Archive of Our Own

„And then I shoved a cactus up my ass and I liked it.”

Benkei choked on his tea. As he coughed, Wakasa slapped him firmly on his back until he stopped and released a sigh of his own. On the other side of the table, Takeomi sunk back in the seat, rolling his eyes as he crossed his arms.

“See, told you he isn’t listening.”

“He probably hasn’t for the past few minutes,” Wakasa said, resting his chin in his palm and stirring the straw in his chocolate milkshake with his free hand.

“We could have left, and he wouldn’t have noticed, I’m sure,” Takeomi joked.

“What’s he even looking at?” Benkei asked, looking over his shoulder to follow his line of sight.

“What do you think?”

“Pretty, possibly blonde, a nice smile?” Wakasa commented without as much as glancing over his shoulder, instead taking the straw out of the drink to lick it clean.

“Almost,” Benkei said, turning back around to face them, “it’s more of a light brown hair color, but yeah.”

Takeomi and Wakasa shared a look.

The entire conversation passed by Shinichiro unnoticed. He had his gaze set on a girl sitting two tables over and he had been captivated ever since he heard her laugh a few minutes ago. Were he a different man and weren’t she seated with another girl, he wouldn’t hesitate to approach her. In fact, he did entertain the thought anyway; he just hadn’t come up with a good way to do so yet.

“Sano, you’re drooling.”

He almost fell off the edge of his seat when Takeomi slammed into his shoulder. He barely caught himself on the table with half his ass down the chair. Quickly, he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, but it remained dry.

He glared at his friend. Hopefully she didn’t see that or else he would never forgive him. “What was that for?”

“Did you even hear what we said?” Takeomi asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Shinichiro blinked at him a few times, gathering his thoughts. The last thing he remembered was their conversation about the new action movie they’d seen a few days ago and how neither of them liked the deuteragonist. Wakasa and Shinichiro also specifically disliked the love interest, which Takeomi had dared to argue with. That’s when he, however, had zoned out, his focus shifting to a matter of more interest to him.

So, the answer was no, he did not know.

Shinichiro scratched at the back of his head. He had to make a shot into the dark, going off scraps he believed to have overheard, hoping he wasn’t too far off. “Something about Senju and a cactus?”

Across from him, Wakasa buried his face in his hands, Benkei started to laugh and Takeomi shook his head, almost disappointed.

“You’re making it worse,” Takeomi said, visibly cringing but at least he had mercy on Shinichiro, “but no, we thought about making a trip to Yokohama next weekend. You in?”

“Sure, sounds good. I have time.”

He didn’t actually remember if he already had plans or if he needed to watch his siblings that day, but he’d deal with that later. His attention was caught by the girl again when she pulled her hair up and into a ponytail, loose strands framing her face. On one ear, she wore a red earring, similar to the one Wakasa used to wear. She’s really beautiful.

“God, please stop staring, Shin. You’re too obvious.”

Benkei kicked him with a foot under the table. Shinichiro kicked back but looked away with a pout on his lips and at his friend instead.

“I’m sorry, but she’s a sight to behold. How can I not?”

“Then chat her up. Tell her you’re interested. Anything,” Takeomi said between bites of a sandwich he had ordered, “but stop making dreamy eyes as if she’s a strawberry shortcake. This is getting embarrassing.”

“I’m not. But she’s sure sweet as one.”

The whole table unanimously groaned.

Under his breath, Takeomi muttered, “Here we go again.”

If he had believed Shinichiro didn’t hear, he was proven wrong when Shinichiro stole his coke and took a large sip from it while holding up one hand and showing off a grease-stained middle finger. When he set the can down, he didn’t slide it back over, claiming it his own so he had two now.

“Just make a move. You won’t land anything if you don’t try at least.”

“You’re right. I should!”

“Maybe you’ll be successful for once,” and just like that, the one encouraging comment Takeomi had voiced went disregarded with a laugh.

Shinichiro pushed his lower lip out and he scowled at his friend. The pinch might have been rightful, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting at least a little bit. He didn’t need to be constantly reminded of his bad luck on that department. It’s not as if he wasn’t trying – he really gave his best – it’s just that there’s always something that appeared to ruin his chances with any girl he talked to. And each time it was something or someone else getting in his way.

By now, Shinichiro was almost inclined to believe he was simply cursed when it came to love; which didn’t mean he was ready to give up, though. Determination had gotten him the valor he needed to reach his goals, when his charisma was the reason people tended to stick around and someday, someone would recognize those traits in him too.

“What about her friend though? Won’t it be rude to interrupt?”

One sentence was all it took, and any courage Shinichiro had worked up, got popped like a balloon.

Shit. He hadn’t considered that to be an obstacle, but Benkei was right. He looked over to where they were seated, still engaging in a lively conversation, twisting a curl around her finger as she laughed.

His head tiled as he considered his options, and a finger tapped the table absent-mindedly. His friends let him think in silence, familiar with the situation, and continued eating and drinking as quietly as possible.

Suddenly, Shinichiro slammed his flat palm on the table. “Someone needs to distract her friend then.”

The idea was fool proof.

“I’m not doing it.” The reply slipped from Takeomi in an instant, firm and leaving no room for discussion.

When he turned to Benkei, the other merely gave him a sympathetic smile and stuffed another fry into his mouth. “I helped you last time. I’m out. Sorry.”

Shinichiro’s eyes then wandered over to the one friend of his that has been awfully quiet for the past few minutes and was his last hope. He seemed to be busy with his half-full milkshake, meticulously stirring in the whipped cream so it blended with the drink.

“Wakasa?”

“Huh?” Wakasa’s gaze snapped up in surprise but when he noticed Shinichiro’s scheming grin, a crease formed between his brows.

Shinichiro folded his arms on the table, leaned over as far as he could and closer towards Wakasa. “You need to talk to her friend.”

His expression soured. “Do I have to?”

Shinichiro nodded. “Yes. Girls find you attractive, so you’ll be the perfect distraction,” he explained as a matter of fact.

The corner of Wakasa’s lips twitched in distaste. “I don’t even like girls.”

At that, Benkei snorted into his tea so hard, not even Shinichiro’s scolding gaze could erase the grin from his face.

While that fact might complicate the matter a little, it didn’t need to be a real obstacle.

“You just have to make small talk, not flirt with her.  Be polite, that’s all. Come on.” Shinichiro was sitting on hot coals, ready to jump up and go any moment. This could be his chance, a real one in a long time. Wakasa couldn’t leave him hanging.

Still not convinced, Wakasa slouched. With a hand, he reached for his left ear lobe but lowered it when he realized the earring was still missing. “Shin, I don’t want to.”

“Only this once.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Honey, I’m asking nicely. Please, for me.”

Shinichiro was groveling at this point.

Wakasa’s eyes searched first for Benkei’s, then Takeomi’s in a silent cry for help, but both looked down at their food, pretending to not notice their friend’s despair. Neither even thought of interfering.

“You both suck,” Wakasa hissed, jaw set. But at last, he gave in with a tired sigh. “Alright. But you owe me one.”

That’s all he needed to hear. Beaming, Shinichiro jumped from his seat and grabbed Wakasa’s hand, smaller than his own, and pulled until he stood up. He knew he could count on his best buddy, his closest friend, who would never betray him – unlike the two other citizens at the table.

“I’d give you the world if I could. Everything you need,” Shinichiro said, blowing him a kiss.   

Wakasa averted his gaze, let his hand slip from Shinichiro’s. “Let’s get over with this,” he grumbled, trudging after Shinichiro who had already turned on his heels and was on his way across the restaurant with a bounce in his steps.

Benkei and Takeomi watched the whole deal from afar with great curiosity and fear alike.

Slipping into the booth, next to his interest, Shinichiro immediately picked up a conversation, while Wakasa appeared to take his time until he was invited to sit. While Shinichiro never stopped smiling, engaging actively in conversation about who knew what, Wakasa kept it down, more intent on listening to his involuntary partner of conversation after asking a few riveting questions, even if it only was to cover his exorbitant disinterest.

Too distracted by the beauty next to him and determined to make her drop some of the initial shyness, Shinichiro completely missed the occasional wistful glances thrown in his direction.

A good ten minutes later, a lot of gesticulation and smiles and laughs later, Shinichiro returned with a teeth-showing grin on his face, holding up a napkin and showing them a thumbs up. Behind him, Wakasa followed on his heels. He had shoved his hands into the pouch of his hoodie, head lowered.

“I got it!” Shinichiro yelled in a whisper as he waved the napkin in victory.

Eyes going wide, Benkei tried to snatch it from his grip, and Shinichiro let go instantly so as to not tear it.

“No way. Is it legit?” He turned the paper around, checking if he was seeing right. Shinichiro took it back when he started unfolding the piece. He couldn’t risk any damage.

After laying the napkin on the table, he soothed the wrinkles with his palm.

“Think so?” he said, frowning at the numbers, written neatly and round with blue ink, “I’ll test it later.”

Alone the idea of dialing the number caused him to break out in sweat. The few seconds where the call tried to connect were always the worst, when the uncertainty of who would pick up at the other end of the line was at its peak. Several times in the past he had ended up with an unavailable number and on special occasions he’d end up at a restaurant, where he then ordered something out of frustration and embarrassment.

He didn’t rule out any possibility, but for now he wanted to believe in his success.

Before they could tease him any more, he changed the topic. There’s a special someone without whose help, he wouldn’t have been able to make the cut in first place.

”But Waka is a real champ here! Especially compared to you,” he said, pointing his thumb at his friend standing slightly behind him. He had put a different napkin on the table in front of him, crumpled into a small ball, but if one looked closely, there were numbers written on it as well.  

“What did he do?” Benkei asked.

Shinichiro explained. “He had the glorious idea to take them on trips with our bikes some time. Apparently, that’s considered cool now.”

Wakasa shrugged, “It’s not a big deal. I needed to save you both from your awful pick-up lines.”

“Still, you landed me a date, Waka,” Shinichiro grinned. “I love you and your brain; I hope you know that.”

Enthusiastically, he threw an arm around Wakasa’s shoulder, pulling him close against him and giving him a firm, though a little uncomfortable side-hug. He meant it though, whole-heartedly.

Wakasa offered a tight-lipped smile in return, then he dipped out from under Shinichiro’s arm. Wordlessly, he slipped back to his spot on the bench next to Benkei, ignoring the way Takeomi stared at him with a raised eyebrow. Instead, he reached for his napkin and started picking at it, shredding it into tiny, uneven pieces.

Shinichiro pulled the chair out and reclaimed his spot next to Takeomi.

“So, we should note down, Wakasa is not only a girl-magnet, but also an awesome wingman,” Benkei stated, nudging Wakasa in his ribs with an elbow as he teased him.

Takeomi seized Wakasa up, speaking through a chuckle, “Seems like the man is Amor indeed, and yet his own love-life is a comedic tragedy.”

“Fuck you, both.”

Shinichiro couldn’t help but laugh at the faint blush appearing on Wakasa’s face. Gaze locked on what’s left of his milkshake that had divided into a light layer on top and a darker one on the bottom, Wakasa stirred the drink carefully. But no matter how hard he tried to hide it behind the blond locks falling into his face, Shinichiro still could see how his nose painted red cutely.

The next minutes were spent with Shinichiro rambling the others' ears off about when and where to take his new girl out and finding a solution for every possible worry Shinichiro could come up with as if they didn’t have the exact same talk every few weeks. And yet he managed to come up with another ridiculous what-if scenario each time.

The only reassuring voice in their group, Benkei, tried to offer help at his best capability, while Takeomi as usual poked fun at him for switching between girls so often. Shinichiro always argued he simply didn’t have a connection with any of them yet – which is also the reason he got turned down or stood up so frequently, of course.

He really hoped this time would be different. She had laughed at his jokes and seemed genuinely interested in him. Still, he was glad to have had Wakasa by his side, or he probably wouldn’t have known how to move forward and onto the next step.

Having remained a quiet listener, Wakasa spoke up for the first time when he had finished his milkshake and there were no more fries left to steal from Benkei’s plate.

“Shin, stop worrying. As long as you don’t tell her she’s going to be a hot older woman again, you’ll be fine.”

The table fell silent. Shinichiro opened his mouth, but he closed it again when the words died on his tongue. He took a deep breath.

Across Takeomi’s face, disbelief was written clear as day. “You didn’t actually say that, did you?”

“It’s a compliment!”

For the remainder of the day, his friends kept making fun of Shinichiro and he was forced to relive all his horrendous attempts of kindness that their friends remembered, wishing for a hole to open up in the ground that he could hide in.

xXx

The one botched key on his flip phone made a disgustingly loud clicking noise whenever he pressed it. He had learned to tune it out long ago and by this time, he had sent so many text messages in his life, he couldn’t hear the sound anymore at all, having grown used to it. As a result, he had become quite proficient at texting, able to send out more messages in less time to keep the flow of conversation constant.

Every few minutes, a quiet ping announced a new text.

“Could you stop that?”

“Stop what?” Shinichiro looked up at Wakasa, who was sitting on the couch next to him, legs folded and feet wedged under Shinichiro’s thigh to keep them warm.

Wakasa broke off a piece from the chocolate bar that he had put on the arm rest earlier, put it in his mouth without dropping the annoyed expression, illuminated by the flickering light of the TV in front of them.

He licked the melted chocolate off his index finger, then his thumb. “Texting. It’s annoying.”

Shinichiro immediately flipped his phone shut. He hadn’t realized the noise had been so loud. “Sorry, I’ll put it on silent.”

Reaching for the remote control that rested on his thigh, Wakasa pressed a button and the movie paused, a picture of a cityscape permanently on the screen now, before turning back to Shinichiro, letting his head rest on a hand. “That’s not what I mean. We don’t have to watch that movie if you don’t want to.”

“Oh. No, it’s not that. I just keep getting distracted, I’m sorry.” A tinge of embarrassment crept up and he rubbed at his neck.

He liked the movie, he really did. Wakasa had specifically rented it for tonight so they could watch it together, since Benkei and Takeomi didn’t particularly enjoy their romcoms. But now, Shinichiro had a hard time keeping up with the happenings, unexpectedly having found himself in a ... situation that demanded more effort than he thought it would. And while he did feel bad for being so off, he also couldn’t find the heart to put the phone away, too scared of driving her away did he ignore her for too long.

“I can tell,” Wakasa said, unimpressed. Pulling his legs out from under Shinichiro, he shifted to the other side so that he could face the other better.   

“Who are you texting anyway?”

With slightly clammy hands, Shinichiro fiddled the phone between his fingers. “Uh, her name’s Asuka. We’ve been talking recently, and it’s been going well so far.”

Another ping emitting from the device made him jump and flip it open with a thumb in an instant.

“Mhm, sounds great,” Wakasa said in response, though he didn’t sound as excited as Shinichiro had hoped he would be, but that’s just Wakasa for him, always a little reserved with his expressions.

However, that didn’t stop him from rambling on, taking a given chance since he actually hadn’t talked about her to anyone yet, not noticing how his lips curved into a smile gradually. “Yeah, I’m having high hopes. She’s fun. A little quiet but she seems to have a big heart.”

“So she’s your type.”

“I have a type?” Shinichiro asked. He hadn’t been aware he had such. Sure, he liked it when they had light hair and had a calm presence but it’s not like he picked them only for those specific reasons – he didn’t. Did he?

“No comment. What happened to the last one?”

“I ended it. We didn’t click.”

“You did?” Wakasa said, as if he almost didn’t believe him.

“Yes? That happens more often than you think.”

Another ping and Shinichiro was stopped from delving deeper into the reasons for his failing dates as he almost hauled the phone across the room. Wakasa caught it barely in time with two hands. He looked at the device conspicuously, then at Shinichiro, back at the phone, then wedged a finger between the two halves and snapped it open.

“Give that back!”

His heart plummeted at the threat of Wakasa possibly reading something absolutely not made for his eyes. Panicking, Shinichiro threw himself after, ending up sprawled over Wakasa’s lap, and grabbled for his phone which Wakasa held away from him, arm outstretched and a mocking grin on his face.

“Try me.”

And try Shinichiro did. Shamelessly, he poked Wakasa between his ribs as hard as he could. The reaction was instant. Wakasa curled into a ball with a yelp, and Shinichiro used the opportunity to grab his phone, not caring Wakasa held him hostage with his knees.

“Shin, you piece of shit-“

Phone finally back in his possession, he opened the messenger, but as soon as he read the text his jaw dropped open.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Hm?”

Having regained composure and dignity, Wakasa bent forward to catch a peek at the small screen, placing a hand between Shinichiro’s shoulder blades for balance as he did and the unexpected contact made Shinichiro shiver a little.

While he didn’t feel uncomfortable having Wakasa on his back like that, body parts touching everywhere, the feeling of being wrapped in Wakasa made him tense, to say the least. Right now, already drawn taut with anxiety, instead of easing his nervousness his heart tumbled at the contact. It felt like too much, overwhelming even. 

He pushed himself off Wakasa’s lap without being met by any resistance and sat back next to him, keeping a little bit of distance between them and using the air it gave him to inhale deeply before reciting the message.

“She asked me why I approached her when we met.”

The question a simple one, Shinichiro couldn’t deny the spike in flurry when he thought about how to reply to such loaded question with so many ways of everything going downhill from here. He’s had it happen before. Not again.

Narrow eyes watched him pick at the broken button with his nail.

When Shin didn’t elaborate, Wakasa pressed on, “And?”

“Should I tell her she has a nice face?”

“Is that the reason?”

“I can’t tell her I thought she had a nice ass, can I?”

“I mean, you can. The question is if she’d appreciate that.”

The reaction he received wasn’t one he expected, the shrug admittedly throwing him off. Maybe he wouldn’t make a fool out of himself after all with his ideas.

“Honesty is the best policy, isn’t it?” Shinichiro grinned.

“Shin.”

“Waka?”

That’s when it dawned on him his friend hadn’t meant for him to actually do that, and now stared at him utterly disappointed. He felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment, and the more he let the idea sink, the more he realized just how bad that would be. Defeated, he let his head drop forward, brushing a strand of hair from his eye and clutching the phone tightly. Maybe he was hopeless after all, but what did he have Wakasa for?

He sighed. “Okay, okay, I won’t. Help me out.”

“With what?”

“What do I tell her instead?”

“How should I know?” Wakasa sounded slightly irritated.

“You always seem to know exactly what to say.”

When he didn’t get an answer, Shinichiro lifted his gaze to look at him. His lips had colored a dark red from how hard he had been sucking on them, and even in the dim light, Shinichiro noticed the imprint of his teeth on Wakasa’s bottom lip. Gaze directed at something on the ground, his friends seemed so far away suddenly, and Shinichiro was stunned.

He genuinely hadn’t expected to strike a nerve of his with a statement he considered to be true. For Wakasa to even have a sore spot he didn’t know about didn’t sit right with him. The bad feeling it gave him clutched at his heart almost painfully.

“Then what would you reply in my place?” Voice gentle and quieter, he tried to get Wakasa’s attention back by directing the conversation to the initial problem, and noted with great relief it worked.

Wakasa tugged at his earlobe that was still missing an earring. “Uhm, let me think.”

Apparently thinking with his eyes, Wakasa leaned into Shinichiro’s space until their arms were touching and his chin rested on his chest, and he looked at the message Shinichiro had received.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Wakasa mumbled.

Shinichiro gulped down a spark of unease and raised the phone so he could read it without having to squint and let him skim over the text for as many times as he needed to; it wasn’t like it was something extraordinary after all.

A few seconds of silence passed; a time Shinichiro needed to will the tension away that attempted to settle in his chest again until finally, Wakasa’s contact didn’t feel so odd to him anymore.

It’s been like that often recently, whenever they got comfortable with each other, arms and legs tangling until neither knew which one belonged to whom. Shinichiro used to never really notice when they did that, it had always been that way with them. It had been normal.

Over the last few months though, he had felt something shift whenever they got too close, making him overly aware of any of Wakasa’s touches and hugs, but he failed to make any sense of that. To say that bothered him would be the greatest understatement of the year, so he tried to ignore it to his best abilities.

He wanted for everything to remain normal between them.

As Wakasa spoke, he sounded more thoughtful than before. “ Maybe send her something along the lines of ‘I saw you and immediately knew I would never want to be without you again’.”

Shinichiro frowned – not that Wakasa could see that from that angle, “Are you sure about that? We’ve only been talking for a day, it might be too fast?”

Rolling his head back to make eye-contact from down there, his hair flared over Shinichiro’s chest. “Only one- A day?”

Shinichiro nodded.

“Nevermind, don’t say that.” Wakasa picked at Shinichiro’s shirt, taking some time to think. “Try something like ‘you have such a pretty smile, when I first saw you, my rainy day turned into a sunny one’.”

“But that’s super cheesy.”

More silence. A heavy sigh. Wakasa extended one arm and let it rest on Shinichiro’s stomach, squeezing slightly in a way that could have been affectionate weren’t it for the words leaving his mouth.

“Better than your horrible compliments.”

Wriggling his one arm free from under the second body, Shinichiro refused to let the personal attack pass and used it to poke Wakasa in his sides once more in protest, making him flinch.

“They aren’t awful, just honest! There’s a difference.”

“They suck and you know it!” Wakasa’s voice held no strength as he wheezed for air. However, he didn’t try to move away. If anything he clutched at Shinichiro’s shirt firmer.

“You suck.”

“Your dick maybe.”

Immediately Shinichiro stopped his advances, staring down at Wakasa and sucking in a breath through his teeth.

“Maybe another time.”

What urged him to say that in that very moment, he didn’t know, but he regretted the words the second he uttered them. Head snapping up, Wakasa stared at him with wide eyes and the silence that fell between them weighed more than Wakasa laying on Shinichiro’s chest, straining his lungs that refused to let him breathe.

It’s been a joke. Nothing more. Not even an unusual one. Yet, it didn’t land and the silence filled with an awkwardness which Shinichiro couldn’t find a way of fighting, as much as he tried. It was as if his mind had erased his capability to speak.

Then, Wakasa broke a lopsided grin. “I’ll remember that,” he said through a chuckle. Shinichiro dared to breath again.

Before he could spend any more time wondering what had transpired, Wakasa tapped the phone still in his hand. “Just text her anything if you have to. It won’t matter as long as it sounds nice. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it if you tell her she’s the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen.”

And at last, the advice sounded reasonable. So he did as told. They didn’t have to wait long for an answer.

“She said she’s flattered!” He beamed when they read the text. Still using him as a pillow, Wakasa had perfect view of his mobile that way and had no intention of moving. Shinichiro’s free arm snaked around Wakasa’s waist for the sake of comfortability.

“See, wasn’t that hard. You could ask her out for lunch. I at least would enjoy such invitation.” The last part came out as a quick mumble, but Shinichiro heard anyway. He actually liked the idea, wasn’t too confident about it though. Was that appropriate?

“But that’s you. Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

So he did, trusting Wakasa’s judgement.

Two days later, Shinichiro spontaneously asked Wakasa to join him for lunch at their favorite restaurant. The reason for such went undiscussed.

xXx

“Who of you was it?”

Shinichiro was met by four pair of eyes peering through the door to the garage, all of them giving him a look of unscathed innocence as if none of them had just thrown a soccer ball against the window front of his shop, which had bounced off to hit him straight in the back of his head.

“How many times have I told you to be careful,” Shinichiro scolded. He picked up the ball that had rolled under the table. Subtle pain throbbed in his head where he had gotten hit, and if he was unlucky it would stick around for a while. He really hadn’t seen that one coming

“But we didn’t break anything,” Manjiro complained. Behind him, Ken nodded in agreement.

Ball under his arm, Shinichiro propped the other hand up on his hip, still scowling at them, trying to look as stern as he possibly could. The kids were allowed to do a lot in his shop, and if he says a lot, he means it. There’s only one rule he insisted on: Don’t break anything. Today, he had to remind them of that a little more often than he would like to.

“You could have. One more time and I’ll make you play outside.”

“But it’s raining!” his little brother whined.

“And I,” Shinichiro said, putting the ball on the counter and leaning on it, “do not care.”

Stepping through the door, Benkei approached and pulled the toy from under Shinichiro’s arms.

“I’m sorry, that was me.”

“No it wasn’t. Don’t lie just for their sake.”

“Don’t be so hard on them. It was a tiny slip, nothing happened.” Benkei slapped him on the shoulder with a little more force than probably intended. Shinichiro stumbled forward, catching himself on the counter.

Benkei laughed. He threw the soccer ball back into the small crowd and Ken caught it above their heads, but they remained frozen in place, exchanging glances but not daring to move yet.

Realizing he wouldn’t make any progress on accounting today, not when he had half a sports club around to distract him, Shinichiro closed the folder he had been working with and tucked it away under the counter for another day. As he followed Benkei back to the garage to join the others, he stopped in front of his kids, silently asking them again. They still had a question to answer.

His gaze landed on Inupi who stood in front of Senju, looking down with conscience-stricken face, though Shinichiro doubted he was the culprit. Inupi never caused any trouble when he was here, rather made sure nothing happened if he could prevent it.

“It was me. I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad.” The one to step forward from behind her friend was Senju, lips pressed together, genuinely intimidated. But brave as she was, she held her head high. She had always had more guts than her older brother. Some day, she'd be a force to be reckoned with, for sure; even if Takeomi refused to see the truth now.

Ruffling her short hair, Shinichiro smiled at her. “Thanks for being honest and telling me. I’m not really mad, but be careful, or you could cause me shit-ton of trouble.”

“Don’t swear around the kids!” Takeomi yelled from the back of the garage.

Shinichiro leaned against the doorframe to catch him sitting on a crate, lighting up a cigarette with one of Shinichiro’s bright pink lighters.

“Tell me when you fucking learn to stop smoking in my shop!” he shouted, but only received a middle finger in return.

Whatever. Shinichiro had lost that fight years ago. Some things would never change.

Someone tugged at his shirt, and Shinichiro met Manjiro’s eyes, big with a spark of childish excitement, “Can we-?” he waved a hand at Ken, who held up the ball high, a finger pointed at the toy with a questioning look.

Shinichiro nodded. “Go ahead.”

Manjiro cheered. The next second, the four children ran off, chasing after the soccer ball again with Benkei in the middle of the chaos, and Shinichiro joined his other friends. They had no reason to be here today other than boredom on their day off, now annoying Shinichiro and waiting for him to close up as well so they could drop the kids off at home and head elsewhere. But considering the weather outside, Shinichiro highly doubted they’d make it far, even with Wakasa driving them in his car.

Wakasa, sitting cross-legged on a blanket he put on the floor, scooted over to make space and Shinichiro dropped next to him, drawing his knees close.

Hand held out, he wiggled his fingers. “Either you share or I’ll make you stop,” he told Takeomi.

“What will you do? Beat me up?” Takeomi retorted, but handed Shinichiro the pack of cigarettes over.

“I wouldn’t hesitate,” Shinichiro said with a wink. And while it’s true that he wouldn’t think twice about throwing a punch, he’s also well aware Takeomi would undoubtedly fold him within minutes if he really had to. However, the days when they had fought each other were long over, nowadays the only brawls between them happening solely in Wakasa’s gym.

Pulling out a stick and the lighter, he let the cigarette hang loosely from his lips as he held the flame close and inhaled to light it up. The first drag was always the most satisfying one.

Then he put his own lighter back into Takeomi’s box and returned it so his friend could pocket them in his jeans.

“And I don’t get one?” Next to him, Wakasa leaned back on his hands, frowning at them as if truly offended. His expression made Shinichiro laugh.

“Aww, honey, are you mad?” he teased.

To rile him up more, maybe to even draw one of his cute pouts from him, Shinichiro leaned over, took his cigarette with two fingers and blew a cloud of smoke in Wakasa’s face. The other closed his eyes to take a deep breath of air, full with tobacco. When he opened them again, their faces were mere inches apart, and Shinichiro watched his pupils dilate.

“You’re an ass.” Wakasa breathed.

“I’m just protecting your health, babe.”

Shinichiro put the stick back between his smile, but before he could do anything else, it was plucked away. Wakasa held eye-contact through lidded eyes as he placed the cigarette between his own lips, inhaled, and returned the favor.

“And sharing is caring,” he whispered through the smoke.

It burnt in his eyes, but Shinichiro refused to close them, fixated on the sight in front of him as the ribbons curled around Wakasa’s features, smooth and silken until they faded in the space between them. They seemed so soft, wispy as they moved, like Wakasa’s hair would be if he were to touch the tousled strands.

“Do you do that with girls too?”

“Huh?”

Head snapping towards Takeomi, the purpose of the question was lost on him. Shinichiro sat back on his heels, shaking his head. “No. Most of them think smoking is disgusting, sadly.”

With a grin, Takeomi flicked his half burnt-down cigarette against the edge of the crate, letting the ash fall to the floor despite there being an ashtray. “Good thing Wakasa likes it then.”

Wakasa rolled his eyes. “Well, I wouldn’t smoke if I didn’t.” Then Shinichiro watched him casually take another deep drag from the cigarette that had first been his. He let him have it, for now.

Joining them at last, Benkei sat down on a toolbox next to Takeomi. “Secondhand smoke is different. Personally, I can’t stand it.”

His knees were covered in dust and grease and a layer of sweat covered his forehead which he wiped away with the hem of his shirt. Undoubtedly the kids had kept him busy. Shinichiro knew from personal experience just how much to handle they could be. They seemed to draw their energy from a bottomless pit, always up and about, but Shinichiro wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

Checking in on them, he threw a glance over his shoulder to see them sit in a circle on the ground, rolling the ball from one person to another. He couldn’t understand what they were saying, but out of a sudden they burst out in laughter, so everything seemed to be fine. In the middle sat a bag of Dorayaki, for which Inupi reached first after catching the ball. Benkei must have handed them the sweets because none of the kids knew his secret stash – at least he hoped so. If Manjiro had found it, he’d have to find another hideout, for the third time this month and he was slowly but surely running out of options and ideas.

He’d deal with that tomorrow though.

“I think it’s hot.” Shinichiro said, chiming back into the conversation.

Takeomi asked what exactly he meant to which Shinichiro replied with a shrug.

“Blowing smoke, secondhand smoke, shotgunning a cig, dunno. Smoking in general I guess.”

Thinking about it, Shinichiro had always found himself to fancy the idea of his partner smoking. Not that they needed to, but something about sharing a cigarette with his significant other spoke to him. For him, there was a certain amount of intimacy that came with the act as you wanted to give someone else part of what you enjoyed, knowing they’d like it too.

“You’re weird.” Benkei commented, albeit humored. For him, Shinichiro believed, that must be easy to say as the only one of their group to not smoke regularly.

Brows raised in a challenge, Shinichiro asked, “Didn’t Takeomi just say Waka likes it too? Then we’re both weird.”

“Wakasa is always weird,” Takeomi threw in.

Wakasa took the rest of the cigarette out of his mouth to speak. “I’m still sitting here, I can hear you.”

Using the opportunity, Shinichiro stole it back, mind having changed. “Do you want to raise an objection?”

“Did I lie?” Takeomi asked.

A pause. A roll of eyes. Wakasa scoffed. “Bastards.”

It drew a laugh from everyone.

The distant ring, a default melody, of a phone shut them up. A pair of light feet sprinted through the garage and sooner than Shinichiro had even registered that it was his phone ringing, Manjiro appeared next to him and handed him the noisy device before scurrying back to his friends.

Shinichiro took it and quickly thanked his brother before flipping it open.

“Sano?”

An unfamiliar voice responded. He ground the glowing stub in the ashtray, a thin thread of smoke floating up, but when he realized who had called him, he perked up. He was on his feet and heading towards the front door in no time.

“Oh, yeah, that’s my address, yes. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Out he went, into the icy storm raging. The wind slammed the door shut behind him with a loud bang that made the kids jump.

When he returned five minutes later he was soaked, water dripping from his hair, clothes stuck to his skin and cold to his bones, but not even clattering teeth lessened his good mood.

Unasked, Wakasa took off his zipper jacket and put it on the floor next to him for Shinichiro to change into.

“Who was that?” Takeomi asked, curious.

“Did one of the girls pay you a visit?” Benkei wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“If so, she must have come to dump him, that was a very short visit.”

“Yes, it was a girl.” Shinichiro confirmed, voice serious.

“Oh?”

Holding up and shaking a little cardboard package no bigger than a rice ball, a smirk played on his lips. “Delivery women.”

“Ah man, and I almost believed things would get interesting now.”

“What did you get?” Benkei asked.

Shinichiro pulled a box cutter from a pocket of his pants and sliced the duct tape at the sides, folded them apart and had a peek inside. It’s exactly what he had hoped it would be, and the timing of arrival couldn’t have been more perfect.

His smile widened instantly and he walked over to Wakasa, leaning over him from behind, dropping the package in his lap.

“This is for you.”

Wakasa winced, once again zoned out in his typical fashion, then tipped his head back to look at him. “Me?”

“Mhm. Open it.”

While Wakasa did so, Shinichiro took off his wet shirt and slipped on Wakasa’s jacket instead, big enough to fit him loosely too. Maybe Wakasa would lend him this one for a while, it was so soft inside, even smelled slightly of him.

“Why does he get a gift and we don’t?” Takeomi asked, judgingly.

“Oh, shut it, you don’t deserve one.” However, it was said without malice.

Their time would come. This one, however, was special.

“That was the last time I shared my cigarettes with you.”

“Then give me back my lighter.”

He’d never.

“My earring?” When Wakasa spoke up, Shinichiro’s attention belonged to him only, his heart rate picking up, and he crouched down by his side.

With his lips parted in surprise, Wakasa stared at the small, white jewelry box he held in his hands, containing the safely in cotton packed accessory.

Tone gentle, Shinichiro explained, “I had it remade at a jeweler. I know how sad you were about losing it.”

Where he had lost the old one, nobody knew. He  noticed only at the end of the day after a bike-trip through the city. They had helped him search the entire gym then, just in case, but with no success; the earring remained missing and while Wakasa claimed he was fine with it, Shinichiro could tell he had been inconsolable the entire day. After the weekend, Shinichiro had headed out to find a shop to take custom orders.

He wanted to.

Careful, Wakasa took the earring out of the box, three red pearls hanging from a silver clip, and laid it out on his flat hand to inspect. “It looks exactly like my old one.”

“Almost. Look closely at the clip.”

Wakasa did, turning it around. When his eyes met Shinichiro’s again, usually appearing unbothered and almost bored, now they were struck with sheer awe. “You had my initials engraved?”

“I thought I’d be a nice touch.” His reaction made Shinichiro smile, chest filling with warm joy and glad he liked the gift.

Wakasa hooked it through his ear lobe and traced the familiar weight with his finger, the earring belonging exactly there.

To render Wakasa speechless was a special forte, an occasion to remember and the satisfaction Shinichiro felt knowing it was due to him meant more than any girl flirting with him possibly could.

“You could kiss him as a thank you,” Takeomi commented from the off. Shinichiro had almost forgotten they weren’t alone.

“Not in front of the kids,” he shushed Takeomi with a chuckle, ridiculous as the idea was.

He would never admit that for a hot moment, a vivid picture flared up in his mind, which, however, discarded as soon as it appeared. He wouldn’t even know how to. How ridiculous.

Wakasa averted his eyes, but Shinichiro noticed a subtle tinge of red on his cheeks, underlined by a quiet smile, “Thank you, Shin.”

“It’s nothing, really.”

But as Wakasa looked at him as if he was the salving sun on the gloomiest day, he couldn’t will the furious blush from his own face, as hard as he tried.

xXx

Chilly breeze dancing through the night, Shinichiro paced up and down the front of the bar, the jacket wrapped tightly around his body. Occasionally, someone would walk past him and eye him weirdly before disappearing into the establishment without having said a word. Shinichiro didn’t mind. He had enough of talking and enough of people for one day. And – even if he hated even thinking that – of women.

His fingers refused to do what he wanted them at the first attempt of flipping his phone open, gone numb in the cold. Checking the time, he released a deep breath, a cloud forming in front of him. He had called him around twenty minutes ago, he should be here any time now.

Sure, he could have waited inside and finished another drink, but he couldn’t bear the pitiful glances the bartenders had been throwing at him ever since she had left. He preferred the freezing temperatures outside.

This was the last time he would let a date pick him up instead of driving on his own.

A car turned around the corner, one of many that had passed him in the last ten minutes, but this time, the headlights flared up and the vehicle slowed as it rolled closer, until it stopped directly next to him. 

Relief overcame Shinichiro at the familiar sight, and he didn’t hesitate to open the door and slide into the passenger’s seat, slouching into the cushions. He welcomed the warmth inside and the well-known scent of tobacco with a subtle sweetness hidden underneath.

“Thanks for picking me up,” he said, fastening the seatbelt and turning to Wakasa, who sat behind the steering wheel, his hair a complete mess.

“Sure thing,” turning to let his tired gaze wander up and down Shinichiro’s figure. “Is that my jacket?” he then asked.

Looking down on himself, he felt like having been caught in the middle of a crime, and Shinichiro pulled the sleeves over his hands. Indeed, he was wearing the jacket Wakasa had given him that day in the shop but never demanded back after that. It was comfortable and went well with his shoes, so he had decided to wear it out today. In hindsight, he had zero regrets because it brought him an odd level of comfort he desperately needed now.

Shinichiro returned an equal look and noted with surprise the oversize t-shirt and boxer shorts. Nothing else.

“Yeah. And you’re in pajamas,” it was an observation, not a question.

Wakasa hummed. They had already set off, Wakasa navigating through the night-traffic with ease. “I was already asleep.”

“Did I wake you?”

Wakasa hummed again.

Albeit already knowing the answer, he felt the need to ask the obvious. “You got out of bed just to get me?”

“You asked me to.”

Hearing it said out loud made the whole thing even worse. If he could, he’d dissolve on the spot right then and here, a wave of thick shame overcoming him. Shinichiro had gotten himself into the predicament but had relied on Wakasa to get him out of it, the idea he might have thrown Wakasa out of bed on a working day not even occurring to him up to now.

“I’m sorry, you didn’t have to.”

“It’s no big deal, really.”

“It is, I’m really–.”

“Don’t. I wanted to,” Wakasa reassured him, but it only eased some of Shinichiro’s guilt. He didn’t deserve Wakasa’s kindness.

Wakasa glanced in the back mirror, then switched the blinker on as they approached a crossroad. The rhythmic clicking noise filled the leaden silence for a short while, followed by the roaring of the engine when he sped up.

It was only broken when Wakasa asked the inevitable. “Want to tell me what went wrong this time?”

And Shinichiro released a heavy sigh. He rested his head against the window, looking out and at the differently colored lights that passed in a blur.

“Apparently, I talked too much,” he answered.

He felt Wakasa’s eyes on him but didn’t turn. He could imagine the furrowed brows and his confusion.

“I thought you had worked on that?”

“Uh-,” and that was where things became complicated.

In the past, many dates had told him that he had a tendency to ramble a lot about himself when his nerves flared up. And Shinichiro had to learn the hard way that not everyone tolerated his antics as much as his friends did. Having taken that as a lesson, he had since made a conscious effort to tone that down and listen more instead; which had worked fairly well lately, if he was allowed to praise himself.

He didn't know why his mind had betrayed him tonight, but he had slipped into old habits and, as it was bound to happen, the date had kept short.

No, that wasn’t quite right.

In truth, he hadn’t talked as much as he used to in the past, it could have been much worse. The actual issue lay else where.

Nervously, Shinichiro sucked on his lips. “Let’s say she didn’t like what I was talking about then.”

“Do I want to know?” Wakasa asked.

Shinichiro couldn't remember a situation when he had been more glad for Wakasa to be focused on the road ahead or he’d probably be able to look right through his distress.

“No. I don’t think so.”

He couldn’t tell him.

For once, for what felt like the first time ever, there was something he couldn’t share with Wakasa, even if he wanted to. Because he himself couldn’t make sense of what she had said to him earlier, before she had left.

You seem like a nice guy, Shinichiro. But this, with us, won’t work out. I believe there’s someone in your life already that deserves your attention more than I do.

“Okay. Are you alright at least?”

“Yeah. Better now.”

And with that, the conversation was closed.

It was such a Wakasa thing to do. He never pried past his boundaries, trusting Shinichiro that he’d talk to him if he really needed to; for which Shinichiro was once more endlessly grateful.

There was a mutual understanding between them, one that didn’t require many words and instead rooted in years of knowing and learning about each other until words had become often obsolete, the unspoken telling enough.

But no matter what, when he needed comfort the most or someone to rely on, he could find it in Wakasa, be it his words or his silence; as long as he was there, Shinichiro's mind would always come to rest.

It was something he didn’t have with anyone else so far, an ideal he only shared with Wakasa, but he knew that whoever he would end up with, he wanted them to have a connection similar. Not the same – some things would never be replicable and were reserved for Wakasa only, but that level of trust, knowing you could count on them any second of the day, is what he needed and looked for.

Maybe, the reason nothing ever worked out for him was because his best friend had set his standards so high, they were meant to be unmatched, he thought, amused.

Shinichiro started to recognize the area they were driving through, and he knew they weren’t far away from his place anymore. He glanced at the bright orange digits, telling him the ungodly time. And Wakasa had yet to make the drive back.

“Want to stay over at mine? I don’t want you having to drive across the whole city.” Shinichiro proposed without much thought. It was a normal thing for them to do.

“It’s not that far,” Wakasa said, but the answer was hesitant, contemplating.

“I guess, but the offer stands.”

He was met with a smile and Shinichiro already knew they would throw a second blanket on his bed tonight and probably, hopefully, wake up tomorrow sharing only one.

xXx

Shinichiro sauntered through the well visited gym, giving the few faces he recognized as regulars a friendly nod. There was a little over an hour left until closing time so it was still crowded. The sight made Shinichiro’s chest swell with pride for his friend. He remembered the time well when the success of his establishment had still been written in the stars and worry had plagued his friend like a disease. A year later, it had become one of the most renowned places in this part of town.

He found his friend in the very back, standing in the middle of the boxing ring and practicing a kick as he repeated a step sequence, slow and mindful of his motions. Stopping a little off side next to a squat rack, Shinichiro watched him for a few minutes while he revised the correct footing, smoothly worked in turn, a jump and finally a high kick.

Only Wakasa managed to make training look graceful, akin to a dancer moving to a song’s melody only he could hear.

When he landed on his feet safely, Shinichiro dared to approach, clapping his hands which caught Wakasa’s attention.

“You’re early,” he noted, wiping away a strand of wayward hair that stuck to his forehead.

He proceeded to undo the hair-tie that held half of his hair back, put it between his teeth and brushed as much as he could back with his fingers. When he put the tie back in, the pieces framing his face fell out, nonetheless.

Shinichiro gulped down the dryness in his mouth. He had to tear his gaze away. “Gramps was home sooner than expected, so I could leave Emma and Manjiro with him.”

“Already tired of the kids?” Wakasa teased, a lazy smile on his lips as he leaned on the thick rope with his forearms and looked at Shinichiro from above.

“Never, you know that. Though they sure kept me on the edge today,” Shinichiro said with a smile. “Just thought that we would have more time for … you know.” His first urge had been to say each other but the words didn’t want to come.

Wakasa finished the sentence properly for him. “The movies? Did you rent both?”

“Yep. Even the one we didn’t finish last time.”

“Neat. Give me ten minutes. I’ll tell someone to close up today.”

Wakasa slipped through the ropes and jumped down from the platform, brushed his sweaty hands off on his fitted joggers and then took off to find one of the instructors.

Shinichiro waited. Hands shoved into his pockets, glancing around. He always enjoyed coming to the gym. Weren’t he so inundated with work, he’d love to spend more of his time here, with Wakasa.

He used to hate joining the others to the gym for no other reason than he disliked the tense and judging atmosphere. There had always been someone to look down on him and while saying it had upset him would have been too much, it had robbed him of any fun he could have had.

Wakasa had created his gym with a vision. One that opposed that overly competitive and dick-measuring mindset. Here, people came to have fun and become a better version of themselves, and that sense was noticeable as soon as you stepped in.

He laughed to himself. Maybe, had it been like this back then, he wouldn’t have been so shit at fighting.

“What’s so funny?”

Shinichiro whipped around. He hadn’t heard Wakasa approach.

“Nothing,” he said, when an idea struck him.

“Hey Waka, let’s fight.”

Wakasa stopped mid-track. “You, of all people, want a match?”

Shinichiro grinned, already excited. “Why not? It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Guess so.” Still not convinced, skepticism colored his voice.

But Shinichiro didn’t get swayed that simply. “See. It will be fun!”

“I don’t know, Shin. You haven’t trained in a while.”

So it was concern holding him back from indulging. Shinichiro had it in him to find it endearing. But the sentiment felt uncalled for in this situation, after all, it’s just the two of them.

“Means it’s time for a training session anyway. Come on, don’t be like that. To remember the good old times.”

The last attempt of convincing him finally worked out. Wakasa sighed, exaggerated, but he stepped into the boxing ring again. He pulled the sweater over his head, revealing the tank top he wore underneath.

“Okay. Take your shoes off,” he instructed albeit uselessly – Shinichiro had already done so and was slipping into the ring – “And don’t get mad when I beat your ass.”

Shinichiro got into position, legs slightly bent at the knees and he rolled his right shoulder to make it crack. “Do you think you can?” he asked, showing a cunning grin.

Wakasa raised his eyebrows, taking a similar stance. “Oh please, we both know you’ll lose.”

Shinichiro huffed. “I lose? Just you watch, I’ll-“

But his threat ended unspoken, a leg kicking him in the side and almost throwing his balance off.

To his defense, Shinichiro stood his ground – longer than those who threw occasional glances in their direction expected him to.

He hadn’t lost his steadfastness over time, and his reactions have stayed sharp enough for his defenses to be effective. Once or twice, he even landed a kick that had Wakasa lose his poise, and Shinichiro threw a punch after, exploiting the period of time Wakasa needed to readjust.

But it was out of question who had the upper hand in their little brawl.

Wakasa landed punches left and right and his kicks never missed. He did everything he could to keep Shinichiro constantly busy, never let him know where he’d strike next and Shinichiro had to admit that his friend had learned multiple new stunts that he had no chance of predicting. He was fighting a losing battle.

Only Shinichiro’s fortitude, his ridiculously high pain tolerance and his stupid pride allowed him to remain standing for as long as he did.

However, when Wakasa went from a kick-jump that hit him in the rear into a crouch and swept Shinichiro’s feet off the floor, he was done for.

The impact with the ground knocked the wind out of his lungs. He didn’t get time to recover. Wakasa sat on his hips, pinned his wrists to the floor next to his head and held him down.

“Ready to give up?” he mocked from above.

Shinichiro looked up into usually so reserved eyes sparkling from the thrill he got out of this. It wasn’t the real deal, lacking the risk and dread when there was nothing at stake, yet it felt at least similar. But all Shinichiro could see was Wakasa, high on adrenaline and brimming with joy. He’d do it again.

But his body demanded otherwise. He was heaving for air. His entire lower half felt sore, and if he landed on his back one more time his spine would snap in half. His ribs are also definitively bruised. Wakasa really hadn’t held back.

Shinichiro grinned. “Absolutely.”

He had earned his sweet victory.

Shinichiro expected to be let go now; the fight was over, they’d both gotten what they wanted. But Wakasa had different plans.

He leaned in, his body draping over Shinichiro until he could feel Wakasa’s locks tickle his cheek and his hot breath on his skin as he whispered.

“Weak.”

“Just not warmed up.” Shinichiro chuckled through a breath.

He tried to stay cool. But in his chest, his heart hammered against his ribcage brutally.

Wakasa shook his head. “Always were, always will be.”

He let his forehead drop into the slope of Shinichiro’s neck. With so little space between them, Shinichiro felt the rhythmic rise and fall of Wakasa’s shallow breathing. Fighting wasn’t the only reason anymore he felt so hot now.

“Maybe. Or maybe I just don’t mind getting my ass beaten when it’s you doing it,” he joked, but it came out so weak, he surprised himself. His confidence betrayed him – or got the better of him?

Wakasa pushed himself off to gain just enough distance so they could face each other.

“Yeah? You sure about that?” he smirked, but underneath hid a tension Shinichiro today witnessed for the first time. Was that self-consciousness? His Wakasa, unsure of what to say?

That was all it took to set Shinichiro’s confidence straight. It made him bold.

“Mh, no.”

“No?”

“Maybe you should do it again. I like it when it hurts.”

Wakasa’s eyes widened. The smirk got wiped from his face. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed audibly.

“Fuck- Shin, be careful what you ask for.”

And Shinichiro realized how royally he had fucked up when that raspy, broken voice crawled directly under his skin, sending jolts of excitement through his nerves and setting them ablaze.

All of it was made worse when he became conscious of the fact that Wakasa was sitting in his lap, ass on crotch, accidentally grinding against him whenever he moved – And Shinichiro was only human too.

Holy fuck.

Holy fuck.

This was – He was – They were heading into directions, and Shinichiro had no clue how to backtrack from here. He only knew he needed to.

He wasn’t supposed to feel some kind of way when it was his best friend above him; whose unrelenting gaze was fixed on him alone, curious and – waiting. Waiting for what Shinichiro would do next.

If he didn’t defuse the situation, this whole day would go awfully, utterly horribly wrong, and Shinichiro didn’t want to be the one at fault for would he be unable to forgive himself did he drive Wakasa away with his idiotic slip up.

“Ahh I know what I said,” he smiled, nervous. “Don’t make it bruise though, in case it leaves a bad impression tomorrow,” he then added, putting in effort to make it sound like a casual joke.

Wakasa blinked at him as he comprehended his words. And then his expression changed. Became guarded. He sat back, let go of Shinichiro’s wrists.

“Right. Of course it would,” he drawled, then rose to his feet.

He was mad.

“Waka?” Shinichiro tried to get him to look at him. He needed to know what was wrong. Was it something he said? But he had only tried to-

He sat up, pulled his knees in.

“Hey, babe-“

“I think it’s enough. I'll change and then we can head out.”

Wakasa’s sharp tone cut him off more than the words spoken did. Wakasa was a highly emotional person. But for him to express them so unleashed, hell must break loose.

He wouldn’t tell him a damn thing.

So, Shinichiro backed off.

“Oh- okay.”

Neither of them said anything as Wakasa picked his sweater up. Shinichiro followed him with his eyes.

“Should I order food already so it’s there when we get to mine?” Shinichiro then asked tentatively. He didn’t voice the feared if you still want to.

Wakasa hummed. “Please. The restaurant we had lunch last time? The usual for me.”

“Will do.”

Wakasa headed to his office. At least the anger had disappeared from his voice.

Meanwhile, Shinichiro sat in the middle of the boxing ring, unable to wrap his mind around anything that had happened since he had come here and wondering where he had gone wrong.

When Wakasa returned, they both pretended the last exchange between them hadn’t happened.

xXx

“Shin, you can’t put a plus-two card on top of a plus-four.”

Appalled, Takeomi waved his hand at the deck on the floor and at the cardinal sin Shinichiro had just committed – at least he made it seem like he had. Shinichiro ventured to disagree with that.

“Why not? Who said that?” he asked, eyebrow cocked in a silent challenge. He for sure wouldn’t draw four when he had the perfect way out.

“The fucking rulebook.” The booklet flew across the room to hit its target square in the chest. Shinichiro flinched and pressed against Wakasa’s chest he was using as a pillow, sitting between his legs. Recently, a new normal. Wakasa’s arm around his stomach tightened its grip a little, keeping him there.

Laughing, Shinichiro put the one card remaining in his hand face down on his thigh, out of sight from spying eyes behind him.

“Ouch? And no, it doesn’t?”

“Did you even read it?” Takeomi snapped back.

The rulebook made its way back across the room, but to Shinichiro’s disappointment, Takeomi dodged the projectile. “Screw the rules, we make our own. It’s more fun this way.”

Wakasa silently placed another plus two card on the deck in solidarity. Shinichiro grinned and Takeomi’s eye twitched irritated.

“I agree with Shin, that’s definitely more fun.” Even Benkei was on his side, Takeomi was outvoted. He always said rules were made to be broken, and once more he was proven to be right. But when Benkei slammed another plus two card on the floor and raised his empty hands, Shinichiro’s face fell.

“I win!”

“Wait, that was against the rules!” Maybe they weren’t as stupid as he thought they were.

“Not against mine!” Benkei grinned, rubbing his win in like salt into a wound, before getting up and heading into his kitchen to check on the chicken on their dinner

“That’s your fault,” Takeomi said accusingly as he folded his cards to the side.

“You played the damn plus four.”

Shinichiro reached for them and handed them to Wakasa along with his and the deck. Wakasa let go of him and began shuffling the cards, his chin on Shinichiro’s shoulder.

“Bad at fighting, bad at card games, what are you even good at?” Wakasa mumbled into his ear, barely loud enough and yet clearly mocking him.

“You had more cards than I did, I almost won. Also, I’m good with kids and with bikes, thank you very much.”

“Tell that my Harley, the chain is loose again,” Benkei yelled from the kitchen.

“And how exactly is that my fault?”

“The kids also prefer Benkei over you, he never scolds them,” Wakasa added.

“They do not! And I do it out of love!”

“You’re good at being an idiot.”

Shinichiro pinched Wakasa’s side, making him yelp and drop some cards.

Takeomi, amused, crossed his arms in front of his chest, sitting back against the couch and legs stretched out in front of him. “And that’s about the only thing you’re good at.”

Shinichiro wailed, slouching and sliding down so his head rested on Wakasa’s stomach. “Now you’re straight up bullying me.”

He felt a hand pet his hair. “We’re doing it out of love.” Wakasa said, a playful ring to his voice. Shinichiro was about to complain but the fingers began threading through his hair, nails scratching gently at his scalp and he melted into the touch like a cat, closing his eyes. Wakasa was forgiven.

“How was it today?”

Shinichiro needed a moment and a foot poking him in the thigh to understand the question was meant for him.

He cracked an eye open to look at Takeomi, still enjoying Wakasa’s treatment. “How was what?”

“Your date? Didn’t you go on one today?”

The scratching stopped.

“Oh right. Went for a walk, parted ways,” Shinichiro said with a shrug, “Don’t think I’ll hear from her again. To be honest, I don’t even mind.”

He didn’t want to talk about it, really. The entire event had been so underwhelming, it was nowhere near close to being even noteworthy and even remembering the afternoon bored him to death. Silently, Wakasa handed him the freshly shuffled deck and Shinichiro started dealing them for four players for a new round.

Takeomi snorted. “Bad at dating and probably at kissing then too.”

Shinichiro stiffened and the corner of his mouth twitched. “I’m not kissing someone I’ve just met.”

“You’re not?”

“No?”

“Despite your many dates?”

“I go on dates to find someone to date and not to fool around,” he said, then added, quieter, “I want it to be someone special.”

The statement provoked an eye roll from Takeomi, “You and Wakasa watch too many romance movies. It’s really not that deep.”

Whether it was said to make fun of him or meant as genuine advice wasn’t clear, but it was enough to rub Shinichiro the wrong way, a queasy feeling settling in his guts. It wasn’t guilt, as far as could grasp, but something resemblant, equally as grievous, that constricted his chest at the imposed idea.

“But it doesn’t feel right,” he said, a frown on his face as he tried to find the correct words.

If he was honest, he had been thinking about that a lot lately; about why he never entertained getting serious with anyone and about how he had stopped feeling bad over getting dumped a while ago, about why nobody had made him want to continue seeing them. Dating had become bland to him, not even a fun way to fill his free time with, and for the lack of a better word; it sucked.

Yes, it sucked and today had been his final straw; he was ready to admit it to himself, because he had finally understood why.

“I want to be with a person I am close to, someone I can trust,” he explained, slowly and heedful of his wording, “and I can’t do that with a stranger.”

Under him, Wakasa tensed.

Humor had yielded to curiosity and Takeomi seemed to be genuinely interested in what Shinichiro had just laid out. “Someone you’re comfortable with, you say? Like, a close friend maybe?”

“I guess?”

Takeomi picked up his new cards. “Reminds me of when I dated my best friend in middle school for a while. She was my first kiss too,” he told them plainly.

“You did?” Shinichiro tilted his head as he looked at him, playing the cards between his fingers. That’s the first time he heart that story, but as he mulled over it, he couldn’t but bark out a laugh.” Good for you, but to me that would be like dating Wakasa. Oh, Hell no. That would be weird as fuck. Disgusting. Don’t you think?”

He tipped his head back, his eyes searching for Wakasa’s, but what he found was not the lopsided grin he thought he’d see. It took him aback, the remnants of his laugh disappearing in a beat for a brutal pang split his chest at the sight.

Sadness.

Sadness and unrestrained pain veiled those lilac eyes like they never had before and tore right through Shinichiro’s heart.

Wakasa gritted his teeth, swallowed, as they stared at each other for a moment that seemed to drag on for a lifetime and for once, Shinichiro could not translate the unspoken hanging in the air between them.

“Right, yeah.” Wakasa then said, barely more than a breath; but the words had the effect of vicious poison burning through Shinichiro’s flesh and bones.

Shinichiro wanted to ask, to know what was on his mind, where the reaction had come from. But Wakasa let go of him, scooted back, and stood.

“Please, excuse me.”

Shinichiro watched him join Benkei in the kitchen, heard the clattering of his car keys.

Wakasa returned to the living room again but didn’t spare as much as a glance for Shinichiro. Instead, he leaned down to Takeomi. Shinichiro didn’t hear what he said, only saw Takeomi wince. Then, Wakasa left.

When the front door fell shut, a ripple ran through the walls.

He didn’t understand at all.

“Where did he go?” Shinichiro asked out loud, watching the closed door. “Does he have somewhere else to be?”

“For fucks sake! Shin, that’s enough!”

The sudden yelling made him jump. Shinichiro snapped his head towards his friend and was met by a gaze that could have burnt him to the ground.

“Did you really have to do that?” Takeomi hissed.

Shinichiro shivered. He hadn’t witnessed Takeomi that furious in a long time, and never had his anger been directed at him before. It was bad.

“Do what?”

Out of instinct, his voice changed too, the authoritative tone slipping from his tongue naturally, posture straightening. How dare he speak to him like that? It used to do its trick, the respect they had for him allowing them to continue in a calmer way; today, however, everything seemed to be different.

Today, it provoked Takeomi only further.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Takeomi I can’t follow you-“

Takeomi’s sharp inhale made him stop mid-sentence. Every passing second not knowing what this was about increasingly upset Shinichiro.

Almost exhausted, Takeomi dragged his hands over his face. His voice was calm as he spoke up anew – bone chillingly so. “Shin, you are one of my closest friends and very dear to me, but you are a huge cotton-headed asshole.”

“What did I-“

“No, don’t you say one more word and listen. I tried to let you both sort it out yourself, but obviously, you’re too dense to read between the lines and I can’t do it any more. And neither can Wakasa.”

Shinichiro’s stomach dropped, fast. All the confidence he used as his backbone slipped at those words.

“What has this to do with him?”

“Everything, Shin. Absolutely everything.”

The seconds of silence crushed them under their weight. But Takeomi used them to compose himself. He cleared his throat, bent a leg at the knee to rest his forearm on it. When he continued, he was calmer, but the atmosphere that had settled felt ghastly and dense as fog. It suffocated Shinichiro.

“You’re always up and about, ask all these girls out and when it doesn’t work out, jump to the next one. I get why he's confused. Hell, we are confused too.”

“He’s confused?” It felt like a dumb question to ask.

“Of course he is!” His voice rose again, but Takeomi quickly toned it down, the effort it took him noticeable, “Wouldn’t you be too, if someone calls you all these little pretty names, gives you little cheesy presents out of nowhere, asks him to share his bed with you? But every time you get close, it’s you who dips out.”

He would be. Of course he would. If someone did that to him, Shinichiro would be at a complete loss of what to do. But that’s not what they were doing, right? Not what he was doing. It was all in good fun. Just… jokes between friends.

Nothing more.

“I’m not – we are...”

It was hopeless. He didn’t even sound convincing to himself.

Who was he trying to fool? The reality of what they’d done – he had done – was clear as day, served Shinichiro on open palms, and the blank despair and horror started to eat Shinichiro up from the inside with vigor, bit by bit, sure to let him know that this was his doing.

“You need to stop using Wakasa as your plaything whenever it suits you, just because you think it’s fun. Wakasa deserves better than that and you know it.” Takeomi took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. The frown drew deep lines on his forehead “You probably don’t even do it on purpose, do you? Hurt him, I mean.”

“No, of course not! I didn’t know it was – I’d never want to hurt him.” His voice thinned out into nothingness. He had never known his words to be so weak, so barren, as right in this very moment.

He has never been so utterly terrified.

He hadn’t known. He would never. If only he had, he would’ve… he would’ve – what exactly would he have?

“But it’s exactly what you keep doing. Over and over again, every time you lead him on. What is it that you need to?”

“You don’t need to tell us,” Benkei said, standing in the entrance to the kitchen, ”Frankly, we don’t even care. What he’s trying to tell you is: Make up your mind. Whatever you come up with is fine. But please. Stop breaking Wakasa’s heart. He’s at his limit.”

Shinichiro hadn’t registered when Benkei had joined them to listen in, but when Shinichiro was forced to face his friend’s pity and all of their honesty compiled, it all clicked into place for him. All of it.

“Fuck,” he breathed, “I fucked up.”

Takeomi hummed. “And how you did.”

“He likes me.” Shinichiro curled himself up.

Benkei nodded. “He does.”

And that settled it for him.

Wakasa liked him. Genuinely liked him – more than just a friend. Wakasa had feelings for him for who knows how long, and all that time, Shinichiro had been too ignorant to recognize. In hindsight, it all made sense. It made so much fucking sense; Shinichiro thinks he might get nauseous.

How had he never noticed? How did he fail to understand the person he had believed to know the best?

And the answer posed the problem at the same time.

Because Wakasa was his best friend. His partner in crime, his closest confidant, his tower of strength, his shoulder to lean on. Wakasa was everything he needed.

And he had been feeling that way about him for such a long time, that he had been blind, oh so blind, to what’s been so clear in front of him: Wakasa was the only person he ever needed.

He was the only one in his life to make his heart race and his face hot and yet the only one that could make him feel at complete ease and where he could be at his most vulnerable without shame at the same time.

All this time he had been looking for something he already had in someone else, while he had simply been too much of an idiot to realize that all those big thoughts and praises he used for Wakasa, all those little or bold touches, and all those unexplainable feelings that washed over him – all of which he had believed to be what he should feel for his best friend – belonged to the feeling of love.

Genuine love.

The kind that made you strong and weak at once and willing to throw every logic away for the person that mattered to you the most.

Shinichiro had been falling for his friend without even realizing – until he had run out of time and Wakasa had slipped from his grip at the brush of their fingers.

Unable to meet the eyes of his friends, afraid of what he might find, he looked down at his hands. They were trembling. “And I- I think I might-”

Benkei had moved to crouch next to him and reassuring a hand was placed on his shoulder. It forced him to raise his gaze.

 “Shin, calm down. Take your time to think.” Benkei was looking at him with nothing but sympathy. Shinichiro’s heart got even heavier.

He continued, “I’m not going to ask you about it. But whatever you decide on, make sure to tell him. You have to make up for some stuff.”

“I need to find him.” Shinichiro’s breath was shaky, his heart might jump out of its confinement, and he had no strength in his limbs; but he had to.

He needed to find Wakasa.

“He’s by the river. You know where.”

Benkei pulled out a set of keys from his pocket and placed it in Shinichiro’s palms. Those were his.

He knew where he needed to be right now.

“Thank you, Benkei. And thanks for telling me,” he said to Takeomi, already at the door and sliding his shoes on in a rush.

Takeomi sighed. “Good luck, bud. You’ll need it.”

xXx

He found him exactly where he expected him to be.

Shinichiro didn’t slow down as he pulled into the parking spot behind the black car, a figure leaning against the hood. The back tire slithered to the side when he braked, sliding into a full stop balanced by a foot on the ground and it barely stood before Shinichiro kicked the stand down and jumped off his bike.

Wakasa glanced over his shoulder, a barely started cigarette dangling between his index and middle finger.

“Oh, it’s you.” He puffed out a cloud of smoke, stark white in the beam the streetlamp cast on him.

Shinichiro felt a twinge at the obvious distain Wakasa met him with.

“Yeah, me.”

Speaking with Wakasa right now had something of trying to tame a wild animal with no idea if it would retreat in fear or charge at you in feral rage, when neither option was what you strived for.

Wakasa hummed. Turning away from him again to stare into the distance, he refused to look at Shinichiro. “I’m almost sorry to say this, but out of the lot you’re the one I want to see the least right now.”

“I get that.”

Cautiously, Shinichiro dared to take up some space next to him, leaning back against the car, warm from the drive in comparison to the night. He was so tense, he barely dared to move at all. Wakasa scooted over, put distance between them.

“Do you, Shin?” Wakasa asked. It wasn’t a question meant to be answered. He took another drag from his cigarette. “What do you want?”

You, he thought. But what he thought was not what he said.

“They told me.”

A beat. Shinichiro’s heart hammered so fast that it hurt.

“Bastards.” Wakasa snorted a weak laugh. The cigarette thrown into the dust, Wakasa ground the gleaming stick with the tip of his shoe, shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Guess I don’t need to try and deny it now, do I?”

 “No, not really,” Shinichiro said, crossing his legs at the ankles,  hands cold and clammy. “I should have realized sooner. Or on my own.”

“Maybe, I can’t say I tried my best to hide it.”

“I’m sorry.” He sounded meek in his own ears, but it’s all he could bring past his quivering lips.

Finally, Wakasa looked at him. The hurt wasn’t gone, but it was subtler now, carefully shielded away.  Guarded, because he didn’t want Shinichiro to see.

“For what? For not returning feelings?” he scoffed dryly, “Is this your way of officially turning me down? There’s no need, I already knew. You’ve made it clear.”

“No, that’s not – Wakasa, I’m not turning you down.”

Shinichiro didn’t know what he expected from the conversation, if he had any expectations in first place, but this was not it. Never before, not once in his life, not even in his roughest fights, had Shinichiro felt so hopeless with his words, where none of the ones he knew and chose sounded good enough to say in this situation. They weren’t enough to express just a fraction of the tempest inside him. 

His lack of words made a certain impression though.

Wakasa pressed his lips together and frowned. “If you’re taking pity on me now, shove it. I don’t want it. Don’t believe you need to coddle my feelings just because you feel bad.” Then, he rubbed his hand over his eyes, and his voice came out so quiet, they were almost carried away by the breeze, “Don’t make it worse than it already is. I’ll get over it.”

“But I’m not. I’ve been stupid, I see that now. I didn’t realize because I didn’t look for it. I didn’t know.” Shinichiro’s despair spread like wildfire, smoldering away along his bones.

All Shinichiro yearned for when seeing him as crestfallen, was to take him in his arms and offer him the same comfort Wakasa always made sure to meet him with. But he knew he couldn’t. He wasn’t allowed to. All he could resort to, right now, was to make up for it by telling him what Wakasa deserved to know.

“You weren’t supposed to,” Wakasa retorted, fiddling with his earring.

The fire blew up in an explosion. “But I should have! I fucking should have. Maybe then – then I would have realized I like you sooner.”

He said it.

He said it out loud.

Silence. Only the sound of Shinichiro’s heavy breathing and Wakasa’s feet dragging through the dirt in circles was to be heard.

“Don’t joke about that, Shin.”

He sounded close to crying.

“Do you really believe I’d make jokes about that?”

“What are you trying to say then?”

When Wakasa met his eyes, however, there were no tears, not a glisten.

“That I like you, idiot. Oh, for fucks sake, I’ve been too stupid to realize all this time that I’ve been having feelings for you so long, because you’re my best friend too. But nobody makes me feel the same as when I’m around you, and that’s where I want to be: With you, no matter what. And even if that meant I had to give up all the romcoms just to have you by my side, I would, in an instant. I only want you..”

Once the words had started to flow, he didn’t know how to stop them. All the thoughts that had been running through his mind all dive long and had made him nervous had finally found an outlet, ready to be released and to be said to the person that deserved them to hear and – shit, he had been rambling, hadn’t he.

Shinichiro sucked on his lip, ran a hand through his hair. This had been his one chance, to set things right between them, and he had managed to fuck that up too, hadn’t he? What he had said sounded taken straight from one of the romcoms they had watched, there was no way Wakasa would believe him now when he hadn’t trusted his words before.

“I suppose that was a compliment, right?”

Zoning back into the situation, Shinichiro came to see that Wakasa’s lips had curled into a small smile.

Not knowing what to do, he scratched at the back of his neck. “Uhm, Yeah?”

“You still talk too much when you’re nervous.”

Wakasa’s statement surprised him – not that he was wrong – but before he could add anything to that, Wakasa pushed himself off his car and moved to stand in front of Shinichiro, their knees brushing, and reached out to tilt Shinichiro’s chin down to meet his gaze. The streetlight reflected in his eyes, made them sparkle.

“So…,” Wakasa began, one hand bunching the fabric of Shinichiro’s sweater to tug at it . Their faces were so close, Wakasa’s breath fanned against his nose. “Can I kiss you then? And you won’t be disgusted?”

His face was hot. Shinichiro’s eyes widened, “No! I’m sorry for that. Fuck-  I mean, yes, to the kiss,” he took a deep breath, ashamed for having ever said those awful words, when they couldn’t be further away from the truth.

 “I want you to – Please.”

There was a small chuckle. Wakasa leaned in, and Shinichiro braced himself, closed his eyes.

The words were whispered, soft as a feather against his lips, “I like you too, just so you know.”

Then Wakasa closed the final distance between them and pressed the lightest of kisses to his lips. It was gentle, tentative, but for Shinichiro it felt like exploding fireworks.

Before he could fully comprehend their situation, it was already over. Wakasa pulled away, searching for Shinichiro’s eyes with a silent question written in his own; one to which Shinichiro only had one answer to.

Shinichiro kissed him. This time, for real. He needed Wakasa to know that he wanted this too. And he didn’t want Wakasa to hold back or to be careful, because now that he understood, he wouldn’t be scared away.

So Wakasa didn’t. Shinichiro felt a hand slide to the back of his neck that brought them closer and he indulged him with an open mouthed kiss. It was sloppy, messy in their eagerness. But it didn’t matter.

Shinichiro was kissing Wakasa. That was all that mattered.

He didn’t know where to put his hands first, but they found their place on Wakasa’s waist, gripping tight, and Wakasa arched his back into the touch.

Shinichiro felt hands slip down his body, down his hips and down to his thighs. Wakasa secured them underneath and with ease he lifted him up, sitting Shinichiro on the hood of the car to slot himself between his knees. His fingers curled into Shinichiro’s flesh, adamant to not let him go.

Teeth grazed at his lower lip, a desperate whimper escaping Shinichiro at the new angle that allowed him to deepen the kiss further. The taste of tobacco lingered on Wakasa’s tongue.

And Shinichiro was all for it.

Everything about Wakasa was perfect; from his voice, to his smell, to the way he kissed, Shinichiro couldn’t get enough of it. And Shinichiro’s breath hitched as it dawned on him that this was now his. Theirs.

Their new normal.

And until Shinichiro was sure this was reality, he would ask for it over and over again, determined to burn this memory into his mind.

When they broke apart, both had a bright flush on their cheeks but neither could suppress a smile. Shinichiro’s heart felt lighter than it had in weeks.

Wakasa let his head drop onto Shinichiro’s shoulder. Shinichiro held him tight. He had wasted so much time, had been so close to missing out on him, he wouldn’t let go of him so quickly now when they had so much to make up for.

“You know what’s the great thing about me?” Wakasa mumbled into his shirt.

“Apart from you being you?” Shinichiro asked back, stroking his back.

His quiet laugh rumbled in his chest, “Cheesy. Yes, but not what I wanted to say.”

“What then?”

Wakasa pushed himself off to cup Shinichiro’s face with a hand, thumb caressing his cheek, and looked Shinichiro in the eyes, dead serious. “It’s that you won’t have to give up the romcoms for me, because I don’t want to stop watching them either.”