead body hidden, sure,” Kojiro says as he manages to lift the suitcase up and over onto the other side.
“Would you like to volunteer—” The quick turn of the turnstiles cuts Kaoru off, a yelp escaping his lips when he ends up stumbling out and much to his horror, crashing right into Kojiro, who lets out a grunt at the impact that sends them falling onto the ground.
Kaoru briefly wonders if there’d been some grave sin he’d committed in another life that led to this twisted karmic retribution.
Then Kojiro’s voice draws him out of those thoughts. “Usually I get to know the other person’s name before I let them get this far.”
Kaoru blinks and finds that he’s staring down at Kojiro, shaky arms propped up on either side of his head. There’s an amused grin on Kojiro’s face, but Kaoru doesn’t think he’s imagining the red creeping up his neck.
Eyes widening, Kaoru pushes himself off immediately after processing the compromising position they’re in, nearly kneeing Kojiro in the process.
Maybe it’s time to move to a different country.
“Fuck, oh my god, I’m sorry.”
“No damage done—I think,” Kojiro stands up, wiping his hands on his pants. “Are you okay though?”
Kaoru’s pretty sure he scraped his palms in the fall, but nods anyway, tossing his hair over his shoulder.
That fall must’ve created some sort of imbalance between them, because Kojiro seems just about as flustered as Kaoru now and the awkward silence that settles between them is far more stifling than he would’ve thought.
So for Kaoru’s final move, he grabs his suitcase and issues a rushed apology-slash-thank-you that comes out as a garbled I’m so thank you, before getting the hell away from the station should any more karmic retribution decide to manifest in the same night.
Behind him, Kojiro yells, “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out!”
He lets out a boisterous laugh when Kaoru walks into the half-opened glass door right on cue, letting out a litany of curses as he recovers and storms out of the station with a decimated ego, stinging palms, and the beginnings of some twisted crush.