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The best night of Gorou’s life was set into motion with a text—a call for help sent on the spur of the moment, without much underlying thought.
He was used to the noise. A house with five siblings was a house hardly hushed, perpetually brimming with chaos. Fights broke out and flared up like wildfire burning through the woods whenever someone overstepped, and tantrums abounded.
As the youngest, Gorou couldn’t do anything but watch idly from the sidelines as the drama unfolded. He remembered fondly those distant times when his family had been united and loving, when their home was a safe harbor rather than a suffocating prison cell.
Somewhere along the line, at a moment Gorou wasn’t quite able to pinpoint with precision, their bond had shattered. His eldest brothers didn’t get along anymore, their personalities changed by the passing of years, and their parents were hardly around enough to bother with their continuous arguments.
Whenever the screaming went on and on, stretching way past midnight, Gorou caught himself fearing that peace would never return. His heart quivered at the thought their happiness might be gone forever, dead and lost, a trampled flower in a barren field.
Gorou was rather sociable in his earliest days. He used to hang out with the loudest children at kindergarten, dashing back and forth across the courtyard, battling for the control of the swing sets, and enjoyed creating messy paintings with his hands and feet. Back then, he still believed having a big family was a blessing, a treasure only he among his peers possessed.
But in the present, at the doors of adulthood, barely any friend remained by his side. Those people he had held dear, counting on them as his confidants and companions, lived too far to bring him any comfort.
Kokomi, daughter of a politician, had moved out of town at the end of middle school. Yoimiya was gone, busy helping with her family’s shop in the capital. Itto had disappeared as well one day, for reasons unknown to Gorou.
Perhaps his deep-rooted loneliness had contributed to his growing attachment to the only man who stuck around. It had become natural for Gorou to turn to Kazuha when things were too heavy a burden to carry— the man was the gust of fresh air he needed to drag his stray thoughts back onto the main path. Kazuha was a compass showing the North, the polar star shining high up in the sky.
Curled up underneath the duvet, Gorou unplugged his phone from its charger. He would normally give Kazuha a ring. His mellow voice was all it took for his nerves to be soothed. A whispered, “It will be alright, Gorou. Put on a cup of tea and shut the world out,” was the kind of simple advice that often saved Gorou from drowning.
But it was two in the night and, although Gorou enjoyed teasing Kazuha about his unpredictable sleep schedule, he didn’t wish to risk waking him up (in case he was being merciful to his exhausted body, for once).
A text would do the trick. “Ichirou and Jirou are at it again,” he typed into Kazuha’s chat, pulling the blankets above his head to muffle out the background noise. He was grateful to the soundproof walls, or else the entire neighborhood would despise his family. “Any wise words to spare?”
Part of him was surprised to see the screen light up immediately, Kazuha’s reply coming in the blink of an eye. Gorou rolled on his right side and read the message with bated breath. “Get dressed. I will be there shortly.”
What? Kazuha was coming? Gorou was definitely not ready to meet him. Well, to be fair, he doubted he would ever be. Kazuha was awesome like that— spending time in his close vicinity was a wild fantasy for Gorou.
Gorou was content with his own averageness, with his status as a college student and his internship as a trainee veterinarian. But Kazuha— oh, Kazuha was so much more . The charming writer next door, the author who avoided being assaulted full-time by his fans solely because of a wisely-chosen pseudonym. And, coincidentally, the man Gorou had been having a hopeless crush on for the past four years.
Gorou sprung up, almost tripping on his feet in the process. He rushed to the closet and pulled a bunch of random clothes over his head, with a warm hoodie to keep his torso safe from the piercing night breeze.
When he stepped outside, carefully climbing down from his bedroom window to dodge his brothers’ attention, Kazuha’s car was already parked on the corner of the street, where the fences of their gardens met. The lights were off and no music could be heard, the whole area enveloped by an eerie veil of silence.
Gorou covered the distance between them with careful steps. Though his siblings appeared to be busy arguing in the living room, he would be severely punished if they caught him sneaking outside in the dead of night. He had to be quick and quiet.
It was with his heart in his throat that Gorou opened the car door and tossed himself over the passenger’s seat, his breath short as if he had just run a marathon. “Hey,” he greeted. “Didn’t expect you to come at this time.”
Kazuha smiled softly. “There will never be a time I won’t be ready to come and steal you when you’re feeling blue,” he said, unaware of the devastating effect of his words on Gorou’s enamored soul. “Plus, I was in the mood for a drive.”
Their glances met across the cabin. Gorou’s chest sank— Kazuha’s hair was done in a high bun above his head, his skin was fresh and smooth as if he had woken up from the sweetest nap barely a minute prior. Gorou, on the other hand, was quite sure he sported pitch-black circles under his eyes.
Kazuha was, matter-of-factly, eternally perfect. Gorou had yet to spot a wrinkle on his clothes or a ripple in his expression in the years they had been acquainted. He wouldn’t be shocked to find out Kazuha was secretly a vampire, fated to be handsome and damned for many centuries and beyond.
“Get cozy,” Kazuha said. He turned on the heating without being prompted to do so, catching Gorou’s needs with a single glance. “It’s safe here.”
Gorou sat comfortably on his seat, moved to tears. Kazuha was a true blessing, and he still failed to believe his luck in meeting him altogether. Their first encounter dated back four years, when Gorou was a freshman in high school and his eldest brother hadn’t moved out of their home yet.
Gorou had a minor fight with Saburou that day, something he now missed the innocence of, the type of banter that could be solved with a half-assed apology and a handshake instead of turning into a case. When Ichirou refused to take Gorou’s side in the argument, he ran off to the corner of the backyard to weep.
Gorou cried often compared to the other boys his age (or so his classmates and siblings liked to repeat). He couldn’t help it: crouched by the rose bushes his mother used to tend to, surrounded by the gleeful chirping of birds and the fresh scent of flowers, he found no better way to express his sorrow than through tears streaming down his cheeks.
Kazuha had waltzed into his life with the elegance and strength of a typhoon. He found fifteen-year-old Gorou crying his heart out in the garden, and offered him a silk tissue. “Why are you crying?”
In Kazuha’s gentlemanly manners (perhaps a little old-fashioned, yet always capable of making Gorou’s soul tremble), in his handsome looks, and in his tender voice, Gorou had discovered the meaning of love.
Before either of them could notice the rapid evolution of their bond, Kazuha’s home became the place where Gorou would crash when things with his siblings got rough. Kazuha would brew some tea and show him the manuscript he was working on, giving him subtle details about the plot.
Gorou watched with pride as Kazuha built his success brick by brick, one novel at a time, growing from a college junior into an accomplished author without ever losing his calm demeanor.
“Is there anywhere special you would like to go?” Kazuha asked. Gorou awoke from the depths of his memories and closed the car door, quickly fastening his seatbelt. “I’m at your complete disposal, little Gorou.”
Little Gorou . The nickname Kazuha had chosen for him fueled his worries like wood fed to a fire.
Gorou’s lifelong, powerful crush had encountered the first doubts when he joined Kazuha in college. A mind-boggling feeling of inadequacy kicked in: Kazuha was five years older than him, with a successful career on his back. Would he ever see him as a potential love interest, or was Gorou doomed to be seen as a younger brother forever, or a pupil under Kazuha’s protective wing?
Stories of that kind, where the childhood friend develops feelings for the cooler, admirable, older friend, rarely turned out for the best. Which was why Gorou swallowed his feelings and decided to take the secret to his grave.
It wouldn’t be so hard to let Kazuha go, if only he didn’t make it nearly impossible for Gorou to forget why he loved him so deeply.
“Not really,” Gorou said. “Anywhere’s fine. I just wanna get away from here.” From the screams, from the heavy atmosphere, from his own inferiority complex. And honestly, any place was wonderful with Kazuha at his side.
Kazuha started the engine and slowly drove the car towards the street. “Roger that,” he said. He hit the gas, entered the main road, and headed to the city's outskirts.
Unsure what to say, Gorou sank in his seat and kept his gaze outside the window for most of their trip. The cherry trees were in full bloom on the boulevards of Inazuma City, their pink and white petals glistening even in the darkness of the night.
Kazuha’s vehicle roamed the empty roads in utter silence, his driving smooth and calm. Gorou stared at the silhouettes of the building, admiring the way they changed from the tall buildings of the center to the smaller houses of the suburbs, and then into the grass fields of the countryside.
Kazuha turned the radio on and played the custom playlist from his pen drive, a compilation of tranquil tunes to ensure a relaxing journey. That was the tacit sign— the moment of truth had come. Setting up a comfortable mood was Kazuha’s worldless push: ‘Go on, Gorou: pour your heart out.”
“Jirou won’t stop getting into stupid fights,” Gorou confessed. “We told him a million times to stop. Heck, Ichirou has to visit us every damn day to chase him downtown. His wife is pissed off— We can’t even afford to repay the noses he breaks on a daily basis.”
Kazuha kept his eyes on the road as he listened. The street lights reflected in their red shade, making them shine brighter than the starry sky over the horizon. “It does sound like he has anger issues,” he said once Gorou was finished. “Professional help would perhaps be a solution.”
“He won’t listen.” Gorou shrugged. Heavens knew how many times they had tried to shove therapy down Jirou’s throat, to try and fish out his mind from the hell it was in. “Until my parents stop fucking around and come back for good, he won’t listen to what we say. This is his loneliness screaming.”
Kazuha was the one who taught him that. Despite knowing since his teenage years that he would pursue a career in writing, he had a degree in psychology and enjoyed handing out advice to Gorou like candy. Advice that was pondered, truthful, and occasionally a bit harsh. Kazuha did not hold back when it came to honesty— a virtue that Gorou cherished immensely.
“I will be here when you need a listening ear,” Kazuha said. “Do tell me if there’s anything I can do to help convince him.” He reached out with his right hand to give Gorou’s thigh a gentle squeeze.
A selfless gesture of affection towards a person in need… Gorou inhaled sharply to resist the urge to wrap his palm around Kazuha’s fingers. Fire spread on his skin from the spot Kazuha was touching, seeping under the fabric of his pants.
Kazuha’s chosen destination was a small village right outside the city, a town with buildings made of rough bricks and wooden doors. Gorou would expect that place to host spring festivals on the streets, a scenery jumping straight out of the 80s.
Not a soul could be seen, all lights off as far as the eye could see. Kazuha parked his car near a deserted playground. The silence was haunting, so out of place for something made to entertain children.
Kazuha hopped off and walked down the pathway. Gorou mirrored his movements, trailing after his steps while minding the pebbles under his shoes. The grass was neatly cut, a faint smell still rising from the soil.
They aimed straight for the seesaw. Kazuha climbed up one of the seats, his feet comfortably reaching the ground, and pointed at the other seat to invite Gorou.
Gorou loved that kind of ride when he was a child: the wind passed through his entire body as he swung up and down; it emptied his head and freed his chest. It was a little odd to be there as an adult, his butt barely fitting on the seat as he sat down.
“I used to come here all the time as a child,” Kazuha said, dreamy. “I was attached to the swing set, back when it only had one seat. I would fight my cousin to decide who deserved the honor of the first ride.”
Gorou had met Kazuha’s cousin before, one time she had visited and stayed overnight at his apartment. Ayaka was yet another example of perfection in the family, a multi-talented young woman who had won countless prizes for the most varied things. Tea ceremony, sword fighting, archery… Gorou was honestly envious of whatever special gene ran in their bloodline.
“Did you ever win?” Gorou asked. The question came out as more of a tease than he had planned. Playful flirting often went overboard, his lovesick brain twisting the words his tongue spoke more than just a couple times. “Or did you let little Ayaka win like a true gentleman?”
Kazuha chuckled. The sound rippled in the cold air of the night; it echoed pleasantly like a hummed tune in Gorou’s ears. “I shall leave that to your imagination, my friend.”
Which was a shame— Because Gorou couldn’t for the life of him figure out Kazuha’s behavior, be it in the past or the present. If he was an open book instead, wearing his thoughts and feelings on his sleeve, Kazuha was a complex riddle to solve. A beautiful, intriguing, mysterious one, that is.
They stayed there for a long time, swinging at a rhythmic pace, quietly enjoying each other’s presence. The wind was cold but not unbearable, the heat of spring that burned Gorou’s skin in the hours of day having melted away with sunset.
Then, Gorou had a silly idea.
He tried to emulate something he used to do in his childhood. When he was swinging high, he suddenly pressed down with his full weight. His butt plunged to the ground with a sharp sting, but what happened to Kazuha was a far better sight: he was thrown up, jumping in the air for a brief moment.
That was the best part of the game, the short parenthesis of freedom as one lost their grip on the seesaw. Pure energy flowed through one’s veins, and Gorou wanted Kazuha to experience the same liberating feeling that kept him alive as a child.
Alas, Gorou had failed to take something into account while crafting his master plan. They weren’t featherlight children anymore. When Gorou pushed down on the seesaw, Kazuha was bounced off rather violently, toppling off his seat and falling onto Gorou.
Their faces were so close that their noses almost touched. Kazuha’s red eyes stared back into his own, a boiling-hot flush spreading across Gorou’s cheeks at the realization. “Ah, I— This—” he stuttered. “This didn’t go as planned, it was meant to be fun. I’m sorry! Are you hurt?!”
Kazuha laughed . “Who knew little Gorou enjoyed this kind of thing?” He climbed back to his end of the ride and, when they swung again, he mirrored Gorou’s actions.
It was Gorou’s turn to be sent flying, to have his back thrown into the air, and then plunge back onto the seat in a violent impact. It was amazing— no other feeling in the world could equal that short breath of pure freedom.
Encouraged by Kazuha’s reaction, Gorou did it again, and again. Their giggles filled up the air as they fought each other like that, their knees occasionally bumping into each other. Their backs hurt when they finally decided to stop.
It was rare for Kazuha to lose his composure like that. He usually didn’t laugh out loud, his amusement coming out in the form of soft chuckles or huffs. Gorou might be only a junior in his eyes, yet he couldn’t help feeling somewhat special for witnessing Kazuha’s best-hidden sides.
They returned to the car after their playground adventure, leaving behind the pleasant memories. Gorou wished they had met earlier, or perhaps even grown up together. There were so many events in Kazuha’s life he wasn’t aware of, so many sides of him he didn’t have a chance to explore and love.
Kazuha drove them up the hill, carefully following curve by curve the narrow road that spiraled up the slope, in a whirlwind of asphalt. The landscape in the countryside was different from the scenes Gorou’s eyes were used to, with tall trees in the place of gray buildings, and smelly plants and grass all around. The air itself seemed to be made of a different matter, with a freshness and cleanliness that filled Gorou’s lungs with joy.
A modest parking lot had been built on top of the hill, on the edge of the cliff— a place for the romantic souls who wished to gaze at the sunset or dawn from a privileged position. The view was breathtaking at those times of day, when the clouds swelled with the warmest colors, but the view of the Milky Way was just as stunning.
“This would be a great time for a drink,” Kazuha said. “Shame I didn’t bring any sake with me.”
It had been Gorou’s childish suggestion again. They were lying on the hood of the car to gaze at the stars above, entrusting their feelings to the moon like a couple of newlyweds. A common trope in old-school romance movies, usually the moment when the main leads fell hopelessly in love.
Too bad it wasn’t half as comfortable in real life. The cold profile of the car poked painfully against Gorou’s shoulder blades, and the dried mud they had accidentally scooped up while roaming the country roads was now stuck to his pants. “They don’t drink in movies, though.”
Kazuha nodded. “You’re right. Actually, there’s something else we’re lacking.”
Gorou gulped. His plan was backfiring on him, a wave of self-consciousness holding him by the throat. They were terribly close, the hair of Kazuha’s bun tickling the base of Gorou’s neck. Kazuha’s heat pulsated through his body and, if he focused hard enough, he could hear his faint breathing as well.
“What is it?” Gorou asked. Mutual love? A heartfelt confession beneath the canvas of the stars? A passionate kiss under the moon’s watchful gaze? Or, perhaps, the signs of an oncoming tragedy?
Kazuha turned to face him, their noses almost rubbing together. Gorou clenched his fists to keep his instincts under control, suddenly feverish. The temptation to lean closer and kiss Kazuha was strong, terribly so, though he knew it would destroy their relationship with no chance of return.
“The snacks,” Kazuha said after a long pause. “We’re missing the snacks.”
“True.” Gorou breathed.
People always munched on popcorn on sweets at that point of the movie, and fed from each other’s fingers. A shame they had none, indeed. What a wasted opportunity to make his move.
“We have you, though.” Kazuha booped Gorou’s nose, a smirk on his lips. “Sweet enough to make up for their absence.”
Gorou wished he could disappear. He wouldn’t complain if the ground were to open up and swallow him whole, keeping him trapped until the end of time. Was that Kazuha’s way to flirt back, or was he simply oblivious to the meaning of his words?
“But the best popcorn isn’t sweet,” Gorou said. “Isn’t too much sweetness sickening, anyway?”
Was that a roundabout way for his heart to ask Kazuha what he thought of him? Gorou feared he might be overwhelming at times, always clinging to the man like his life depended on it (and it kind of did, in more than one way).
Kazuha chuckled again. “If you prefer salted popcorn, then your tears will do just fine. You’ve spilled enough to fill up a lake, anyway.”
“Hey, rude!” Gorou playfully hit him with his elbow, faking offense.
They wrestled on top of the car hood for a few minutes, poking each other’s hips and stomachs, shamelessly taking advantage of their ticklish spots in an outright attack. Laughter painted the silence of the night with its cheerful glow.
When their battle was over, Gorou found himself on top of Kazuha, their chests pressed together. A gesture suspended between a hug and a tackle— Kazuha didn’t move, and Gorou forgot what it meant to breathe. Those lips looked so soft under the moonlight…
Kazuha’s clothes had a strong scent of flowers, which mingled with the cologne on his skin and the smell of conditioner coming from his hair. God, being so close to someone as handsome as Kazuha should be illegal for a clumsy man like Gorou. What was he meant to do?
It ended too soon, anyway, the magic shattering like a bursting bubble of soap. Kazuha gently pushed Gorou to the side and hopped off the car. “Let’s go,” he said. “We have more places to visit, and I wouldn’t want dawn to surprise us.”
Gorou’s heart was still racing when he curled up on the passenger’s seat again, Kazuha’s scent engraved in his mind in a lingering halo.
They returned to the city from the opposite side, after a long panoramic detour. Though Gorou had spent his entire life in Inazuma City, he had never taken the time to properly explore the countryside, and watching the view from the car window was almost like going on an adventure.
Gorou lost track of the passing hours as Kazuha drove slowly, the soothing music from the radio lulling him to sleep on a couple occasions. The passenger’s seat was so comfortable that, if Gorou closed his eyes, he could pretend to be lying on his bed, embraced by the warm sheets.
“Let’s stop by the convenience store,” Kazuha suggested. His voice came muffled to Gorou’s sleep-dazed ears; he rubbed his eyes in an attempt at waking up properly. “I’m thirsty.”
When they crawled out of the car, the bone-chilling gust of wind that slipped under the fabric of Gorou’s hoodie was enough for him to forget about slumber entirely. He tiptoed outside, following Kazuha past the sliding doors of the store.
There wasn’t a soul inside except for the cashier, who was lazily playing on his phone behind the counter. Kazuha took hold of one of the carts lined up at the entrance and began his journey inside the store, with Gorou trailing behind him like a loyal puppy.
“My treat,” Kazuha said. “Feel free to choose anything that will cheer you up, little Gorou.”
And in front of such a generous offer, who was Gorou not to indulge his most childish desires? While Kazuha drove the cart down the aisles, he zoomed around the place, moving from shelf to shelf to grab the most unhealthy snacks he could find. Candy, lollipops, chocolate… Nothing could soothe his grief more than shoving some sugar down his throat.
Something about shopping together like that was awkwardly domestic, as if they were a young couple buying groceries for the week. Perhaps that was the true reason behind his enthusiasm: the more time he spent chasing snacks, the more he postponed the end of that romantic night.
Gorou threw his loot inside the cart for Kazuha to inspect. “You’re like a child,” he laughed softly.
That was… certainly not how Gorou wished to be seen by him. He sulked, instantly diving back into his paranoia— was there no way to redeem himself? Would Kazuha ever think of him as a man and not as a kid? Well, if Kazuha enjoyed that childish side of him, then Gorou would sink with the whole ship and give him what he wanted.
“Oh, you think so?” Gorou teased. “Watch this, then.”
Gorou joined Kazuha behind the cart, their fingers brushing together as he seized the handle. He pushed them forward in a race, the red wheels squeaking under his strength.
Kazuha laughed, his steamy breath tickling the tips of Gorou’s ears. His amusement only grew when Gorou slipped on a wet puddle on the floor and slid down, falling on his butt in the middle of the aisle.
“Are you hurt?” Kazuha said with tears in his eyes, offering his hand.
Gorou grasped at his palm to help himself up. His fingers were sweaty, and Kazuha’s touch setting his whole arm on fire didn’t contribute to his cause. “No, but thanks for laughing at me.”
Kazuha gave him a playful bump with his hip, before leaving with a final wink. The world seemed to be made of clouds and rainbows when Gorou followed him again, quite literally walking on sunshine. He would never forget that expression on Kazuha’s face— he’d rather die than forget. Absolutely.
All that Kazuha purchased for himself was a can of hot sugar-free tea. He sipped it inside the car, legs crossed under the wheel, while Gorou devoured his snacks with newfound enthusiasm.
“Talking about sweets made me crave some,” Gorou felt the need to justify himself. “It's a bit sad to eat them in the parking lot, though.”
Kazuha dug his fingers into the candy bag to steal a green gummy crocodile. “My sincerest apologies for not finding a suitable location for your meal, good Sir.”
“Heh, it’s okay,” Gorou said. Every place is wonderful if you’re with me. He wished he had the courage to say it out loud, rather than push the words back down his throat. Once a coward, forever a coward: Gorou doubted he would be brave enough to face his emotions anytime soon.
A tense silence fell over them.
It hit Gorou only then that Kazuha, too, could have something bad going on in his life. What reasons could someone like him, a homely man who spent the prime of his youth writing at his desk and loved every second of it, to go for a drive in the dead of night? Maybe there had been some kind of setback in his work. “What story are you working on at the moment?”
He hit the jackpot. A sad light twinkled in Kazuha’s eyes, his smile turning into a frown. “I’m having trouble with the plot I showed you last month. My editor isn’t pleased with my lack of updates. The deadline approaches fast, and I am falling behind.”
A feeling Gorou knew perfectly. His older brothers were better than him at virtually anything: Ichirou was a successful businessman, Jirou and Saburou excelled in sports, and Shirou was a talented flute player. Gorou had eventually forged his path, choosing a career that somewhat suited him, but he couldn’t let go of the worry he might be lacking something in the long run.
What did Kazuha do when Gorou voiced his concerns to him? Oh, right, he gave him earnest drops of advice. Carefully planning his speech in his head to make sure it wouldn’t sound like empty flattery, Gorou inhaled sharply.
“I love your plots,” he said. “Your writing style is unique, more poetic than the average but not too complicated for a simpleton like me to follow. Your creativity knows no limit… I’m sure you will crawl out of this slump, because you’re amazing like that. As your reader, I have nothing but the deepest trust in your abilities.”
Kazuha’s cheeks flushed pink, his blush darkening with each praising syllable Gorou added. He wasn’t used to being at the center of attention, Gorou knew that. Fans could only compliment Kazuha for his work through a screen, never in person, unaware of his real identity. Only Gorou had that chance. “Thank you for your trust, little Gorou.”
“What do you do when you’re stuck?” Gorou poured part of his own concerns into the question. “When you feel like there’s no going back or forward in your life?” It wasn’t a matter of offering support anymore: Gorou was begging for help between the lines.
Kazuha’s gaze melted into Gorou’s, red meeting teal. “Every time I feel overwhelmed, I grab my car keys and go on a ride,” he said softly. “Brainstorming far from home, in a different environment, is a decent boost to my drained imagination.”
Kazuha had once told Gorou that he saw his own creativity like a river. A bountiful stream everyone could drink from, drop by drop, without it ever drying up. Sometimes came the drought: too many ideas were taken, too much effort was required. And thus, the dreadful writer’s block hit him with the intensity of an earthquake.
“Sorry then,” Gorou’s lips moved on their own, speaking from the bottom of his heart. “I’ve ruined your plans by tagging along. Do you want me to be quiet so you can work? I can—”
“No,” Kazuha promptly interrupted. “Spending time with you already boosted my imagination. I feel more inspired.”
Gorou had to try hard, really hard, to remind himself that Kazuha didn’t mean that sentence in the same way as he did. The sole reason he held back his tongue (because damn, that was the perfect mood for a confession) was the risk of losing all of that.
The thought of Kazuha walking away in fear, or turning him down until their bond grew stale and sterile, was terrifying. Gorou cherished their simple routine, the silence between them, the playful teasing, the mutual comfort. He wouldn’t trade it off to pursue absurd, far-fetched utopias.
“You know,” Gorou said. “Sometimes, I feel the same. I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing. My parents are veterinarians and none of my brothers pursued that career… I assumed it was my duty to follow in their tracks, but…”
He didn’t finish that sentence, unable to properly express what he felt.
Kazuha filled in the gaps for him. “Straying from the path is a nice change of pace,” he said. “On the other hand, walking on a paved road is certainly easier and more comfortable. The decision is ultimately yours.”
Speaking in riddles as usual, wasn’t he? But Gorou caught the meaning behind his sentence: the choice was between his dreams and his parents’ expectations, between something simple and something more demanding. It had always been that way. “Thanks.”
“Where do you see yourself in a few years?” Kazuha asked point-blank.
Gorou blinked, deep in thought. “At your side, I guess.”
Oh, damn. He had said it out loud. So much for holding back, huh? What an excellent job. But if he acted strangely after saying that, if he blushed and covered his mouth, then his emotions would have been exposed. Someone as witty as Kazuha wouldn’t have trouble piecing the puzzle together. His crush would have become painfully obvious.
Gorou kept his gaze low, drowning in regret. Things between them were fine where they were, floating in a limbo between friendship and romance. He was scared of change.
“That’s a given, little Gorou,” Kazuha said after a brief pause. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving your side.”
Gorou prayed he wasn’t lying. What would he do if, someday, Kazuha’s night drives took him somewhere distant— to a place he wouldn’t return from? How would he survive without his care?
They were strolling down the lakeshore when five in the morning kicked in. A common meeting spot for young couples on their first date, thanks to the little pond with its cute wooden benches— the ideal location for some tender kissing.
As they crossed the bridge, watching the ducks as they woke up above the water’s surface, Gorou wished they could hold hands. Kazuha had taken hostage one of Gorou’s store-bought sweet buns and was busy throwing crumbs at the ducks, hoping they would come closer to eat.
In times of peace, Gorou would have adored that tour. He was an obvious animal lover, given his field of study, and wasn’t immune to the beauty of the scenery. The cherry petals floating on top of the pond, the noise of the waking nature…
But that bridge brought back memories from happier days. “I used to come here with Saburou,” Gorou said. “We’d feed the ducks together. It was long before our home turned into hell, you know. When we all got along.”
A lot happened over a few years. Things evolved quickly, carefree moments were like slippery grains of sand between Gorou’s fingers. What was once the source of joy could easily become nightmare fuel overnight.
Kazuha didn’t lift his gaze from the ducks. “Why don’t you ask him to come here again? It might help mend your bond.”
“Maybe.”
Gorou’s relationship with his brothers was strange. None of them held a grudge against him, whom they considered the baby of the family. Their parents had been equally absent from everyone’s lives, so there had been no time for complexes or conflicts among brothers to form.
Ichirou had taken upon himself the task of raising his brothers from a young age. He took care of them when their mother was out of town, and consoled them when their dad scolded them harshly. Unfortunately, he had already moved out with his wife by the time Jirou began venting his frustration in the form of bullying.
Saburou and Shirou had tried to pitch in for Ichirou. But Jirou didn’t listen— he hardly paid heed to anyone. Everyone’s nerves were torn, their arguments multiplied, and Gorou didn’t feel comfortable at home anymore.
“I miss those days,” Gorou confessed. “Things were so much easier.”
A duck approached the bridge. They watched it gobble down the bread, then heard it quack to demand seconds. Kazuha threw more food in its general direction, crumbs raining down on the pond like droplets of rain.
“Growing up isn’t easy, is it?” Kazuha said absent-mindedly. “Maturity comes at a high price.”
Gorou giggled under his breath. “Talking to you makes things better.”
“I’m honored,” Kazuha said. “I’m truly grateful for your company, my little Gorou.”
Gorou’s face lit up with embarrassment. The simple “my” added before his usual nickname twisted its meaning completely in his wonderstruck heart. “Y-You do?”
“Of course.”
Their gazes didn’t meet. It was for the best— Gorou was afraid of what he might see in Kazuha’s irises. Would there be friendship awaiting him, or something more— the little something Gorou had been longing for?
He didn’t dare to find out. Gorou kept his gaze on the ducks and the reeds swaying in the breeze. Dawn was starting to paint the sky in its pastel hues, marking the end of that magical night.
Returning home wasn’t different from waking up after a long, beautiful dream.
Gorou feared that, after hopping off the passenger’s seat, Kazuha would vanish into thin air. Or that, when he would come back to his senses later that morning, Kazuha would be gone forever, like a guardian angel sent to brighten up his darkest moods and leaving once his job was over.
Kazuha parked the car in the spot where they had met earlier, in that corner where their gardens connected. Gorou opened the door with a heavy heart, slowly crawling out of the vehicle. “So, hm. We’re here.”
“I hope you have the sweetest dreams, little Gorou.” A hint of sadness veiled Kazuha’s face as well, but it paled in comparison to the sorrow in Gorou’s heart at the thought of them parting. “Thank you for coming with me.”
Gorou hesitated. There was so much he wanted to say. He wanted to thank Kazuha for being a great listener in times of need, for cheering him up with his selfless warmth, and for never judging the motives of his sadness.
He also wanted to yell out loud his love for him, to make the world understand how special Kazuha was, how handsome he looked with that messy hair bun, and how freakin’ sweet his scent was.
“Thank you,” he only managed to mutter. “For everything. Thank you, Kazuha.”
Gorou realized something only after saying it: it was the first time he addressed Kazuha by his given name. He generally avoided mentioning him at all, using nicknames for the most part, unsure of what honorifics to use. He would hate to sound overly familiar, which would probably upset Kazuha, but he also refused to build up a wall of formality between them.
Kazuha noticed as well. His eyes widened in surprise for a moment, his cheeks flushing a dark red. Using the name with nothing attached… It felt so intimate. Gorou thought Kazuha would point it out, gently suggesting he’d be more careful in talking to him, and that Gorou’s crush would thus be trampled on.
It didn’t happen. “We should do it again sometimes,” Kazuha said instead.
“Yeah,” Gorou agreed.
Many things were left unsaid, hidden in the shy glances they were darting at each other. Unspoken words, undug secrets that filled the space between them like poems left in the wind’s merciful hands.
And then, as if struck by a sudden bolt of courage (and perhaps a hint of exasperation), Gorou stopped thinking. He went ahead and just did it. With one knee on the passenger’s seat, he leaned inside the car to kiss Kazuha’s lips.
Kazuha gasped against his mouth, taken aback. He recovered quickly— he rested his hand behind Gorou’s head and pulled him closer, taking the lead in the kiss, showing Gorou how it was meant to be done. Their lips locked together and parted again, their tongues met shyly for a few fleeting seconds.
Gorou’s heart thumped loudly in his chest, so quick and fierce that he feared it might simply jump out of his ribcage and fly away. Kazuha’s lips tasted unbearably sweet; Gorou could still feel the honey from the tea on them, along with the lingering aftertaste of the candy he had stolen.
When they parted, Gorou’s feelings were scattered all over the place. He wondered how much of that he would remember in the afternoon, in the post-sleep daze, and how much he would believe to be part of a dream. Because that’s what kissing Kazuha was: his wildest dream.
“G-Goodnight,” Gorou stuttered. He slammed the car door shut before Kazuha could reply, before their feelings could be discussed and he would be forced to face them.
Did he overstep? What if Kazuha had kissed him back out of politeness rather than genuine love? What if Gorou had been too audacious and blunt for someone as calm and collected as Kazuha?
But he couldn’t flee. He couldn’t hide away like he usually did. Gorou heard the noise of the other car door being closed, and then, with the strength of a storm, Kazuha grabbed him by the waist and pulled him in a hug.
Every drop of Gorou’s blood rushed to his head. “What—”
“Not yet,” Kazuha said. “Don’t go just yet.”
With those whispered words, Kazuha pressed their mouths together once more. Gorou’s arms instinctively circled his shoulders, eager for more contact— it was a stronger, deeper kiss than the previous one, yet still somewhat gentle and tender. Like Kazuha, like the fresh breeze of the night, like cheap candy eaten in a parking lot.
“S-Sleep well.” It was Kazuha’s turn to stutter, his breath pure fire against Gorou’s flustered cheeks. “I will see you tomorrow.”
Gorou nodded, his head spinning, his breath nowhere to be found. Petrified in shock, he watched idly as Kazuha waved goodbye with the brightest smile humanity had ever seen.
He ran back to the car and disappeared inside, away from his sight. If Kazuha had said anything else, Gorou had certainly failed to catch it— the sound of his heartbeat echoed too strongly in his ears, tuning down every other noise.
Kazuha drove his car to his side of the courtyard. And that was the end.
Gorou hurried back home, sneaking through the bushes so as not to be seen from the windows. As he climbed back to his bedroom, Gorou wore Kazuha’s taste on his mouth like an expensive lipstick. It was sweet, and it was sour. It was everything he had ever wanted, and everything he didn’t know about the world at once.
It was a sealed vow to mark the end of their friendship. Starting tomorrow, they wouldn’t be a junior and his senior anymore, nor a student and his teacher. They would be something new, something more— something incredible, almost.
Even the heavy atmosphere looming over Gorou’s house couldn’t crush the happiness fizzling in his chest. All he needed to do was close his eyes and think back to Kazuha’s shy smile, his flushed cheeks, and the delicious taste of his very first kiss.