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It came up during one of Kojiro’s biweekly calls with his mother - biweekly one way or another, because he tried to remember twice a week, but it often wound up being every other Thursday; his mother never seemed to mind - and he put down the dough he’d been inspecting, frowning absently at the wall.
“What?” Kojiro asked his mother, tilting his head.
“Did you just say. . .”
Kojiro turned and leaned backwards against the counter. “Well,” he qualified, “it’s not to say I don’t wonder sometimes what it would have been like. . .” He paused. Sometimes he even wished, honestly, just a little . . . and seeing the way Hiromi, whose pining over his manager-san had evaporated almost instantly upon his realisation, had thrown himself into getting to know his soulmate now. . .
Much like almost every other time in Kojiro’s life a friend had found their soulmate, it just reminded him that there wasn’t one for him and . . . made him wonder what it would be like.
A flash of Kaoru rolling his eyes and muttering disdainfully, even as he smoothed a comforting hand over Kojiro’s arm, rose in his mind. He smiled a little.
“I’ve always seen colours, though,” Kojiro pointed out, “so there is no soulmate out there for me to meet.”
“No you haven’t.” his mother said, and Kojiro frowned. “You did not have your colours when you were very young, dear.”
Kojiro shook his head. He couldn’t remember. . . “What are you talking about? No, I-” he paused. “When did that change?” he asked sharply.
“Oh, well, you came home from school one day simply raving about pink.” his mother said, and Kojiro stilled, trying to remember.
Pink.
Kojiro groaned and turned back towards the counter, bending over and letting his brow thump against its surface.
“Kojiro? Are you all right?” his mother asked, and Kojiro stifled a whine.
“Don’t you remember that almost two years when you wouldn’t wear anything that wasn’t pink?” she asked with some amusement, though he did remember that, and how frustrated she had been with him at times, and how determined he had been, because pink was the best colour ever, how could his mother not see that?
Kojiro’s lips twitched.
“Of course I do,” he said; and if he didn’t he would know it simply by the number of stories he had been told of that time as he grew older, certainly, “I just thought- I mean,” he paused, cheeks warming, “it was when I met Kaoru, so I just . . . thought. . .”
Kojiro jolted upright, eyes wide. “Oh my-” he broke off before he could curse while on the phone with his mother. “I am an idiot!”
The first colour he had been obsessed with, the time he had apparently first seen colours, when he had met Kaoru.
Pink.
Kojiro dredged his memory for that very old, well-worn moment when he had smacked straight into Kaoru on the playground, stumbling through apologies as he met sharp golden eyes - they had always been striking, even when Kaoru was little - attention straying only when Kaoru had accepted his apology with a sniff and looked away. And then his gaze had been stuck on Kaoru’s vivid hair, and. . .
Had that really been. . .
Kojiro couldn’t remember anything before. . . But he’d been so young and it was so long ago, his memories were a mess, and of course he knew what everything he could remember looked like with colour he had lived his entire childhood there. . .
“Kojiro? Darling, are you all right?” his mother asked, and Kojiro bit off another curse. He’d forgotten she was on the phone and he wasn’t even sure if she’d still been talking to him.
“Yes, I- Yeah, sorry, Mom.” Kojiro said, and she hummed in his ear, tinny and echoey but familiar. Kaoru did the same thing; a faint plink of surreality he’d grown used to a long time ago. “I-” He paused. “Sorry, can we talk another time?” he asked, wincing. “I . . . er, I think I need to call Kaoru. . .”
“Of course, darling.” his mother said fondly. “I never thought you didn’t remember, Kojiro.” she added, and Kojiro cringed. “Give Kaoru-kun my best and tell him he needs to stop being too busy to come home with you one of these times.”
“Yes, Mom.” Kojiro promised, the same way he had on every call for the last eight months - since the last time Kaoru had actually been available to join Kojiro when he went back to visit his mother and have dinner with his family every month or two.
“. . .oh. I am an idiot.” Kojiro said as he hung up, farewells finished.
Kaoru was family, of course he was, they’d been friends for so long. . .
But that wasn’t-
Kojiro slumped and shook his head again, the phone already ringing in his ear almost before he thought of making the call.
“Is this pressing, Kojiro?” Kaoru asked immediately when the call connected, his voice distracted. “I’m very busy at the moment.”
“Yes!” Kojiro snapped without thinking.
There was a crackling silence for a moment, and Kojiro cringed, remembering-
“. . .you sound strange; what’s wrong with you?” Kaoru asked, and he must be concerned, because normally Kaoru even when expressing worry would feel free to list off the things he thought were wrong with Kojiro.
“Erm.” Kojiro said faintly, caught in a lifetime’s memories and suddenly uncertain. Kaoru was. . .
Whatever else he might be to Kojiro - pink! screamed in Kojiro’s mind - he was Kojiro’s best friend, the single most important person in his life, as he had been for more than twenty years. Kojiro’s stomach knotted unexpectedly.
“Kojiro?” Kaoru’s voice was more attentive now. He might have been busy, but he was now utterly focused on Kojiro.
Kojiro’s throat tightened. That he would be, so easily - Kojiro knew how Kaoru worked, how he focused - and that Kojiro knew that so easily. . .
“. . .I was talking to Mom,” Kojiro said, and Kaoru hummed, murmuring understanding; he knew about Kojiro’s biweekly calls with his mother, of course, “er . . . remember when we were kids and I,” he paused; Kaoru had been exasperated and amused by Kojiro’s fixated insistence by turns even when they were kids and it had been current, “refused to wear anything but pink for so long?”
“Yes, of course.” Kaoru said. “It clashed terribly with your hair. Why, are you planning to revisit that phase? It should make quite a stir at Sia la Luce. And S, for that matter. . .”
“No!” Kojiro said immediately, then cringed at the thought; might have laughed, if his mind was less occupied with other things. “No, it’s. . . I think we might be soulmates?” he forced out, fast, before he could second-guess himself.
There was silence for a moment, then a little tinny hum in Kojiro’s ear.
“. . .yes?” Kaoru said, and Kojiro blinked, staring blankly across his apartment.
“You and me.” Kojiro clarified. “I think you and I are soulmates. Maybe.” he added hastily.
“. . .maybe?” Kaoru almost shouted in his ear. “You didn’t know?”
Kojiro gaped. “You- You knew?”
“You didn’t?” Kaoru was definitely shouting now. “Oh fuck, you utter idiot-”
“Yes, thank you! I have already realised that!” Kojiro interrupted, feeling even more stupid. “Why- Why did you never say anything?” he asked, barely getting the words out. If Kaoru had known but never said anything. . .
Kaoru wasn’t shy, had never been shy, certainly not with Kojiro - he was the one who had- had chosen their paths, for a long time, he was the one who-
“I thought you knew, you idiot!” Kaoru snapped, and . . . all right, that was a fair reason, Kojiro supposed. And one that didn’t sting, truly. Although. . .
“Right . . . er, Kaoru. . .” Kojiro hesitated.
“Have you been unhappy with our relationship, Kojiro?” Kaoru asked, and his voice was suddenly almost gentle; a tone that Kojiro knew almost no one else ever got to hear. He smiled a little, reflexively, then swallowed thickly as another stunningly obvious piece fell into the shape of what he’d already revealed.
“I mean- No, that’s. . .” Kojiro took a breath. “Er.”
Kaoru sighed in his ear, a ruffling staticky sound.
“Actually can . . . we not have this conversation over the phone?” Kojiro winced.
“You’re the one who called me to have it, Kojiro.” Kaoru said dryly.
“Yes, well, we’ve established I’m an idiot.” Kojiro said flippantly, and Kaoru laughed.
Kojiro went to get his shoes, remembered his dough halfway across his apartment and turned back to check on it. It would probably turn out strange, but. . .
He left it there to continue rising as it would, pulling his shoes on and locking up distractedly, taking the stairs at a quick clip. It was probably for the best that the route between his home and Kaoru’s was so familiar he didn’t need even to think about it - by the time he was ringing the doorbell he had no memory of the time between.
Carla lit up with a flare of pink around the doorbell, and Kojiro knew she was reporting his presence to Kaoru.
The door opened, and Kojiro smiled awkwardly, which itself felt strange. It was Kaoru, it was never awkward to be around him, Kojiro never even thought about restraining his actions or his words around Kaoru, hadn’t for years if ever.
Kaoru eyed him in a way that made it quite clear he had noticed Kojiro’s odd smile himself. Kojiro winced, even as he accepted Kaoru’s invitation, stepping inside and shedding his shoes, following Kaoru into the main room.
“Kaoru. . .”
“You really had no idea.” Kaoru interrupted, lips slightly pursed, eyes narrow.
Kojiro winced, but shook his head. “I didn’t remember not seeing colours . . . just like I don’t really remember a time when you weren’t part of my life.”
Kaoru’s mouth softened slightly, his eyes crinkling. “Idiot.” he said, warm with fondness.
“You really knew, all these years, and . . . you never said anything?” Kojiro repeated cautiously.
Kaoru shrugged a little. “I thought you knew as well as I,” he said quietly, “and why should I speak of it?” He paused. “I barely remember a time before you were the most important part of my life, either. I have been happy with that . . . haven’t you?”
“Of course I have been!” Kojiro said immediately, even as he realised Kaoru’s question didn’t carry any uncertainty. “I’m happy just to have you in my life. Always.” he continued all the same, and Kaoru cocked his head, smiling faintly.
Kojiro stepped closer, and Kaoru met his gaze.
“Kaoru. . .”
“Kojiro.” Kaoru returned, almost playful. Kojiro grinned, and Kaoru’s smile grew.
“I am happy, and I have been.” Kojiro said, and Kaoru nodded, with a trace of impatience. “But there could be. . . I mean, we could. . .”
Kaoru’s eyes narrowed slightly - thoughtful, not irritated - and Kojiro took one more step, tension strung up his spine.
“Is this. . .” Kojiro asked softly, brushing a hand over Kaoru’s upper arm to his shoulder and tilting his own head a little nearer. He struggled not to breathe too deeply, restrained the impulse to lick his lips, took-
“Kojiro.” Kaoru said, his low voice lilting just a bit. “Have I ever in our lives been subtle when I dislike something you’ve done?”
Kojiro paused. That. . . That was very true. He relaxed a little. If Kaoru didn’t want this, Kaoru would punch him, and Kojiro would apologise, and they would be fine - just like they’d been fine through any number of arguments and spats and teasing since they’d met when they were so young.
Kaoru smiled, golden eyes glinting with something that could have been fondness but Kojiro knew him well enough to read as amusement more than anything.
He really was beautiful.
Kojiro grinned just a little. Kaoru was beautiful, and it wasn’t as though Kojiro hadn’t known that, but somehow now it was. . .
Kojiro dipped his head the fraction necessary to make contact, fingers brushing Kaoru’s jaw, and kissed him, warm and gentle. It was firm enough to make Kojiro shiver, even before the unshakable feeling deep in his chest of something slotting into a place where it had always belonged rolled through him.
Kaoru did not punch him.