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Some time ago, in the shade of a blooming wisteria tree, or maybe in a different life altogether, Kazuma would find the mesmerised expression on Ryunosuke’s face utterly hilarious. He’s no stranger to seeing that look on Ryunosuke’s face after all. As it happens, however, as they’re both huddled onto the singular bed in Kazuma’s cabin, he finds his heart beating so fast and feeling so full that he can’t.
His eyes flutter shut as Ryunosuke’s fingers trace lightly over his face, brushing up the slope of his nose before gliding by the arc of his brow to gently sweep his hair out of his face. But Ryunosuke must be able to sense the tension in his shoulders, because his most trusted friend hesitates. “…Kazuma?”
“…Sorry,” he murmurs in reply, opening his eyes and tilting his head to look over Ryunosuke’s shoulder, out into the muted darkness of the cabin, trying to forcibly dispel the cloud of grief still clinging to his senses. All he wants is to relax and revel in the way Ryunosuke says his name, with that soft tone. It feels like it’s been far too long. “It’s just…”
Ryunosuke nods, before pausing ever-so-slightly and shuffling closer. His fingers drift from his brow to down the white fabric of his jacket, and Kazuma, his eyes falling back to those dark irises, watches as something tight and unreadable flickers over Ryunosuke’s hesitant expression.
“There…never was enough time, was there?” he whispers, an unfathomable despondency seeping into his gaze. Having reached the gloved hand Kazuma had been resting against Ryunosuke’s hip, Ryunosuke’s thumb rubs a slow, steady circle into the white fabric, and Kazuma feels something inside him fracture ever so slightly. He wants to take them off – to hold Ryunosuke’s hands in his own with no barrier between them. But he’s not sure if he deserves something like that – not yet.
“No,” he replies instead. It feels a bit too sharp of a response, and Kazuma swallows, his throat tight and breath choked. “But—but we’re here now.”
Ryunosuke ducks his head, biting his lower lip to try (and fail) to stifle the little smile that breaks out on his face at Kazuma’s words. “Well, you always were the optimist between the two of us, huh? Mister ‘You-Are-Not-Going-To-Be-Convicted-As-Long-As-I-Draw-Breath’—”
“—Not were,” he protests suddenly, his voice unwavering. “Are.”
And then his breath catches in his throat as his mind catches up to his tongue. Ryunosuke’s head jerks up, his expression looking as surprised at the correction as Kazuma feels. The sudden movement has Kazuma becoming acutely aware of the lack of space between them. It’s achingly familiar.
(The two of them, squashed onto one bed that creaks with every minute movement, their knees knocking lightly and feet brushing gently. Their voices low and warm, Ryunosuke’s grin buried into a fist to stifle his laughter so as to not get caught as Kazuma’s heart flutters against his ribcage—)
It’s almost as if they’re back in that cabin on the S.S. Burya, on their initial voyage to Great Britain before everything went wrong. At least, he thinks with some amusement, he nor Ryunosuke have to worry about being discovered this time.
“…Kazuma,” Ryunosuke breathes.
How long has it been since he’s truly felt the weight of someone saying his name? He’d heard it at their brief reunion in the Old Bailey, but it’d been too fast, his mind a maelstrom of recovered memories and his resurfacing anger too fresh to really focus and dwell on Ryunosuke and Susato as much as he should’ve done.
It’s just one of the many, many regrets he has. The list seems to have grown exponentially in the last week alone.
While only a few months in reality, it feels as though he spent eternity responding to calls of apprentice, and young man, and Prosecutor Asogi. Ryunosuke’s familiar voice speaking his given name in this quiet, swaying cabin with such softness makes a buried, long-forgotten feeling he’d considered to be dead bloom to life inside him. He thinks, with some faint amusement, that if he were Ryunosuke, he’d likely be crying.
“Ryunosuke,” he murmurs back. His hand slides out from underneath Ryunosuke’s warm caress to touch lightly at the curve of his jaw, and they finally come together.
Ryunosuke’s lips meeting his is like a lock clicking into place. For some reason, it feels terrifyingly new, like it’s their first kiss all over again – but instead of bursting fireworks and bubbling laughter under the shade of that wisteria tree at the end of spring, back when everything had been so much simpler, it’s simmering embers and quiet breaths in the cool silence of this cabin. Then, unbidden, Ryunosuke laughs into his mouth, and the lightly muffled sound has Kazuma blushing all the way to the tips of his ears.
“Stop—” he says between kisses, “—laughing.”
Ryunosuke hums against his mouth almost thoughtfully, before pulling away just enough to look him in the eye. “Are you telling me to not be happy, Kazuma?” he replies, his tone offended but his twitching smile betraying his true feelings. Kazuma blinks once, twice, and can’t help pressing his lips to the corner of Ryunosuke’s quivering smile before replying.
“I know it’s been a while,” he says, which is just a bit of an understatement, but it has Ryunosuke pressing their foreheads together, nonetheless. It’s strangely familiar yet entirely new, without the red fabric of his hachimaki headband to buffer the skin-on-skin contact. “Maybe my skills aren’t what they used to be.”
The stifled smile breaks out into a dazzling beam that has Kazuma grinning in delight, despite Ryunosuke’s next words.
“You’re such an idiot sometimes, Kazuma,” Ryunosuke comments fondly, pressing their lips together once more, sliding a hand up and around Kazuma’s side to grasp at the back of his white jacket. This time their kissing is slow, languid as their mouths meet again and again and again. Kazuma knows he’ll never tire of it, now that he’s gotten this miracle back in his arms again. “…I meant it, you know.”
The murmur between their kisses has Kazuma confused, and he breaks away reluctantly. “Meant what?”
Ryunosuke, despite everything he’s done in Great Britain—despite how confident he’s become in himself, is still that same fumbling young man that Kazuma adores. As Ryunosuke averts his eyes bashfully, the hand Kazuma has on his jaw strokes lightly in an automatic response of comfort. “When I said I laughed because I was happy.”
And that has Kazuma pausing, has him breaking inside all over again, reducing parts of him to mere splinters, as he senses the heavy importance packed into those words. He wishes so desperately that they weren’t like this, that there wasn’t this gaping chasm between them (no matter how much it may have sealed following their words at the dock, where Kazuma had changed his mind), the disconnect between them hovering over them like a storm cloud.
In lieu of answering, Kazuma tips Ryunosuke’s face up, kisses him hard, and hopes that that’s enough of a response. As he scrapes teeth over Ryunosuke’s bottom lip, he gasps, and Kazuma feels like he’s falling in love all over again.
Ryunosuke pulls a little at the back of his collar. “We might want to slow down a bit,” he whispers carefully…but then he trembles with supressed laughter. Kazuma has no idea why until the next word leaves his lips. “…Partner.”
Kazuma stops his ministrations completely, but when Ryunosuke’s breath quivers against his lips again, he can’t help but snort before breaking out into hearty laughter. As it simmers down into breathless giggles into each other’s mouths, Kazuma shifts his hand and threads it into Ryunosuke’s hair, just so he can more easily press kisses the corner of his mouth—to his cheeks—to his jaw—
They’ve still got some ways to go – Kazuma knows that. He’s not a fool. There are so many conversations that need to be had, and so many wounds that have been left to fester too long that need to be tended to. He knows with absolute certainty that it will be a long, long road to recovery.
But despite everything, for what feels like the first time in a very long time, Kazuma believes that everything will be fine.