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“. . . It’s been a while since we were able to sit down and talk like this without arguing, huh.” Kojiro mumbles, laying on his back. It’s hard to tell where green locks meet soft grass. Shadows of tree leaves cast down over him. Sakura trees, to be exact. Of course Kaoru would pick a spot like this.
“Mm. . . No promises.” Kaoru responds, low and soft, like a gentle breeze.
“What, you wanna fight? Just for fun?” Kojiro chuckles.
“. . . We’ll see.” He replies playfully.
Kojiro sighs. A relieved sigh, like the ‘Finally, I’m home’ sigh you give when you first step in the door after a long day at work.
“. . . Fine by me.” He eventually says, readjusting to tuck his hands beneath his head. “As long as I get to hear your voice.”
Kaoru rolls his eyes, silently gagging in disgust.
“And see you making fun of me.” Kojiro adds.
“Oh, well then, I’ve got plenty more where that came from.” Kaoru jests, almost sounding offended, as though Kojiro was underestimating him.
Kojiro rolls over on his side to admire the man laying beside him, before continuing.
“Oh yeah? Like what.”
Kaoru turns as well. Their eyes meet, and it’s like molten copper steaming in water, and somewhere deep inside Kojiro, embers fall.
“. . . Like how ridiculous you look absolutely covered in sakura petals. You stay there long enough and you'll be able to make a hanafubuki angel.”
Kojiro glances down, and yes, it’s a sight to behold. He’s not sure how long he’s been laying there, but tiny dots of pink completely cover him, the pastel flowers clinging to his clothes. A decent amount spilled off onto the ground beside him as he turned, creating an interesting silhouette shape, and it’s truly comical to him how they piled up so fast. It’s a windy day though, he supposes it makes enough sense.
“Well whose fault is that? You’re the one who wanted to rest under Cherry Blossoms, Cherry Blossom.”
Kaoru laughs. It's short and sardonic, but god, was it amazing every time. Kojiro felt so lucky to hear that beautiful sound in his youth, and even luckier when that laugh came back to him, after all those years, after he had finally moved on and rebuilt the trusting heart Adam had shattered.
“Yes. . . I suppose it’s my fault, then. You always give me just what I want, huh. . .” Kaoru stretches, his features quickly settling into a cocky smirk.
Kojiro smiles too, but his brows are wrenched up into something distantly pained.
“When I can.”
He swallows, trying to swallow the lump in his throat down, down in his stomach where it belongs. Kaoru notices anyway. Of course he does. He always does.
A gust of wind blows past the two, and Kojiro can feel Kaoru gingerly move a stray piece of hair from his forehead.
“. . . It’s okay.” Kaoru whispers in his ear. . . and it feels like a promise.
When Kojiro simply can’t bring himself to respond, Kaoru finally lets his head loll back, garnished with an eye roll and a groan.
“. . . Do you recall something I used to tell you when we were children? Whenever you'd get too upset over something ridiculous. . .” He asks.
“What, ‘stop crying idiot’?”
“No. The other thing.”
Kojiro lets out a laugh. It helps keep the heartache at bay, at least for just another moment.
“. . . Let’s see. . . uhh. . . something about. . . ‘it’s all okay in the end, so if it’s not okay, it’s not the end’. . . right?”
Kaoru smiles, proud of his lover's memory, before closing his eyes. His arms are resting under the long pink locks that pool over his limbs, so soft, soft enough that just by looking, Kojiro can almost feel it sifting between his fingers.
“Right.” Kaoru says.
“Ugh, even as a kid you were always on about that edgy poetry shit. . . . . . . . . . . . Kinda surprised I remembered it though. . .”
Kojiro trails off. He was surprised by a lot of the memories that had decided to flood back to him these days. Little things he had long forgotten, that in the moment, seemed so insignificant, but now, they felt like his whole world. Like if he lost even just these details, if his mind lost the scent of floral shampoo and fresh parchment paper, surely, it would be his undoing, and he would fall apart.
All the basic things he had simply grown too used to, things he was so surrounded by, like a second skin wrapped around him, that he’d simultaneously never forget, but could never dream of admiring enough. Like the tiny grey dot under the right side of Kaoru’s lip. That scar, barely visible now, was a remnant of their youth. His lip ring. He could remember the way that after kissing Kaoru, it would leave his mouth rubbed red on that side, which only made it that much harder to try and convince others that they were just ‘friends’. And the way that scar felt against his lips again, years later, when he realized that despite the thrill of seeing and feeling steel, those few millimeters of space between their lips was just too much. Compared to the feeling of skin pressed so hard it goes numb, it would never be as much of a rush.
He remembered all their travels of course, but their time in Paris was buried the deepest into the chambers of his heart. The food, the drinks. The gorgeous hotel room Kaoru paid for. The underwhelming sight of the eiffel tower, as if Kaoru wasn’t standing right next to him, head craned up so far, gravity pulling his hair back to reveal more of his face than Kojiro usually got to admire. How could he look anywhere else? A good beef at ‘S’, especially with Kaoru, that was the kind of night that would make him feel alive, but these were the nights that made him feel they were simply immortal.
Even so, he had forgotten many of those nights to time and age, and now that their duo had been permanently seperated, Kojiro knew as life inevitably crawled by, more and more would be lost. But still, he had no regrets, not a single detail was taken for granted now, and even back then, not a single moment was wasted. Whether they were kissing, fighting, sleeping, making love, rough fucking in a bar bathroom. . . he always cherished every second they had spent together. He'd cherish those moments for as long as he had them.
“. . . . .” Kojiro felt tears pooling behind his lids. “. . . God. . . I miss you so much. . . . . . . I’m so scared to forget. . . . . . . I don’t want to forget anything about us.”
The smile on Kaoru’s face slowly drops. He averts his gaze to stare up at the tree hanging over them, watching the blossoms bend in the breeze.
“. . . You won’t.” He reassures.
“. . . Maybe not the most important things. But, I will forget a lot of it. Eventually.” Kojiro continues.
“. . . Well, sure. That’s the nature of time.” Kaoru’s voice tries to be mocking for the sake of familiarity, but it’s drowned by sympathies. Silent yet desperate apologies for being gone are etched into his every word.
Kojiro’s tears still flow, streaming back towards his temples as he sniffs.
“God. . . Fuck me. Fuck time.” He mutters angrily.
Kaoru chuckles, it's dry but just as warming as it had always been, and always would be for Kojiro to hear.
“I know, I know. . . . But that’s how it works. I know that now.” Kaoru replies.
“I love you so much.” Kojiro suddenly chokes out, until quiet breaths are pulling in and out of his lungs, fast and choppy as he tries to settle them. The back of his hand falls over his eyes, screwed tightly shut, yet now pouring tears without showing signs of relenting.
“. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . And I love you. So much.” Kaoru parrots, quiet adoration cushioned between every syllable. His lithe hand gently slips into Kojiro’s, who tightens his grip around it.
“Ughhhh." He fails to groan the emotion away. "Then why aren’t we together?” He barely manages to get out, his vocal chords stuck in a vice grip. It’s a rhetorical question. A question neither one have the answer to currently, and he only prays he will someday.
“. . . Why can’t I hold you? . . . Kiss you?” His lungs finally slow, as the sobbing threatens to cut his words short. But no, he refused to have any words meant for Kaoru left unsaid, not anymore. Not now.
Kaoru hides a frown, eyes still fixed on the blossoms above. His expression returns as peaceful as it can, but pain is still easily spotted in his eyes.
“. . . Love is like that, sometimes. . . sometimes, no matter how much you love them, or how badly you want them back, you can’t touch them. . .”
Kojiro throws his entire arm over his eyes, burying himself in the elbow of his jacket, further tightening the grip in his other hand-- but the hand is gone. In it’s place is a yellow hairband, Kaoru’s hairband, and it yields too easily to fill the contours of his closed palm.
“. . . I know it sounds cliche, but it is so not fucking fair.” Kojiro growls, a rather unintimidating sound when it’s so small and pathetic, rattling through the gravel in his throat that came from crying.
Kaoru smiles, pain etching it’s way into every crease around his eyes, which finally show signs of misting.
“I know. . . It sucks, doesn’t it.” He croaks out, along with a small exhaled laugh.
The wind picks up again, sending a small plume of pink petals swirling around the gravestone engraved with “Kaoru Sakurayashiki”. It’s beautiful, of course it is, how could an artistic soul like him not have a work of art like this planned for his grave. But, even with Kaoru's obsessive organization skills, Kojiro wonders how on earth he could have planned for his own death at all. Kojiro sure didn’t plan for it. Not this young, not this sudden, not when their love was still in bloom. But then again, to him, they were immortal, so perhaps that was his own fault.
“. . . I want to touch you so bad.” He confesses.
“. . . . . . . . . . Someday. Again.” Kaoru soothes him.
“Promise.” He begs. “Promise you aren’t just. . .” He can barely breathe as yet another laugh turns into a sob. “Can you promise you aren’t just me talking to myself?”
“. . . . . Mm . . . I can’t promise that. Pretty existential question, really. Maybe we’re all just talking to ourselves.”
Kojiro manages a genuine laugh that time, as broken and weak as it sounds.
“Okay, that’s gotta be you. . . such an asshole. . .” They share in that laugh now, and it’s gorgeous, but as it slowly fades away, Kaoru furthers the supposed conversation.
“. . . Whatever I try to tell you won’t change what you truly believe about this, will it? . . . It doesn’t matter either way. . . The memories we shared that you carry on with you are as real as any other part of me. . . Even when they slowly disappear, they’re infinite. We’re infinite.”
“Goddd, enough with the symbolics please.” Kojiro whines, sniffing away the emotion that still rises in his chest.
“. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I just. . . . . I can’t wait to feel you again.” He adds. Kaoru finally turns towards him once again.
“If you simply paid enough attention, gorilla brain, you can still feel me.”
Kojiro lets himself breathe for a moment, sobering himself as best as he can.
“. . . . shit. . . You know, yeah, I think I get what you mean, actually.” He smiles. “. . . I used to be. . . So excited to see you in things. It was comforting. I mean, I’d see your eyes in honeycomb and smell you in the sakura trees, and I’d smile about it even though I was all by myself. I’d smile even harder when I’d think about telling you, and how you’d punch me in the arm and tell me to knock it off. . . And now it just hurts.” He laughs. “It hurt to see that stuff. It's seriously so unfair. Why does it have to hurt now? Why’s it gotta hurt when it’s all I got left of you. . .” He chokes up again. “Why. . . can I see you everywhere except right in front of me. And. . . feel you everywhere but in my arms. . .” He sniffs. “Gah, your dumb poetry shit is rubbing off on me now too. Gross.”
“Where else can you feel me.” Kaoru asks, bringing Kojiro back to topic.
“. . . . . . . . . . . Somewhere. . . in my stomach. Every time I skate now. It’s like this adrenaline rush, but way deeper. Deeper in my chest than my heart. And it feels like it’s gonna set me on fire.”
“. . . And?” Kaoru urges tenderly.
“. . . On my tongue. When I cook something special. Carbonara. Or when I pour a glass of expensive wine. . . Usually. . .” He takes a slow breath before speaking the next part, going as fast as he can before the strength in his voice can break again. “Usually two glasses of expensive wine. By accident. . . Habit, y’know.”
The wind blows. Kaoru sits up and smiles. He’s in his S gear now, ponytail tall and tight, swaying gently, and one hand holding his mask just below his chin.
“Then you can still feel me, can’t you.” He says, pulling the mask up over his mouth.
Slow and steady, a smile forms on Kojiro’s own lips, feeling that truth settle deep inside him, but he can’t help the pain that still lingers.
“. . . It’s not the same.” He admits, but the smile doesn’t waver much.
“. . . I know.” Kaoru replies, before leaning in for a kiss. Kojiro can’t feel his lips through the fabric. The mask is the only reason. That’s what his brain tells him. That’s the only explanation he has. The only one he can bare.
“Please don’t go.” He can no longer hold the pain below his throat. It claws its way out, desperate and pathetic. But he couldn’t care less if anyone else hears it, or if Kaoru wants to mock him for it. If it’s truly Kaoru at all. In the end, he’d do anything, anything for even just the concept of Kaoru.
And this beautiful, gorgeous, heartbreaking concept, just looks at him.
“Don’t I always come back when you need me?” He asks, arms crossed.
“. . . Of course.” Kojiro nods, as his tears only stream faster.
Kaoru’s smile, hidden under black fabric, still somehow shines through. Affection beams from him, and Kojiro can't believe he's the one Kaoru referred to as the Sun. Kaoru is his sun, stars, and moon.
“We promised, right? We wouldn’t leave each other alone. No matter what.” Kaoru says.
“Right.” Kojiro agrees.
“And you trust me?” Kaoru quirks a brow at him.
“Of course!” Kojiro rushes, almost offended by the implication. He softens once again when it looks like a single tear falls from Kaoru’s face, wetting the mask he dons, and yet. . . those honey eyes only glow brighter. They glow so brightly with focus, with promise, with love, that he feels hopeful again that this is the real Kaoru standing before him.
“. . . Then you aren’t alone.” He states.
A gust of wind blows.
And he’s gone.
Gone.
Kojiro groans, a headache already settling in from all the bitter tears. Tears which still pool even now, while his eyes remain closed. He stays there a moment, letting them fall one by one, until--
Suddenly, he feels something on his face. Some of it tickles, but the rough surface smacking down and something poking sharply into his eyelid doesn’t allow him to ignore the sensation.
“Ow!” He exclaims as he jolts up. He stares at the object that has now fallen down into his lap. A branch from the sakura tree that must have broken off in the wind.
. . .
He laughs and sobs, sobs and laughs, alternating between the two contradicting emotions quite a few times before he can speak.
“. . . . . . . ‘stop crying idiot’ . . . yeah, yeah.” He mutters under his breath.
With a shaky inhale, he wipes the rest of the tears away. And this time, he takes all those gut wrenching thoughts of how badly he wishes it was Kaoru’s kimono sleeve wiping them away, and puts them all to rest, confident that he’ll find that feeling somewhere else, just like all the other feelings he still misses. Maybe in Kaoru’s Obi he has wrapped around his pillow to sleep with at night. And that kiss he yearns for, the butterflies it brought. . . and that feeling in his stomach when he wins a beef, when he can hear the kids cheering for him, and feel the adrenaline in his veins. . . maybe the sensations were closer than he ever stopped to realize. Or maybe Kaoru, his imagination, whichever one it truly is, maybe he wasn’t lying. Maybe someday, he will feel it again. Maybe they are infinite after all. . . Things were far from okay for Kojiro, and like Kaoru had always said, if it’s not okay, then it must not be the end.
Kojiro rises, shaking the lasting petals off his clothes, and replacing that yellow band securely around his wrist where it now belongs. He takes a few steps towards the gravestone, admiring it's details for just a moment longer, before giving it a soft DAP, and taking his leave. Things would be ok. That felt like a promise.