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Kaoru loves the ritual of becoming Cherry Blossom as much as he likes racing. It’s easy. Shedding the navy blue kimono off his body, just like he’s ripping off his own skin and replacing it with that of someone who, most of the time, has it easier than Kaoru himself.
“S” is not weighed down by mundane troubles.
“S” is a secret, and so is everything that’s S-related.
So when Kaoru ties his hair up, wraps his forearms in bandages and covers half of his face behind a mask, Cherry Blossom doesn’t need to worry about work nor exhaustion nor how he feels. He just skates.
Nevertheless, there are always exceptions to the rules, because Kaoru loves Kojiro as much as Cherry Blossom loves Joe. And that’s not something he can hide behind a costume.
The last rays of sun shine on Kaoru as he sets foot on “S” that night. Everything seems different when the light is gone; the trees cast different, darker shadows. The corners and turns look even more dangerous and sharp. Secrets are only shared with the moon. But that only makes it more exciting.
Kaoru studies his surroundings once more, as if he can learn something new about the place he considers his second home, and slowly makes his way towards the top, Carla carrying him graciously like an emperor on his throne.
Someone whispers his name.
“That’s Cherry Blossom! I’d never seen him this close.”
But Kaoru doesn’t even turn to check who’s talking about him. He keeps going because the only person he wants to see wouldn’t call him Cherry Blossom and is waiting for him at the end of the road. Maybe not specifically for him, but he’d be glad to see him. He always is. He hopes.
Kaoru sees Kojiro before Kojiro sees him, and he allows himself to yearn for those twenty seconds before they make eye contact. He is there, standing glorious and gorgeous, shirtless and strong, and the moon shines on him, oh, so softly, and Kaoru is fucked. Has never been so fucked as he is every time he sees Kojiro once more.
A group of skaters surrounds him, stars in their eyes, and a few girls get closer to him. He smiles at them so brightly and they must be asking for a hug, because Kojiro nods, ducks — couldn’t he be just a bit smaller? — and holds the girls for a few seconds. When was the last time Kojiro held him? Has he ever? Then again, Kaoru has never asked. He hates him.
That’s when Kojiro finds Kaoru’s eyes in the crowd. He waves at him enthusiastically, and Kaoru swears his smile becomes wider, brighter, more genuine. But he doesn’t allow himself to have hope when Kojiro is always surrounded by people that love him and admire him. Just like Kaoru himself does. What’s the difference? Kojiro reciprocates them all, in a way, but Kaoru wants more than that. Much more.
So when he reaches Joe, he simply greets him with a nod and passes by him. Carla finally slows down a few meters away from him, and it’s only then that Kaoru allows himself to will his heart down and build again that armor he has to wear and repair every single time. Once and again.
He closes his eyes. Breathes in. Thinks of — Thinks of the moon. Breathes out.
“Kaoru,” a voice mutters in his ear and conjures everything but the moon. He doesn’t even need to think to guess who the voice belongs to. It’s muscle —heart— memory. And his body knows because his being always reacts to that voice. But Kaoru clenches his jaw; he can’t let his heart show.
“How many times do I have to tell you to—”
Kojiro is much closer than he was expecting when he turns around and Kaoru’s words die in his throat. He smiles and Kaoru’s heartbeat is only half settled.
“Yes, yes, not to call you by your name when we’re here.”
Kaoru rolls his eyes and takes advantage of the moment to take a deep breath —another one—. Maybe it’s not the best idea, because he can smell Kojiro’s cologne.
“And yet you do it every time.”
He finally gathers all his courage and steps away from Kojiro’s warmth. Kojiro, nevertheless, leans the slightest bit towards Kaoru’s direction, almost unconsciously. Almost as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Kaoru can’t help but wonder, especially in these moments, if what he feels can be reciprocated. Because he sees stars in Kojiro’s eyes that he recognises as his own. Because he looks at the place where Kojiro was standing and the circle of people is still there, intact, only this time there’s an obvious gap in the middle. The place where Kojiro should be standing feels like a ghost. Kaoru clears his throat, lets the chill air of the night clean his foggy mind. He can’t ruin their friendship. He doesn’t want to be Kojiro-less, even if it’s only as friends.
“Tired of the attention?” he asks instead.
Kojiro smiles that smile of his. The one he reserves for the pretty ladies who always crowd him and the one he has no idea works wonders for Kaoru as well. Damn it. Damn him.
“Do I have to be tired of the attention to want to be with you?”
Kaoru stills and Kojiro notices and Kaoru is burning, is going to explode, and— and—
“The actual question is if I want to be with you.” And he rolls his eyes as if it weren't obvious that the answer was a very bright, massive, neon sign with a “yes” in capital letters. “And I’m not very sure of the answer.”
What he likes the most about Kojiro, though, is that he laughs. Loudly. And without any more questions, he walks towards the starting line. He stops when he notices Kaoru is not following, turns around and stares.
“Are you coming?”
Kaoru follows.
*
Here’s the thing about Kaoru.
Once, when they were fifteen, Kojiro told him he liked a girl. She was tall and pretty, with long, dark hair and a breathtaking smile. Soft and kind. She made him laugh. He taught her how to skate. Kaoru understood why Kojiro liked her, but he couldn’t bear to see them together, almost came to hate the girl. Still, they went out for a few months and Kaoru stayed and pretended it didn’t hurt.
When they were eighteen, Kojiro left for Italy. They texted almost every day, skyped once a week. Kaoru even visited him a few times and Kojiro, in exchange, introduced him to his new, temporary life. Friends, girls, parties. Studies. He felt Kojiro was living a life where he didn’t really fit and he hated it, but he stayed and kept insulting him with empty words.
A few days ago, Kojiro went on a date with a girl. They knew each other from “S” and liked each other well enough to give it a chance. Kojiro had told Kaoru about her. Quick-witted and kind. Worked in an art gallery. Great skater. It felt serious, or at least more serious than before. But Kaoru got himself together.
“Why do you ask me?”
Kojiro shrugged. Kaoru sighed.
“What would you lose?” They looked at each other. “If you go out with her, I mean.”
His voice came out a bit shaky and Kojiro noticed. He gave him an intent look, opened his mouth to answer, but didn’t say anything at all. What was it? What were you going to say? But Kaoru didn’t ask, so Kojiro stayed silent and went on a second date with her.
And now, at the starting line, Kojiro stands next to her and wishes her good luck with a hug. Kaoru stares from the side, just like he’s always done when it came to that. But, this time, when Kojiro turns around and looks at him, Kaoru doesn’t have the strength to hide.
“What have you lost?” he would like to ask, but, again, he doesn’t. He looks at his eyes and nods, with a tired smile under the black mask. Kojiro frowns and gets off his skate, heads for Kaoru like an arrow. He’s ironically too slow, because the lights turn green and Kaoru doesn’t wait for him. Carla rushes and Kojiro is left staring, dumbfounded.
*
Kaoru rushes down the track faster than ever, with the wind sweeping back his ponytail. He slipped. He slipped and Kojiro noticed. Again. Every turn is a challenge, with all his mind on his heart, but he relies on Carla to sort that out.
“Master, you should reduce your current speed to safely take the following turn.”
Kaoru gets closer to the turn, but doesn’t slow down. Speeds up instead.
“Master, with your current speed—”
He grunts. Langa did it once. Why couldn’t he? So when he reaches the turn, instead of rotating, he uses the wall as a ramp and jumps over a small grove. He flies over the trees for a few seconds that feel like forever, but he lands safely on the track, and even though his knees resent it, he’s unharmed.
Carla is saying something, but all he hears is blood rushing in his ears, the beat of his heart. He’s not thinking about—
“What the hell was that?”
Kojiro has caught up with him. Of course he has.
“What was what?”
Kaoru doesn’t slow down, instead keeps pushing and pushing and pushing.
“Kaoru…”
“I told you, don’t call me that name here,” he snaps. Kojiro doesn’t react at all, just reaches up with a hand and holds him by the elbow.
“Stop.”
Here’s the thing about Kojiro:
He can read Kaoru with his eyes closed.
Kojiro abruptly stops them both as best as he can and the sudden lack of movement sends them both stumbling to the next grove, Kojiro pillowing Kaoru’s fall with his body.
“What’s wrong with you?” Kaoru buries his index in Kojiro’s chest pointedly.
“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?!” He sits up and brings Kaoru with him, carefully. Kaoru looks away.
“Nothing’s wrong with me. Unlike you, I don’t push people off the road.”
Kojiro sighs.
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
Kaoru can’t help the bitter laugh that escapes his lips. His friend sounds soft, worried, warm, and he is all cold and rough edges.
“Enlighten me, then.”
He regrets it as soon as he says it, because of course he knows what Kojiro meant. Kojiro has this annoying habit of understanding Kaoru when all he wants is to be left alone and misunderstood. It’s not different now.
“I told Aiko I just want us to be friends. I know it bothered you. I don’t need to—”
His voice dies abruptly when Kaoru slaps his hand over his mouth and all that’s left to hear for a couple seconds is the silence. Aiko. That was her name.
“Don’t,” Kaoru hisses. “You can’t just do that. You can’t.”
Kojiro’s eyes are glued onto his, the most serious and confused he’s ever seen them, but still he doesn’t take his hand off. If Kojiro speaks, then it’s over. His voice comes muffled and distorted when he asks:
“Do what? Do what Kaoru?”
And Kaoru can’t look away either. He stares, consumed by his gaze, and when he speaks the moon possesses him and lets out his secret. He wants to shout, he even strips the mask off his face and frees the words of every barrier.
“Give me hope! You keep doing that. Once and again.” He’s out of breath and so, so mad. “You keep talking to me about all these girls, tell me how nice they are, kiss them and date them.” He pokes his chest again with his free hand and tries very hard not to let out tears of frustration. “And then you leave them and keep coming back to me. Every time, Kojiro. I can’t live like that. I can’t, you stupid gorilla.”
Kojiro holds Kaoru’s wrist and effortlessly removes his gloved hand from his mouth. He’s smiling, and Kaoru hates him.
“Who are you calling a stupid gorilla, you cheapskate four-eyes?”
“That’s all you have to say?” He gives him an angry shove, and is about to go for a second one before Kojiro takes a hold of his hands. Kaoru wrestles, but there’s nothing he can do against his muscles.
“Hey.” He calls him. “Hey, Kaoru.” Kaoru looks up and makes the mistake of briefly staring at his lips. “Did you—Did you just confess?”
“And what if I did?” There’s a challenge in his eyes, clear and loud. “Are you gonna leave me, just like you leave everyone else when they confess? Are you gonna—?”
“I kept talking to you about those girls because I wanted you to tell me not to date them.” He’s earnest and quiet and Kaoru wonders if maybe, if perhaps, he wasn’t imagining things at all.
“What?” he mutters.
“I wanted you to tell me they weren’t for me.”
“Why would I tell you—?” He knows. He thinks he knows. But he wants to hear it from Kojiro.
“You asked me what I would lose if I dated her. Isn’t it clear now? I would lose you.”
This time, when Kaoru shoves him, it’s weak and half-hearted.
“You idiot, you just can’t— Not like that, not— not—”
He hides his face in Kojiro’s bare chest and grunts.
“Isn’t that what you wanted to hear?” he sounds confused and it could be hilarious if Kaoru wasn’t this flustered.
“Are you dumb?” He spats. “I—Of course that’s—”
He lets out a frustrated groan and stands straight again, facing Kojiro. It’s the middle of the night, but Kojiro shines with the force of a thousand suns. That bright smile is for him, just for him this time.
“Dimwit,” Kaoru whispers.
“What was that?” The smile turns into a smirk, and there might only be one way to shut him up.
Kaoru surges up, holds his face between his hands and kisses him shamelessly. Like he’s wanted to do for so, so long. Kojiro is eager to answer, places both hands on his hips and draws him impossibly closer, until they are chest to chest, nose to nose, tongue to tongue and what’s around them simply vanishes.
“Dimwit, I said,” Kaoru mumbles when they stop for air, and he barely recognises his own voice.
“I’ve been wanting to do this for years.” Kojiro’s warm breath caresses the flustered skin of his cheek.
“Years?” His eyes widen and Kojiro licks his own lips.
“Years.”
“Well, then we better make up for them.”
Kojiro —Joe— kisses him. Kaoru has never been this happy to share Cherry Blossom with someone else.