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The coins come out of Kojiro’s wallet, but he lets Kaoru insert them into the gacha machine and twist the dial until their prizes fall out, hitting the catch tray with a dull thunk. The capsule balls Kaoru can see are multicoloured, but it dispenses two blue ones in a row for them.
Matching with Kojiro won’t be the worst thing that’s ever happened to him, he supposes.
Kojiro rolls them around in his hand then offers them to Kaoru, to pick which one he wants. He shrugs as he takes one, it doesn’t matter really, they’ll be the same thing.
Cheap plastic beads, on elastic string that’ll probably snap before the month is out. But they had a nice day, a last hurrah before school starts back up next week. They haven’t done much of anything, really, but Kaoru feels good all the same. Nostalgic — or whatever feeling it when you know that you will be nostalgic for something.
Kojiro’s brute strength gets it open first, plastic clinking together in that specific way it has, deep green with pale green characters on it so wonky they’re rendered completely indecipherable. With a twist, Kaoru pops his open the way it’s supposed to work, and —
It’s not the same.
Kojiro laughs looking at it, baby pink with magenta lettering, obscured the same way as the other one.
It’s too much, too big of a coincidence. Kaoru blushes for some reason, tipping the bracelet into his palm and rubs the cheap beads against his hand. In front of him Kojiro starts to roll his down over his hand, past the widest part of palm and towards his wrist.
“Swap with me,” Kaoru insists.
Kojiro blinks in surprise, but doesn’t argue, just rolls the bracelet back off and holds it up, dangling down so Kaoru can snatch it.
He can’t explain it, he just wants the green one.
“Whatever you want, Princess,” Kojiro says.
Kaoru flicks the pink beads at his face and turns to walk off as he slips his bracelet on. Kojiro catches up after a few moments and when he slips his arm over Kaoru’s shoulder the sight of the pink bracelet stretched around his wrist stops Kaoru from shrugging him off.
— — —
Kaoru sniffs, tries to clear his blocked nose but only succeeds in making his headache worse.
It’s the worst time of year to get sick.
Exams are right around the corner, the amount of assigned reading they have is hellish every single day. Kaoru’s behind, is only going to get more behind if he can’t shake this head cold. He tries to read as he walks to his next class, but his grip is weak, folders slipping from his fingers.
“Easy.”
Kojiro is there, suddenly, catching the folder and transferring it on top of his own books. Maybe he’s been standing with him this whole time.
“I need that,” Kaoru whines.
“Later,” Kojiro says.
“But —”
“Your notes are shit anyway,” Kojiro interrupts and Kaoru would smack him in the shoulder if he had the strength to lift his arm. “You basically fell asleep in class.”
Kaoru sighs. It’s true and he hates it.
“So, we’ll swap notes, okay?” Kojiro says, gently nudging Kaoru under the chin, makes him realise he’s been staring at the ground. “You can take mine tonight and if you feel better you can read through them ready for tomorrow.”
Kaoru sniffs again, Kojiro’s brow furrows with concern.
“Thank you,” Kaoru says softly.
Kojiro is more attentive than normal in the rest of their classes, taking twice the number of notes than he usually does. At the end of the day, he snatches all of Kaoru’s books from his grip and swaps them out with a neat stack of paper.
Only at home does Kaoru see the sticky note attached to the horror that is the notes from their calculus class.
Feel better <3
— — —
“You sure you just want vanilla?”
Kaoru nods absently, doesn’t look up at where Kojiro is towering over him, just shifts his knees higher and balances his board over them. There’s something wrong with the bearings, he thinks, but he might just need new wheels.
He’ll work it out, he’ll fix it, he always does.
Barely noticing that he’s alone, Kaoru fiddles with his board, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, legs recklessly in the road. No one ever drives down this way, not this time of day. Kojiro returns, doesn’t announce himself, but his presence covers Kaoru in a deep enough shadow he can’t really see what he’s doing, and he looks up with a scowl.
A milk tea, pale caramel in colour, hovers an inch from his nose. Of course — that’s why they’re here.
Kaoru takes it, mumbles his thank you so quietly he really needn’t have bothered with the effort. Kojiro drops down at his side, bumps Kaoru’s shoulder and jerks his chin towards the board.
“Any luck?”
Kaoru shrugs. “I need to go to the shop before we —”
Kojiro lifts his own drink to his mouth, presses the straw against his plus bottom lip and takes a draw from the soft pink and deep purple swirled concoction. He glances down at his own drink — boring.
“Kaoru?” Kojiro urges, eyebrows slightly raised.
Kaoru just stares at Kojiro’s drink, pouting slightly.
“Yes?” Kojiro goes on, face cracking with the start of a smile. “You want something?”
Kaoru just pouts harder, drags his gaze up to Kojiro’s eyes then stares pointedly at the pretty drink again. He’ll say, he’ll ask, and has absolutely no shame about it, but it would be better if Kojiro just offered it up to him.
“Kaoru do you want to swap drinks?”
Kaoru nods, immediately reaching for the pink one, but Kojiro raises it up, extending his arm high enough Kaoru will have to stand up to snatch it.
“There’s a tax for it, I’m afraid,” Kojiro says solemnly.
Kaoru frowns. “What kind of tax?”
“A single kiss.”
That’s not — Kaoru flushes. They kissed a few days ago, but neither of them mentioned it after. Only, this morning, Kojiro held his hand for the first twenty minutes after he picked him up from home. Didn’t let go until they reached the skate park.
Kojiro looks hopeful, still smiling just a little and Kaoru’s hand is still raised from where he tried to grab the drink. He redirects it, cups it around Kojiro’s jaw and tugs him down, making Kojiro put in the real work at getting their mouths together.
It’s soft, a tender little thing, smaller than their first kiss but it kindles something in Kaoru’s chest, warm and bright. They pull apart, but stay close, noses almost brushing but not quite.
“Good job I like vanilla,” Kojiro murmurs.
Kaoru thinks it’s a good job Kojiro likes him.
— — —
Kaoru’s plane anxiety never manifests itself the same way twice. He knows this, Kojiro knows this, yet they have no other option but to proceed with every trip as though it will behave the way it did on their last one.
Window seat, Kojiro’s hoodie, and a stack of audiobooks on his phone.
It was sunny last time but raining today. The plane is noisier than the previous one and he can’t concentrate on the words, the world becoming a horrible sensory overload within just a few minutes. Kojiro pets his thigh, holds his hand, gets him a glass of wine as soon as the flight attendants are in the aisle, but he can barely enjoy it.
Kaoru feels like he might vibrate out of his skin at any moment, can’t stop watching a horror show in his mind of a technical fault that makes the plane drop out of the sky, a sudden medical emergency that the average first aid course leaves people ill-equipped to deal with.
He tries looking out the window, but the rain makes his stomach turn, bad weather compounding onto everything else and —
“Let’s swap seats,” Kojiro suggests.
“Yes,” Kaoru says quickly. “Yes let’s — do that.”
Kojiro unsnaps his own belt, then takes care of Kaoru’s for him. They don’t need to be wearing them, the light has been off for a while now, the turbulence not so severe the pilot has called for them to be worn at all times.
Something about realising that helps settle some of his nerves.
He steps into the aisle to let Kaoru out, one of the attendants says something that Kaoru doesn’t make out, but Kojiro just waves her off. Kojiro slips into his vacated seat and drags the blind down over the window. The arm rest separating their seats is pushed out of the way and when Kaoru sits back down Kojiro tugs him into his chest, cocooning him in so that he could almost imagine he’s not on a plane at all.
Almost.
“Thank you,” Kaoru mumbles.
Kojiro kisses the top of his head.
“Is it better?” Kojiro asks softly. Kaoru nods.
“A little.”
“Try to sleep,” Kojiro suggests, tone quieting even further. “I’m here — you don’t need to worry.”
That helps more than anything else.
— — —
“No.”
“Kojiro,” Kaoru scolds, rolling his eyes. “You’re being —”
“You’re not riding your bike right now,” Kojiro says, snapping more than he ever does. “Are you crazy? You’re not fully recovered yet.”
“Carla —”
“Don’t start,” Kojiro interrupts. “Are you kidding me? Can’t you do this one thing for me without being —”
A bitch. Kojiro doesn’t say it, won’t say it when they’re on the cusp of something shaped like an argument, but he hardly needs to say it for Kaoru to hear it.
Kaoru huffs.
“Do you want me to walk everywhere?” Kaoru asks.
“Swap keys with me,” Kojiro says. “Take my car, I’ll use your bike.”
“You have a bike,” Kaoru reminds him. “You don’t need to take Carla.”
“Okay, I’ll drive my bike, but you’re still giving me your keys.”
“I really don’t see —”
Kojiro grabs his chin, holds him still to stop his words with a kiss. A little rough, a lot distracting.
“Please,” Kojiro says, pulling away only enough to talk. “Just,” he kisses Kaoru again. “Please.”
Kaoru pushes up on his tiptoes for another kiss, Kojiro allows it, but only for a moment, doesn’t let himself be as distracted as Kaoru hoped.
“Baby,” Kojiro says affectionately, turning his grip to gentle fingers that pet along Kaoru’s jaw and into his hair. He tugs it gently, starting to smile and Kaoru forces another huff to cover up his own fondness.
“Fine,” Kaoru allows. “My keys are on the hook by the door.
There’s a clink, then cool metal attached to plastic charms is being pressed into his palm.
“Thank you,” Kojiro breathes.
“I wish you had a nicer car,” Kaoru chides — he doesn’t really mean it.
Kojiro kisses him again, humming contentedly.
“Me too, Princess,” Kojiro agrees. “Me too.”
— +1 —
There’s a blanket over Kaoru’s lap, his knees tucked up underneath him and his body turned towards Kojiro. He’s focused on his tablet, while Kojiro watches some competitive cooking competition or another — complaining about the challenges and the contestants alike. There’s worse background noise to have.
Kaoru’s having to work one handed, because Kojiro is holding the other, playing with his fingers as he watches the TV. Occasionally Kaoru’s entire arm gets caught in the movement when Kojiro gestures at the screen.
It’s hard to hide his smile every time it happens.
For a while now it’s been still though, even though the noise from the show is extra exuberant right now.
Kojiro shifts, clears his throat and Kaoru looks up because it sounds pointed, but Kojiro’s eyes are fixed on the TV and he doesn’t turn, even when Kaoru continues to stare for five, ten, fifteen seconds.
He goes back to his tablet, thinking nothing of it when Kojiro’s other hand comes over to cradle it. Not until he’s pushing Kaoru’s ring finger up just a little to separate it from the others and something cold is being slid down over it.
“What —”
Kojiro’s hands pull back to reveal a simple band, dual toned silver metals but no gems. It settles down close to his knuckle, fitting perfectly and looking too good against his skin for words.
“That looks nice,” Kojiro muses, tone a little awkward.
When Kaoru snaps his gaze up to Kojiro’s face he looks nervous, brow pinched, bottom lip being worried by his teeth.
“Kojiro,” Kaoru breathes.
“Marry me,” Kojiro says immediately. “Please.”
Kaoru doesn’t need to think about it, but he feels frozen in place. His voice won’t work, throat suddenly tight and full. He reaches out instead, placing his palm against Kojiro’s jaw, the ring reflecting the light of the TV, so it’s thrown into sudden technicolour.
“I love you,” Kojiro adds — like it needs saying, like it’s ever needed saying.
Kaoru pushes forward, drags him in. Their kiss is a collision of teeth at first, too eager on both sides but perfect nonetheless. It goes on and on, lingering and deep, Kaoru desperate to show Kojiro how he feels when his ability to communicate has deserted him.
Kojiro pulls back, gently cradles Kaoru’s waist and nudges their noses together.
“Yes?” Kojiro says.
Kaoru nods. Anything else and he might just cry.