Archive of Our Own

His hair wasn't long when they first met. Still long for a boy, Kojiro thought, but he'd come to learn, it was quite short for Kaoru. It fell to his shoulders, choppy rose colored bangs framing his oversized glasses and exposing his ears when the wind blew too hard. Tresses of pink that moved with him, silken and feather-light, yet they were just as wild and unkempt back then as they are now. Some things never change.

With those pastel locks, paired with a burning pair of golden orbs, it reminded Kojiro of a sunset.

He had never cared about watching the sunset before. It was something that happened every single day, he figured. But soon after meeting Kaoru, he realized what made it so special.

The pair didn't originally hit it off of course, not them, not even close. The only thing they had in common back then was that they were both a couple of stubborn ox. They were rowdy, they disrupted the class, threw erasers at each other, got into playground scuffles, and Kaoru had an unending affinity for stealing the best item out of Kojiro's bento box without him seeing, every single day.

The moment when it all changed was when the tides were reversed, and Kaoru caught a glimpse of evergreen on the way home from school. There, on the bridge, something sped by, sucking the wind from his lungs as it went. The force of it knocked him over, the books in his hands scattering over the rails and landing in the pond below.

He watches, those sun eyes scorching the earth as none other than Kojiro Nanjo comes to a clumsy stop about 20 feet away, muttering apologies about how he's "still getting used to it". Kaoru looks him over, unimpressed by the tacky helmet he wears all decorated in abstract whispy spirals of koi fish, even more unimpressed by the comparitively plain kneepads, but his eyes do linger for a moment over the well worn skateboard resting beneath one of his feet.

". . ." After a moment of gawking, Kaoru simply scoffs, before steadying himself over the railing and diving headfirst into the water.

". . . Hey-- WAIT!!" Kojiro shouts, abandoning the board to run to the other child's rescue-- and lamenting as that board slides right under the lowest rail and into the watery depths as well.

Truth be told, Kaoru had done this once before. He was known by most of his peers to be naive and gullible, which was partially true. He had always seen the good in others, to trust in it and believe it would always prevail was a core philosophy for the young boy. But over time, he'd become something of a punching bag for small children still forging their unsteady morals. Not really 'friend' material, he was more of an easy target, someone to trick, laugh at and leave behind.

He'd been on the recieving end of far too many broken promises, such as 'meet me here, i swear i'll be there', or 'no really, if you touch these plants that look suspiciously like poison ivy, they'll give you super powers" and "i actually saw a cat in the janitors closet, i promise if you go look i wont lock you in'. At some point, he had started to properly gauge who was sincere or not. No matter how much good he saw, you can only fall for good so many times before you learn to recognize the bad.

Not too long ago, a few of his classmates on the higher end of the social pyramid had tried to convince him they were daredevils, and if he jumped off the bridge, they'd make him part of their clique. Kaoru couldn't have cared less about being accepted into some wannabe gang of young boys who still needed their mommy's help putting their pants on in the morning. But, as young as he was, he already had grown something of a petty side, and seeing their trickery coming from a mile away, he fired back.

Not only did he play along and show up, he dove off the bridge without any hesitation. As the water rushed up to meet him and reflected soft tufts of clouds, falling felt more like flying. His heart was somewhere in his throat, and then he was submerged. Cold grappled at every nerve ending. The rush of adrenaline was already more than worth it, but. . . there was another reason he had come.

His plan was to march back up that bridge, and challenge the bullies to jump, and if they chickened out, push them in anyways. Which he did. Of course none of them had actually jumped before, Kaoru knew that much, he just wanted to humiliate them in the way they had tried to do to him first. He got in a decent amount of trouble for it, but the look on their faces as they ran home soaked to the bone and crying was utterly priceless. (Of course, years later, boasting that story to Kojiro had garnered strange looks and comments such as 'you're scary, you know that?', but even then, Kaoru never came to regret it.)

Somehow, the second jump was no different. The rush was just as intense, the freedom just as real as before. If he wanted to nitpick, he could say the clouds were different shapes, and his hair was a bit longer now, but for the most part, it was the same. And yet, not any duller.

After getting used to the frigid temperature, he simply let himself sink for a moment, all the way down until his feet touched the claylike bottom of the pond and pushed him back up to the surface. On the way up, he noted that he couldn't spot his books anywhere, though a loud splash didn't help his focus.

He sputters as he resurfaces, swiping droplets away from his glasses to squint at his surroundings. Then, he spots something wooden and heavy trying to bob atop the surface. ". . . What the-"

Another flash of green, and another splash. Kaoru shrieks, choking on the yell as a wave of water splashes into his mouth, rippling at the small boy for a few more seconds before the other child joins him in treading just above the waterline.

"WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING?!" Kojiro shouts.

"Getting my books." Kaoru replies nonchalantly, aiming a pouty and accusatory tone at the other boy.

"ARE YOU CRAZY??? YOU COULDA JUST WALKED DOWN THE SIDE AND GRABBED THEM!!" He replies.

"Where's the fun in that?" Kaoru scoffs, spotting a water-logged copy of Kiki's Delivery Service floating nearby, reaching out to grab it and give it a shake.

When he meets Kojiro's eyes again, they seem to be glinting with something new, something his peers had thus far rarely shown him in earnest. Understanding. Intrigue.

Kojiro chuckles, and for once, it doesn't feel like Kaoru's being laughed at, but for. And what else can he do but laugh for Kojiro back? They were surely going to get in trouble for going home in soaked clothes, with a soggy book and dripping skateboard, but. . . at least they had fun.

Perhaps, instead of resenting it, Kaoru could allow this innocence and naievety to live inside of him another day.

Years went by, years of friendship that grew like a cactus blooming in the desert, because despite all their puppy fights, they had grown attached at the hip. They explored their world together, discovering their dreams, sorting out their goals, bouncing their identities off of each other and becoming who they are as a symbiotic unit.

Still, trust was an unspoken hurdle for Kaoru. He leaned into optomism, but it was as though he was waiting for the moment that Kojiro would say it was all a prank, or a friendship forged out of pity, and then he'd be alone again. Alone started to feel scarier with every passing day, every day that he spent holding a sweaty sun-kissed hand with sailor moon bandaids all over it, as it cautiously guided him forward on a skateboard. It was love, but Kaoru didn't know it.

When the whirlwind known as ADAM skirted into their lives and then skirted out just as fast, he left devastation in his wake. Kaoru believed it to be love. To have your breath taken away, to have your heart beat out of your chest. To idolize, fantasize, to chase after, to want to give them everything you have just so they'll acknowledge you for a moment. What else could hurt so badly when it turns sour and leaves you?

It was an infatuation, yes, but the meaning of true love was something that would evade Kaoru and Kojiro for at least a few more years to come. He came to understand, it wasn't as often a rush, though it could sometimes start that way. Seeing someone skate so high over your head, it looked as though they were flying. Seeing a young boy fly off a bridge for a ¥500 paperback. Being wanted and accepted for who you are. Love could start with a rush like that. But that's not all it was.

Love was equal parts the rise and the comedown. It wasn't just their long days of reckless abandon, the sparks of metal on concrete, the police sirens ringing in their ears as they make their latest escape before clearing an entire cop car while flipping off a few of Okinawa's Finest. It wasn't hopped railings and deep dives. That was youth. It was just as beautiful of a concept, and it hurt just as much to lose to time, but it was not the same feeling.

Kaoru and Kojiro slowly came to believe; love was a home. It was the way another person's bed felt softer than your own, especially resting under creaky, bruised bones with skateboard imprints on the backs of your thighs, calloused hands just as tired as yours grazing gingerly over your skin to bandage you up, and then offering to make you hot soup. And for Kojiro, it was untangling your best friend's hair that never seemed to exist in any other state besides tangled, listening to him complain about it while knowing he doesn't really mean it, letting him be aloof and eventually being rewarded with the smallest 'thank you' you've ever heard, as his nose, cheeks, ears all turn the same shade of pink as the locks in your hands.

Love wasn't an adrenaline rush, it was the drop.

No wonder people found it so scary.

The loss of ADAM left Kaoru acrid for some time, lost in tunnel vision. He had already known Kojiro was leaving to study, they had both known it for many months. So perhaps it was unfair to shut him out. To call once a week as a courtesy. To pretend he didn't get the postcards. To shut down and protect himself. But he couldn't stand it, he couldn't bare the weight of losing someone else. Choosing isolation first, maybe that would hurt less, he had presumed.

He distracted himself with hours spent hunched over lines of code, 1's and 0's that started to look as entertaining as a children's book he once read about a young witch. But those days were long over. He had been wrong to live in the fantasy of youth for so long, and he refused to open himself up to the risk of being abandoned yet again.

But then. . . that mother fucker, he comes back a few semesters early.

While Kaoru's still drowning in essays, Kojiro's already graduated, top of his class. A cooking prodigy. And all the pride Kaoru had felt for his tech classes and the progress on his C.A.R.L.A. prototype went undelicately flying out the window.

He burned with jealousy, though only a smidge of it reserved for Kojiro's success. No, he was happy for him, proud even. It stems less from Kojiro's actions and more from those around him. He's jealous of the women who cling on his newly toned shoulders, who rest against that sun tattoo and feel its warmth, he's even jealous of the sun in the sky for getting to kiss Kojiro's skin a darker shade of tan in his travels-- Kaoru wants to be the only person to kiss him ever again.

And still, the meaning of love evades him, instead an oblivious bitterness settles into every crack in his armor, as old habits for Kaoru tend not to die hard, but not die at all. They reign immortal, as he truly believes that jealousy like this must be something too impure for love. He was the one to push Kojiro away first, he bit the hand that fed him and he doesn't get to ask for it back. That couldn't be love. An ugly little crush, maybe. A one night stand, that's all he wants, sure. Or an enemy. A person to kick in the teeth. That could work.

But, Kojiro being Kojiro, he lures Kaoru back in, and despite all his protest, he pulls out that beaming, overly trusting child. Despite how the rejection stings like a fresh wound every time Kaoru can see a different shade of lipstick mark on the man's neck, he cannot find it in himself to stop the gravitational pull. In the end, he settles once again, on simply; 'a friend'.

Kaoru doesn't remember who made the first move, who's tears he tasted during their first kiss, how many times he stopped Kojiro to ask; 'Does this make us something more than friends?'. Because he couldn't handle it. As much as he yearned for this moment, hot sticky kisses and damp skin and electric shocks every time Kojiro grinds against his ass and mutters something filthy, as much as it was a wet dream come true. . . he couldn't handle if he had to actually wake up from it. If they went home the next day as if it had never happened. Even the promise that it might happen again wouldn't be enough.

Their first time was an adrenaline rush, and Kaoru had to be certain there'd be a comedown. He wanted Kojiro to make breakfast the next morning, he wanted to walk in wearing only Kojiro's tacky striped shirt, to complain about how ugly it is, to bicker when Kojiro says 'give it back then', he wanted to wash each others hair and vent about their long work days and to move into the home that Kojiro Nanjo had become for him.

And thankfully, Kojiro had the same ideas. Every time he was asked, Does this make us something more, he panted back, breathless and choked up, "So much more." You're everything, he wanted to say. Maybe he did say it, a handful of times outright, many times in other gestures. And maybe, for the first time, Kaoru didn't have a shred of doubt over if he was truly wanted or not.

The kids were. . . unexpected. Kaoru had never liked kids. Or rather, it wasn't that he disliked them. In fact, they were entertaining. Babies were cute, kids were funny, teens were a handful, but at least they were fiesty and daring and everything Kaoru missed getting to be himself, that was something he could always appreciate. But, maybe that's why it seemed daunting. He felt awkward around them, unsure of what to say or do, especially when it came to being the 'adult' in the situation.

Kaoru had barely started tackling his own long-lasting teenage woes, how could he be a mentor now? Yet every time he glances towards Kojiro, the way the kids light up around him, how he always seems to clock their problems and resolve them without pushing too hard, it was impossible to not feel inspired by the light the man seemed to radiate.

Before he could even realize it, he had grown attached to them, to their goals and achievements and personal problems, and he felt true joy in witnessing how they've seemed to fare so much better than the trio Kaoru remembers growing up with. He sees bits of his own past in each of them, with a happier ending. After a certain point, he isn't even teaching them anymore, they're teaching him how to let go and be happy.

And he's almost happy. It's almost enough. It should be, and he knows that. But he's yet to shake that last shred of his youth, not until he's lying on his back and staring it in the face.

He learned a lot about love that night. Some of it was important, most of it was simply painful.

It's uncanny, Kaoru thinks, just how much this monster before him happens to look like his old friend, ADAM. But the face, even shrouded in a mask, it's not the same, the sneer and furrowed brows have replaced the tender smile, a hoarse and broken whisper drowns out the echoes of their laughter that used to bound down empty streets. "Special" becomes "boring". Idolization becomes witnessing a possession, and there he's left, abandoned on the ground, trickles of bright and angry red blending seamlessly into his sunset hair.

His memories become a broken picture frame with sharp jagged edges, and finally, he's forced to set them down, to admit that every now and then, the naive child in him could be just as wrong as it was right. He was wrong about ADAM.

At least he was right about Kojiro.

He's floating in murky water, looking for a children's book he's yet to find, he's cold and his head hurts-- and then there's a splash.

"KAORU!" A voice shouts, muttering a few other statements he doesn't catch in his stupor. Warm, strong hands then grip him so gently, pulling him up to the surface, holding him tight and reminding him; he's still not alone, and never would be.

Waking up in the hospital, there was no need to hesitate, it was as it always has been, a gravitational pull. The nurse told him Kojiro had only left about 30 minutes ago, had sat there for hours watching over his sleeping frame before apologetically going to set up the restaurant for work the next day. Kaoru knew that was code for going home to turn the upstairs apartment at the Sia la Luce into a temporary rehabilitation center, and while the gesture was sweet and necessary. . . All Kaoru wanted was to see his face.

Kaoru felt safe. Despite it all, he felt that things would be okay. Letting go hurt, and it'd feel good to be comforted by warm calloused hands, just the same as it felt when they used to adorn his scraped knees in sailor moon bandaids. But love was an equivilent, and while Kaoru awoke knowing he'd be coming home to a doting boyfriend ready to pamper him back to health, Kojiro had spent the night fussing over him, completely alone. That was their only rule. Never leave each other alone.

When he arrived, it was as much for Kojiro as it was himself, and the relief between them was tangible. So relaxed the atmosphere became, that by the time Kojiro got back with the proper wine bottle, Kaoru was laid over the counter, eyes shut, breath slow, messy hair splayed out over his folded arms, he was already almost asleep.

Almost.

"At least we've got this. . . we're not alone. . . know what I mean, Kaoru?"

Kaoru smiles, giving away his consciousness and Kojiro's only reply is an unsurprised chuckle over the fact that his sappy rambling was overheard. Soon he'll finish his glass of wine, and carry Kaoru up to bed, probably set up some pillows to prop up his injuries, make sure he's taken any medication he requires, and then kiss him goodnight.

Home, Kaoru thought.

". . . love you. . ." He mumbles.

". . . Love you too." Kojiro yawns back.