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Chifuyu hasn’t been drinking much lately, not since Kazutora moved in all that time ago, so it’s no surprise that on the rare occasions he does, he has a little too much, unsure where his limits are. Tonight - late August, on a too-bright, too-hot evening - is one of those nights.
Only this time, Kazutora is drinking with him.
Chifuyu is tucked under his arm with a glass in hand. He favours whisky, and it only seemed right to crack it open after Kazutora brought an expensive bottle home after work as a surprise. He isn’t sure if Kazutora even likes whisky or if he’s just being polite, but he’d like to think they’re a ways past that stage of their relationship. Kazutora’s drinking it regardless, halfway through his second glass as they sit on the balcony watching the sun set.
They’re in loose clothes, with a portable fan on the table beside them blasting lukewarm air in their faces and the radio playing some pop song. Chifuyu swears he can feel the sweat dripping down his back from the heat, and Kazutora doesn’t seem to be faring any better; his hand is clammy where it holds Chifuyu’s, and he’s flushed a dull pink all over, particularly on his cheeks.
Though that could just be the alcohol.
They’ve been talking for a few hours now, ever since dinner arrived and Kazutora finally accepted Chifuyu’s offer of a drink. It’s approaching night-time now, though it’s as bright as it was when they came out onto the balcony, and Chifuyu is really starting to feel the buzz of alcohol. It’s a pleasant hum under his skin, especially where Kazutora is touching him - his thumb is pressing little circles into his hand, and in the gap between conversations he’s humming along to the song on the radio.
The sound of his voice humming like this has become a major source of comfort for Chifuyu over the past few months, ever since his birthday and that… breakdown he had. He’s never asked why Kazutora thought to try calming him down that way, mostly because he thinks Kazutora might not be too sure himself, and there’s no point in trying to fix what’s not broken. He’s gotten attached to it, anyway - so instead of filling the silence with words, he lets Kazutora hum.
He realises, again, for the hundredth time, how in love with Kazutora he truly is.
The song ends, eventually, though Chifuyu wishes it wouldn’t, and it changes to one he doesn’t know very well. Kazutora doesn’t seem to either, ceasing his humming and letting the silence ring for a moment, punctuated only by the wind of passing cars beneath them and the whir of the fan. He reaches over then, jostling Chifuyu and spilling a little of his whisky as he turns the radio down before settling back into his seat with a soft sigh.
“Can you sing?” Chifuyu asks, and he isn’t quite sure where the question comes from, but alcohol has always had a way of making him bolder. “You hum a lot, and you sound pretty good. Thought maybe it’d translate over.”
“You’re just saying that ‘cuz you’re in love with me.” Kazutora teases. Chifuyu doesn’t have it in him to pretend to deny it like he usually would, because it’s so undeniably true that it’d be a fruitless effort. “But, uh, no. I didn’t have time for things like that when we were kids and prison wasn’t really the place for it.”
That’s fair, to be honest. Chifuyu isn’t that sure what prison is like since Kazutora rarely talks about it outside of therapy and post-nightmare talk, but from what he has been told, singing isn’t really the type of thing he’d expect to hear there, and he wouldn’t want to be the one doing it, either.
“I didn’t do a lot in prison, honestly,” Kazutora continues, a soft chuckle accompanying his words, “I stayed out of trouble for the most part. It was harder in the juvenile department ‘cuz people in there knew me for - you know. So they would hound me and try to goad me into shit I wanted nothing to do with.” He takes a swig of whisky, swirling it around in his glass as he ponders his next words. “It got easier once I moved into the adult block. I stayed out of their business and they stayed out of mine.”
Chifuyu feels him playing with his fingers, lacing them together and squeezing a few times. He nods into Kazutora’s shoulder and attempts to digest that information. It’s probably the most he’s said about his time in prison in the entire time they’ve lived together.
“Did you have friends there, or?”
“Not really. I knew people, like my cellmates and stuff, but I wouldn’t call them friends.” There’s a hint of something in his voice - loneliness, perhaps, seeping back in from the memory of spending all those years alone. Chifuyu’s heart feels like it’s being wrenched out of his chest and squeezed for all it’s worth.
He recalls something Takemichi said, all that time ago, back before they were even together. He’d been asking for advice on what to do about the ever-growing crush he had on Kazutora, and Takemichi had mentioned how neither of them had very much experience on the romance side of things - except for if Kazutora had anything going on during his time in prison. It had made Chifuyu feel a little sick at the time, but remembering it now, paired with Kazutora’s words…
He feels a strange sense of comfort, followed by a twist of guilt in the pit of his stomach.
“So no prison boyfriend, then?” He asks, sounding smaller than he means to, and Kazutora barks out a laugh. “Hey. Genuine question, ‘Tora.”
His shoulders keep shaking as he laughs. Alcohol makes him giggly, Chifuyu notes. “No, no prison boyfriend. You were my first crush in… twelve, thirteen years?”
There’s a pang of jealousy in his chest then, at the thought of Kazutora ever liking someone else, but then the second part of his sentence registers in his head. Twelve, thirteen years. It’s not hard to understand, considering Kazutora’s prolonged absence from the real world, but it still makes the jealousy twist into pride somehow.
“Was I your first kiss?” Chifuyu teases, masking the hope in his voice very poorly, the alcohol loosening his tongue. “I feel bad if that’s the case. You had a busted lip.”
Kazutora snickers. “Nah, you weren’t. That was some girl back in elementary, I think? Dunno if that counts.”
Chifuyu’s lips curve into a frown, the bottom one jutting out in a pout. Alcohol has always made him feel everything a little more intensely, but this is just embarrassing - jealous of a random elementary schooler he’s never met and will never meet. Kazutora must see the sour look on his face because he laughs and lets go of his hand in favour of tipping his chin up, pressing a tender kiss to the flushed tip of his nose.
“Don’t be jealous of an eight-year-old, ‘Fuyu. You’re the best kiss I’ve ever had, promise.”
“Does that mean there’s been more?” He reels back, suddenly very invested, and watches Kazutora’s lips twist into an amused grin as he stares with wide eyes. “I wasn’t even your second? I’m betrayed, ‘Tora.”
He doesn’t think Kazutora’s stopped giggling since he started, and he doesn’t think he ever wants him to stop. It’s a sweet, honey-toned sound, the echo of it bouncing around in Chifuyu’s head like it’s the only sound he’s ever heard. Maybe he’ll ask Kazutora to drink with him even more often. Now he’s had a taste of this, he’ll never survive without it.
“You’re my third, if that makes you feel better.” Kazutora makes a face, then, his brow furrowed and his nose scrunched up, the way it does when he’s finally caught onto something that should have been obvious from the beginning. It’s strange that he has a specific expression for that scenario, but it happens far more often than it should, bless his soul. “Hang on. I’m not even your first, why are you complaining?”
Busted. “You were my second! That counts for something, doesn’t it?”
Exasperated, Kazutora shakes his head and looks away. His eyes fix themselves on the building opposite. There’s a couple just like them sitting out on the balcony - though Chifuyu is sure Kazutora can’t actually see them, because he’s not wearing his glasses - sitting with their feet up on the railing, leaning into each other just like they are. He snuggles closer into Kazutora’s side.
“My first was Baji,” he says, and he isn’t quite sure why. Alcohol loosens his tongue too much for his liking. But Kazutora doesn’t freeze up the way he used to - hasn’t been doing that for a while. “I think I was just barely thirteen? I don’t really remember what we were talking about before but we got onto the topic of girls, somehow, and I mentioned I was into guys too. He asked if I had ever kissed a guy, and I was thirteen and stupid, so I said I’d never kissed anyone. And he just… walked across my room and kissed me, then went right back to what he was doing.”
He scoffs a little at the memory. Everything before it and after it is sort of hazy, blurred by time and whisky, but the kiss itself has stayed clear in his mind since the moment it happened. He thinks the conversation might have started because he was reading manga when Baji barged into his apartment and had started asking about all the shoujo on his shelf, which led to them discussing their own love lives, somehow.
Baji was flicking through one of his favourites, and had casually asked if there were any girls he was into. No, no one, he’d replied, and then, testing the waters, there is a… a guy, though.
And Baji hadn’t skipped a beat. Didn’t falter for a moment, only turned around with a teasing smile and cocked his head to the side, asking, oh? Do I know him?
From there they got onto the topic of firsts, though Chifuyu was hardly participating, too stunned to say more than a few words at a time. He thinks that might have been why he didn’t really consider his answer when Baji asked if he’d ever kissed a guy before, why he’d said I’ve never kissed anyone, actually without a second thought, despite knowing it would probably bring a whole new round of teasing down on his shoulders.
It didn’t, though. It brought Baji across the room, manga still in his hand. It brought Baji’s lips to his own for a moment so brief Chifuyu was sure he’d imagined it until his friend stood up straight and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, saying now you have and walking back to his seat by the window.
In the present, Kazutora is rubbing circles into his hand again, coaxing him out of remembering slowly, the way he does when he’s pulling Chifuyu out of sleep. He glances up at his boyfriend momentarily. His eyes are far-off, glazed over a little, though Chifuyu isn’t quite sure why; either he’s about to cry, the alcohol is too strong, or he’s deep in the pits of his own memory.
“He kissed me, once.”
Chifuyu blanches. “You too?”
“Yup.” Kazutora takes a sip from his almost-empty glass, eyes never moving from the horizon. “We were eleven, I was complaining about the girls that kept chasin’ me around. He asked if I was gay and I said I didn’t know what that meant. And then he kissed me, and I found out.”
He finishes his drink and leans over to the table again, placing his glass down next to the silent radio and the fan. The bottle is empty too, so Chifuyu downs the rest of his and follows Kazutora’s actions, then settles up against his side again, with his knees pulled up to his chest. It’s sort of uncomfortable, and as the sun dips under the horizon the fan is starting to be more of a curse than a blessing, but Chifuyu can’t bring himself to stand up to turn it off.
If he moves, this rare moment might end, and he might never have Kazutora so intimately again.
“I don’t think I actually realised I liked boys until later, but I knew I wasn’t into girls.” There’s an airy tone to Kazutora’s voice, light and breezy, and there’s this fond look gracing his features. “I think he was my first love though. I just didn’t realise ‘till it was already too late.”
A twinge of sadness creeps into his tone, and Chifuyu knows he has to steer the conversation away before it takes a nosedive off the balcony and into the street below them.
“I think he liked you too,” he says, though it hurts, “the way he used to talk about you proves that. I-I didn’t know it was you until later, ‘cuz all I really did was help him write letters to you, but when I connected the dots I remember thinking wow, Baji really likes this guy.”
He remembers that day pretty clearly, too, because it was the first in a string of heartbreaks that he’s not sure he ever quite recovered from. First it was hearing Kazutora’s name and connecting it to the character Tora which he’d corrected so many times in Baji’s letters. Then it was remembering things Baji had told him about Kazutora in passing without ever mentioning a name, just that it was the friend he wrote letters to. Then Baji’s departure, the test of faith, and finally, Bloody Halloween - the final nail in both the metaphorical and literal coffin.
He remembers thinking both wow, Baji really likes this guy and wow, I really fucking hate this guy at the same time, and wonders what his younger self would think of him now.
(He doesn’t tell Kazutora that.)
“Really?” Kazutora asks, sounding genuinely surprised. “I thought he liked you. He never said your name but in his letters he kept saying there was someone he wanted me to meet when I got out? It was probably you.”
Ah. Of course Baji wanted them to be friends. Of course he’d have introduced them to each other, if only things had gone differently. Part of Chifuyu longs for it, yearns for some alternate timeline where the three of them could have been friends - but another part of him doesn’t.
It isn’t that he doesn’t wish Baji could’ve been here. That’s one of the only things he wants more than anything in the world. But these days, that desire is muted, no more than a buzz in the back of his mind; he’s grown up, after all, forgiven and moved on to the best of his ability. It haunts him in the dark, still, but only in the dark, and now he has a light to guide him through it.
And it might be selfish, utterly selfish, but he thinks - if things hadn’t gone the way they did, would he have had Kazutora at all?
“You’re thinking too hard again, ‘Fuyu,” he says, his voice soft and his touch softer. He ruffles Chifuyu’s hair a little, then presses a kiss to his forehead once more. His lips are wet and his breath smells strongly of alcohol, but Chifuyu leans into it anyway, closing his eyes as if it’ll make the moment last longer. “You wanna talk about something else? Go to bed?”
He shakes his head against Kazutora’s shoulder and blinks himself back into the present. “I’m okay, promise. Just thinking. Never a good thing.”
“Right.”
“You aren’t supposed to agree,” he pouts, “you’re supposed to tell me I’m very smart and cool and shit. Do you even like me? Be honest.”
Kazutora snickers into his hair. Chifuyu can feel him smiling, and he can’t help mirroring it.
“You’re very smart and cool and shit, and yes, I do actually like you. I love you, in fact.” He’s speaking into Chifuyu’s hair so his voice is a bit muffled, but there’s no mistaking the tenderness in his tone, the way his words flow like music in Chifuyu’s ears. He pulls back a little then and tilts Chifuyu’s chin up to look at him, brushing his bangs out of his face. “What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, hm? You’re makin’ a stormy old face.”
“You get bold when you drink,” he replies, avoiding the question entirely, because it’s easier than meeting his eyes and telling him the truth.
But Kazutora is persistent, his grip on Chifuyu’s chin getting a little tighter when he tries to glance away, so he sighs and pulls his hand down by the wrist to lace their fingers together.
“If you must know, I’m thinkin’ about how happy I am with you, alright? I just got - got sad for a minute, ‘cuz I thought that maybe if things went differently we might not be together, y’know? And I-I don’t like the thought of not being with you. Just got me down for a sec.”
When he looks back up, there are tears glassing over Kazutora’s eyes, and he’s blinking them back like he’s determined not to let them fall. He pulls Chifuyu into his chest by the hand and wraps his arms tight around him. The warmth should be too much for a humid evening like this, but Chifuyu finds himself burrowing into it, pushing his face into Kazutora’s neck if only to fully wrap himself in it, until all he can feel is the tingle of his skin under Kazutora’s loving hands.
“I would still choose you,” Kazutora whispers. His breath is hot over Chifuyu’s skin, and it tickles his neck. “We might have gotten here differently, but I would still want you. I don’t see how I could not. You’re so good, Chifuyu, you’ve always been so good. If we had known each other as kids I’d have wanted you then too.”
Chifuyu cannot bring himself to pull out of the embrace, not even when the sun falls out of sight completely and the hairs on his arms are standing at attention, goosebumps lining his muscles as he shivers in the warmth of Kazutora’s arms. The silence that stretches between them should be stifling, but somehow, Chifuyu finds comfort in it.
He finds his eyes drooping eventually, and the movement of Kazutora’s chest as he breathes slows to a steadier pace as the both of them calm down a little bit. His shirt is wet where Kazutora’s face is resting, and when he does pull away his eyes are tinted red at the corners. He doesn’t let Chifuyu wipe his cheeks for him, instead dragging his forearm right across his face and sniffing hard before returning his hands to cradle Chifuyu’s waist.
“Why am I the one that’s crying when you’re the one that’s sad?”
“‘Cuz you’re a crybaby, ‘Tora,” Chifuyu replies, helpful as always, and Kazutora gives him an adorably scandalized look. “My crybaby, though.”
“Damn right.”
Kazutora moves closer again, then closer still, and Chifuyu recognises the hazy look in his eyes. He meets him halfway in a bruising kiss, teeth clashing, breath stolen from his lungs in mere seconds. Kazutora’s lips are soft and velvety, no longer cracked and grating against his own, and with every soft hum that vibrates against his mouth Chifuyu feels his skin grow hotter. The goosebumps now arise wherever Kazutora’s hands trail - his arms, his stomach, the outsides of his thighs as he haphazardly pulls Chifuyu out of his chair and into his lap. He stumbles as he goes but he doesn’t break the kiss for a second.
There are firm hands keeping his hips grounded as Kazutora lets go of his lips to get at his neck. He can’t help the way his breath stutters when he feels teeth nipping at his skin. He’s always had a sensitive neck, and he wishes he’d never made that fact known to Kazutora, because not a day goes by that he doesn’t take full advantage of it. He’s a bit of a menace, honestly, but Chifuyu would take this over the stuttering awkward mess he used to be any day.
Especially once he starts ghosting his fingers over the inside of Chifuyu’s thighs. That sparks a fire to life in his gut, and his muscles twitch into Kazutora’s touch.
But then Kazutora pauses. He detaches his lips from Chifuyu’s neck, and when he turns his head as much as he can to look, he finds his boyfriend staring at the block opposite them again.
“The people opposite are staring at us,” Kazutora murmurs, muffled as he moves to press his forehead into Chifuyu’s shoulder. “I got carried away and fuckin’ forgot we’re outside.”
Chifuyu can’t help but giggle. “Wanna go inside, then? To bed, maybe?”
“Hold onto me.”
Usually Chifuyu would despise being carried, but there’s just something about how easily Kazutora lifts him, hooking his arms under his thighs. A giggle bubbles out of his chest as locks his ankles around Kazutora’s waist, arms around his neck. He almost smacks his head against the doorframe as Kazutora trips over the threshold between the balcony and the lounge.
Kazutora refuses to put him down until they’re in the bedroom with the door kicked shut, and even then he doesn’t let go until he can drop Chifuyu on his back safely. He lands among the mess of sheets they’d stumbled out of and not bothered to make that morning, breathing hard as Kazutora crawls over him, catching his lips with his own again.
It isn’t until they wake up late the next morning that they remember the balcony door is still open, and the radio is still playing softly outside.