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A wide yawn made Kakeru’s jaw crack. As he slowly made his way through the living room – breaking the rays of sunshine that flooded the whole room in bright light – he scratched his bare stomach and blinked sleepily.
He could hear the sounds of Haiji’s home-slippers as he shuffled back and forth in the kitchen. Once Kakeru reached the door frame, he stopped and looked in a daze at his boyfriend, who was now standing at the counter, his hands busy with something Kakeru couldn’t see.
It was Kakeru’s day off from training, which meant it was just the two of them at home at the beginning of August and in the middle of very a hot summer. This week had been particularly hot, and every time Kakeru finished his laps on the track field, which was fortunately canopied, he would have felt like melting on the spot if it hadn’t been for his coach, who had called their manager to push a fresh water bottle into everyone’s warm hands. When the weather had become unbearable, they had changed their menu and rescheduled to muscle training in the gym.
Kakeru’s body was used to intense workout, but running with the national team in the middle of summer wore him down so much that he was glad to finally have a day off.
And now he looked hazily at his boyfriend standing at the counter, his back to Kakeru, squinting hard. Kakeru hesitated, but here was no mistaking it as he read his very own name in bold white letters on the bright red fabric spanned across Haiji’s shoulder blades.
"Why am I in the kitchen already?" he mumbled hoarsely, rubbing his eyes to take another look.
Haiji turned around, confusion written all over his face before he glanced down at the jersey he was wearing. His mouth formed a small o and then he giggled. It sounded almost too cute for the morning, but Kakeru didn’t want him to stop.
"Because you are in the kitchen, Kakeru," Haiji teased, smirking.
Kakeru wasn’t swayed by that. "That’s my shirt," he said, scowling at the frontside of the fabric.
He didn’t particularly mind that his boyfriend was wearing his training jersey, he rather had another problem with it.
"Mhm, I love your shirt," Haiji mused.
"I was wearing that just yesterday."
"No, that one’s… probably in the laundry."
"So you took a new one?"
Haiji tilted his head and looked up at the ceiling. "Not exactly," he conceded.
Kakeru blinked, trying to comprehend the words, and then realisation dawned on him.
"Eww, Haiji, no!"
Haiji laughed at the reaction, mirth glittering in his eyes. "It smelled like you!"
"It’s full of sweat, return it!"
"No!"
"Now!"
"No," Haiji replied, giggling. Seeing his boyfriend laugh at the fact that he was wearing the disgusting shirt, Kakeru stepped forward and tugged at his own shirt, which covered the other man perfectly. (He really didn’t mind Haiji wearing it after all, but this was too much.)
"It’s actually not that bad," Haiji said, quieter now. "You always wash them after training anyway."
"Haiji, it’s gross," Kakeru stated, giving his boyfriend a stern glance
"It’s alright, as long as it’s yours."
Kakeru raised an eyebrow. "That’s sounds… vaguely disturbing," he thought aloud, which made Haiji snicker.
"Let me wear it for a while," Haiji mumbled, leaning forward and brushing his lips over Kakeru’s forehead before turning back to the counter.
Kakeru, feeling defeated, heaved a sigh and leaned forward to wrap his arms around Haiji’s waist and place his chin on the other’s shoulder. "You sure it doesn’t smell weird?" he asked quietly.
"Mhm," Haiji said while shaking his head. His hands had resumed their work, and when Kakeru glanced over his shoulder, he could see the ongoing preparations for their breakfast. There were already bowls of steaming soup on the counter, the scent of it spreading throughout the whole room. It smelled incredible and Kakeru was amazed at how simply miso soup was, but how his boyfriend was able to make it smell like they were eating in heaven.
Being reminded of scents, Kakeru tilted his head and sniffed the jersey. He scrunched his nose as he smelled faint sweat, but Haiji was right, there wasn’t much left. It wasn’t the first time Haiji had worn his jersey, yet it was still a little weird to see him in it. Kakeru had never thought it won’t fit him, it felt right for him to wear it, even though both of them knew that would never happen and there were many what-if’s neither of them mentioned.
"Haijiiii," he whined, pressing against the other’s back while tugging at the fabric he could grab that covered Haiji’s stomach. "Get if off."
"No, Kakeru, let me finish this first."
"The miso soup?"
"Yep!"
Momentarily giving in, Kakeru sighed and watched his boyfriend’s slender hands preparing their breakfast for a while. Long fingers cutting the spring onions, the soft flex of the muscles in Haiji’s bare arms, and the delicate tan covering every spot of the skin the sun had reached were parts Kakeru could watch for many hours, days, probably forever. He liked watching Haiji use his hands; in the kitchen, on the field, doing laundry, writing on his laptop – the light of which reflected on his glasses – shaving or brushing his teeth. He liked the feeling when those arms wrapped around him from behind, hugging him closer, pulling him back to sleep, or into another realm of pure bliss.
Kakeru swallowed and blinked. Now was not the time to think about those memories when his chest was flushed against Haiji’s back and his hips pressed against his pelvis.
He let out a small sigh and buried his head between Haiji’s shoulders.
"Why my shirt?" he mumbled into the familiar fabric.
"Because it smells like you," Haiji answered in a soft tone, gentle and quiet.
"It smells disgusting."
"Not anymore."
"Wha– Haiji!"
The older man laughed, and the joy elicited a grin from of the runner.
"So, why mine? Just because it smells like me? You have some fancy jersey in your coach-garment-selection too, don’t you?"
"My coach-garment-selection?" Haiji repeated, giggling, but Kakeru just shrugged. When Haiji calmed down again, Kakeru could literally hear the soft smile in his voice when he said, "I like yours more."
"We have aprons."
"We do, but since we were gonna wash this anyway…"
Kakeru leaned his head to the side, just in time to see a vague gesture Haiji made with one hand to fill in unsaid words.
"I see."
Haiji smiled and turned his head to enough to press another kiss to Kakeru’s temple, then faced the counter again to continue with the preparations.
Enjoying the tranquil silence, Kakeru closed his eyes and listened to the chop-chop-chop of Haiji’s knife and the quiet noise of the rice cooker in the corner. Easing his grip around Haiji’s stomach, Kakeru let one hand press against the spot under Haiji’s navel and raised the other to loop it under Haiji’s armpit and card through his own black hair, tugging at the strands.
"It’s gotten a bit longer," Haiji noted with a soft voice, casting a sideways glance at the movement.
Kakeru hummed in agreement.
"Wanna cut it?"
"Yes. Can you?"
"Sure. After breakfast?"
"Mhm, that’s fine with me," Kakeru replied, leaving his eyes shut.
He listened to the birds on the few trees nearby or up in the air, the neighbours’ stomping, the faint music from somewhere else. Today would probably be another warm day.
"Can I help?" he offered then.
Haiji hummed. "Can you set the table? The rice should be done in a minute. All that’s left is to stir in the miso pulp."
"Alright."
Kakeru reluctantly let go of his boyfriend and set about fetching the chopsticks and bowls to fill with scoops of the steaming rice. He carried everything to the small table in the kitchen and finally brought two cups of water before settling down.
"You don’t want to take it off?" asked Kakeru with a raised eyebrow once Haiji set down the miso soup and made attempts to sit on the other chair.
Brown eyes darted down at the bright red jersey, then looked up and a broad smirk formed Haiji’s lips.
"Oh, Kakeru, do you want me to take it off so badly? We’re about to have breakfast, you know?"
Kakeru swallowed. His eyes trailed down to Haiji’s chest, knowing fairly well the faint marks of gentle nibbles and careful bites he had left the night before.
"Uhm…"
"Would only be fair though," Haiji added, glancing down at Kakeru’s bare chest, tracing the red crescents framing his nipples with his eyes.
But Kakeru just shrugged. "It’s warm."
"Mhm, you’re right."
For a moment Haiji tugged at the jersey, making the slow, inviting movement as he lifted it a few centimetres to reveal a toned stomach, evenly tanned; Kakeru couldn’t help but stare at whatever part of caramel-coloured skin he could make out.
"You sure?" Haiji’s voice was low, and when Kakeru jerked his eyes up to meet the other’s, he could see that Haiji’s look was daring, the brown eyes molten and tempting. He swallowed.
"Maybe," he croaked and cleared his voice. "Maybe after breakfast. Just… Just in case you get soup on it or… something."
A soft smile danced around Haiji’s lips, and the desire in his facial features was replaced by gentleness. "You’re right. I don’t want to get it all dirty–"
"Yeah."
"–again."
Kakeru stared at his boyfriend, who took up his water and drank some, feigning innocence. Brown orbs rested on Kakeru, looking at him from below while waiting for a reply. As Kakeru stayed silent, he added in a light tone, "I’m not saying that the jersey doesn’t look good on you."
Kakeru nodded, his throat was dry.
"But I really like it when I’m the one wearing it."
Even though Kakeru could agree either way, he was suddenly worried that Haiji had taken his jersey due to a different motive than he had expected.
"Why?" he asked quietly.
Even though the concern had been obvious in his voice, Haiji’s eyes didn’t lose their tender expression. Perhaps Kakeru wouldn’t have to worry.
"Because you get really eager to… How can I put this in words suitable for a breakfast table, hm…" Haiji propped his chin on his palm and looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully.
Kakeru chortled involuntarily at the seriousness and noticed how Haiji’s eyes gleamed at the sound.
"You’re really invested into getting the job done thoroughly," Haiji finally continued, "like in a race. But you’re running for someone else."
Kakeru still giggled. "I’m glad."
"Oh, me too!"
They flashed a grin at each other. Then they straightened their backs and Kakeru smiled.
"Shall we?"
"Yes, please."
They clapped their hands in unison to speak their gratitude and began their meal. As they drank the miso soup and ate rice, they chatted about their week, Haiji’s work as a coach on the field, the new menu he had introduced that was working well, and Kakeru’s training as part of the national team.
Every now and then, Kakeru would card his fingers through his hair and sigh, annoyed by the centimetres it had grown longer in the past few months. It was really time to get a new cut.
After they finished breakfast, they cleaned up and postponed the task of doing the dishes until later. Together, the two men headed to the bathroom and, side by side, brushed their teeth. When Haiji – finally – took off the jersey, Kakeru almost choked on his toothpaste when he noticed that there were much more love bites he had left the night before than expected. Haiji – who had confusion written all over his face by the sudden gargling noises – turned to look at his boyfriend, but when he inspected himself and saw the very reason, he had to laugh.
Changing into shorts and t-shirts saved them from any immediate distraction, and Kakeru was relieved, knowing that neither of them would pop any boner while cutting his hair.
Kakeru was the first to open the door to the balcony and prepare a chair and a table. Haiji followed and brought a few utensils they would need for a new haircut. While he plugged in the razor, he motioned Kakeru to sit down and wrap the towel around his neck and throat.
Once done, Kakeru settled down and leaned against the back of the chair, facing the tree tops of the nearby park, the clear blue sky, and the few white clouds that hung over Tokyo. It was mid-morning and the temperatures were still bearable, but Kakeru knew it would be impossible to stay out after noon.
The loud sound of rummaging made him turn around to see that Haiji had retrieved a few clothes-pegs from the small bucket and now used them to fix the towel Kakeru had put around his neck.
"I’ll start with the water," Haiji mumbled, moisturising the black hair as he kept touching the long strands to distribute the water. Using a comb, he sorted the hair and ran his fingers through it to untangle the last knots. Finally, he picked up the scissor and pinched a few strands between his index and middle finger to cut the longest strands first.
The gentle summer breeze engulfed Kakeru, making the contact of wet hair and air less uncomfortable. He enjoyed his boyfriend standing close behind him, burying his skilled fingers in his hair and the confidence that Haiji knew exactly how much he wanted cut. The metallic ticktack of the scissors forebode the repeated dripping of thick black hair onto the towel. Haiji moved from one side to the other, fingers practised from the many times he had already cut Kakeru’s hair, working in silence. The twittering of birds in the sky and the wind making the branches dance and the bushes whisper were gentle sounds that surrounded their balcony.
Humming approvingly to himself, Haiji put the scissors aside and reached for the razor he had prepared before. A low buzz sounded, and as Haiji started to shave off the hair on the back of Kakeru’s neck, a funny tickling sensation spread through his body; a feeling that only the razor was capable of producing, at least in a non-sexual way.
"Okay," Haiji finally breached the silence. "I think I’m done."
"Okay."
"Do you want to look in the mirror?"
"Yes. Uhm…" Kakeru fumbled with the towel and Haiji helped him remove the clothes-pegs. "Thanks."
Exchanging a small smile, Kakeru headed to the bathroom to look at his reflection. It was strange at first to see most of his hair gone, but he liked having it shorter now as it was convenient for training, especially in the summer months. He raised his hand to run it through the hair his boyfriend had left, smiling contentedly at the free feeling a new haircut came with. He really liked this style. Haiji always knew how many centimetres to cut off and how much to leave behind so Kakeru wouldn’t feel too awkward when he headed out.
When Kakeru stepped back onto the balcony he saw that Haiji had approached the railing to watch the park and the trees, but when he heard him coming, he turned around.
"Do you like it?"
"Yes, it looks great. Thank you." Kakeru smiled, then came a little closer and leaned in to brush his lips against Haiji’s in a soft kiss.
Haiji smiled against his skin. "You’re welcome," he mumbled as Kakeru pulled away. A second later, he sneaked an arm around Kakeru’s waist to keep him close, his other hand went up to run through the short hair. He drew his fingers slowly through the hair, placed his palm flat against Kakeru’s temple and stroked his cheek with his thumb before he let his hand wander to Kakeru’s shaved neck.
Goosebumps rippled over Kakeru’s body and where Haiji’s fingertips gently massaged him, his skin grew hot and cold at the same time. Haiji observed the movements of his own hand, his brown eyes soft and warm.
"What’s next?"
"Doing the laundry?" Kakeru offered quietly.
"Mhm, good plan. But…"
"Hm?" It was difficult to focus on Haiji’s words when the same man’s hands were busy kneading his side or caressing his skin so tenderly. But Kakeru didn’t want to let go just yet, so he put his arms around Haiji’s shoulders, crossing them slightly before tangling them in brown hair.
Haiji hummed and leaned closer, flushing their chests and touching Kakeru’s nose with his.
"Before we do the laundry, can we do this some more?"
Kakeru noticed the brief glance his boyfriend gave his lips and gazed at him to meet soft eyes. While Haiji’s fingertips gently caressed the back of his neck, gently prodding short shaved hair, a sly hand lowered downward. Slender fingers splayed above the t-shirt and between his battered nipples, palm pressing against his chest. The warmth of Haiji’s skin settled against his sternum, causing arousal to rise in Kakeru’s chest.
"Sure, we can do that." Kakeru whispered against the other’s lips. "But maybe not on the balcony, Haiji," he added, finding it endearing to see a small pout on the other’s lips. "It’s a little too open for my taste."
Haiji’s lips twitched. "It’s fine, me neither."
"Private is better."
"Private is the best."
"You’re right."
"So. Let’s go inside then." Haiji’s expression turned a little mischievous.
Kakeru chuckled. "Yes, let’s do that."
They let go of each other to tidy up. The clothing-pegs were returned, the chair pushed into the corner, and the washing line jittered when Kakeru touched it with his arm. Haiji took the utensils he had brought out earlier in one hand and Kakeru’s hand in the other, then dragged him back to the living room.
Kakeru giggled at the eagerness, but who was he not to understand his boyfriend? Those scattered marks on Haiji’s chest and shoulders didn’t bite themselves after all.