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“Kojiro. Meet me at the skatepark at 20.00. The one next to the railway station.”
“Please.”
Kojiro stares at his phone. Kaoru had sent him two messages asking him to meet up at the skatepark, which was unusual - Kaoru never begged Kojiro for anything and he certainly wasn’t impulsive the way he used to be when they were in high school. Kojiro knows this. He’s known Kaoru for nearly his entire life, and though they haven’t been as close since… everything that happened a few years ago, he’s absolutely certain he knows the pink-haired bastard the best.
Kaoru isn’t the type to open up to people and let them in. Not anymore.
Which is exactly why the messages are setting off all the alarm bells in Kojiro’s mind. If Kaoru was asking - begging - him to come see him, something had to be wrong. Really, really wrong.
Kojiro’s insides twist uncomfortably. His thoughts are racing, thinking of everything that could’ve possibly gone wrong: maybe Kaoru was injured again, maybe one of the kids was injured again, maybe Kaoru’s house got broken into, maybe he was going through one of his phases with extreme anxiety again. He has no way of knowing until he sees him.
Before he can even think about it, he finds himself with his jacket on, tying his shoes. His hands feel like they should be trembling the way his heart is, the way his mind is, but they’re as steady as ever, if not a little clumsy due to him trying to rush through everything. He thinks of his childhood friend, his best friend, and hurriedly checks his pockets for his keys, his phone and his wallet. He runs to the kitchen and pulls out a couple bottles of Kaoru’s favorite wine and chucks it in a plastic bag and returns to the door.
He only has about 35% of battery left, but he couldn’t care less at the moment.
To anyone else, his reaction may seem overdramatic - but Kojiro knows when something is wrong. Kaoru had his fair share of problems, not only with his family, but also with his mental health, and last time he had asked for something without playfully insulting Kojiro as a follow-up text, Adam - or Ainosuke, but he didn’t really deserve his real name to be used - had dumped Kaoru and gotten violent when he had asked for Adam to stay. Kojiro has never seen his friend so heartbroken or vulnerable. The thought of the same panicked, guilt-filled look on Kaoru’s face was enough to spur him into action.
That was the last time he had been so open with Kojiro. He had sobbed, his lip piercing cold against the crook of Kojiro’s neck, his usually neatly tied up hair wild and tangled. Kojiro had braided his hair and held him tight, attempting to somehow absorb all the pain from his body. Something had clicked, then - the intense discomfort Kojiro felt in Adam’s presence, the burning hatred in his gut whenever he saw him near Kaoru, the warmth that invaded his face and body whenever Kaoru would laugh loudly or scream of joy after completing a new trick or smile after managing to convince Kojiro to agree to one of his impulsive plans that often did not end up the way they were planned.
He was, unfortunately, in love with his best friend. His heartbroken, sobbing mess of a best friend.
After that, Kaoru had taken out nearly all of his piercings. He had started wearing his hair down again and changed his style to a more traditional one, attempting to get rid of everything that reminded him of Adam in his appearance. He started building up walls between himself and everyone else in an attempt to not get hurt again, which had hurt Kojiro more than anything. He no longer laughed as freely in anyone’s presence as he did before. He didn’t seek affection and didn’t rebel against his strict parents’ wishes and no longer made impulsive plans. He devoted himself to being the ideal son for his parents, who were overjoyed. Even their friendship changed - they no longer saw each other as often and texted way less. They often only saw at S for weeks in a row. The weeks turned into months and the months turned into years and Kaoru became more and more restrained and elegant, the only thing unchanged in their friendship were the affectionate, playful insults they exchanged and the fake arguing that meant nothing. It seemed like Kaoru had fully settled into his new lifestyle.
But Kojiro sees his discomfort. He sees it in the way his eyes lighted up as soon as the kids, Langa, Reki and Miya, started bringing Kaoru along to their shenanigans, making Kaoru and Kojiro see each other more often than once a week again. He sees it in the way Kaoru’s face crumbles for a millisecond as soon as he walks away from his client and in the way his eyes are pleading for something familiar whenever he steps into Kojiro’s restaurant, demanding free meals. He sees it in the way Kaoru sighs whenever he checks his phone and finds a message from his mother, in the way he leans on Kojiro when drunk and attempts to stifle his naturally loud laugh and fails in doing so, in the way he holds himself - forced, like many things about him.
But even after all the changes, he is still in love with Kaoru Sakurayashiki.
He just wishes Kaoru could let himself go for once.
He checks the time. 18:45. He knows they’re supposed to meet up in an hour or so, but he opens the door and steps outside anyway. With wine in the bag, his green dyed hair a semi-curly mess and his mind determined to make it to Kaoru’s house before he can pull himself together enough to put on his facade of being alright, he speedwalks to his garage and gets in the car, turning it on. It comes alive with a roar almost as loud as Kojiro’s heartbeat in his ears.
Kaoru sniffles. He wipes at his eyes, but they’re surprisingly dry - well, not surprisingly. Kaoru has been dehydrated for days, and he’s almost sure he cried what was left of the water in his body.
He kicks at the old digital camera in an attempt to get it away from him. There’s a video of him, Kojiro, Adam and Tadashi in high school playing on the screen and he feels like screaming. He knew taking a trip down the memory lane was a bad idea, but he didn’t know it’d be this bad.
But there’s something in the way Kojiro’s eyes visibly soften whenever he looks at Kaoru. Something in the way Kaoru himself looks so happy and carefree, and though Adam slightly ruins the good memories, he can’t help but wish he was young again. He misses his piercings. He’s never quite felt like himself since he took them out. He misses Kojiro, really misses him, and he misses feeling free .
He misses Kojiro’s rough hands, always gentle with him. He misses summer nights feeling infinite, neverending, he misses the world feeling large and he misses feeling like anything is possible. He misses doing things just for the sake of wanting to do them and enjoying his life.
He had locked himself in a box, a trap of his own design, and for what?
For his mother to text him, out of the blue, that he was no longer wanted in the Sakurayashiki family? That he isn't good enough, no matter how hard he tries?
Bullshit.
His hands find their way to his hair and he grabs at it, balling his hands into fists. He leans on them, breathing heavily. He laughs at the idea of how pathetic he looks. He’s Kaoru Sakurayashiki, the elegant and always put-together calligraphy master. Cherry Blossom, the intelligent and precise skating legend.
But right now, he’s none of those things. His emotions are larger than his body can hold and he feels like he’s falling apart. He can’t think straight for long enough to update Carla and his fingers are trembling, unable to even hold a calligraphy brush steady. His hair is sticking to his neck in an uncomfortable way due to the sweat and his clothes feel restricting, like everything in his life. He’s so sick of labels, sick of holding himself back, sick of not letting himself feel.
Though not feeling seems more tempting than the anxiety attack he’s currently having.
He laughs breathlessly and gets up, his shirt collar choking him. He rips the top button open and walks to his door, wanting to get some fresh air before Kojiro gets here. He can’t let him see him like this - the last time he was this much of a mess was years ago, and even though he knows Kojiro wouldn’t judge him, because he cares, he cares so much even though he tries to pretend like he doesn’t, Kaoru doesn’t want to let him see him like this. Broken, unable to ask for help. Stuck in the maze of his own overly complicated emotions.
He opens the door and nearly screams when he sees Kojiro on the other side of it, his hand in a fist ready to knock, looking just as perplexed as Kaoru feels right now. The two stare at each other in silence for a few seconds, before Kaoru speaks up.
“You almost gave me a heart attack, you fucking gorilla,” he says, clutching at his chest. His heart is beating faster than it's ever done, and he can’t tell if it’s because he’s scared about being vulnerable or because he just got the shit scared out of him or because it’s Kojiro.
He settles on all three and tries to not think about the last option.
“You have no right to say that,” Kojiro says. He takes in Kaoru’s appearance. His eyes are red and puffy, and his hair looks ridiculous and he looks like he’s just ran an entire marathon, but…
he’s still beautiful.
“You almost gave me a heart attack. I was sure someone died, but seems like Pinkie Pie over here is just suffering from an emotion-hangover. You look like shit.”
“That’s not even a real thing, you imbecile. You don’t look too hot yourself,” Kaoru replies, lying. Kojiro is one of the most attractive people he knows, even with his hair a mess and his outfit uncoordinated.
The tightness in his chest lets go just the tiniest bit at the familiar banter. Even though Kojiro sounds like he’s mocking him, his eyes say otherwise. His gaze is soft and his brows are furrowed ever so slightly, his lips in a tight line as he looks Kaoru over. Kaoru notices his tight grip on the plastic bag he brought and how he bounces on his feet as he stands outside.
Kaoru steps out of the way and points to the living room.
“Get in,” is all he manages to say, and Kojiro obliges.
“Keep your shoes on. We’re leaving,” Kaoru says, his voice cracking. He runs to the living room and grabs his phone and the digital camera he had kicked earlier and runs back to Kojiro to put on his coat and his shoes.
Kojiro stands in front of the door, eyes wide in confusion.
“Pinky,” he starts hesitantly, “what’s going on? Where are we going?”
Before Kaoru can even open his mouth, Kojiro raises a brow and stares daggers at him.
“And do not tell me that you’re fine. You’re not. I can see it, and you know that I can see it. I haven’t seen you like this since him ,” he spits out the word like it’s poisonous. His eyes widen and he gasps ever so softly. Kaoru sighs and shakes his head.
“It’s not about him, I promise. I’ll tell you soon. Just, I need this, Kojiro,” he begs. “I haven’t done anything impulsive in years. Don’t you miss it?”
Kojiro ponders this for a second before crossing his arms and nodding.
“I do. Not when it seems nearly self-destructive, though,” he replies. Kaoru shakes his head again.
“I promise it’s not. We’re going to my hometown. Get in the car,” Kaoru says. “Assuming you came here with it.”
Kojiro jingles the keys in his hand.
“Of course.”
“Great. We’re going to Kunigami village,” Kaoru announces and Kojiro looks at him like he’s stupid.
“That’s hours away from Naha, Kaoru.”
He nods and frowns. Kojiro shrugs and gestures for him to follow.
"You need to fix your face, though. You're going to get wrinkles in your "delicate" skin," Kojiro says dryly.
A small smile forms on Kaoru’s face. They head to the car and get in. Kojiro hands him the plastic bag and smirks as he turns on the car.
He almost laughs as he looks inside the bag, seeing two bottles of The Pinot Project Pinot Noir , his favorite red wine.
It’s very cheap, but rather nostalgic. His first time drinking was with the very same red wine, bought with his and Kojiro’s combined allowances, and though it doesn’t taste anything like the fancy, great wines he’s tried with Kojiro since, the memory of that night is still incredibly dear to him. Kojiro and he had gone running down the streets, singing whatever songs they had been obsessed with at the moment, dancing to music that wasn’t there and laughing at nonsensical conversations. His mother hadn’t been pleased when she found out about it, but it was one of the moments Kaoru had truly felt like a proper seventeen-year old.
It warms his heart to know Kojiro still keeps bottles of it in his house even though he hasn’t asked for it in ages, instead choosing to go for something fancier.
But perhaps he knew Kaoru needed it right now. He knew him the best out of everyone, after all. Kojiro knew both the best and the worst of him, his most embarrassing moments and his moments of pride and even when had started distancing himself from everyone, Kojiro hadn’t left his side unlike many others.
And he is so, so grateful.
He truly doesn’t deserve someone as good as Kojiro is.
He’s snapped out of his thoughts by Kojiro clearing his throat rather loudly. Kaoru looks over at him. His eyes are focused on the road, but his fingers are tapping the steering wheel and he’s shifting in his seat, as he often does when he needs to say something uncomfortable but doesn’t really want to. His expression looks concerned, but also joyful - he looks almost as full of mixed emotions as Kaoru right now, though he doesn’t quite understand why.
His side profile is captivating, Kaoru thinks. His jawline is sharp and everything is in great proportion with each other. If he looks closely enough, he can see the faint freckles all over Kojiro’s face and the mole under his right eye that he finds cute.
He clears his throat again and Kaoru sighs.
“Out with it.”
“You know what I want to ask, Kaoru.”
He has a fair point. Kaoru just doesn’t really want to answer the question, doesn’t want to think about his mother, his father, or his extended family. He doesn’t want to remember how he has wasted all these years trying to make his family proud and be the perfect son just for them to discard him aside like some sort of pet they no longer wanted because it ignored one of their “sit” commands once and they decided it was worthless.
He, of course, says none of this to Kojiro. Instead he looks down and inspects his hands. His fingernails have gotten long and his wrists are more slender than he remembered them being. He has a bad habit of forgetting to eat when no one’s reminding him to do so. His skin is still soft. He wonders what Kojiro’s hands feel like.
He glances at them and then at his face, still focused on the road but clearly expectant.
“I… it’s my mother.”
Kojiro’s grip on the wheel tightens. He pushes out his jaw slightly, a sign of disapproval Kaoru learned a long time ago.
“What did she say to you?”
Kaoru fidgets with his sleeves.
“She… found out about S,” he admits, his voice trembling. “She won’t tell anyone, but…”
“But?” Kojiro questions.
“She said I am no longer welcome to be a part of the Sakurayashiki family because I might tarnish their name.”
Kojiro slams his foot on the break, making both of them launch forward uncomfortably. The road is empty, but Kaoru still gasps.
“If the road wasn’t empty, you would’ve killed us!” he raises his voice. Kojiro seethes. He grinds his teeth together and mutters a string of curses and insults before slamming his other foot on the gas again, speeding up way too fast for it to be exactly safe or legal.
He’s breathing unevenly, just a little bit too forcefully and his hands and neck are both tense. Kaoru looks at him and then out of the window, looking at the trees and the road go by. There isn’t much to see on the road, but he doesn’t want to look at his best friend either. He hates it when he’s angry - Kojiro isn’t the type to get angry too easily, but any mention of Kaoru’s family has always pushed his buttons just in the right way to flip on that switch of concerned and gentle to angry and impulsive.
He knows Kojiro is still too good of a person to actually do anything. He’s too friendly and forgives too easily and focuses on comforting his friends rather than getting revenge for them. He’s seen it many times, including with the kids - when Miya got hurt by Reki, Kojiro had talked to Miya until he felt better rather than confronting Reki, though he did receive a scolding from the man after the fight was over and the kids were back to normal again.
He also took care of Kaoru when he got out of the hospital too early and fell asleep in his restaurant. He vaguely remembers the feeling of Kojiro’s rough, slightly dried out hands from washing them all the time during cooking touching his hair gently, braiding it and then gripping his shoulder as if to tell him everything was going to be okay.
They continue to drive in silence for an hour, only ever breaking it to ask and give directions or to banter. It’s somewhat awkward, seeing as they haven’t done this in years, but Kaoru can feel something akin to joy and giddiness bubbling up inside him. He spots the bluetooth button on Kojiro’s car’s radio and turns on bluetooth on his phone, grinning. The other man is still too focused on driving and lost in his thoughts to notice until a familiar tune starts blasting out at a high volume, scaring the hell out of him.
Kaoru laughs out loud. Quietly, but out loud instead of stifling his laughter. He can see the moment Kojiro recognizes the song in his eyes. They light up and he laughs loudly, and snorts, letting out a small cheer of joy.
“Isn’t this…”
“Take me I’m yours by Jobriath? You bet,” Kaoru nods.
“Ahh, the memories… good old teenage drinking nights,” Kojiro says dramatically.
“I don’t miss all the puking, though.”
Kaoru looks away and smiles. They listen to the song, moving to the beat until the chorus hits and suddenly Kojiro is singing at the top of his lungs,
“Take me I'm yours, take me take me I'm yours, ” he sings, winking at Kaoru.
“Take me I'm yours, take me I'm yours, ” Kaoru responds, his voice shaky from the crying and from not having sung in ages. He didn’t do this kind of stuff anymore. He hadn’t since he was seventeen unless he was drunk. Kojiro claps and returns his hands to the steering wheel, encouraging Kaoru to keep going.
“Baby you just amaze me and daze me, you're the blind spot in my consciousness ,” he continues, looking at the man next to him. His insides twist uncomfortably when he realizes he means what he’s singing. His heart feels heavy, but in a different way than usually. It feels full instead of hollow and held down by the weight of his guilt.
It’s still there, though. Kaoru knows this. One night, one good moment, won’t fix everything he’s gone through or everything he’s done to Kojiro or how broken he still feels by his family rejecting him.
They continue singing, playing the songs they used to love as teenagers, before Adam, before Kaoru’s parents began chipping away at his existence, before Kojiro started trying to leave the weight of his feelings in the beds of anyone who would take him home after long nights, all in order to fill the Kaoru-shaped hole.
After about fourty-five minutes, they arrive at Kunigami village. Kaoru instructs him through the village, telling him that they have to walk the rest of the way after a while.
Kojiro leaves his car parked in front of a small corner store. They gather their belongings and Kaoru guides him to a forest, pointing at a small path that goes through the trees and the rocks and the bushes.
“There’s a spot here I used to love as a child,” he explains. “And even as a teenager. Whenever I visited my family, I would come here.”
Kojiro nods, wondering where Kaoru is going with this.
“And I feel like I want to say goodbye to it,” he says. “This village is beautiful, but I never want to return here again. Not as long as my family still lives here. So, Kojiro, what do you think about some cheap wine on a summer night at an old abandoned house?”
He laughs and shakes his head.
“Sounds incredible. I almost feel like I’m seventeen again, sneaking out to drink and not get in trouble.”
Kaoru snorts. “It’s fitting. Bringing a gorilla to a forest and instantly he feels like he’s right at home.”
“You have to work on your insult vocabulary,” Kojiro sighs. “I have so many good ones I use for you and you call me the same thing over and over again.”
Kaoru crosses his arms dramatically. “Excuse me for not thinking about how to insult you day and night.”
Kojiro passes by him on the path, shoving him a little bit.
“I think about you day and night,” he mutters. Kaoru chokes and coughs. There is no way he heard that right, but he’s definitely not going to ask, so he just decides to stay quiet and keep walking behind Kojiro instead. His cheeks feel warmer than they should and he’s glad neither of them are face to face. He wouldn’t be able to live that one down for years, especially if he really had misheard it.
Kaoru looks at the familiar forest. The birds are still chirping despite it being nearly eleven at night and the sun is still trying its very best to light up the area even when it’s nearly time for sunset. Then rays of light coming through the leaves of the trees look nearly painting-worthy, something he wants to keep captured forever. He takes a picture with the digital camera he brought and then puts it back in his pocket, cursing the fact that the camera’s battery is low.
He thinks about how he used to walk the very same path as a child, and then as a teenager - the warmth of the sun on his face, the trees seeming way taller and the rocks way larger, the forest bringing him only comfort. Now, hiding behind the comfort there is something darker, something unpleasant. And he isn’t sure how to shake it off, so he doesn’t - he lets himself feel it. He lets himself indulge in his memories, but keeps his focus on the present, the way Kojiro’s muscly body leading the way, much like it has guided him through life through all these years.
He would never admit it, but he would be lost without Kojiro.
Kojiro glances at him when they arrive at the end of the larger path. It splits into two smaller ones and Kaoru points at the one on the right and Kojiro nods.
After a few minutes they find themselves in front of a small treehouse. It’s not up very high, nor is it very large - but it could easily hold two people. Despite its age, it seems to be well maintained.
“I made my family take care of it all these years,” Kojiro hears his friend say next to him. He looks to his right and takes in Kaoru’s expression. It’s wistful, the small smile on his face not quite as joyous as Kojiro would like it to be. His voice carries the heavy notes of regret.
Kojiro just nods. There isn’t much he can say. His own relationship with his family has always been great - his parents were very supportive of him when he came out and when they found out about his skating hobby and even when he left the country for a year to study abroad, they had kept sending him money and doing videocalls with him nearly every night. His siblings still text him regularly and visit him relatively often, something Kojiro knows Kaoru doesn’t have.
Which is why the pink-haired skater often found himself staying at his best friend’s house more often than not as a teen. Kojiro’s parents were used to the loud fake arguments and the constant giggling and the meaningless insults they’d hurl at each other, but never at anyone else.
Kaoru loved Kojiro siblings as his own. Kojiro’s big sister had been the one to teach him the art of eyeliner and contour and his little sister had been the one to teach Kaoru about the wonders of online gaming, something he would never admit he enjoys, but something that he still indulges in nearly daily. It’s a great distraction from his feelings, he thinks, and then pushes that thought aside.
“So, are we climbing up or not?” Kojiro asks. Kaoru stares at him with a deadpan face and looks him up and down.
“I think you could probably just pull yourself up there. Put those muscles to good use.”
Kojiro fakes an offended gasp. “How dare you! I put them to good use every day by carrying the weight of being the hottest bastard at S.”
Kaoru snorts. “As if. Not when Lord Cherry exists.”
There’s a moment of silence where their eyes meet. The moment doesn’t last long, just long enough for them to exchange a silent conversation of are you alright and with you, I am before they burst out into laughter. Kaoru still laughs rather quietly, but old habits die hard, he guesses.
Kojiro is the first one to start climbing. It isn’t high, just five or six steps away from the ground, but he almost manages to fall off the ladder by stepping on air, which causes him to scream in a very high pitch, which makes Kaoru lose his shit.
Kojiro helps Kaoru up by grabbing the wine bag and then holding his hand and pulling him up. Neither of them say a word about the fact that they don’t let go as they both settle into the tiny treehouse, leaning on the wall opposite the exit. The treehouse has two windows, one on the left and one at the back of it, and the wall without a window has old pictures and posters plastered all over it. There are old fairy lights on the wall that barely work when Kaoru tries to turn them on with his free hand. They flicker for a whole minute before they settle into emitting a dim light, just enough to see in the tiny space.
Kaoru’s hands are soft, Kojiro notices. His fingernails are painted with the most subtle glittery color and his hair, previously a mess, is now slightly less tangled as Kaoru kept combing it with his fingers in the car. It falls on his face and down his shoulders and back, making him look nearly angelic in the dim lighting. Kojiro’s eyes travel down from his hair to his lips, but much to his displeasure, Kaoru soon catches his eyes with his and he looks away, embarrassed.
Kojiro lets go of Kaoru’s hand and frowns at the lack of warmth. He grabs the plastic bag and pulls out one of the bottles and opens it, handing it to Kaoru first, who gladly welcomes the liquid. The weather is starting to cool, the wind is somewhat chilly and as Kaoru takes the first sip of the wine, it warms his insides just nicely enough. He hands it to Kojiro, who accepts it and takes a rather large swig and instantly grimaces.
“It’s just as bad as I remember it being,” he says and takes another sip. He hears soft laughter from his right side.
“Doesn’t it make you feel young again?” Kaoru asks teasingly. “You’re getting old, muscleboy.”
“That’s a compliment, not an insult, four-eyes,” Kojiro replies. “Maybe you should spend less time being a nerd and fixing your machines and more time socializing.”
Kaoru scoffs. “I’m not even wearing my glasses right now, so that insult doesn’t work. Maybe you should spend less time roleplaying a bodybuilder and more time putting those two last braincells of yours to work.”
“Oh, shut up, Princess,” Kojiro says and shakes his head.
“You can’t accuse me of being stupid after you’ve suggested that we go drink wine in an old treehouse like a couple of delinquents.”
Kaoru’s eyes gain a mischievous glint.
“Are we not? Are you not tired of pretending to be an adult all the time?” Kaoru asks, meaning for the question to be a subtle jab at Kojiro’s childishness, but instead he sees how his friend’s expression softens. It might be the wine talking, instead of him, but he wants to rest his palm on Kojiro’s face.
“I’m not pretending, Kaoru,” he says gently. “I am an adult. Being an adult doesn’t mean you have to stop having fun. It’s okay to let yourself be childish sometimes.”
Kaoru falls quiet at that. His eyes are burning with new unshed tears and the wine that earlier warmed him up oh so nicely now feels like it’s burning him from the inside out. Kojiro just looks at him, takes another sip of the wine and starts humming one of the songs from their short road trip. Kaoru merely listens. His voice is low, and somewhat raspy, but there’s a handsome quality to it. Something almost enchanting, something he wants to keep listening to for the rest of his life.
He wants to stay here for the rest of his life.
Away from all the responsibilities, away from the expectations, away from the pressure of having to be perfect. From the rules he’s set for himself that he religiously follows in the presence of anyone else but that he breaks as soon as he’s in his apartment, alone, and lonely.
So lonely.
He doesn’t even realize it, but he must be shaking slightly, because Kojiro asks him if he’s cold. He shakes his head in response. The wine is slowly breaking all his barriers and if he were any less emotionally broken right now, he would have the common sense to regret this entire trip - but he doesn’t. Instead, he says:
“I feel like I’ve done everything wrong for the past eight years, Kojiro. I just… ever since we turned eighteen, I feel like… I feel like everything’s been wrong .”
Kojiro’s eyes widen and his hand feels around for Kaoru’s. He grabs it gently and pulls it closer to him, holding onto it as if Kaoru’s going to disappear at any moment.
“I’ve been lying to myself for so long,” Kaoru laughs bitterly. “Only for the very reason I did that to cast me aside like I’m a broken toy or something.”
“And no one deserves that. Not even you, Pinky,” Kojiro squeezes his hand. He doesn’t have enough energy to argue, but in his mind he still thinks that yes, he does deserve it.
Though if Kojiro Nanjo of all people says he doesn’t, maybe it’s true.
“It’s not too late, y’know,” Kojiro says, the alcohol clouding his mind and slurring his speech slightly.
“You’re still young. You can still be… be who you want to be. I know you enjoy calligraphy and your traditional style, I see it, but you need to let yourself be free, too.”
Kaoru looks at the floor. He isn’t sure who he is or who he wants to be. He’s been dreaming of being set free for years, dreaming of the golden old days to come back, to be young and wild and rebellious again, but everyone else has already moved on from those days. They’re adults now, with adult responsibilities and jobs and things and people to take care of. The world is so very small and the weight of living is so heavy to bear, Kaoru thinks, but he says none of that out loud.
Kaoru as a person is full of contradictions. Contradictions Kojiro adores, but Kaoru finds too complicated to deal with - he's professional and traditional and elegant, but also has the soul of a rebel, cursing out the entire world. He looks delicate in his traditional clothing and jewelry and his long hair and slender figure, but is stronger than anyone Kojiro knows. His actions and words come off as cold when all he really wants is the warmth of another person's touch, the warmth of being loved.
“I’m not sure who I want to be,” Kaoru settles on. His voice is quiet, but bitter. “I feel like I don’t know myself, anymore. I’ve pushed everyone out of my life, including you.”
Kojiro looks at him and laughs like he’s just said the stupidest thing he’s ever heard.
“You could never. I’m staying with you,” he says, "even if it means I have to listen to your terrible insults and your rage at the world when you’re drunk,” he finishes teasingly. Kaoru jabs at him with his elbow, causing a groan of pain to come from the man next to him.
They playfully insult each other for a while before Kaoru pulls out the digital camera and leans on Kojiro. His shoulder is muscular, like the rest of him - steady and supportive under Kaoru's slightly spinning head. He turns on the camera and starts showing Kojiro some of the old pictures and videos. Every now and then they point and laugh at something stupid or start excitedly going through old stories and memories together.
"Do you remember that time you stole your mother's cherry-scented perfume and spilled it all over yourself and your school supplies and smelled like cherries for the next two weeks?" Kojiro laughs.
"We all teased you about it for months!"
Kaoru slaps Kojiro's hand. "How could I? That's the whole reason I named myself Cherry Blossom," he says, barely breathing between giggles.
"That's the reason?!" Kojiro yells out and Kaoru just laughs harder. "I thought it was because of the "sakura" part of "Sakurayashiki!""
"Should've known better than to expect me to name myself after a pun," Kaoru says. Kojiro smiles at him brightly. To think Kaoru was such a sentimental person he would name himself after their old inside joke from childhood. It warms his heart.
There’s a new kind of tenderness in their interactions, now. The insults and teasing are familiar, but they’ve never been this open with each other - not even as teens, or as children. Kaoru has guarded his heart for as long as he can remember, and only now does he feel like he should start chipping away at the iron cage he has locked it in.
His family won’t hurt him anymore.
He can start anew.
The realization hits him all at once and he looks at Kojiro with an expression that’s nearly manic in its joy and he stands up, hitting his head on the low roof of the treehouse. His soul feels like it's been set aflame, something new burning in his guts, blinding him.
He looks around for something for a second until he finds it in the dark corner. A can of spray paint. He gives it a good shake and deems it good enough to still be usable.
“Come on,” he says to Kojiro, who offers him the last sips of the first wine bottle. He drinks it down in one go and leaves the bottle standing in the treehouse and climbs down clumsily. He slips a couple of times but he doesn’t care.
He can hear Kojiro yelling at him asking where they’re going, but he just walks straight ahead, determined. Kojiro follows him as best as he can. He listens to the forest, but there’s a new sound - the sound of rushing water.
“Is that a river?” Kojiro asks, confused.
Kaoru just nods and gestures for him to be faster.
“There’s an old abandoned house next to the river. I want to paint,” he says. Kojiro grins wider than in ages. This is the Kaoru he first fell in love with - the Kaoru who doesn’t care what people think of him, who does what he wants when he wants, who’s impulsive but still intelligent and careful enough to get out of trouble as fast as he gets into it. He can almost imagine the piercings and the old ponytail on Kaoru again and he feels giddy, adrenaline rushing in his veins.
He runs after Kaoru. After a while they make it to the river. Kaoru grabs the bag from Kojiro and opens the second bottle of wine, setting it on the ground in a safe spot when he’s done, making sure it doesn’t fall over.
The riverside is rocky and the house is barely standing anymore, the stone wall stained with all sorts of graffiti. Kaoru shakes the spraypaint can and begins writing something on the wall. Kojiro looks at it quietly until he realizes.
Cherry Blossom. His signature.
“Cherry’s always been the most you , huh,” Kojiro asks, affection blooming inside him. Kaoru simply nods and hands him the can. He accepts it and goes up to the wall, signing it with his Joe signature. He hands it back to Kaoru, whose expression changes to a mischievous one in a split second.
Kojiro feels like he’s going to regret giving that can back to his friend.
He’s proven right a second later, when Kaoru spray paints his shirt.
“Kaoru, you motherfuck-” he curses, but soon comes up with a better idea. He sprints straight at Kaoru, who runs away and he feels like they’re ten years old again, playing tag and fighting at school recess again with their teachers begging them to stop and to behave like students should. They never listened, of course.
He continues chasing Kaoru until they’re right next to the river and shoves Kaoru just strongly enough to make him lose his balance and to fall right in the chilly water. Kaoru screams as Kojiro jumps right in with him.
“What th- what are you doing?” Kaoru yells.
“Washing my shirt, you fucker! This is entirely your fault, nerd,” he says and splashes water on Kaoru.
“We’re gonna get sick, you know?”
“Yeah,” Kojiro replies, and he does know, he just doesn’t care. Not when everything he’s ever wanted is right next to him. They continue fighting in the water for a few minutes before it gets too cold for them and they run out of the water and go straight to the wine bottle, though the alcohol no longer warms them quite as well as before. Kojiro drags Kaoru to the grass and lays down, giggling.
And for the first time in years, Kaoru laughs, loudly, making his insides and his cheeks hurt. It’s like music in Kojiro’s ears. He wishes the moment could last forever.
He only realizes he’s staring at Kaoru and smiling from ear to ear when Kaoru looks at him and raises his eyebrow questioningly. His face falls and he almost feels panicked for a second, until Kaoru just rolls on his side and cups Kojiro’s cheek with his hand. Kojiro’s eyes widen and Kaoru’s gaze falls to his slightly parted lips and he looks at Kojiro, his eyes asking permission.
Kojiro nods.
Kaoru’s hand is shaky. He feels like a teenager with emotions larger than life again, when love was overwhelming and terrifying, but knowing it’s Kojiro, the same man he’s known for nearly two decades, who hasn’t left his side even when he pushed him away, who always loved him for him , even when he wasn’t himself, comforts him as he presses their lips together.
It’s clumsy, the wine making everything slightly more difficult, and they’re both cold and their lips are a little bit chapped, but none of that matters as Kojiro deepens the kiss and Kaoru can feel him starting to smile after a while. He pulls away after a few seconds and looks at his best friend - or something more - and lays back down, looking at the sky.
Throughout their entire lives, they have spent nearly two decades running side by side, only ever crossing each other now.
In this very moment, it only takes a single heartbeat for the two to finally accept what they’ve been trying to deny for years.
Kojiro sniffles next to him and he looks at the man.
“Are you actually crying right now?” he asks, humor in his voice.
“Way to ruin the moment, dumbass,” Kojiro replies and sticks out his tongue at him. “I’ve been waiting for this for years.”
That hits Kaoru like a skateboard in the face.
“What do you mean, years? You… all the people…” he tries, but the words won’t come out.
Kojiro waves annoyedly. “Tried to deny it,” he says simply. “Didn’t think you liked me back. Since high school, when you first started dressing the way you truly wanted to. Those piercings made me feel some type of way.”
Kaoru sits up at that. “High school? You’re an idiot.”
“So are you,” Kojiro replies. And yeah, maybe he is. An idiot for not realizing this sooner.
"For me," Kaoru starts, expression softening. "It was France. You, head full of wine instead of any coherent thoughts, trying your very best to seduce me with terribly pronounced French pick-up lines."
"France? But, Kaoru… that was… years ago…" Kojiro says, voice fading. He ponders this for a while. France had been… five? six? years ago at this point.
And they'd both kept quiet.
They sit together in silence for a while, occassionally shivering as a gust of wind blows through and makes their wet clothes feel even colder. It’s still cold, seeing as it’s night, but the moon is beautiful and the sounds of the river are comforting and there’s a bit of magic in the air that neither of them really want to break right now, so they sit. Together. Quietly. Hand in hand, wine bottle passed between them every now and then.
Until Kojiro speaks up.
“We could keep doing this, y’know,” he says. Kaoru opens his mouth to ask what exactly they could keep doing, but Kojiro realizes this and gestures all around them and between them with his free hand.
“This. I want to keep doing this, with you,” he says. “I like this side of you. I mean, I like any side of you, but, if you want to make up for the lost time, we could… we could do this more often. The trips. Everything.”
Kaoru smiles so bright that Kojiro is pretty sure he could beat the sun in a brightness contest. Which makes no sense, he realizes, but hey, blame it on the wine.
“We could. I’d love that, actually,” he says, and that’s that.
Soon enough Kojiro mutters that they need to get up and get back to the car before they actually get sick and Kaoru obliges, carrying the nearly empty bottle in one hand and the other hand in Kojiro’s, spray paint forgotten for the next idiot kids in love who happen to stumble across it.
They make their way through the forest to the car and though their clothes are now dirty and wet and the car is too small for the both of them to properly sleep in without laying on top of each other, neither of them would change the night for anything.
Not that it's the first time they've slept like this. They've had their fair share of bedsharing during their trips to Europe and on drunk nights, but it has never meant anything.
Has it?
When they show up to S next night, obviously sleep-deprived and a little bit hungover but still hand in hand and a new affectionate tone lacing their usual banter, none of the kids say anything.
A few fans groan or cheer as they’ve lost or won their bets, but the kids just smirk and Shadow gives them an awkward thumbs up.
And Kaoru, as Kaoru Sakurayashiki, to-be Nanjo someday, and as Cherry Blossom, feels free for the first time in eight long years.
And he couldn’t be happier.