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“Kojiro, you’re pacing,” Kaoru says from where he’s sitting at the chabudai next to his futon, gaze still glued to his chaotic spread of notes.
Kojiro doesn’t remember what test Kaoru said he has coming up. He doesn’t even remember what all he shoved into his own bag to work on before joining Kaoru in his bedroom. If it weren’t for the fact that riding his skateboard to Kaoru’s house is muscle memory at this point, he’s sure he would’ve missed a turn somewhere and ended up on the entirely wrong side of town. The moment he’d blown through Kaoru’s house and slammed the bedroom door shut behind him, he’d cast his bag onto the floor and let his restless feet carry him from one side of the small room to the other.
He knows that Kaoru’s right, he is pacing, and that it’s one of the quickest ways to get on Kaoru’s nerves. He should stop, apologize, but he’s too wound up to be bothered, one hand scratching mindlessly at the back of his neck while the other tugs on some of his green curls.
It all started from an offhand comment, Kojiro griping about Mayu, the girl he had been hanging out with, losing interest in him, and Kaoru suggesting that maybe he was a bad kisser. He’d been looking at his phone when he said it, clearly only giving Kojiro half of his attention (the half of him that liked to taunt Kojiro, at that), but despite that, something about the words bothered Kojiro. He started to wonder if there was truth to the core of the statement: he’s doing something wrong.
Because this isn’t the first time he’s taken a girl out only to be dismissed soon after. He didn’t notice, at first, that it’d become a theme. Sometimes, he goes out on a single date, and that’s it—he’s satisfied with that and assumes the same of his date. But then, he got a, “Sorry, I think I’m interested in someone else,” a, “I need to focus more on my grades,” and even a, “I don’t think we should do this.” They’d all felt innocuous, plausible, enough so that Kojiro hadn’t realized he was becoming dissatisfied until that one lunch break with Kaoru a few days ago.
Of course, there’s no way Kaoru knows the thoughts currently needling his brain. No, he probably assumes that thinking in itself is something stressful—too much of a strain on Kojiro—and maybe he’s right, that Kojiro’s overthinking this to a painful degree.
But then, if he is the problem, what is it about him that drives others away? He’s told he’s cute (though he prefers handsome), that he’s charming, funny, kind, but are they enough? Does he tell too many stupid jokes? Kaoru always finds them funny, but maybe, to someone else, they’re too crude or confusing. He tries to always be considerate of his girlfriends, compliment them and be engaged in their interests, but maybe he still talks too much about himself. Kaoru has said that listening to him recap football games puts him to sleep faster than any lullaby...
And what if it’s not his personality that’s the problem? What if he smells or doesn’t have big enough muscles or always has food stuck between his teeth? What if his hands are too big, or his ears? What if it really is a matter of ability and experience?
“If you do not stop your loud trotting, I have two very heavy textbooks within arm’s reach,” Kaoru says, hand already reaching toward a book at his side.
Kojiro stops in his tracks, and his mouth is moving before he realizes it. “Do you really think I suck at kissing?”
“What?”
Kaoru finally looks at him, wire-framed half moon reading glasses slipping down his slim nose in that endearing way that Kojiro told him makes him look like a punk rock librarian. He’s scrutinized by those sharp golden eyes, like Kaoru has never heard him say something so outrageous before—like he can’t believe he’s friends with such an idiot. It’s a look Kojiro gets a lot, but there’s somehow comfort in the familiarity.
“I’m a bad kisser,” Kojiro says decisively this time, wincing at the bitter sting the words leave on his tongue.
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“No, seriously—that has to be it.” Hands dropping limply to his sides, Kojiro closes his eyes and tips his face back toward the ceiling, features tense with frustration. “I’ve thought about it, and nothing makes as much sense. I just…I don’t get why no one told me? I mean, you told me, but that doesn’t count. And, what the hell, I don’t get how I’m so bad that they just decide they don’t want anything to do with me. I’m probably making such an idiot of myself.”
He bites off the rest of his rant with a sigh that doesn’t quite soothe the ache stirring in his chest. He isn’t used to feelings being this hard, has always found it easy to stay composed when asking girls out or telling them how beautiful they are while they blush and stutter. He doesn’t like this heaviness and doubt—this self-consciousness, he realizes.
Kaoru has always told him how lucky he is that he doesn’t ever seem to care what others think about him, which never fully made sense to him, given that Kaoru has always so boldly been himself. It had taken several long nights battling Kaoru’s insomnia and anxious shivers for Kojiro to realize how well Kaoru masked his demons beneath a layer of arrogance.
Now, he thinks he understands those feelings, though to a much lesser extent. They feel a little hopeless, leave him questioning years of moments between himself and others, overthinking how those people must have felt about him.
He wonders, for a moment, if coming to Kaoru’s was a mistake, as he’s done nothing but waste his time and distract him from his studies since he arrived. Maybe he should’ve blown off some steam first by skating, bailing hard a few times until he got out of his head and felt a little more like himself. Maybe he should still do that, leave Kaoru here and come back when every word that comes out of his mouth sounds a little less outlandish.
On the other side of the room, he can hear Kaoru’s socked feet shuffle against the floor. He’s surprised to find that the sound is drawing closer, and he stiffens, eyes shutting a little tighter as he braces himself—for what? For Kaoru smack him over the head and tell him his skull sounds a little too empty? For Kaoru to poke at the furrow between his brows and tell him to stop digging wrinkles into his forehead? For Kaoru to sigh in annoyance and tell him not to be so hard on himself? For him to brush Kojiro’s cheek with a tentative hand, icy fingertips making Kojiro shiver under the touch as his voice grows soft and reassuring?
Well—maybe not that last one.
Except that, Kojiro then finds himself jolting as slender, chilly hands rest on his shoulders. The shock is enough to have Kojiro’s eyes flying open to meet Kaoru’s intense, unreadable gaze. He feels so close all of the sudden, and it makes Kojiro want to take a step back, but he’s rooted in place by Kaoru’s hands, even as those fingers flex and knead Kojiro’s skin with some uncertainty.
Kojiro wants to ask what Kaoru’s thinking, but when he opens his mouth, he finds it desert-dry, tongue heavy and clumsy.
“So that’s it? You really think you’re a bad kisser?” Kaoru says with a stubborn resoluteness, like he’s made up his mind about something. “Fine. Let me see.”
What?
He must have misheard Kaoru, or maybe he’s somehow fallen asleep standing up with his eyes open. Surely he’s imagining the thumb stroking the firm line of his collarbone, the hand that trails up his neck and comes to rest on his cheek, fingertips gently exploring the smooth, sensitive skin behind his ear. He’s asleep—he has to be—because Kaoru’s molten gaze is focused on his mouth, eyelids slowly drooping shut as he begins to lean forward, and Kojiro has never seen him like this.
He doesn’t realize he’s been holding his breath until Kaoru’s soft lips are pressing against his own, and it’s the cool drag of Kaoru’s lip ring that makes this real and has Kojiro releasing a shaky breath into Kaoru’s mouth.
His thoughts are pedaling in frantic circles as he struggles to process anything, brain snagging on Kaoru.
His best friend.
His best friend Kaoru.
Kaoru, who smudged paint below Kojiro’s nose in kindergarten and laughed at his new ‘mustache’. Kaoru, who headbutted a kid in the chest for teasing Kojiro over the paltry lunch he’d brought to school. Kaoru, who kept his problems to himself until they came out in the form of salty tears that Kojiro then had to wipe away. Kaoru, who could make insults a comfort, and whose touch had always grounded Kojiro through hard moments of loss and exhilarating victories.
Kaoru, whose eyes are closed now, emphasized by his stark black eyeliner and impossibly long lashes. Kojiro is overwhelmed by the scents flooding his nose—Kaoru’s favorite body spray, sugary and warm, the sharp peppermint of the mints Kaoru eats like candy, the subtle, indistinct floral radiating from his hair. These are all so familiar to him, and yet they feel new somehow, making him itch to press his nose into Kaoru’s hair and neck and to breathe him in slowly and deeply. He imagines the way Kaoru’s pink strands would tickle his forehead, how easily they’d slide between his fingers, the noises Kaoru might make at the touch.
Kaoru lets out a little sigh against his mouth, a sound that Kojiro’s mind hungrily plays on a loop, and he gently tugs at Kojiro’s bottom lip until Kojiro makes his own quiet noise in the back of his throat.
It feels both like forever and a matter of seconds when Kaoru pulls back, eyes fluttering open again and meeting Kojiro’s for a heartbeat before looking away.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Kaoru murmurs, like he didn’t just shake Kojiro’s entire world, like Kojiro’s not battling a wave of nerves and nausea because his best friend just kissed him.
Kaoru kissed him.
He’s suddenly struck by the impact of that fact, even more so by the staccato rhythm his heart is hammering into his chest, and he realizes a few things.
He realizes, for example, that Kaoru is beautiful—realizes that he has known Kaoru is beautiful, and that maybe it’s not particularly platonic to long to run your fingers through your best friend’s hair and feel the soft warmth of his skin under your fingertips.
He realizes, too, that he’s not upset that Kaoru kissed him, that the twisting feeling in his gut is equal parts panic and excitement.
Most startling perhaps is the realization that, in that moment, he can’t imagine it being anyone else, and he already misses Kaoru’s closeness, even if his hand still cradles Kojiro’s jaw, and there’s little space between them.
Kojiro loves him—of course he loves him—he’s always known that. They’ve been inseparable their whole lives, and Kojiro doesn’t quite know who he’d be without him. But he’s never really registered the way his gaze always lingers a little too long, or how his thoughts always circle back to Kaoru. He feels more than a little silly standing there, heart sinking to his feet, acknowledging for the first time in his life that he has been falling for his best friend for years.
Kaoru mistakes his silent crisis for rejection, and he begins to step back.
“Anyway. You’re fine,” Kaoru says, mouth thinning. “You’re probably just having a streak of bad luck or something.”
Seeing Kaoru close himself off sparks panic in his gut, and Kojiro blurts the first thing that comes to mind.
“Let’s have dinner.”
Kaoru pauses, eyebrows drawn. “Okay…” he says slowly, and for a moment, Kojiro’s heart stops, just shy of hopeful. “I thought that was the plan with you coming over…?”
Kojiro wants to groan into his hands. “No. Yes, it was, but no,” he says, tripping over his tongue. It’s a foreign feeling, being this flustered under Kaoru’s scrutiny, and he wonders if Kaoru’s being deliberately dense. “I mean, will you have dinner with me? Let me take you out?”
Kaoru blinks blankly at him.
“Are you fucking with me? How are you not getting this?” Kojiro laughs nervously, his rising voice a touch hysterical. “Will you go out with me? Like, on a date?”
The corner of Kaoru’s mouth twitches, and Kojiro can’t decide if he wants to kiss the smirk right off his face or ruthlessly tickle his sides until he’s begging for mercy.
“Was it just that good for you?” Kaoru asks, smirk growing a mischievous edge. “A couple little kisses, and now you can’t get enough of me?”
The guttural noise of frustration that leaves Kojiro’s throat is inhuman and has Kaoru’s eyes alight with mirth, having received just the reaction he’d been looking for. Kojiro doesn’t stop to allow Kaoru his momentary victory, though, hands flying up to Kaoru’s face and pulling him forward in one swift movement. This time, when their lips meet, Kojiro presses against Kaoru without hesitation. He kisses him until Kaoru’s fingers sink into his hair and hold on for dear life, the rest of Kaoru boneless and breathless in his arms.
When he finally pulls back, Kaoru’s golden eyes are unfocused, cheeks flushed a deep scarlet. Kojiro almost forgets why he was annoyed in the first place, and perhaps he would have forgotten if he weren’t in the middle of something important, like word vomiting his newly discovered feelings for his best friend.
“You are so infuriating sometimes, you know that?” he murmurs, thumb tracing the swell of Kaoru’s bottom lip. Kaoru leans into the touch and nods in agreement, clearly distracted. Dummy.
Overcome with a wave of affection, Kojiro can’t help but grin. “But I love you anyway. Or, like. Love. Something like that, I guess.”
Smooth, Nanjo, smooth.
He chokes down another nervous chuckle that tries to bubble up from his chest, acutely aware of Kaoru’s now unblinking stare. It’s the look he gets when he’s analyzing a problem, on the verge of a solution. Kojiro’s not sure he wants to know what problem Kaoru’s trying to find the answer to.
“You’re...you’re just now figuring it out? That you like me?” The question seems like genuine curiosity, but there’s hesitation in Kaoru’s voice, like he’s also afraid of the answer.
“And what if I am?” Kojiro replies defensively. “What if I’m a big monkey-brained idiot who likes you so much and didn’t realize it until it was thrown in my face? It doesn’t change the fact that it’s true.”
Kaoru frowns, growing pensive, and he turns his face into Kojiro’s palm, muffling his response.
Kojiro moves his hand away slightly, not letting Kaoru avoid him. “What was that?”
“Okay,” Kaoru says again, teeth snapping when Kojiro’s thumb wanders too close to his mouth. Kojiro narrowly avoids the chomp, retaliating by pinching the fat of Kaoru’s cheeks and tugging until Kaoru’s swatting at him. “Stop. Stop it.”
“Okay what?”
“You can take me somewhere for dinner. Your treat,” Kaoru grumbles, the heat from his face practically searing Kojiro’s palms.
“And?”
“And, I don’t go around kissing all of the ‘big monkey-brained idiots’ I know—just you. So, congratulations.”
It’s close enough to a confession for Kojiro, and he worries that Kaoru might actually combust at this rate if he pushes him any further.
Kaoru kissed him, Kaoru likes him, and Kojiro’s chest has never felt lighter. He wants to run down the street and shout at the top of his lungs.
But for now, he stays rooted in the quiet seclusion of Kaoru’s bedroom. Kaoru’s nose bumps his as he mumbles something about double-checking, just to be sure against Kojiro’s lips, and Kojiro leans in.
The next day, Kojiro finds himself dodging left and right as he hurries down the crowded hallway on his way to meet up with Kaoru outside their school building. He nearly trips over his own feet when someone steps in his path, but he stops short just in time when he sees who’s waiting for him.
“Um, hey.”
Despite Mayu’s small stature, she has a notable presence about her, her dark brown eyes a bit serious, shoulders set confidently in contrast to her soft voice. He’s always appreciated her straightforwardness, even as he remembers that the last words she said to him the week before were the latest in a string of rejections—”I like you, but I don’t think we should do this anymore.”
It’s clear that Mayu’s remembering their conversation, too, from the way she’s wringing her bag straps. She continues on in spite of the awkwardness and Kojiro’s initial lack of response.
“I just wanted to tell you that I’m happy for you,” she says earnestly, even if her smile is a little strained. “You two are good for each other.”
“You think so?” Kojiro feels a burst of pride bloom through his chest at the idea of his classmates seeing him with Kaoru and thinking about how right they look together. Kaoru has always been a part of his image, a constant thorn in his side, and Kojiro can’t help the small part of him that now wants to parade Kaoru around, letting everyone know that Kaoru loves him—
—until he remembers some of the hushed whispers they had traded in Kaoru’s bedroom the night before.
“I want to tell people about us, just...give me a little time, okay?”
He’d promised Kaoru that much—of course he had—and he’s dutifully kept his mouth shut until now.
Kojiro must look as alarmed as he feels, because Mayu gently rests her hand on his sleeve, smile apologetic.
“My mom drove me to school today, and we passed you on the way,” she explains. “You were on your skateboards, and…”
Kaoru had actually been the one to grab Kojiro’s hand as they sped recklessly down the sidewalk. He’d nearly pulled them both off their boards when his front wheel hit a crack in the pavement, but Kojiro had been too busy admiring Kaoru’s loud, carefree laugh to care.
“I won’t tell anyone,” Mayu continues, hands back on her bag straps. “To be honest, I was kind of surprised. I only waited so long to ask you out because all of my friends thought you two were already together. It was a little obvious, from the way you always talk about him.”
“Right…” Kojiro rubs the back of his neck, knowing how red his ears and neck must be by now. Do I really talk about him that much?
As much as he likes Mayu, he feels exposed at the realization of how obvious his crush was to everyone but him. Kaoru’s voice from earlier rings through his head: ’You’re just now figuring it out?’
At least Kaoru hadn’t laughed at him, though he thinks that maybe he should’ve.
Kojiro blinks hard, fighting to keep a smile plastered on his face. “I appreciate it. Thanks, Mayu.”
Perhaps taking pity on him or sensing the finality in his tone, Mayu takes this as her cue to exit. “Of course. I wanted to wish you good luck,” she says, stepping back and waving, “I’m rooting for you!”
Mayu’s knowing smile haunts him long after he finally meets up with Kaoru, who spends five minutes hunched over laughing at him after he trips down the few steps leading out of the school. He’s not left to simmer in his embarrassment for long, though, when Kaoru challenges him to a race and kicks off before Kojiro’s even on his board, ignoring Kojiro’s claims that he’s cheating. He catches up to Kaoru when they near the drive-in, swerving in his path until Kaoru tumbles into him, knocking them both on their asses.
They bicker and laugh in a way that’s as natural to them as breathing, only now, there are kisses interspersed between their words, weapons of distraction and affection. Somehow, it doesn’t feel all that different. It’s better, being allowed to feel Kaoru’s smile beneath his fingertips, to drink in his bright, warm energy with his lips. And though Kaoru will never let him live down his lack of self-awareness, Kojiro knows just how to shut him up.