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Yukio has never stood in line just to get inside a restaurant. He doesn’t mind standing in line for concerts (particularly for J-rock bands like ONE OK ROCK and Orange Range; the guitarists are truly an inspiration), but waiting for a new restaurant to open its doors when there are other restaurants already serving dinner half a block away is bizarre. Also, he doubts he’ll be able to afford the bill here, and he wants, for once, to not have to split the bill with Kise, who makes triple the amount of money Yukio does in one month, yeah, but is younger than him, just graduated from high school last month.
“You’re frowning, Senpai,” Kise says, smiling, running a finger between Yukio’s eyebrows.
Yukio swats Kise’s hand away, says, “Who wouldn’t be?! We’ve been here for the past thirty minutes! It’s cold. My fingers are freezing.”
“Oh?” Kise leans closer. “Want me to warm them up?”
“No.”
Kise laughs. Yukio looks at his mouth for a moment, then at his hair, swept back from his forehead, wavy at the ends. His hair is currently the same length it was when he joined the Kaijou basketball team, but this style makes him look more mature and handsome.
“What are you looking at, Senpai?” Kise asks in a low voice.
Yukio steps on Kise’s fancyass Oxfords to get rid of the flustered feeling he’s getting in his stomach, that kind that used to show up whenever he tried to talk to girls before but now comes whenever Kise tries to flirt with him in public. It’s not that he’s embarrassed about their relationship (so far, it hasn’t been as troublesome and painful as he had worried it might be after Kise kissed him after the Winter Cup and said “I really like you, Kasamatsu-senpai”), but he’s still getting used to it. Kise has a strange, single-minded intensity when he is trying out something new, and it’s a little unsettling to be on the receiving end of all that attention.
“Your hair,” Yukio replies, as Kise starts complaining about how his shoe is scuffed up now, how mean senpai. “Glad it’s not as ugly as it was in your second year.”
“Rude,” Kise sniffs. Then, smiling again, “You know, I was thinking of cutting it as short as yours before the Winter Cup. One last show of respect to my favorite senpai.”
“Was that sarcasm? I’m going to hit you.”
Before Kise can reply, someone says from behind them, “Wow, Iwa-chan, look at these two. Are you getting a sense of déjà vu?”
“Yeah,” another guy replies.
Yukio turns around. The tall, brown-haired guy standing behind him gives him a big, fake smile. The guy behind this one looks as irritated as Yukio feels.
“Hi,” says the smiling one. His gaze slides over to Kise. “Aren’t you Kise Ryouta? You’re not as tall as you look in Zunon Boy.”
“Ah, magazines you know, what can you do,” Kise replies, in the same pseudo-friendly tone. He turns to Yukio, says in a loud voice, “Two more minutes until the restaurant opens! I hope they have onion gratin soup. I haven’t had it in so long.”
“You used to play basketball,” the guy continues. “Part of some Miracles team? Geniuses with horrible personalities?”
“Tooru,” the irritated guy says, before Kise can reply. “Stop picking fights with random strangers.”
“Iwa-chan! I wasn’t picking a fight. I’m just trying to make polite conversation since we’re all stuck in line.”
“No one wants to make polite conversation with you.”
“How mean!”
Kise looks at Yukio, smiling a little. Yukio turns back around and says, “You guys play basketball too?”
“Volleyball,” Iwa-chan says. Then, “This is Oikawa Tooru. I’m Iwaizumi Hajime.”
Yukio says, “Kasamatsu Yukio. Kise’s my kouhai from high school.”
“Oh, it’s like that?” Oikawa says. “A senpai-kou-”
Iwaizumi slaps Oikawa on the back. Oikawa pouts as he adjusts his fancy-looking blazer. Iwaizumi puts his hands in the pockets of his more casual, utilitarian jacket, which looks like the one Yukio’s wearing. They’re both wearing black jeans too, instead of dress pants. Their hair is in similar no-nonsense styles.
“What position do you play?” Yukio asks Iwaizumi, even though he knows next to nothing about official volleyball.
“Wing-spiker,” Iwaizumi says. “You?”
“Point guard.”
“Iwa-chan is my ace,” Oikawa says. “And he used to be my vice-captain. Though he didn’t have to do much, of course, because he had me, the captain, to handle everything.”
“Really?” Iwaizumi says. “That’s not what I remember.”
Yukio says, “Kise and I played for Kaijou, in Kanagawa. He was the team’s ace.”
“Yukio-san is the best captain a guy can ask for,” Kise says, and puts his arm around Yukio’s shoulders.
Yukio freezes, surprised both by the use of his first name and the sudden, solid pressure of Kise’s arm, this very public embrace.
Thankfully, before Yukio can get over his shock and do something bad, like kick Kise in front of everyone, the doors to the restaurant open and two of the servers start ushering people inside.
Yukio knows that he will have to find a table far away from Iwaizumi and Oikawa, just in case Kise decides to engage in any more PDA. He has just entered the restaurant with this purpose when one of the servers announces to the rest of the line, “We have reached our maximum seating capacity. Please wait an hour, or return tomorrow. Thank you.”
“Oh no,” Oikawa moans. “We came all the way from the other end of Tokyo to eat here. Iwa-chan? Iwa-chan, take a deep breath. Nice and slow.”
Yukio turns to see that Iwaizumi has turned a familiar shade of red. He knows that feeling. He feels that way about fifteen times a day because of various and sundry things: people cutting him in line at the Starbucks near his campus; the vice captain, who is in charge of the keys, not showing up on time for morning practice; Kise calling him when he is struggling with complicated theorems to keep him “updated” on Kuroko’s life (this usually involves a long list of book titles, and exact dates and times of all the occasions in which Kuroko and Aomine hung out without inviting Kise).
“Hey,” Oikawa calls out. “Kasamatsu-chan! You mind trading places with us? Pretty please?”
“What?” Kise frowns. “We’re not trading places! How can you ask that?”
“Forget it,” Iwaizumi says to Oikawa. “We’ll wait. But we’re never doing this again.”
Yukio feels sorry for Iwaizumi, so he says, “It’s okay. Kise and I live close by. I mean. We live close but not together.” He is blushing, he realizes. “I mean, we live in different apartments. Anyway! The point is, we can come anytime. So it’s all good. Just go.”
“Yeah, you heard him?” Oikawa smiles at Kise. “Do as your senpai says.”
Kise looks very angry for a moment. Then he shrugs, steps out of the restaurant, and gestures inside. “All yours.”
“You sure?” Iwaizumi asks Yukio.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” Yukio says.
It’s not fine, Yukio finds out about two minutes later, when he tells Kise that they’re going to the ramen place across the street and Kise replies that his head hurts and that he’s going home.
“You can go home after you eat,” Yukio says.
“No.” Kise winds his scarf tight around his neck. “I can’t. Bye, Senpai.”
“Why are you getting mad?” Yukio reaches for Kise’s arm. Kise moves away. Yukio lets his hand drop to his side, continues, “You’re the one who wanted to have dinner! I told you I had homework, and you kept pestering me. And now you just wanna go home? What the fuck.”
“Pestering you?” Kise repeats. “You hate having dinner with me that much?”
Yukio realizes that he has made a mistake. He really needs to watch his mouth when he’s mad. “Wait,” he begins.
“It was nice seeing you,” Kise says, tone dismissive. “Have a good weekend, Senpai.”
Before Yukio can stop him, Kise walks off. Yukio watches for a moment, wanting to call him back. But he’s annoyed too. There’s no need for Kise to be so dramatic. Yukio heads back to his apartment.
***
A week later, Yukio is strumming a modified version of LUNA SEA’s “I For You” on his guitar and glaring at the framed photo on his desk of him and Kise (taken after Kise’s last Inter-High, in which Kaijou actually won) when Iwaizumi calls.
“Hey,” Iwaizumi says. “I got your number from Tooru, who got it from someone named Moriyama, who gave him your number after Tooru offered to find him a date. Hope it’s okay that I called.”
“Yeah, sure,” Yukio replies. He’s going to call Moriyama very soon and have some words with him. “What’s up?”
“I have two tickets to a basketball game. The national team’s playing some kind of exhibition game next Sunday. It’s not my thing, so I thought I’d give them to you. You and Kise can go.”
Kise hasn’t texted or called in a week. Yukio says, “Sure I’ll go. But how about you come with me? Basketball’s not bad.”
There is a pause before Iwaizumi says, “Alright.”
***
Their seats are decent, not too far back in the stadium, and the national team is playing well. Iwaizumi is pleasant company, just as Yukio had expected. Iwaizumi is quiet for the most part, and very direct in speech when he does talk. He gets annoyed at all the right times, like when the guys behind them lean over them to take photos of the game with their giant iPads, and when the girl on his other side starts talking loudly on her cell phone.
“I don’t get these people,” he mutters to Yukio after the game. “We get some spectators like these at practice. Assholes. One of them dumped a bucket of rose petals on Tooru on Valentine’s Day.”
“Yeah,” Yukio replies. “Kise’s fan club used to do shit like that too.”
They decide to get dinner at the ramen shop a few blocks away from the stadium. On the way, they exchange tips on how to manage boys who are too tall and pretty for their own good. Then they complain about their coursework, and then talk, very briefly, about their families back home.
After dinner, Iwaizumi says, “Hey, Tooru is having a party on Saturday for the kids he coaches. Why don’t you bring your brothers? They’ll have fun.”
Yukio says, “I’ll think about it. They’re a handful.”
“And bring Kise with you.”
“Kise’s not that good with kids.”
“He can learn. I could use the help. There’s going to be about fifteen kids and no parents.”
“Fine, I’ll ask,” Yukio says, before heading home.
Kise will most likely say no anyway. He hasn’t called for two weeks now, only texted the occasional “hi, senpai, how are u” and “work has been busy lately.” This is not how Yukio imagined their first month living within five kilometers of each other, each with his own apartment, would be like. He misses being on the receiving end of Kise’s attention, now that he’s not.
Yukio considers, for a long moment, not inviting Kise at all. This thing between them, whatever it is, isn’t going to last. Kise is going to get bored of him soon and walk right out of Yukio’s life without looking back. Kise won’t have any regrets. He’s the type who’s able to say three weeks after a breakup, “it’s good to see you,” with a smile and something resembling friendliness. He used to say that he wants a girl who won’t tie him down.
Yukio takes his cell phone out and calls anyway. He has to make it up to Kise for that dinner at the very least. Kise has a busy schedule too, has his modeling and his occasional acting jobs for TV dramas. It wasn’t right to give away their table so easily, without taking Kise’s feelings into consideration. Yukio says as much when his call goes to Kise’s voicemail.
***
Kise texted Yukio on Friday, asking for directions, but he still hasn’t shown up one hour into the party.
The kids have finished showing off the volleyball skills they’ve learned from “Oikawa-sensei” and are now playing a loud, rough game of tag around the park. Yukio’s temples are throbbing because of the noise and the unseasonal heat, and because of Oikawa, who keeps trying to give him relationship advice.
“Models are so shallow,” Oikawa is saying currently. He is lounging in a beach chair while Iwaizumi wipes runny noises and stops kids from chewing on each other’s hair and talks to the ones who are crying because they didn’t want to get tagged. “You’re better off with someone who pays attention to things beside their own skin and hair and weight, you know? Obviously you want to marry someone who’ll pay attention to your body and take care of you.”
“That’s selfish, and who said anything about marriage?” Yukio says, as he bandages a scrapped knee. He wants to tell Oikawa to fuck off, but the kid with the injured knee is sitting with them, still sniffling. And Iwaizumi might get offended.
“You look like the marrying kind,” Oikawa says, smiling.
Yukio guides the kid back to the others, who are demanding to play another game. He can’t wait to give them their afternoon snacks and then send them home. This is the last time he agrees to supervise a kids’ party.
“Hey,” Iwaizumi says, handing Yukio a glass of pink lemonade. “Relax. No point in getting worked up about people who don’t give a fuck about you.”
“What are you talking about,” Yukio says, before he can stop himself, “Kise does give a fuck. Something probably came up.”
Iwaizumi looks at him, a very direct gaze that makes Yukio feel a little stupid and uncool. He needs to attain this level of levelheadedness. Iwaizumi has probably never fucked up so badly in a game that he caused his whole team to lose, probably never cries alone in the locker room.
“Kise’s alright,” Yukio continues, more calmly. “He’s not as self-absorbed as he used to be. And he always keeps his promises. Anyway, at least he’s not like that.” He points at Oikawa, who is helping himself to the rainbow-colored cookies on the picnic table.
Iwaizumi yells “Tooru!” and Oikawa moves away from the cookies, apologizing in the same way Kise does when he’s trying to be cute.
Iwaizumi turns back to Yukio and says, “There’s more to him than that.” He frowns a little. “Come to one of our volleyball matches and see for yourself. He’s a phenomenal setter. But yeah.” He pauses, then opens and closes his mouth twice, before continuing, “A relationship can be a lot of work. Just like any sport is. Like many things are. But it’s worth it. Right?”
“Right,” Yukio says.
“Right,” Iwaizumi says.
They look at each other for a moment, silently agreeing to not talk about the topic of love again, ever. Or at least that’s what Yukio thinks they are doing. Then Iwaizumi asks him to mark out lines for the three-legged race, and Yukio starts laying out the ropes, feeling a little better about everything.
After the races end – with Yukio’s brothers winning; they’re good at things that require teamwork – Oikawa helps Yukio and Iwaizumi seat the kids and pass around the snacks.
As the kids are finishing their food, the parents and guardians start showing up. Some of them have brought gifts for Oikawa. Yukio can see why. Oikawa knows just what to say to each parent. He is great at talking about each child’s achievements.
The last kid is saying goodbye to Oikawa and Iwaizumi when Yukio sees Kise hurrying up the sidewalk towards the park.
“Sorry, Senpai,” Kise says as soon as he arrives. “The photo shoot ran late. The photographer was new and really nitpicky.” He wipes what looks like pink lipstick off his mouth with the back of his hand. His earring, bright turquoise today, glints in the sunlight.
His beautiful eyes are a startling gold under all the eyeliner, fixed on Yukio with a very serious expression. Yukio wants to kiss him, just take Kise’s face in his hands and kiss him right here and now. Convey all the love he feels for Kise in that kiss. But they can’t, so he settles for a, “Glad you could make it. I’ve missed you, yeah?”
Kise’s eyes widen, and Yukio reaches up and ruffles his hair. It feels soft and thick between Yukio’s fingers, smells like oranges. Kise always complains when Yukio pulls on it, says that he’s going to go bald.
Kise smiles.
“Aw,” Oikawa says, “Iwa-chan, why can’t you be more like you Kasamatsu-chan and let me have eye-sex with you in public?”
“Hey, watch it.” Iwaizumi glances at the brats. “There are kids present.”
“Eye-set,” Oikawa tells them. “Like, game, set, match! What sports do you play?”
“Basketball,” says the older of the two, Brat 1. “I’m a small forward like Ryouta-nii, but better.”
Yukio can’t remember when he ever said it was okay to call Kise by his first name, let alone address him as “brother,” but Kise looks a little awed and grateful, so he lets it go.
“I play tennis,” Brat 2 says, “and I’m going to be a model like Ryouta-nii.” He takes out a pair of pink sunglasses and places them on the back of his head.
“That’s enough,” Yukio says.
Kise says, “You have to keep them closer to the center, like this,” and adjusts the glasses.
Oikawa looks at Kise and then says, “Hey, let’s play a game!” He picks up one of the scarves used for the three-legged races. “Let’s see which one of us is more perfectly-in-sync. Iwa-chan and me versus you two.” He waves a hand at Kise.
“Aren’t you too old for games, Oikawa-san?” Kise asks, picking up another scarf. “Don’t cry when Kasamatsu-senpai and I beat you.”
“He thinks he can beat us,” Oikawa says, rolling his eyes at Iwaizumi, who is rolling his sleeves up.
“We want to play too,” Brat 1 says, tugging on Yukio’s sweater. “Please, Nii-chan, pleeeee-”
“Alright!” Yukio sighs. “But you have to give us a head start.”
They line up in front of the three cones marking the starting point. Yukio can’t remember the last time he was in a three-legged race. He’s usually good at it though. All you have to do is hold onto your partner and match their movements.
“Here, Senpai, let me,” Kise says, and crouches down to wind the scarf around Yukio’s left ankle.
Yukio is admiring the sight of the top of Kise’s head, all that lovely blond hair (he rarely has this vantage point in broad daylight because Kise is so damn tall), when Kise jerks his ankle hard, almost making him fall over.
“Careful!” Yukio says.
Oikawa, his foot already bound to Iwaizumi’s, is laughing.
“Sorry, sorry,” Kise says, rubbing his anklebone against Yukio’s. He knots the scarf twice and stands up. “Here we go!”
“Hold onto me,” Yukio says, slipping his arm around Kise’s waist.
“Really?” Kise murmurs into Yukio’s ear. “Aw, I knew you had a romantic side to you.”
Yukio squeezes Kise’s hip. “Pay attention, idiot. We have to win this thing.”
“Ready everyone?” Oikawa calls. “Ready. Get set. Go!”
Yukio finds out very quickly that Kise sucks at this game. Kise is going too slow, trying to learn Yukio’s movements so that he can copy them. “There’s no time for that!” Yukio says, pulling him along. “Just count in your head. One, two, three.”
Oikawa and Iwaizumi are about a foot ahead of them, their arms around each other’s backs, movements perfectly in sync. Yukio feels a little envious. He’s not going to win today.
“We can start now, right,” he hears Brat 2 ask.
About five seconds later, his brothers are in front of him, power-walking with their arms at their sides.
“What?!” Oikawa exclaims as they walk past him. “Iwa-chan, hurry!”
They beat Oikawa and Iwaizumi by a margin of ten seconds. Oikawa pouts until Yukio and Kise reach the finish line. Then he says, “Well? Couldn’t beat this old guy, could you, Kise-chan?” He smiles.
“My mistake,” Kise says, with the same fake smile. “You’re really very good at this children’s game! Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” Oikawa says. “And don’t feel bad. You have things you’re good at too, like making duckfaces at the camera. And you’re an excellent extra. I always watch the first few minutes of the series premieres you’re in very carefully, so that I don’t blink and miss you.”
“Alright, alright,” Iwaizumi says, putting a stack of empty paper cups into Oikawa’s hands. “Let’s clean up and go home. Kise, there’s some snacks leftover. Help yourself.”
Kise and Oikawa are still glaring at each other. Yukio unties his foot from Kise’s and then pushes Kise towards the picnic table. “Be nice,” he says.
“I really don’t like that type,” Kise murmurs.
“You don’t have to like him.”
“And these snacks have too many empty calories.”
“Come on, Kise.”
Kise smiles. “But I did like being on the same team with you again, Senpai.”
“Too bad we didn’t win.”
“That’s okay.” Kise puts his arm around Yukio’s shoulders. “Winning all the time gets boring. And I’d rather lose with you than win with anyone else.”
Losing together, in basketball, seems to have brought them this far, not that Yukio wants to talk about those losses, ever. He says instead, “That sounds like something from a stupid love song,” and elbows Kise in the stomach, gently.
“Ow!” Kise says, puffs out his lower lip. “That hurts, Senpai!”
Later, he thanks Iwaizumi for the invitation, manages to say a polite goodbye to Oikawa, and then goes back to Kanagawa with Yukio to drop the kids off.
***
A month after Oikawa’s party, Yukio invites Iwaizumi and Oikawa to dinner at a nice 4 star restaurant near his place. He kind of misses Iwaizumi, and he has enough money to pay for all four of them, maybe, because his mom gave him a generous sum recently for "being a good big brother."
While they are walking to the restaurant, Kise says to Yukio, “It’s weird how similar those two are to us. I looked them up online, and they’re even born in the same months as we are! June and July. Thankfully, Oikawa was born in July and not in my month.”
“Why are you looking people up online when you can just talk to them, idiot.”
“Guess I’ll have to talk to them tonight. Amazing, isn’t it? Two couples having dinner together at a fancy restaurant? We’re getting old.”
Yukio can feel his face heating up. “What’s wrong with getting old?” he snaps.
“Plenty of things.” Kise sighs. “For example, wrinkles. My stylist tried to make me use anti-aging eye cream the other day, but Midorimacchi said I can wait a few more years. Then he told me not to bother with creams because my insincere smiles are going to give me wrinkles anyway. Can you believe it? He’s always so mean to me.”
“Good,” Yukio says. “Someone has to be.”
“No, Senpai, you’re supposed to take my side! Because we’re dating. It’s a rule.”
“Now it’s Senpai again?”
Kise had been calling him “Yukio-san” just half an hour ago, while they were having really mind-blowing, amazing sex on Kise’s new bed. The name sounds really nice when it’s half-moaned, Yukio knows now. In fact, everything about the afternoon was very nice, and Yukio wouldn’t mind going back to Kise’s apartment after the dinner to continue where they left off.
“Yukio-san,” Kise says, enunciating each syllable carefully. “Yukio-san, you can call me Ryouta.”
“Maybe later.”
“Yukio-san is so shy. It’s so cute.”
Yukio tries to punch Kise in the arm, but Kise wraps a hand around Yukio’s fist, kisses Yukio’s knuckles.
When they are in front of the restaurant, Yukio sees that Iwaizumi and Oikawa have arrived already. They are seated at a table near the door. Iwaizumi is looking at the menu. Oikawa was talking to Iwaizumi, but he pauses to stick his tongue out at Kise.
“I can’t believe I agreed to this dinner,” Kise says.
“Well, I’m glad you did,” Yukio says. “Just stay for awhile, and you can leave when you’re bored.”
Kise frowns. “I won’t do that.”
“No, I mean it. You can leave whenever you want. I don’t want to tie you down.”
Kise looks at him. After a moment, he asks, “We’re not talking about this dinner, are we?”
“Let’s go sit.”
“Wait.” Kise grasps Yukio’s wrist. “Before we go. I want you to know something.” He takes Yukio’s hand in both of his own. “You’ve never tied me down, Yukio-san, alright? You raise me up, always.”
Before he can change his mind, Yukio pulls Kise close and kisses him hard on the mouth. He puts his arms around Kise’s shoulders and holds him. Then he goes into the restaurant. He is still blushing as he slides into the seat across from Iwaizumi and Oikawa.
Kise sits next to him, presses his knee against Yukio’s. Then he greets Iwaizumi and starts trading insults with Oikawa.
Iwaizumi pushes a glass of water over to Yukio. “Alright?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Yukio says. “Never been better.”