Archive of Our Own ^beta

かくれんぼう (kakurenbō) - lit. "hide and seek"

It’s a slow day at the shop.

Kaoru’s had a strangely busy week, and it’s only halfway done. There’s been a sudden influx of orders, ever since a big company opened in Naha and came to him for flowers. That, alongside the typical customers coming to buy a bouquet for someone they’re visiting or to take to the hospital, has him thankful for the absence of people today. With that in mind, he’d told his part-timer to go home and rest, and is focusing on an arrangement when the bell above the door chimes, though whoever opens it can’t be seen over the counter.

“Hi Mama!”

He feels his heart clench in his chest, filled to the brim with affection the second he hears his sweet daughter’s cute little voice. “Hello, sweetheart,” he coos, and when she wobbles around the counter, stands so he can bend down to hug her tight in his arms. “How was school today?”

“Good! Haruhi made this!” She pulls back, dropping her little satchel on the floor as she pulls out a folder decorated with a print of Hello Kitty on it (a system Kaoru had made for her, and one he’s proud she sticks to) and takes out a sheet of paper. She proudly holds it out in front of her in her little hands, smiling so wide her chubby cheeks puff up. “The kitty we feed outside!” 

Kaoru takes in the adorable piece of art - which is, as she claimed, very obviously the calico cat they often see outside - and smiles fondly. It’s doodled on yellow, slightly crumpled construction paper, and some of the ink is smudged, like she had touched it before it had properly dried. Even so, it does look like a cat, whiskers and all. “You did such a good job, Haruhi,” he tells her, in the gentle, uncondescending voice he’s picked up over the years. “You know, I haven’t seen her today. I bet she was waiting for you. Maybe you should go outside and show her?” 

“Does Mama think she’ll like it?” Haruhi asks, her lips parted, like she hadn’t even considered showing her muse the portrait she had created of her. 

“I’m sure she’ll love it.”

Haruhi beams and Kaoru just wants to pull her into his arms and kiss her cheeks. She toddles from behind the counter towards the back door, past the work room that connects to the front of the shop where Kaoru keeps his stock and works on his more involved orders, and peeks outside the glass door. Kaoru follows after her, looking out at the empty lot himself, and points. “There she is.”

The kitten is sitting on the brick fence that separates the back of the shop from the main road. Kaoru, for the most part, has no issue with Haruhi exploring or playing in the back lot alone. There’s a tattoo shop right next to theirs that they share a dumpster with, and everyone there loves Haruhi, will play with her on their breaks and talk to her like she’s their own child. Haruhi’s always had that effect on people, though; you can’t help but love her the moment you meet her. 

Just like…

He has to stop himself; the thought makes something ugly curl in Kaoru’s chest.

“Can I go outside? Please?” Haruhi asks politely, jumping a little and bringing Kaoru’s attention back down to her. He smiles, and with a nod opens the door for her. She all but scrambles out, holding on tight to her paper so it doesn’t blow away in the October wind. “Neko-chan, Neko-chan!” she calls out, hopping on her feet and making Kaoru pray she doesn’t scuff her white sneakers. “Look! I painted you in class today!”

The cat nimbly hops off the brick fence and onto the top of the trashcan, sitting on the black lid delicately. Haruhi holds it up for her to get a better look at, and though she’s only greeted with a neutral stare, she takes it as approval when the cat meows. “You like it?” she asks with glee. She turns back to Kaoru, with a grin so wide it’s almost blinding. “Mama was right!” 

“I know - now come back inside, it’s windy,” Kaoru coaxes from where he stands by the door.

“I wanna play with Neko-chan, though.”

“Then bring Mama your painting so it doesn’t get ruined.”

“Okay!” 

Haruhi scampers back to Kaoru, and he takes a look at her shoes; I’m definitely gonna have to clean them, he thinks, with a long-suffering sigh. He takes Haruhi’s paper for her, and right before she turns to play with her friend, they both hear a grumbled, “Damn it - get away, come on.”

Haruhi whips her head back around, and she doesn’t even realize who she’s yelling at when exclaims with her hands on her hips, “Hey! Be nice to Neko-chan!”

“Haruhi -” Kaoru quickly goes to scold her, but when he glances up at whoever made the poor choice of offending Haruhi, his words catch in his throat. 

So do Haruhi’s, if only for a moment; the anger abruptly turns into recognition as she cries out gleefully, “Papa!”

Kaoru can’t even stop Haruhi from running over to the person, her happy, bubbly laughs trailing behind her, because said person is the one she inherited her green hair, deep brown eyes, and infectious smile from. 

He - Kojiro, Kaoru realizes with belated shock - immediately drops the trash bag in his hand and crouches down with a big, enthusiastic hug as he hoists her up, his hands under her arms and swinging her a bit in the air. Kaoru wants to call out, to tell him to be careful with her, but he’s so paralyzed by the surprise of seeing him that nothing comes out of his mouth. 

“Be careful, Haruhi! You could fall over!” he scolds, though it’s lighthearted, and she merely giggles at him. He holds her against his chest like she weighs nothing, showing off his strength without even really meaning to. The cat, wherever it ran off to, is forgotten, as Haruhi hugs her father so tightly. “Oh, my big girl,” he says as he settles her in his arms. “What are you doing here, baby?”

“Mama’s shop!” she tells him, pointing a chubby finger in the direction of the shop and - indirectly - at Kaoru himself. 

Kojiro’s eyes follow the path she’s marked out for him, and when he sees Kaoru, it’s like the world stops spinning. 

He hasn’t changed much since college. He’s much more muscular, sure, his hair longer, but his face still holds that ever present kindness that had drawn Kaoru to him to begin with. Even as he blinks at Kaoru (stupidly, Kaoru thinks, just so he can’t think too long about the look on his face), his eyes are so warm that it threatens to burn Kaoru, to sear his skin if he lets his gaze linger. 

“Kaoru?” he breathes out, and Kaoru wants to grab Haruhi and run back inside, lock himself up in his shop and never come back out. But he knows that’s foolish, so he steels himself instead, tilts his chin up, and makes his expression cold, as impenetrable as stone. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, voice frosty as he scrutinizes him. 

“I work here,” Kojiro says defensively, matching Kaoru’s tone, if only for a moment. “Well - there,” he clarifies, jerking his head in the direction of the tattoo shop next door. It’s too much of a coincidence to Kaoru, and all he has to do is raise an eyebrow for Kojiro to further explain himself. “I seriously didn’t know your shop was right next to it - I thought it was a random one. I mean, you never told me the name.”

“Because I didn’t have to.” Kaoru knows he’s being unfair. Kojiro hasn’t done anything wrong to him. In fact, he’s probably made Haruhi’s day, surprising her by showing up out of the blue. But Kaoru has rarely seen Kojiro since he moved back home, only speaks to him through very clipped texts when he has Haruhi, and he had done that for a reason. 

Kojiro doesn’t seem all that irritated by how distant he is. If he is, Kaoru can’t tell. Kaoru probably lives in his mind as the stone-cold ex who’s somehow nice enough to let him see his daughter every other weekend and during the summer, and Kaoru had accepted that. There’s no need to act like they’re anything else to each other. 

Haruhi, though, isn’t used to it at all, and her mouth twists into a frown. “Mama, why are you mad?” she asks, her voice small, concerned. “Did Papa make you mad?”

Somehow, it breaks Kaoru out of his trance, and reminds him that ah - I shouldn’t do this when my daughter is here. He immediately plasters a smile on his face, however fake and disingenuous it may look. “No, darling. Mama is just surprised, is all.” 

“Oh…okay.” She lifts her head up to look at Kojiro. “Do I get to see you more?”

“If your mama is okay with it.”

“I am,” Kaoru says hurriedly, because even if he isn’t happy to see Kojiro, there’s no way he could ever keep Haruhi from her father. He can tell he’s made the right choice when Haruhi grins, her once worried frown melting off her face. 

He always wants her to smile, even if it hurts. 

“Yay!” she cheers, nestling into Kojiro and him rubbing his cheek against hers. He’s laughing, saying something to her, but Kaoru doesn’t register any of it. He feels like he’s under water, like everything sounds muddy and blurry and impossible to keep up with. He only snaps out of it when he feels Haruhi almost slam into him, wrapping her arms around his legs and saying very seriously to him, “Papa has to go back to work.”

Kaoru’s eyes flit down to her, her lips pursed pensively in her desire to not distract her father any longer, and then to Kojiro, still standing a ways away. He’s grinning at Haruhi, but when his eyes meet Kaoru’s the smile fades, and Kaoru didn’t expect it to cut him so deeply. “Say goodbye,” Kaoru tells Haruhi quietly.

She turns to look at him, and waves widely, her arm flailing in the air. “Bye-bye, Papa!” 

Kojiro waves back, though smaller and more precise in his movements. “Bye-bye, Haruhi.” And then, to Kaoru, “I guess we’ll be seeing more of each other.”

Kaoru doesn’t even want to think about it. As immature as it may be, he simply herds Haruhi back into the shop after handing her her painting back, and casts a glance over his shoulder at Kojiro before closing the door behind him, slowly letting the lock click into place. He leans slightly against the door, his hand still holding onto the handle behind his back, his heart starting to race.

Haruhi doesn’t seem to notice, still too excited by the idea of seeing her father more and more frequently and Neko-chan liking her drawing. She skips back into the front of the shop, probably to sit in the little chair Kaoru keeps for her behind the counter to color some more. 

The bell at the front door rings again, and after a moment of putting himself back together, Kaoru paints on a smile and forces himself to walk up to the front.

21 - December

Kaoru’s never been to a bonenkai before, but his lab partner-turned-friend invites him to one her friend is hosting at the izakaya her family owns.

“She told me to invite anyone I wanted to,” Kiriko had explained, when the two of them grabbed coffee before their respective work shifts. Winter break means working day and night to make enough money to get by, though Kaoru doesn’t actually need to - he mostly does it to prove a point. “I don’t really think that’s a good idea - I mean, what if I invited a pervert? Or a serial killer?”

“It’s just me,” Kaoru said. 

“...Bringing a loser might be worse.”

“Maybe I won’t go, then.”

Kaoru had to get directions from Kiriko, because of course the restaurant is in Shibuya, and of course he has to make sure he doesn’t miss the train he has to take to get there from Bunkyō. It doesn’t help that his shift ends a little late, and he still had to go home and get changed before rushing out of the apartment to run to the station. He makes it just in time, ignoring the stares he gets from the high schoolers sitting next to him on the train, bent over and out of breath. 

By the time he gets to the izakaya, there’s already multiple parties in full swing, and people in various states of sobriety wandering up and down the streets. Some are hanging off of other’s shoulders, and even one is being carried by someone else, too inebriated to walk. He rolls his eyes before stepping into the heat of the restaurant, pulling his scarf off as he looks around for his party. It doesn’t take long - Kiriko is waving from the very back of the room, calling out his name and coaxing him over. He squeezes through the throng of people, some with their seats sticking out, others laughing so loudly it nearly makes him jump. But, of course, the group he’s here with - most of which are people he doesn’t even know - is the loudest of all. 

“It’s about time you got here!” Kiriko exclaims. They’re sitting around a table on floor seats, about nine or ten of them, and there’s already a good amount of beer kegs scattered around the table, accompanied by various dishes. There’s what seems to be heaps of chicken kaarage, yakitori, edamame, a variety of pickled vegetables, and someone apparently even ordered fried mozzarella skewers. “Come sit over here!” she says, patting the seat next to her and someone else. “Kojiro’s girlfriend dumped him right before the party.”

A chorus of laughter from the table, and a groan from whoever must be Kojiro - a good-looking guy with messy, forest green curls and tan skin, throwing his head back in shame as his buddy next to him playfully shakes his shoulder. “She wasn’t my girlfriend and she didn’t dump me,” he clarifies, his voice clear and friendly. 

He’s probably not the worst guy to sit next to, Kaoru thinks, so he does just that; takes his coat off and sits between Kiriko and Kojiro, tucking his feet under himself. 

“You were dating for like, a year!” a stranger from across the table cries, scrawny and already red-faced from the booze. “How was she not your girlfriend?” 

“I told you guys, it was a friends with benefits thing,” Kojiro explains, and some of the people around them make noises of doubt, some saying “suuuure” and others shaking their heads in disbelief. “And she still had feelings for her ex, and he just came back from overseas, so I told her she should be with him instead of wasting her time with me.”

“...So you got dumped,” Kiriko deadpans, and the entire table erupts into laughter. Kaoru can’t help it either; he smiles a little, reaching forward to put a piece of fried chicken on his plate amongst the chaos. 

“If you love something, let it go, right?” Kojiro jokes, and he at least doesn’t sound that upset by it. He takes the teasing in stride, despite how defensive he may sound.

It makes Kaoru feel a little bold, because he says to him, “It sounds like you just have bad luck with women.” 

The table makes a collective “ooooh” sound, like when the person you didn’t expect to say something does, in fact, say something. Kojiro himself finally looks at Kaoru, his mouth agape in faux-offense. “You don’t even know me!” he says, but he’s got a laugh on his lips; Kaoru does too, before he even realizes it. 

“But he nailed it,” a girl interjects, garnering another guffaw from the table. 

The light-hearted ribbing dies down after that. Kaoru orders a beer, though he doesn’t plan to drink a lot, just because he’s never met any of these people and he doesn’t want to embarrass himself. He takes a sip after everyone else gets their refills, and he feels eyes on him; he glances to his right, and finds Kojiro looking at him. He’s not staring creepily, Kaoru notes, but he seems interested - it’s that same interested gaze that guys give him at bars, or in a lab class, or even at the grocery store. Up close like this, though, Kaoru can really get a good look at Kojiro. He’s got fuller lips than him, a straight nose, bushier brows and a square jawline, and they all come together to make someone almost boyishly handsome, despite probably being the biggest, broadest guy at the table. He smiles at Kaoru, bright and wide, and something about it makes Kaoru feel both completely at ease and just slightly antsy. 

“What’s your name again?” Kojiro asks, his voice low enough so just the two of them can hear. Given the rowdiness of the restaurant in general, not to mention their own table, it’s not hard to have a private conversation, considering no one else is paying attention to them.

“I don’t want to be a rebound, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Kaoru teases, a bit snotty, but it just makes Kojiro laugh. Kaoru notices then that he has dimples, perfectly adorning his cheeks. How can someone be so good-natured, so handsome? he wonders, hiding his own mouth behind his glass. 

“No, no. You just didn’t introduce yourself before making fun of me,” he says, and it’s Kaoru’s turn to be playfully offended at the accusation, his eyebrows raising. Kojiro waits patiently, though, and Kaoru decides to indulge him. 

“I’m Sakurayashiki Kaoru,” he tells him, flipping a stray lock of hair over his shoulder. “So now can I make fun of you?” 

“Whenever you want,” Kojiro teases back. “Nanjo Kojiro. You know, I think I’ve heard of you before.”

Kaoru highly doubts it. While Sakurayashiki Calligraphy is well-known and respected throughout Japan, it’s mostly among the social elites who commission his mother for phrases and idioms that they themselves most likely don’t adhere to. It’d be strange if he heard of them, unless he’s a calligraphy buff, or somehow found out about them through a relative. “Have you?” Kaoru asks, because he is, admittedly, intrigued. 

“There’s this calligraphy business back home called Sakurayashiki Calligraphy. It’s probably the most famous one there - all their work is beautiful.” He grins knowingly, like he’s caught Kaoru. “How many people have that last name?”

“You’d be surprised,” Kaoru says, and Kojiro - like he always does, it seems, though it may be the alcohol - laughs. “I haven’t run into someone from Naha in a while,” he says, wistfully. Though he’s gotten used to the busy city life of Tokyo and being able to disappear in the crowd, sometimes he misses the intimacy of Naha, how much slower life is. 

“Really? I have, at least a few times,” he says. He hums thoughtfully around a mouthful of pickled vegetables, pulling the chopsticks free from his lips. “Maybe we were meant to meet each other, then,” he adds with a grin, all boyish and lighthearted and Kaoru rolls his eyes. 

“Please,” he rebuts, because really, there’s no way this was cosmically planned. A coincidence, at the very least, but not something ordained by the gods. “Why are you in Tokyo?” he asks, idly popping a piece of edamame open for himself. 

“Ah, I’m going to Geidai for painting,” he says, like it’s casual - like it isn’t the most prestigious art school in Japan. “It’ll be my last year after this semester. What about you?”

“Todai,” Kaoru says. “Mechanical engineering. And it’s almost my last year, too.” 

Kojiro seems impressed - he nods, his eyes widened, his brows raised. “Oh, shit. Isn’t that, like, impossible to get into?”

“Not impossible,” Kaoru says with a little shrug. “I did it.” 

The little huff of disbelief is enough to make Kaoru smirk; Kojiro’s finished off his beer, setting the glass aside with a satisfied ah. “People like you scare me,” he admits, and it’s so out of nowhere that Kaoru actually laughs.

“Why?” he asks, slightly appalled. 

“You act like it’s so easy to get into Todai - “

“It’s not easy to get into Geidai!” 

“ - and then you do something like mechanical engineering?” Kojiro shakes his head, though he’s still smiling - Kaoru doesn’t think it’s left his lips the entire time they’ve been talking. “That’s really impressive, Sakurayashiki-kun.” 

“Oh, God, stop,” he protests, a bit flushed at the praise. “And don’t act like it’s not easy to get into Geidai.”

“Ah…all I do is paint all day,” Kojiro sighs, dramatically so, and Kaoru just purses his lips at him. “But what I really wanna do is be a tattoo artist.” 

Kaoru raises his eyebrows at that. He can just hear his mother’s voice in his head - how barbaric, to ruin your body with silly designs that’ll be stuck on you forever. Please promise me you’ll never get one. And Kaoru almost had once, just to piss her off, but he couldn’t think of anything good and - though he hates to admit she was even partially right - he didn’t want something he didn’t like semipermanently emblazoned on his skin. But he pushes it aside for now, tilting his head at Kojiro curiously. “Do you have to go to college for that?” he asks. 

“No, but - well, my mom wanted me to, and I can’t say no to her,” he says with a huff of a laugh. “And it doesn’t hurt. But I’m apprenticing with one now, actually.”

“Really?” Kaoru asks, genuinely interested. He doesn’t realize it, how easy it is to talk to him, and how much he wants to get to know him because of it. It’s been a while since he’s gotten to talk to someone like this, especially with the constant influx of homework and his own job.

“Yeah. Plus, it’s easier to do in Tokyo than in Okinawa.” Kojiro flags down the waiter again, asking for another beer, and Kaoru realizes he’s finished his own and orders another, too. “But I wanna go back home, try to find a place to work there.”

“Me too,” Kaoru says. “I like it here, but…sometimes it can be overwhelming.”

Kojiro takes a long swig of his beer, nodding empathetically. “You can say that again.” And then the corners of his lips turn upwards, warm and sincere, and Kaoru feels like they’re the only two people at the table, that the laughter and singing around them is just foggy white noise. “But at least you’ll have a friend from home now.” 

It’s all Kaoru can do to nod. He blames it on the alcohol, for being so slow to react, for his face feeling so hot. “I feel sorry that you’re stuck with me,” he says self-deprecatingly, in an attempt to ease some of the intensity. 

“I don’t,” Kojiro says, and he probably doesn’t realize he’s leaning forward a bit; Kaoru, however, doesn’t tell him to move away. “Not when it’s someone like you.” 

And Kaoru can’t even respond to that - he literally doesn’t get the chance, because Kiriko has wrapped her arm around his shoulders, jerking him slightly forward without warning. “If you wanna hit on Kaoru, you gotta work on your pick-up lines!” she teases. Kojiro seems to have realized his proximity, because he sits back a bit, putting some much-needed space between them. Kaoru, thankfully, feels like he can breathe again.

“I’m not trying to flirt with everyone I meet, you know,” he shoots back. “I can be genuine!”

“Mhm, sure, so why were you trying to kiss him just now?” Kiriko asks, a questioning eyebrow raised. Kaoru thinks he could melt - he’s so confused, overwhelmed, and a little too drunk to really understand what’s going on. 

“I wasn’t!” 

“That’s not what it looked like to me!” 

Their argument devolves, Kaoru stuck awkwardly in the middle. He’s sure he and Kojiro keep talking - they must, because the night passes at once too slow and far too quickly - but after his third beer everything becomes fuzzy. The heat of the restaurant, the warmth of the alcohol on his tongue, it all adds up to Kaoru not remembering most of the night. The last thing he recalls is the rush of cold air on his cheeks when they all stepped outside in various states of inebriation, and being carried on someone’s back, right before falling asleep.

–

Kaoru wakes up the next morning with a pounding headache, so bad that it feels like his brain is sloshing around in his skull. It’s entirely too bright even with the blinds closed, and he groans, stretching out on the bed. 

It takes him a moment to realize that it’s not his bed, that he’s not in his room, and that he actually has no clue who’s home he’s in. 

Kaoru, like he tends to do, panics. He bolts upright, the light blue covers curling around his waist. He’s still in the turtleneck he wore last night, his matching black pants still on and the belt still clasped and tucked into the loop. Only his shoes are off - even his socks are still on. He glances over at the nightstand, finding his glasses and a clock there that reads 8:13, and sighs softly. 

It’s probably fine, he thinks, trying to calm himself as he throws off the covers and scoots to the edge of the bed. Kaoru’s in too much of a hurry as he stands up to look around for his shoes, but his foot doesn’t make contact with the ground - in fact, it steps on something softer, and whatever it lands on lets out a very strained “Ouch!” 

Kaoru, after a moment of stunned silence, glances down at his foot where, under his sock, lays Kojiro, flat on his back on a guest futon. Kojiro, from last night. Kojiro, who he had spent the entire night talking to. Kojiro, who had just got dumped and was apparently a ladies’ man. 

And yet he was fully clothed, too. What’s happening? 

“Oh,” Kaoru says dumbly, taking his foot off of what he supposes to be Kojiro’s stomach. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” Kojiro groans, sitting up on his futon and rubbing his eyes. His hair sticks out in several different directions, and Kaoru wants to brush it, just so he can stop staring at the mess on his head. 

“Why am I here?” he asks bluntly. He’s sleepy, confused, and has a raging headache - he would just like to know the circumstances of his sleeping over as soon as possible. 

“‘Cause you were too drunk to tell me where your place is and I decided it was better to just bring you back to mine,” Kojiro says, soothingly patting his stomach.

Kaoru plops back down on the mattress, putting it together in his head. Kojiro must have been the person who carried him home on his back, just like the people he had seen when he showed up at the restaurant. And Kojiro must have taken his shoes off for him, and his glasses, and laid him in his bed before covering him back up. 

And nothing had happened. Or, at least, it seemed like nothing had happened. Kaoru wasn’t sore, and there’s no way Kojiro could have taken his clothes off then put them back on, exactly the way Kaoru had, without waking Kaoru up. 

“You didn’t do anything?” Kaoru asks, once again far too frank for his own good. Kojiro actually blinks at him, before he chuckles. 

“You think I would?” Kojiro retorts.

“No,” Kaoru says, his reply almost immediate. “But…um…” His head still feels too fuzzy to speak properly, and he covers his forehead with his hand to try and cool off. “Usually guys who take me home when I’m drunk try to do something,” he murmurs, swaying a little. “So I guess I’m just surprised, is all.”

“It’s the bare minimum,” Kojiro jokes, though there’s no humor in his voice. 

“It’s still unusual,” he insists. 

Kojiro hums, thinking. Kaoru thinks he’s about to say something profound, but instead, he just says, “I think you just need better boyfriends.”

It does actually surprise Kaoru. He’s taken aback, and he’s too hungover to tell if he’s flirting or not, so he figures he should just ask. “Are you offering?” he asks flatly, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. 

“Maybe,” is all he says, oh so casually, before standing up from the futon, seemingly unaffected from how much he drank last night. “I’ll get you some medicine, and some food. Stay here.” 

“It’s not like I can go anywhere,” Kaoru grumbles, but he stays seated when Kojiro leaves the room. 

Kojiro returns about half an hour later, with headache medicine and a bento, with rice and grilled salmon and boiled kelp - “I tried to get something that wouldn’t be too heavy,” he explains, when setting the bento on the nightstand for him. Kaoru picks at it, taking small bites after taking his medicine and it does, unsurprisingly, make him feel better. He feels less like he’s going to throw up and more like he just has an annoying migraine, which makes it easier for him to stand, and even easier for him to put his shoes back on so he can leave, feeling like he’s overstayed his welcome. 

“I’ll pay you back for the bento,” Kaoru says at the door, which just makes Kojiro laugh. “I’m serious!” he insists, even though Kojiro waves him off.

“It’s not that expensive. Don’t worry about it.”

“But - “

“If you want to pay me back,” Kojiro starts, “we can just meet up again.”

Kaoru freezes. He gapes a little too, for good measure. “Are you asking me out?”

“Maybe?” Kojiro replies, playing it safe. “Or we could just hang out as friends.”

Kaoru purses his lips. There’s no real good reason to say no, though he could if he really wanted to - but maybe he’s just so surprised by his kindness and how forward he is that it’s causing him pause. He isn’t used to talking to a guy who doesn’t have an ulterior motive - who wants to talk with him just to talk. But Kojiro feels comfortable, he feels easy, and taking that all into consideration, Kaoru says coyly, “I’m free on Thursday.”

“So am I,” Kojiro says, instantly. Kaoru raises a brow at him. 

“Are you really?”

“If I’m not, I’ll figure it out.” 

Kaoru scoffs a little, rolling his eyes when he turns to open the door, but then, though he isn’t sure why, looks back at Kojiro with the door half-open. “Let’s do something, then.”

Kojiro grins, and it makes Kaoru feel so seen, so wanted, that he thinks ah - this must be how he got that girl to date him. “Whatever you want,” he assures him. Kaoru merely graces him with a smile before he closes the door, and realizes he has to figure out how the hell to get to the nearest station from here. 

Kaoru pokes around a bento he bought from the nearby conbini, salmon, spicy roe, and rice, too lazy to cook dinner for himself. He sits alone at his kitchen table, his house strangely silent for a Friday night, because tonight Kojiro gets Haruhi for the weekend. It had been unusual, dropping Haruhi off with Kojiro himself instead of Kojiro’s mother picking Haruhi up, but it just made sense to do it in person, now that they see each other more often.

And it is very, very often. Nearly every day, which is unfortunate for him but endlessly exciting for Haruhi. She all but bounces into the shop after school, and while she’s content to stay with Kaoru still, she asks every so often if she can go see her papa. Kaoru doesn’t really mind - he knows Kojiro can take care of her, and that the other artists love her - but he’s still getting used to seeing Kojiro more frequently. Kojiro, who always offers a smile even when Kaoru merely stares at him (or, if he’s in a bad mood, glowers), who always sweeps Haruhi up into a hug, and who always tries to talk to Kaoru, even though Kaoru tries to not give him the chance. 

He isn’t disrespectful or angry with Kaoru, and that’s the problem. Kaoru thinks that if Kojiro was outwardly upset with what he had done, back when they were twenty-two and immature and still figuring themselves out, then maybe Kaoru could be angry back, and that would be that. But Kojiro is only ever polite with him, and even jokes with him, and that is something Kaoru can’t really handle. 

It’s more than likely that Kojiro still hates him, though. There’s no way he doesn’t, even if he acts perfectly pleasant. He’s always been too good at masking how he actually feels, at turning the other cheek. 

If Kaoru thinks of it like that, then it just makes this whole awkward thing between them easier to manage.

A sudden buzzing from his table startles him out of his thoughts. He nearly jumps in his seat, the table legs scratching against the floor, when he realizes it’s just his phone. But it’s not just his phone, because Kojiro is calling him, and worse than that, it’s a video call.

Kaoru debates not picking up. Kojiro might have mistakenly dialed his number, or maybe he had his texts open and accidentally tapped on the camera. He would probably just ignore it, because he really does not want to talk to him right now, until he remembers that Haruhi is with him and she tends to call him right before she goes to bed. 

He picks up his phone, taps the answer button, and his suspicions are correct - Haruhi is in her pajamas, a cute yellow pair with little suns patterned on it, and she’s holding the phone comically close to her face, so it takes up the whole screen. “Hi Mama!”

“Hello, darling,” Kaoru replies, already with a soft smile on his face. Off-screen, he hears Kojiro say “Don’t hold the phone so close!” and she looks up at him as she pulls it back, giving Kaoru a better view of her. She’s sitting on the couch and looks freshly bathed, her short, fluffy green waves still damp. “Are you about to go to sleep?”

“Uh-huh,” she says with a little nod. “Papa helped me take a bath, and I got really tired.” She draws out the really, her head nodding a bit from her drowsiness. “But I wanted to say goodnight to Mama.”

“That’s so sweet of you.” Kaoru’s heart fills - how did he get such a sweet, thoughtful child? “Goodnight, Haruhi. Ask your Papa to sing a song for you if you can’t sleep.”

At that, Haruhi shakes her head. “I like Mama’s singing more,” she declares.

“Do you want me to sing to you?” Kaoru asks gently. Haruhi’s eyes fall shut as she nods. “Then give your Papa the phone so he can carry you.” 

Haruhi, ever well-behaved, does as she’s told, almost dropping the device when she hands it to Kojiro. He scrambles to catch it, but manages to turn off the video right before picking Haruhi up with a playfully strained “Up we go!” Kaoru can almost picture it, Kojiro hefting her into his arms and taking her to her room. In his imagination, he sees it as Haruhi’s room at his home, not Kojiro’s - he shakes his head free of the thought before it can fester.

After some rustling, likely the comforter and the sheets being pulled back and Haruhi settled in her bed, Kojiro’s voice comes through the speaker. It sounds clearer than it had been, probably because it was stuffed in his pocket. “Okay, Haruhi. Can Mama sing now?” Kaoru can imagine Haruhi nodding, in her adorable, sleepy way of hers, her eyes drooping and her hands balled up into tiny fists to rub at them. “She said yes,” Kojiro tells him. 

So Kaoru thinks of Haruhi’s favorite song, a soft, sweet melody that she always dozed off to as a baby. He keeps his voice low, realizing that Kojiro is holding the phone close to Haruhi, because after a few minutes he can hear the way her breathing evens out on the other end of the line. 

Kaoru expects Kojiro to hang up without a goodbye - this isn’t the first time Haruhi has asked for Kaoru to sing, and usually Kaoru ends the call first - but for some reason he stays on the line, and for some reason Kaoru doesn’t tap the button to hang up. He hears a door close in the background as Kojiro leaves her room, and he says, “Y’know, that reminds me of that time we went to karaoke together.”

He’s less surprised at the fact that Kojiro is trying to carry on a conversation with him, something he’s unfortunately made a habit of doing, and more surprised that he brings up that. “You still remember that?” Kaoru asks, and he takes care to sound as snobby as possible. It’s easier to act like he’s ridiculous for reminiscing about it than to let him know how acutely it made his chest ache. 

“You think I’d ever forget?” Kojiro replies. He sighs, and it sounds like he’s sitting on the couch, or maybe his own bed. Kaoru wonders what his apartment looks like, how it would be decorated, when he suddenly remembers he’s never been inside. “How you made me cover part of your tab because you didn’t have enough money, but ordered the most food?”

“I thought I had more money than I did!” Kaoru protests. “And you could have said no, and I would have just asked someone else to cover the rest for me.” It’s useless to argue about something that happened so long ago, but it’s a moment Kaoru holds onto, no matter how silly, how hopeless it is. It’s one of the sweetest memories, and one of the bitterest, that he tortures himself with. 

“You knew I couldn’t say no to you, Kaoru,” Kojiro says. His voice is far too distant, too forlorn, and all it does is remind Kaoru of how much he’s hurt him. Kaoru almost forgot he was eating dinner, but now he’s lost any appetite he may have had - he feels like throwing up instead. 

Because there’s something unsaid in that admission - you knew I couldn’t say no to you - and maybe Kaoru is reading too far into things, maybe his messed up little brain is scrounging around for anything that might make him feel better, but he swears Kojiro is trying to tell him something. It’s hidden, barely perceptible, but maybe there’s a secret meaning he wants Kaoru to understand.

Maybe he still feels that way. 

No - no, he absolutely does not. He has to end this call as soon as possible.

Kaoru swallows, trying very hard to seem unaffected by Kojiro’s offhand remark. “You were always a pushover,” he gets out, his words coming out far too forced and unnatural. He clears his throat when Kojiro doesn’t say anything back, the silence between them agonizing. “I’m tired. Goodbye,” he adds briskly, and hangs up before Kojiro can respond. He flips his phone swiftly so it lays on its screen, like touching it any longer would irreparably burn his hand, or even looking at it would blind him.

Kaoru’s eyes shift to his bento instead, long ignored and untouched for what must be almost half an hour. He grabs it quickly, clutching the black plastic container so hard it makes an unsettling crackling noise, and dumps it into the trash. 

21 - February

“You are such a bad singer!” Kaoru teases, stumbling out of the karaoke club. He feels sticky as the cold of the frosty Tokyo streets slams into him, his hair slightly frizzy from the resulting humidity of a crowded, drunken party belting passionately in one tiny little room. Just his luck, too - it’s started to snow, just barely, and he curses whatever powers-that-be for causing such precipitation in February. 

It’s the same group of them that had hung out at the izakaya together, and while Kaoru still isn’t close with all of them yet, it doesn’t really matter. He’s clinging close to Kojiro, his arm wrapped around his, leaning into the heat that his body always seems to be generating. “That’s why I didn’t wanna go to karaoke,” Kojiro groans, his head thrown back a bit in embarrassment. Kaoru laughs again - he’s always laughing when he’s with Kojiro, whether it be bright, unseemly guffaw or barely a chuckle. “I’m not good at singing, so I always look like such an idiot.”

“Then why did you?” Kaoru questions. He feels a little bit of warmth in his cheeks, less from the alcohol he’s had and more likely from being this close to Kojiro, breathing in the cologne he always wears, minty and woody all at once, and feeling the muscle of his arm underneath his own. Kojiro had told him, jokingly, that his resolution this year was to go to the gym more, and Kaoru is already very much appreciating the results. 

Kojiro graces him with a crooked, flirtatious grin spread across his face, the same one he wears when he’s trying to fluster Kaoru. The embarrassing thing is, it almost always works - Kaoru’s flush turns pinker. “I wanted to see you tonight, that’s why.”

Kaoru blinks at him. What am I even supposed to say to that? He’s already figured out that Kojiro is more open with his feelings, his emotions, which just makes it all the more confusing that they still aren’t actually dating. 

He’s been thinking about it a lot. The new year has just started, and ever since meeting him a couple months ago, Kaoru’s been spending all of his time with Kojiro. They go to the movies together, to art exhibits that Kojiro gets discounted admission to, to hole in the wall restaurants that he somehow sniffs out that always taste absolutely incredible. They even do little things together, like grocery shopping if they both have the day off, or Kaoru dragging him clothes shopping in between studying and working. 

But Kojiro has never, ever, asked him out. Kaoru supposes he could do it - has considered it, but the words never came, instead always getting stuck in his throat. There had been times where he grabbed Kojiro’s sleeve, attempting to bring it up before he could get on the train, but all he had said was he had fun. To him, at this point, it’s up to Kojiro, but he’s never mentioned anything. He’s always said “let’s hang out,” or “are you free today?” or “I got an extra ticket somewhere - wanna come?” 

And maybe Kaoru is overthinking things, like he always does. Maybe Kiriko was right for making fun of him staring at his phone, trying to figure out how to ask Kojiro out and giving up instead. Maybe Kojiro just wants to be friends, and he’s just absurdly nice and touchy with those he’s close to. There are plenty of people like that, after all, though they seem to be rarer on the mainland. Maybe his heart doesn’t beat faster when he sees Kaoru, maybe it hadn’t been as serious to him when he told Kaoru to call him Ko-kun, and maybe he just wants someone to hang out with and Kaoru is the first one who responds. 

But then he says things like I wanted to see you tonight, and Kaoru doesn’t know what to think. 

“Hey, you two! Are you coming?” 

Kaoru jumps when Kiriko calls out for them, her and the rest of the group already walking a few feet away from them. He hadn’t realized that he had been standing completely still next to Kojiro, or even worse, that he had just been staring at him. Kaoru quickly turns his eyes down to the street, watching the snow evaporate on the cement, and Kojiro waves a hand at the group. “Go on without us!” he yells out. 

Kiriko salutes him with a wink. “Have fun, lovebirds!” The group erupts into well-intentioned laughter before stumbling off together, but Kaoru just feels himself getting a headache.

“Ah…” The sound of Kojiro’s voice draws Kaoru’s eyes back to him, taking in how he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. It’s too cute - Kaoru watches the movement, something fond bubbling up in his chest, but it’s not able to dissolve the acidic bile of anxiety and uncertainty that had made itself known just moments before. “They’re so annoying,” he sighs, and Kaoru notices there’s a bit of a flush on his cheeks, sitting right on his cheekbones - cute. 

He doesn’t think before he speaks a lot of the time - that’s probably what’s caused him the most problems in his life so far - and while he’s been working on it (had told Kojiro that would be his resolution, though he wasn’t as serious as Kojiro was about his), he can’t help himself now. Kaoru knows he should say something, maybe comfort him or tell him to ignore them, but instead he blurts out, “Ko-kun…we’re dating, right?” 

It’s Kojiro’s turn to be surprised. He looks visibly shocked, maybe even a bit nervous, when his face whips over to look at Kaoru. The blush that Kaoru had noticed only deepens into a pretty, rich berry color, but despite it Kojiro forces himself to school his expression. “Are we?” he asks. 

Kaoru sighs, maybe a little too dramatically. He thinks it’s warranted, though - they’ve been in a weird limbo for too long. “We hang out all the time, we act like we’re dating, our friends think we’re dating…” He hesitates, trying to figure out how to word it, and deciding to just say exactly what he’s thinking. There’s no point in being shy about it, not when he’s opened this door and is forcing Kojiro to venture through it with him. “But you never asked me out,” he says, laying his feelings bare. He realizes how he sounds, that he might be too desperate, but he’d really rather not start off the new year with a confusing, undefined relationship.

“Well.” Kojiro stuffs his hands into his pockets, scuffing the tip of his shoe nervously against the street. When he breathes, Kaoru can see little puffs of cold air escaping his lips. He’s struck with the overwhelming urge to kiss him, but he won’t, not until he gets an answer. “I’ve wanted to date you since we met, honestly. But I thought you’d turn me down.”

Kaoru, admittedly, wasn’t expecting that. He can’t help it - he knows he’s looking at him like he’s stupid, or like he’s grown a second head. “You thought I spent all this time with you, went out of my way to see you, even put off studying, just to turn you down?”

“How was I supposed to know? I thought you just wanted to be friends.”

“I thought you just wanted to be friends!” Kaoru exclaims, aggrieved. He’s being too defensive, he knows, but he doesn’t really care when Kojiro is being so oblivious. 

“I didn’t!” Kojiro cries, matching Kaoru’s energy. It’s the first time Kaoru has heard him get that irritated, and it’s almost humorous the way he reigns himself back in, clearing his throat with a short cough. Kaoru merely watches, and he knows he must look offended, because he can feel the way his eyebrows are raised in expectant anger, waiting for an explanation. “I don’t,” Kojiro says, much more contained this time. “I don’t want to just be friends.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me that?” Kaoru asks again, more petulant than he has any right being. 

“I told you, I thought you’d say no.” Then, he adds, and Kaoru already knows what he’s going to say, “Plus, you could have asked me.” 

“Well.” Kaoru sniffs, crossing his arms over his chest. He feels a bit silly, a feeling he’s always hated - but at least, this time, it didn’t take long for him to realize just how ridiculous he’s being. “I wouldn’t have said no.”

Kojiro smiles a little, regaining his all too familiar confidence. “You would say yes?” he asks, hopeful. 

Kaoru simply nods. Any of the alcohol he’s had tonight, though not as much as when they first met, has filtered out of his system, replaced instead with the timidity that comes with confessing. He feels like a teenager again, being confessed to behind the school by an array of boys and turning them all down. Except, this time, he doesn’t plan to do that. “I think the man should ask,” he tells him, though it’s a complete lie. It’s more of a last-ditch attempt at saving face than anything.

“Okay, okay.” Kojiro laughs, nodding along to Kaoru’s demands. To his credit, he takes it in stride - a good sign, considering how difficult Kaoru can be. “Do you want to go out, then?”

“Haven’t we been already?” Kaoru replies. “Or are you dating someone else?”

“You know I’m not.”

“So then, shouldn’t you be asking something else?”

Kojiro laughs again, untucking Kaoru’s hands from under his arms and holding them instead, his hands enveloping Kaoru’s own. It’s always a strange contrast, the warmth of Kojiro’s fingers and palms against Kaoru’s own perpetually frigid ones, but it never stops feeling nice. He always touches him so gently, holds him so carefully, that Kaoru can pretend for a moment that it’s okay to be delicate - that with Kojiro, he doesn’t always have to be strong. “Kaoru-kun,” he starts, looking down at him with a tender, amused little smile on his face, “will you be my boyfriend?” 

It’s such a juvenile way to request it, too reminiscent of awkward high school confessions, but it’s so charming that even though Kaoru was always going to say yes, there would have been no way he could have said no. “Okay,” he agrees, choosing sincerity over sarcasm for once. 

Kojiro’s grin is worth it. It’s so genuine, so elated and childlike that when he asks “Can I kiss you?” Kaoru nods without question, his head expectantly tilting upwards. 

His lips are warm, just like the rest of him. His bottom lip is slightly chapped from the winter air but it still feels pleasant, the way Kojiro pulls him closer with his hands roving down to Kaoru’s waist, pressing into the thick fabric of his coat. Kaoru’s own hands grasp onto Kojiro’s sleeves as he kisses him back. It’s nothing intense, nothing dramatic, just an experimentally soft press of their lips together, both getting used to how the other feels against their mouths, the heat of their bodies. Kojiro is the first to pull away, and Kaoru even leans forward a bit before his eyes open blearily, gazing up at him. 

“I had to stop myself,” Kojiro admits. That makes Kaoru grin wickedly, leaning in ever closer in his embrace and having to tilt his chin upward to still meet Kojiro’s eyes. 

“No, you didn’t,” he replies. Kojiro just chuckles, and Kaoru can’t help it - he joins in, though more contained than Kojiro, the fingers on Kojiro’s sleeves curling into the fabric, not wanting to let go. 

“You want me to keep kissing you on the street in front of everyone?”

“I wouldn’t mind.” 

“Yes, you would,” Kojiro says through yet another laugh. He wraps an arm around Kaoru’s shoulder now, and begins to lead him off towards his place, the two of them walking in time together. “Because I wouldn’t be able to just kiss you.”

“Oh?” Kaoru has to bend his head upwards to look at him properly, the handsome outline of his profile illuminated by the city lights. “What else would you do to me?”

“I’ll show you,” Kojiro promises, and when Kaoru’s eyes widen with interest he tacks on, “another time.”

Kaoru frowns up at him, almost a pout. “You are such a tease.”

“You’re too cute not to tease,” Kojiro tells him, punctuating it with another small kiss that Kaoru is all too happy to accept.

“Who the fuck gets married in January?” 

Kaoru is used to the wedding rush, which typically takes place in the spring and summertime, and enjoys his time off in the winter. The odd bride here or there will get married towards the end of autumn, or maybe even early December, but early January is almost unheard of. Only almost, because Kaoru is stuck remaking arrangements for the bride he had met with last month after she decided that what he had originally designed wasn’t good enough. She hadn’t even had the courtesy to tell him when he sent her a picture,  instead only saying “they look great!” and then changing her mind the second she saw them in person. He had plastered on a fake smile, apologizing for the misunderstanding, but deep down he wanted to jump over the counter and attack her, maybe ruin her hair or her face right before her big day to make himself feel better.

He had taken a deep breath, and then another, and then another, and rearranged her bouquet in front of her to make sure she was absolutely satisfied before she left. Then he had sent Haruhi over to the tattoo parlor to “spend time with Papa”, just so he could openly curse alongside his part-timer, Izumi.

“And early January, too. And it’s outside!” Kaoru takes care to be delicate with the flowers, red and white camellias with baby’s breath and smaller flowers nestled in between - “I wanted it to be western,” she had said with disgust, when she decided Kaoru’s arrangements looked too traditional (and they didn’t, even!). 

“Just think of the money. Her husband is rich,” Izumi reminds him, sounding much more laid-back than Kaoru feels. She’s always had that effect on him - calming him down, minimizing his anxiety so he can focus on their work. It’s why he keeps her on, and why he’s so insistent he doesn’t need any other help when he has her. 

Kaoru sighs thoughtfully, his head tilting to the side to examine the way he’s placed a camellia. “That’s the only good thing, isn’t it?” They both laugh, the only way they can stay sane on days like this. “I’ll buy Haruhi some new rain boots - she keeps getting her shoes muddy.” 

“Were they today?” Izumi asks. She’s short enough that she has to peek over her own bouquet from where she’s sitting. “I hope she didn’t track mud in next door.” 

“Ah.” Kaoru’s eyes glance over at the clock - four-thirty, almost closing time. He was so busy and so irritated that he hadn’t realized how much time had passed, or how quiet the shop had been without Haruhi here. “I need to go pick her up soon...” 

“Go ahead. I can handle things here.”

“No, let me finish this,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “She likes spending time there anyways.” Kaoru only notices the bitterness in his words after he’s said them, but Izumi seems to pick up on it right away, if her knowing eyebrow raise was anything to go off of. 

He already knows what she’s going to do. He prepares himself to get ribbed, but when all she says is “You don’t like her spending time with him, do you?”, Kaoru isn’t quite sure how to answer.

“It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just…” Kaoru sighs again - it seems to be all he’s doing today, long-suffering and frustrated. “I don’t want to keep Haruhi from her father, obviously. I just hate that I have to see him all the time now.” 

“He’s not that bad of a guy, though,” she points out simply, trimming a stem absent-mindedly. “At least there’s that.”

She hadn’t meant for it to hurt, but Kaoru can’t control it, how it makes something sharp and ugly sting in his stomach. He keeps his eyes down, finishing the last bouquet of the day with a small, almost imperceptible frown. “Yes…I suppose so,” he confesses. It’d be disingenuous to act otherwise, he thinks, however begrudgingly. 

Izumi frowns back, appearing to understand that she’s struck a nerve with him. Kaoru doesn’t even realize that she’s looking at him with this sympathetic expression on her face until she tells him, “You should go pick Haruhi up. I can lock up when I leave.”

“But - “

“I don’t mind. Besides, you need all the rest you can get before this wedding tomorrow.”

He’s inclined to keep protesting, but she’s right - tomorrow is the weekend but he has to deal with this bride instead of relaxing with his daughter, and he’s finished all of the arrangements. There’s nothing else for him to do here, except store the flowers in the cooler in their work room. Kaoru decides it’s better to just relent, because he knows Izumi, and the longer he says no, the more she’ll insist that he leave. 

So he places the arrangements carefully in the cooler, grabs his bag, and says goodbye to Izumi before forcing himself to trudge over to the tattoo parlor next door. 

“Hey, Kaoru-chan!” the receptionist, Aiko, calls out when he walks in. He’s made friends with all of the long-time workers here, even though his former boss had tsked when the parlor opened, saying that it was “spoiling the look of the street” that formerly only hosted the flower shop, a little bakery, a bookstore, and the dentist’s office that the tattoo parlor took over. Kaoru had never really cared all that much - he thinks he just has a soft spot for tattoos, for the people who make them, a form of art in its own way. 

“Good evening,” he replies, readjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. He glances around the shop - usually Haruhi is sitting in the waiting area, behind the reception desk, or by Kojiro’s chair, and today she is in none of those three places. “Where’s Haruhi?” he asks, a bit panicked.

“She’s in the boss’ office,” Aiko tells him. Kaoru breathes a sigh of relief, thankful that she hasn’t gone too far. “Kojiro’s finishing up,” she adds, hooking her arm over her shoulder and pointing at him with a blasé thumb. Kaoru lets his eyes wander; with the loud music blaring overhead, all of the chatter of the artists and their clients, Kojiro hasn’t yet noticed Kaoru’s presence. He’s too focused, bent over his client’s arm and making friendly conversation as he outlines what looks to be scales on a fish. Kaoru has never stumbled in here when he was working - he was always coincidentally done for the day - so he’s not watched him in action. The precision, the concentration on his face and between his furrowed brows, and the way he makes casual small talk all at the same time brings the tiniest, most shameful flush to Kaoru’s cheeks, and he isn’t even sure why. 

He decides that he’s just being unfairly tormented today. Drawing his gaze back to Aiko, he bows his head slightly. “Thank you.”

After waving at all of the artists, greeting them politely and pointedly making sure to not look in Kojiro’s direction, Kaoru makes his way to the boss’ office, nestled in the back of the shop. He knows the boss - the first time they had met, he had let a three year old Haruhi color in the black and white tattoos etched on his arm, and had gained Kaoru’s trust almost immediately, as big and brawny as he was. When he opens the door, though, only Haruhi is sitting in the office, stationed on his too-big chair and doodling away in a coloring book. She hums to herself, her little face pinched together, and she is at once so cute and reminds Kaoru so much of her father that it’s almost uncanny. 

“Haruhi,” Kaoru calls, exaggerating each syllable as he sneaks into the room. 

Haruhi perks up at the sound of her name, her head snapping up from the coloring book she had been so intensely focused on, and she beams a big, sweet smile. Her pigtails jump as she hops out of the chair and scampers over to Kaoru, meeting him in a hug as he crouches to the floor to greet her. “Mama!”

“Are you ready to go home?” 

“Mhm…oh, wait!” Haruhi’s brows raise, her eyes widening like she’s just remembered something. Kaoru patiently waits for her to recall whatever it is she needs to tell him. “Papa wanted to talk to Mama about something serious,” she tells him, a severity in her voice that Kaoru can only find absolutely endearing. 

“Does he?” Kaoru asks, amused when she nods her head earnestly. “Well, how about you spend some time with Aiko-san and I’ll talk to him, okay?”

Haruhi, seemingly content with the arrangement, nods her agreement. She gathers up her backpack, coloring book and pencils, and plods out behind Kaoru, diligently going over to the receptionist desk and being greeted enthusiastically by Aiko. Kaoru, meanwhile, has to take a breath and find the courage to approach Kojiro.

“It’ll start itching in a couple weeks, but don’t scratch it,” Kojiro says as he bandages the tattoo - a full bicep of a koi fish, a beautiful work of art that should be expected of a Geidai graduate. “You can put an ice pack over your clothes if you need to. And then it should start peeling for a while, which is completely normal, but don’t pick at it.” He finishes up, admiring his work underneath the transparent bandage. “Just make sure you reapply the bandage every day, and keep it moisturized and clean, and you’ll be fine.” 

“Thanks, man,” the client says, glancing down at the piece himself. Kojiro grins, a sunny smile that Kaoru knows is not just a typical customer service smile, but a subtle look of pride, and he clutches his bag a bit closer to his shoulder. The two of them clap their hands together, shaking hands as they go through the after-session formalities, and Kaoru watches as he leaves the store, pleased with his tattoo. 

Kojiro tosses the needles in the nearby sharps box, and Kaoru decides to speak first. “He paid you, right?”

He actually laughs at that, sparing a glance up at Kaoru as he grabs what Kaoru assumes to be a jar of disinfectant and fresh towels. “Before the session, yeah,” he says, taking the cover off the chair. “Usually I ask for payment after, but he was insistent.” 

Kaoru crosses his arms over his chest with what sounds like a bored hum, but really, he isn’t quite sure how to make small talk with him anymore. It only feels forced, the sort of politeness you afford strangers. He supposes there’s no reason to try, so he cuts to the chase instead. “Haruhi said you needed to talk to me?”

“Oh, yeah.” Kojiro finishes wiping down his chair, taking care to swipe the wipes over the arm rests. He tosses the used towels too, sitting back in his chair and putting his cleaning on hold. “I did, actually.”

“Well?” Kaoru asks, impatient. Really, his heart is in his throat.

“I haven’t really brought it up before, but…I’ve been dating someone for the past year.” 

Kaoru can feel his heart drop straight from his throat all the way down to his stomach. Maybe even his feet, or if he’s even more unfortunate, out onto the floor for everyone to see. He somehow manages to keep his composure, though he has no earthly idea how. 

“Her name’s Eri,” Kojiro continues, and he doesn’t seem to notice Kaoru’s reaction, or if he does he thankfully doesn’t point it out. “And I was thinking…I think it might be time for her to meet Haruhi.”

Any thought of self-loathing or heartbreak flies out the window with his suggestion. Kaoru instantly tenses, his fingers clutching his own arms a little too hard. “Oh.”

“If you aren’t comfortable with it, I won’t introduce them,” Kojiro swiftly reassures him. He can probably see Kaoru’s brain swirling with all of his quickly developing anxieties - what if she hates Haruhi, what if Haruhi hates her, what if Haruhi gets attached to her and the two of them break up… 

“It’s not…it’s not that she can’t meet her,” Kaoru manages to get out. He takes a deep breath, centering himself, too many surprises coming his way in thirty seconds. What matters now isn’t his own fragile ego but Haruhi’s well-being, and that’s enough for Kaoru to refocus himself. “But I don’t want my daughter to meet someone I don’t even know.”

“That’s fine,” Kojiro agrees. “I can talk to her about meeting you first, but she’s got a busy schedule.”

Kaoru hates it. He hates talking about Kojiro’s girlfriend - of apparently one year - and the fact that he wants to know more. His morbid curiosity always gets the best of him, though, and he asks, “What does she do?”

“She’s an art curator,” he says, and he’s gone back to wiping down his station, readying it for his next appointment. Art curator is such a posh job title that it makes Kaoru a little bit jealous. “We met at an exhibition my friend was a part of, and we just hit it off.”

“She must be very intelligent,” Kaoru muses. 

“Well, you know I like when someone’s smart,” Kojiro says offhandedly. Kaoru tries to not let his head run away with the implications of it - that Kojiro had liked him because of that, had been attracted to him due to it. But of course he doesn’t, because he’s in love now and happy and Kaoru would never interfere with their relationship. “But she’s kind too, and so thoughtful. And she likes kids - which is why,” and at this point Kojiro leans over to throw his towels in the trash, his voice a bit strained with the movement, “I want her to meet Haruhi. Because I think it’s getting more serious.” 

At that, Kaoru can feel his heart stop. He swears he stops breathing for a second. “Serious…like, marriage?” 

“Not right now,” he says with a chuckle, “but maybe in the future.”

Kaoru has never hated the idea of marriage more than he has today. 

It’s not that Kojiro can’t date - Kaoru knows he has, since he always warned Kaoru about it, though he’s never introduced a partner to Haruhi before. It’s just that it’s reminding Kaoru of his own self-imposed single life. He had always been satisfied with just Haruhi, and told himself he never needed to date, not as long as he had her. He was perfectly fulfilled, happy to spend the rest of his time focused on her. Save for a few first blind dates here or there that his mother had forced him to go on, who all backed out the second they found out Kaoru had a daughter, Kaoru does not have much of a dating life. 

And he hadn’t cared, not really. Not until this exact moment when it’s shoved right in his face. Kojiro has moved on from him, despite being the one who got dumped, and Kaoru is still too sickeningly in love with him to even consider dating someone else. It’s pathetic, really. Something to be admired, in its own sad, miserable way. 

“Well.” Kaoru clears his throat, tucking a few loose strands of hair back behind his ear. “I still want to meet her first.”

“I understand.” Kojiro finishes his cleaning, the cover on the clip cord removed, his machine freshly wrapped in new plastic. “Haruhi is important to me, too.”

And maybe it’s just Kaoru, but he sounds a little bit like he’s been scorned. He doesn’t make it easily perceptible, but Kaoru knows Kojiro well enough - or knew him, a long time ago - to know that he feels hurt. It’s difficult sometimes, for Kaoru to remember that he didn’t have Haruhi all on his own, that Kojiro has been a constant in her life just as much as Kaoru himself. It’s hard to remember that he’s not the only one who loves Haruhi so deeply when he rarely speaks to the one person in the world who matches the intensity of his love for his daughter. Their daughter, his brain not so kindly reminds him. 

“I know she is,” Kaoru acquiesces softly. He feels a little guilty, insinuating otherwise. “And I know you wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. I just…it’s hard.” 

He’s so vague because he doesn’t know exactly what he means. Whether it be about coparenting, Kojiro’s girlfriend, the fact that the world has kept turning while he’s stayed perfectly still, suspended in time. He’s so vague, and Kojiro just says, “I know.”

Any reply he has sticks in his throat like a bug to flypaper. He only recognizes that time isn’t halted when suddenly Haruhi is between the two of them, clambering over to her father to let him lift her up in his lap after he takes his gloves off. He only barely takes in what they’re saying before he tells Haruhi it’s time to go, and she comes to his side instead. 

“I’ll text you,” Kojiro tells him, and it’s all Kaoru can do to wave a quiet goodbye, holding Haruhi’s tiny hand in his as they leave.

–

“What did you and Papa talk about?” 

Haruhi is tucked into bed, her blanket pulled up to her chin. It’s patterned with stars, blue and yellow mixing together. She had picked it out herself, and while her fixation on stars and planets have faded, it’s still her favorite blanket, the one Kaoru washes the most. She looks so perfectly comfortable that Kaoru just smooths his hand over Haruhi’s hair, before leaning down to kiss her forehead.

“Nothing important,” Kaoru lies, because she is far too young to understand. When she’s older, he thinks he might tell her. 

“But you seemed sad when we left,” Haruhi ponders, her voice etched with sleepy concern.

“I was, a little bit.” He thinks maybe that will sate her curiosity, so she doesn’t have to worry about adult things. He wants her to maintain her innocence, her starry blanket, for as long as she can. “But I feel better now that I spent the night with my Haruhi.”

“Oh…okay.” Haruhi is probably too tired to press more. She tends to accept what Kaoru says, and while he always lets her ask questions or even disagree with him, most of the time whatever Kaoru says makes sense to her five-year old brain. “Goodnight, Mama.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Kaoru says, letting her hug him one more time before he turns her night light on and retreats to his own room. 

He mindlessly runs through his skincare routine, brushes his teeth, changes into his pajamas and, for what must be the thousandth or so night in a row, goes to bed alone. 

I hate weddings, he thinks ruefully, tugging his covers over his head.

22 - March 

It’s windy on Kaoru’s twenty-second birthday. He keeps having to retie his hair, clipping some loose strands behind his ear with bobby pins. Even if it wasn’t breezy, he’d probably be doing it out of anxiety, because he and Kojiro made plans to go on their first official date on his birthday.

“Let’s go to Shinjuku Gyoen,” Kojiro had said over the phone. Kaoru was poring over his notes about thermodynamics, elbow deep in studying for his last test before spring break. “All of my friends are planning to go to Ueno Park, so we won’t run into any of them.”

“So what you’re saying is that you want me to yourself?” Kaoru teased, resting his cheek on his hand and waiting for his answer. 

“Have I ever told you how smart you are?” 

“All the time.” 

Kaoru is there first, because of course he is. Kojiro is never late; Kaoru is just too anxious to not be early. He had left sooner than planned, too, the nervous excitement making it impossible for him to sit still much longer, forcing him to get dressed and ready to go at least half an hour before he actually had to. And now he was here, standing in front of the gate and looking like an idiot while waiting around alone. 

After finding a place to sit and waiting for what feels like an hour, Kaoru gets a text from Kojiro telling him he’s arrived - and sure enough, when Kaoru glances down the pathway, he sees Kojiro more or less jogging up to him. “Sorry I’m late!” Kojiro calls out, just slightly out of breath. The wind has tousled his curls, and Kaoru is thankful he decided to dress casually when he sees Kojiro’s outfit, a plain yellow shirt and jeans.  

“You weren’t late, I was just early,” Kaoru tells him. He stands from the bench, his posture near perfect while Kojiro has to bend at the waist, his hands on his knees as he pants.

“How long have you been waiting?” 

Kaoru checks his phone again. “Thirty minutes?” 

“God. I’m sorry,” he breathes out, running a hand through his hair. Kaoru’s eyes track the movement, and he has the absurd idea of wanting that to be his hand, just to see what it would feel like. His cheeks color, and he counts himself lucky that Kojiro is too focused on staring at the street and regaining his composure to really notice. 

“It’s okay,” Kaoru tells him, because it is - he isn’t sure if Kojiro mistakenly thought he was late, but it doesn’t really matter to him. While Kaoru would usually chew out someone for not showing up on time without a good excuse, what matters to him is that Kojiro at least came. If he hadn’t, or had canceled at the last minute, Kaoru would feel stupid for waiting all morning, and angry for being forgotten on his birthday. “Really, don’t worry about it.”

Kojiro finally catches his breath. “I knew you left early, so I didn’t want you to wait too long,” he says. Kaoru remembers briefly that he had texted Kojiro when he left, but didn’t expect him to show up at the same time. He doesn’t dwell on it - Kojiro perks straight up, like he’s just remembered something. Kaoru watches curiously as the different emotions flit across his face, quietly amused. “Happy birthday!” 

Kaoru can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “Thank you.” He hasn’t heard anyone say it yet - his friends have texted him, and his mother tends to call him at night. He’s happy, however sappy it may sound, that he heard the words come from Kojiro first. He keeps that to himself, though, so he can hold onto the feeling for a bit longer. “Should we go in?” he asks instead, nodding in the direction of the park. 

“Yeah.” Kojiro holds his hand out for Kaoru. Kaoru, though he’s surprised, takes it. His hand feels smaller and softer in Kojiro’s, looks smaller when Kaoru lets himself glance down at them, carefully joined together. Kojiro intertwines their fingers, squeezing gently and drawing Kaoru’s eyes back to his face. “I’ve been looking forward to this, you know.”

Kaoru’s spent the better part of half a decade building himself up to be a stubborn, no-nonsense brat - and he still is, probably always will be - so he’s ashamed that one genuine confession from Kojiro is enough to make him flush, however subtle. It just makes Kojiro smile, and Kaoru has to force his eyes away, becoming much more interested in a nearby bush. “Let’s go,” he says under his breath, before pulling Kojiro along and ignoring his surprised, if not entertained, protests.

Since Kaoru’s birthday falls on a Saturday, there’s an overwhelming crowd of people at the park, enough so that the two of them can get lost among them. Most of them, groups and couples and individuals alike, spend their time simply walking around, taking in the beauty of the sakura trees while they’re at their peak, pink and pale white and stunningly gorgeous. Others picnic beneath them, laughing and chit-chatting with food spread out on their blankets. Kaoru hadn’t thought to bring food, though he thinks maybe he should have - but, on second thought, he’s never been the best cook, and the last thing he wants to do on his first date is give Kojiro food poisoning. Pre-made food probably would have sufficed, though, and Kojiro would probably have thought it was romantic. 

It’s strange - Kojiro seems perfectly content to just hold Kaoru’s hand and walk with him, as the two of them talk about everything and anything they can think of. Kaoru had been nervous at first, because now that the expectation was not just to hang out but to be on a date, he was worried, worried that he would somehow mess things up and Kojiro would dump him, or Kojiro would somehow decide he was actually boring. There’s so much more at stake now that they aren’t just friends anymore. Maybe Kojiro had sensed Kaoru’s anxiety, or maybe he was just so good with people that he unknowingly helped Kaoru loosen up, but the longer they wander through the carved-out trail together the more at ease Kaoru feels. He’s even laughing, as Kojiro tells him about his friend who accidentally punched a hole through his canvas, or how he himself accidentally drank paint water while trying to finish a piece at three in the morning. 

“And you did it how many times?”

“Three times - I know!” Kojiro holds his free hand up in defeat as Kaoru laughs harder at him, enough that he has to cover his mouth. 

“You’re so stupid,” Kaoru says, but any malice is masked with the lingering effects of giggling - his voice a little high-pitched, his words lacking any real sting. “But that explains a lot about you.”

“What does that mean?” Kojiro demands, accusatory, and Kaoru just smirks in response. “We can’t all be as brilliant as you, Sakurayashiki-sama.”

“Hmm.” The two of them come across a bridge together, their shoes shuffling against the wooden boards. “I like how that sounds. You should call me that more often.” 

“And let you get an even bigger ego?”

“Hey, I don’t have a huge ego! You’re the one with the huge ego!”

Kaoru can feel the wind breeze past the two of them, ruffling their clothes and their hair. The force of it causes them to stop their playful bickering, Kaoru holding onto the railing of the bridge as a somewhat useless precaution. When he tucks the loose strands of hair that had escaped from his ponytail behind his ears, he sees Kojiro has taken his phone out. 

“I wanted to come here so we could see this view,” he tells Kaoru, letting go of his hand to point his phone camera at the aforementioned scene before them. It’s certainly picturesque - the bridge overlooks a massive lake, and the vast array of trees and shrubbery that surrounds the body of water frames the Tokyo skyscrapers so perfectly that Kaoru wonders if the park was deliberately planned out this way. 

“You haven’t come here before?” Kaoru asks, even though he himself hasn’t. He prefers to stick close to his apartment, so he doesn’t have to do as much traveling. 

“No, but I always meant to,” he says, lowering his phone to take a look at the pictures. “And I thought, since it was your birthday, it’d be the perfect time to go.”

Kojiro tends to say exactly what he feels - he’s more of a romantic than Kaoru is, is more upfront with his emotions, and Kaoru is sure that’s exactly why he’s fallen for him so quickly. But sometimes, he leaves it up to Kaoru to put two and two together, like now. Kaoru merely stares at him, perhaps for a little bit too long, and his first thought is the one he wants to be true but would be heartbroken if he took it the wrong way. “You wanted to come with me for the first time?” he asks, his voice more vulnerable than he would like, embarrassingly so. 

Kojiro simply glances back over at him, his hair in his face and his cheeks tinged berry red. “I did, yeah,” he says with a grin, and it’s not an over-the-top declaration, but it’s the best birthday gift Kaoru could have ever asked for. 

At that same moment - almost as if planned, by Kojiro or the gods or whoever - another gust of air blows through the park. The cherry blossom tree Kaoru has been standing in front of shakes with the breeze, and a flurry of flowers swirl up and catch in the air, floating delicately off of their branches. Kaoru is caught in the rush of flowers, and he instinctively dips his head at first before his gaze follows the blossoms as they fly and whirl past him, some of the petals even catching in his hair like freshly-fallen snow. 

It lasts for only a tiny fraction of a second, but it feels like a moment frozen in time; when it’s over, Kaoru hears Kojiro say, almost wistfully, “You’re so beautiful.” 

That takes Kaoru by surprise more than the sudden attack of flowers. He whips his head back to Kojiro, who’s holding his phone lowered to his chest, like he’s just taken a picture, but is gazing at Kaoru instead of his screen. In fact, he stuffs his phone into his pocket, stepping closer to Kaoru and plucking a few of the petals out of his hair. “Your last name really does suit you,” he adds, pressing the blossoms into Kaoru’s palms. 

Kaoru forgets about the possibility of a picture, or how heartfelt Kojiro had been just moments before, in favor of rolling his eyes. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard that?” he asks, sounding more irritated than he actually is. It’s corny and tired, sure, but coming from Kojiro it just feels more sincere than anything. 

“What should I do?” Kojiro asks. He takes Kaoru’s hand again, once Kaoru has freed the petals to let them drift onto the ground, where the wind dusts them into the lake below. “Recite an idiom? Or maybe a haiku?”

“I’d be impressed,” Kaoru says. “I’ve never dated a guy who could.” And really, that was his own fault, not his mother’s - not with how many well-respected and reputable young sons of whichever client or another she tried to push down Kaoru’s throat before she gave up. 

“Then I’ll learn more,” Kojiro declares, seeming to be fully serious. Kaoru almost wants to tell him that it wouldn’t actually matter to him whether he knew all of the haikus in the world or none of them - that his knowledge of something as inconsequential as idioms his mother says to guilt-trip him isn’t important. “More idioms and haikus.”

“You don’t need to do that.” When they finally step off the bridge, the wood panels creaking beneath their feet before they come back to the sakura-covered streets, Kaoru makes a point to look Kojiro in the eye. “I didn’t fall for you because you can recite haiku off the top of your head.”

“Oh?” Kojiro presses, and it doesn’t take long for Kaoru to realize his mistake. He winces, preparing himself for Kojiro’s inevitable question and internally cringing at himself when he asks it. “You’ve fallen in love with me?” 

“...I didn’t say that,” Kaoru protests, but really, there’s no point in denying it. Things have already progressed so dizzyingly fast, and if he didn’t confess it now, he probably would have soon, likely the next time they talked to each other. Still, he pushes against Kojiro’s chest lightly when he leans in for a kiss, stopping him before he can even get close. “Don’t let it get to your head,” he warns, more or less an admission, earning a fond chuckle from Kojiro. 

“I promise I won’t,” Kojiro says. And then, well - they’re so close, shaded by a sakura tree and no one is paying any attention to either of them, that Kaoru lets him kiss him, the press of their lips familiar yet still new. Kaoru doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of kissing Kojiro, the way he always gently cups his face, how his thumb brushes over the high arch of Kaoru’s cheekbone, his free hand wrapping around his waist to pull him even closer. They kiss for what is likely far too long in public, and Kaoru is the one who pulls back first to avoid any weird looks or snide comments. 

“Buy me some ice cream,” Kaoru blurts out, suddenly feeling far too warm. He had checked the temperature before leaving, to see if he needed to wear a sweater - it’s only fifty degrees. 

Kojiro lets out a laugh at the sudden request. “Is that all you want for your birthday?” he asks. 

Kaoru hums thoughtfully, serious as ever. “I can think of a few other things,” he muses, “but we can start with ice cream.” He twines their fingers back together, leading him up the hill where he sees children standing around with ice cream cones, some with their parents wiping the mess from their lips before it can drip onto their clothes. 

“Wait, I wanna hear what the other things are!” Kojiro says, following Kaoru up the hill. 

“I’ll tell you later,” Kaoru promises. “Just buy me my ice cream first.”

Kojiro just laughs, and Kaoru thinks it’s his new favorite sound. If this is what dating Kojiro is like - joking together, visiting all the places in Tokyo that they can’t back in Okinawa, and spending nearly all their time together - then Kaoru decides he doesn’t want it to ever end. 

“Mama! I got my ice cream!” 

Haruhi carefully carries her cone as she makes her way back to her and Kaoru’s picnic blanket. Kaoru is busy setting out the food they had brought, taking care to make sure it looks perfect, despite it only being him and his daughter. He knows it’ll be messed up in a matter of moments, but it’s important to him, if only so Haruhi can have an absolutely perfect memory of today - possibly the first ohanami she’ll ever remember going to. He had sent her to get an ice cream cone by herself, a few hundred yen held tightly in her tiny hand, and when he glances up and sees her proudly holding her cone, he smiles back at her. “Good job, darling,” he calls out, before reaching out his arm and waving her over. She’s already begun to lick the soft serve, and some of it sticks messily to her chubby cheeks. Once she’s close enough, he takes a napkin and gently dabs the melted ice cream off of her face. “Make sure to not get it on your clothes, alright?”

Haruhi nods her understanding, sitting cross legged next to Kaoru and eating her treat carefully, so none of it drips on her new pair of green overalls, with a tiny frog embroidered on the front pocket. Kaoru finishes setting up their lunch, letting out a sigh of relief - he’s brought enough for the two of them, makizushi and inarizushi bought from the store paired with the imperfect onigiri and tamagoyaki he and Haruhi had made the night before, with pickled plum and salmon tucked carefully between the balls of rice. He picks one up himself, taking a small bite as he glances around the park, at all of the other families spread across the grass. Many of them have full, busy picnics, surrounded by parents and cousins and everything in between. It’s a strange sadness, to have a family of your own that you love but to know that it’ll never be like the ones you see all around you. 

He glances down at Haruhi, idly eating away at her ice cream cone and reminds himself that it’s not all that bad - that he has Haruhi, and she’s more than enough. 

When she finishes her ice cream, one of the rare times Kaoru allows her dessert before the meal, the two of them dig into the picnic together. Haruhi, ever talkative, tells Kaoru about her friends coming to the park today too, and a friend at school, a little boy who she wants to visit tomorrow because he’s been too sick to come to school in the last couple of days. Kaoru is more than amenable, suggesting that they bring a gift when they visit when someone rudely interrupts him.

“Oh - hey! Kaoru!”

Kaoru’s head turns in the direction of his name, offended by the familiarity until he sees who’s yelling it - Kojiro, coming towards them but not alone. Next to him, holding his hand, is a woman. She’s shorter than him, no more than five-foot-six, clad in a fluttery blue dress and wedge heels. The closer she gets, the better Kaoru can make her out. She’s brunette and beautiful, with a soft, oval face that’s perfectly framed by her smart, shoulder-length haircut. She’s an art curator, Kaoru remembers, and she certainly looks the part. Successful and happy, all blurred edges and round features, not at all the sharpness or the, what his mother calls, “perpetual melancholy” of himself. 

Kaoru doesn’t hate her - he doesn’t even know her. But he thinks, if this is the kind of person Kojiro wants to spend the rest of his life with, then he never really stood a chance. Kojiro likely only keeps in touch because of the twist of fate that gave them both a daughter, and that’s all Kaoru had wanted, but still - still, it’s a painful reminder. 

Haruhi doesn’t seem to care. She hears her father’s voice and immediately hops up from her spot and runs to him, catapulting herself into his arms as soon as he bends down to scoop her up. Kaoru can’t really hear what he’s saying to her, though he doubts it’s that important. He finds himself staring at the interaction, Haruhi clinging happily to her father that she is so much like, when Kojiro’s girlfriend approaches him. 

“Hi,” she says, and even her voice sounds sweet, soft like a bundle of clouds or spun cotton candy. Kaoru stands, because even if he feels bitterness creeping up his throat, it’d be too rude to stay seated. “You must be Haruhi’s other parent. I’m Kitamura Eri.” She bows her head politely, and Kaoru briefly wonders if he’s older than her, because wouldn’t that be an added layer of hilarity. 

“Sakurayashiki Kaoru,” he replies, with his own bow. He’s never been too insecure about his voice, not until he pairs the cold sharpness of it against Eri’s own. “I hope Kojiro didn’t drag you here against your will,” he jokes dryly, earning a little laugh from her. 

“No, not at all! I wanted to come.” Eri looks around, at the crowd of people enjoying the day together, drinking sake and some even singing and dancing together. “I moved here in March the year before last, and then the next year I was out of town, so I’ve never been able to come. And the cherry blossoms are so different here than in Tokyo.” 

“You’re from Tokyo, then?” Kaoru asks. He can see Kojiro holding Haruhi in his arms, coming closer to them now, and it cannot be soon enough, because he isn’t sure how long he can keep up dry small talk.

“I was born and raised there,” she tells him. “I moved here for my job a couple of years ago.”

“Ah,” Kaoru says, as elegantly as possible, because he’s very quickly realized he doesn’t want to know anything more about her. It makes her too real, demystifies her in Kaoru’s mind and makes him reckon with the fact that Kojiro wants someone like her, now that he’s older. Someone he can settle down with, have a stable life with, maybe even raise a family together - it’s all something Kaoru knows he can’t offer him anymore, not since he messed everything up years ago.

“Mama! Can Papa sit with us?” Haruhi asks, thankfully breaking through the growing tension between Kaoru and Eri and changing the subject. She’s nestled carefully in Kojiro’s arm, looking so hopeful that there’s absolutely no way Kaoru could say no to her. He simply nods his approval, rewarded by her happy little cheer when she gets to sit with her father. 

“Come sit,” Kojiro says brightly to Eri, and if Kaoru isn’t mistaken, the smile on her face looks tighter and less than pleased. Interesting, he thinks, though it may be his own bias that makes him notice the forced grin. It’s not something he fixates on for too long, not when Kojiro opens the picnic basket Eri had been holding and takes out a box filled with dango, which Kaoru knows he probably made himself. He wonders if Eri helped, if they had made a date night of it, and if they had spent the night together (that’s a thought he clears from his head instantly). “Want one, Haruhi?”

“Absolutely not,” Kaoru butts in, when Haruhi’s little hand goes in to grab one. “She just had ice cream. She needs to eat actual food.”

“It doesn’t look like there’s a lot,” Eri innocently observes, glancing at the small, open bentos sitting on the blanket. 

“I wasn’t expecting company,” Kaoru replies, his tone clipped. It’s unfair, the frostiness of his voice and the sharp glare he fixes her with, if only for a moment, but he almost immediately feels guilty for his snide remark when Eri ducks her head, clearing her throat awkwardly. He adds, mostly to clear his own conscience, “But perhaps we can share.” 

“Well!” Kojiro, like always, is an expert at clearing the air. He takes out more from their basket - handmade takoyaki and ebi-fry, that all looks and smells absolutely delicious, paired with an array of vegetables. Put together, their meals can easily feed four. “I think sharing is a great idea.”

At that, Eri visibly loosens up. She smiles up at him, this time not nearly as strained as before, like a single sentence from him has caused all her worries to cease. Kaoru can’t even hate her for it, for finding comfort in his ex right in front of him, because he gets it. He really, truly does.  

Kaoru lets Haruhi pick, unsurprised when she eats a little bit of everything and the mayo covering her takoyaki drips onto the blanket. While Kojiro cleans it easily, wiping up the mess from the fabric, Kaoru notices how Eri shifts away from it, keeping her dress from getting dirty, the subtle look of disgust on her face. It’s not unusual, Kaoru thinks, but with a child it’s near impossible to keep your clothes from getting soiled - I wonder if she’s prepared for that. 

“Did you introduce yourself to Kitamura-san?” Kaoru asks Haruhi, as she lets him clean her face again. He had been disgusted by the mess of children, of bodily fluids and messy food and the perpetual stickiness of toddler hands, but he had learned to get over it. He wonders if Eri will be able to, or if it’ll be more difficult for her.

“Hello!” Haruhi exclaims, after Kaoru has wiped her mouth clean of the remnants of takoyaki. Eri seems taken aback at the sudden outburst, though Kojiro is smiling, always entertained by her enthusiasm. “I’m Haruhi!”

“Ah - hello, Haruhi-chan,” Eri greets politely, albeit somewhat warily. Kaoru keeps a close eye on her, watching her reaction cautiously. 

“My favorite color is pink, like Mama’s hair,” Haruhi tells her, and Kaoru knows this is what she tends to open with when meeting new people. People will coo at her, or tell her that they like pink too, and she’s usually able to go from there.

In this instance, though, Eri seems a bit confused. “Why are you telling me?” she asks, and while she doesn’t sound mad, it’s such a strange response that Kaoru can’t help but take note of it.

It likely wouldn't be that much of an issue if she didn’t actually like kids. It would definitely cause conflicts, to be sure, but at least she wouldn’t always be forced to spend time with a child she doesn’t know how to get along with. She had said she likes kids, but Kaoru gets the feeling that maybe she lied, but then, maybe he’s being too judgmental - everyone is different, and he had once not been very good with children. He should know firsthand how difficult it can be. 

“Um…” Haruhi is taken aback too, not expecting that answer. Kaoru wishes he could swoop in and save her, but it’s important to let her solve her own awkward moments by herself. “I wanted you to know.”

“I know you like your Mama,” Eri says, and while she probably doesn’t mean to, she sounds a bit short. Kaoru hopes that Haruhi doesn’t realize it, and doesn't let it get to her, but he can already see the confusion in her big brown eyes, the hurt beginning to fester. “But, um -” she quickly realizes her mistake, and that Kojiro is looking at her, totally perplexed, brows furrowed at her reply. “I like pink, too,” she says, covering for herself, a frantic sort of energy in her voice as she tries to make up for her impatience.

Kaoru glances at Kojiro, who only spares a small glance back, and that’s really all they need to get on the same page (Kaoru decides to worry about the implications of that later). Kojiro acts quickly, blurting out, “I love pink, because it reminds me of my Haruhi!” he exclaims, reaching over to pick her up and pull her into his lap. It works to distract her - she squeals and laughs, wriggling in Kojiro’s tight hug as he covers her cheeks in kisses. 

When Kaoru’s eyes flit over to Eri, he finds her already staring at him, the expression on her face indescribable. She turns her head away swiftly, hiding her face behind a curtain of straight, brown hair. 

He doesn’t bring it up to her, but he keeps it in mind. 

It continues throughout the day, though. Kojiro and Eri tell stories, most of which are about their own relationship, and it’s Eri who brings up most of them while Kojiro lets her take the lead, only butting in when he has something to clarify. Kaoru couldn't care less - in fact, he wishes they would stop altogether - but he just nods, adding commentary when appropriate. What he does care about is how Haruhi will try to show Eri something, or try to tell her something, and she merely answers with a “uh huh, that’s nice” or “show your Mama, dear”, just enough to satisfy Haruhi so she can run off, inevitably distracted by something else. It’s, again, nothing nefarious, but it still frustrates Kaoru to see his daughter treated half-heartedly. He just lets Haruhi laze in his lap instead, keeping an eye on her when she wanders off.

Thankfully, Haruhi is less than interested in adult conversations - if she had noticed Eri’s brushing her off, she doesn’t seem to care all that much. She circles around the picnic blanket in a bored little stupor, picking up the cherry blossoms that have fallen from the tree branches and surround the four of them. 

Eri is in the middle of telling a story, one where she and Kojiro had gone to some place or another together. Kaoru doesn’t really care about the specifics, paying just enough attention and nodding when appropriate. “And then he said -”

“Mama!” Haruhi interrupts, jumping into the middle of the blanket and holding out her hands full of blossoms, cupping them so they don’t blow away in the wind. “Mama, look!”

“Don’t interrupt people - ” Kaoru quickly scolds, before being interrupted himself.

“Wow, Haruhi, look at that!” Kojiro interjects, leaning forward to take a look. It’s his typical, not at all faked fascination, that makes such a small thing monumental to someone as tiny as Haruhi. She beams, proud of what she’s gathered.

“Here, Kitamura-san,” Haruhi offers, picking a whole flower from her hand and offering it to her. It’s sweet, Kaoru thinks, that Haruhi would take care to make sure she gives a relative stranger a full blossom. A sign of all of Kaoru’s hard work raising her - and Kojiro’s, too, though he’s loath to admit it. “Since you like pink, too!”

Surprisingly, though, Eri seems hesitant to accept it. In fact, she looks less than happy to have been interrupted for something as innocuous as a cherry blossom at a flower-viewing festival, her lips still slightly parted in what Kaoru can only describe as disbelief. “Eh,” she says, an awkward laugh tumbling from her when she glances over at Kojiro and realizes he’s watching her with an expectant smile on his face. “Thanks,” is what she eventually settles on, taking the flower from her and twirling it a bit absent-mindedly between her fingers.

That’s interesting to Kaoru. Very interesting. And, admittedly, irritating, to once again see her brushed aside so easily.

Haruhi doesn’t really seem to mind, though. She bounces over to Kaoru and holds out the prettiest, biggest flower, accompanied with one of her typical blinding smiles. Kaoru smiles back softly, accepting the flower. “It’s so beautiful, sweetheart, thank you,” he tells her, pulling her up into a hug. “Now, sit down, so you don’t interrupt Kitamura-san again.” 

Haruhi listens, plopping next to Kaoru. “I’m sorry,” she offers to Eri, without being asked.

“Ah - it’s okay,” Eri replies, with another awkward laugh. Kaoru narrows his eyes a bit, but turns his gaze back to Haruhi before she can notice. 

That same awkward feeling permeates the rest of their picnic. Kaoru notices it in how Kojiro and Eri interact with each other, strangely enough. Having been with him, Kaoru knows firsthand how Kojiro acts when he’s in love - almost constantly smiling, always joking, holding hands, touching even when hanging out with other people. Interestingly enough, Kaoru sees next to none of that here. When he talks to Eri, it isn’t unkind, but it isn’t particularly loving; he’s much more focused on entertaining Haruhi than on what probably should have been a date; and most of all, he rarely touches her, though she may just be averse to it.

Kaoru knows he shouldn’t make assumptions about relationships he isn’t a part of or people he barely knows, but to him, he gets the feeling that their relationship isn’t as perfect as either of them make it out to be. 

The four of them decide to leave an hour later, Haruhi finally growing sleepy and wanting a nap. Kojiro and Eri finish packing up before Kaoru does, standing a ways away as Kaoru snaps the lids back onto his bentos and lets Haruhi doze, just for a little bit. Or, at least, he thought she was dozing. He nearly jumps when she asks so, so softly, “Mama?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Haruhi can make friends and play with anyone,” she mumbles, her words jumbling together. “Why does Papa’s friend not want to be friends with me?” 

Kaoru isn’t quite sure how to approach the topic. He knows what he wants to say - that she can’t be mean to her, that Kaoru won’t let that happen - but Eri hadn’t been outright mean, just distant and awkward. Kaoru decides to stop himself, and to say what he thinks he, as a parent, ought to say. “Well, Haruhi,” he starts, slowly, “sometimes people don’t want to always play, or make new friends. We have to give them more space than others.” 

“Oh…okay,” Haruhi says, but Kaoru thinks she doesn’t really get it. She’s too sleepy to, anyways. “I thought she didn’t like me.”

“I’m sure she does,” Kaoru promises her, though he can’t help but remember how dismissive she had been to Haruhi. “She just needs more time to open up to you, and then I’m sure you’ll be friends.” 

“Oh,” Haruhi murmurs, rubbing her eyes with a fist. Even if he’s appeased Haruhi for now, the frustration he feels in the pit of his stomach doesn’t disappear.

Kojiro holds her as they leave the park, filtering out behind other groups of friends and families, and she snoozes away on his shoulder, barely even waking up when he leans down to put her in her carseat in the back of Kaoru’s car. Her head nods off to the side, and she sleeps comfortably as the adults say their goodbyes outside. 

“It was nice to meet you, Sakurayashiki-san,” Eri says, bowing her head slightly. Kaoru nods at her briskly. “I’m sorry if I talked too much, it’s difficult for me to stop myself.”

“Not at all,” Kaoru reassures her. “It was good to get to know you. I hope you can spend some more time with Haruhi to get to know her better as well.” It’s a bit strained, the way he says it, and he can tell that she noticed. She shifts a bit on her feet under Kaoru’s intense, silent scrutiny.

“I - “ she begins, and Kaoru waits patiently for a response that never comes. He decides, then, maybe he should say his piece. She should know exactly how he feels about it, instead of having to guess. 

“Kitamura-san,” he starts, “I don’t mind if you spend time with Kojiro and I’s daughter. But while I don’t want you to feel as if you have to be a second mother to her, I would appreciate it if you would try to engage with her. She was a bit hurt by your reaction after she gave you that flower.” Kaoru pauses for a moment - he’s certain he’s ruined the mood, but he’s always been good at that. “You and Kojiro seem to get along, so I’m sure you’ll love Haruhi too, since they’re so much alike. Plus, she wants to get to know you, and was sad that you seemed annoyed with her.”

Eri just gapes at him. Maybe it was rude, or too blunt, but, well - when it comes to Haruhi, Kaoru gets a little too overprotective, his judgment too clouded. “I - I’m so sorry, of course - of course I want to know her better.” 

“So when she gives you something, or tries to tell you something,” Kaoru says, slowly, and he would likely sound a little too condescending to the wrong person, “it may be a good idea to try to be more open.” 

“Kaoru,” Kojiro says as a warning, probably to hop to Eri’s defense. Kaoru finds that he doesn’t want to hear it. Instead, he simply glances over at Kojiro, waiting to hear whatever he has to say, unsurprised when he doesn’t follow up with anything. Whether it’s because he agrees with Kaoru, or felt just saying his name would be enough to stop him, there’s no way to know for sure. 

The awkward silence that fills the air lasts for what can only be a few seconds. Kaoru lets it sit, lets them all marinate in it, even if it’s extraordinarily petty for him to do so. 

“Well,” Kaoru declares suddenly with a relieved sigh. “Thank you for listening to me, Kitamura-san.”

“I - of course,” she says, finally regaining her composure. Kaoru is sure he’s been too rude, too intimidating, but he isn’t sure how to apologize for it. He’s not sure if he has to. “I’m sorry, I’m still learning how to deal with kids,” she adds nervously, which is strange to Kaoru, considering Kojiro had told him she liked kids, enough that he felt comfortable introducing her to his own. He doesn’t comment on it though, deciding that it’s none of his business to interrogate her about it.

“Hopefully spending time with Haruhi will make it easier, then,” he says curtly. “Goodbye.” 

“Ah…goodbye.”

When Kaoru drives off, he peeks up at his rearview mirror and sees Kojiro talking to Eri, her back turned so Kaoru can’t see her reaction. He wonders what Kojiro is saying - if he’s comforting her, saying Kaoru is “just like that” or that “there’s nothing to worry about”. Or, maybe, he’s reflecting Kaoru’s own words, though much, much kinder. He has to fix his eyes back on the road, just so he can focus on getting home. 

22 - June

“Are you going home for the summer?”

Kaoru clings to Kojiro, his arms wrapped around his waist and his chin resting on his shoulder. He’s still half-asleep, his hair down around his shoulders and in nothing but one of Kojiro’s shirts that he had found strewn on the floor - a shirt he had thrown on the floor, off of Kojiro’s back last night. 

“I was thinking about it, if I can get the time off,” Kojiro replies. He’s busy making lunch for them, part of the routine they’ve developed. “Why?” 

“We should spend it together,” Kaoru mumbles. 

Kaoru, admittedly, feels a little shy suggesting it. They’ve only been dating for a few months now, but things have developed faster than either of them had expected. Kaoru is at Kojiro’s place almost every weekend, if he has no other plans - and he usually doesn’t, which means he all too often finds his way across the city to Ueno Park, with an overnight bag in hand. 

It’s just easy to be with Kojiro, to spend all of his free time in his home and to eat the food he makes for them, to steal his clothes and conveniently “forget” to bring them back, to sleep in his bed and hog the covers. Kaoru only ever leaves when he has to go to class during the week, and even then most of his time is spent talking to Kojiro over the phone or texting him throughout the day. It’s a little frightening, to be moving so quickly with someone he’s only known for half a year, but Kojiro - Kojiro makes everything so simple. Kaoru, so independent and prone to neuroticism, enough so that it tends to scare off his partners (or he scares them off himself), has never felt so comfortable being with someone else. It’s why suggesting they spend the summer together makes so much sense, because the idea of being away from Kojiro for even a small break is not something he wants to entertain.

“Hmm,” Kojiro hums thoughtfully, flipping the omelet and letting it sizzle in the pan. “You'd have to meet my parents,” he says casually. “But they’d love you.” 

The suggestion makes Kaoru stiffen. Not only is that a big step to take, especially so early on in the relationship, but if Kaoru meets Kojiro’s parents, then Kojiro would have to stand up to the scrutiny of Kaoru’s mother. 

Sakurayashiki Tomoe is the only person Kaoru has ever been scared of. While it’s worn off as he’s gotten older, and he wiggles himself more and more from laying under her overbearing, controlling thumb, she’s still the leading expert at getting under his skin. Not just pissing him off, but worse - poking at his insecurities with a well-timed idiom, criticizing every choice he’s ever made in his life that she didn’t approve of, and holding him to such a high standard because she expects nothing less from him.

Kaoru knows she’ll despise Kojiro. 

“What?” Kojiro asks, jolting Kaoru out of his thoughts. He blinks, and when he spares a glance at Kojiro it’s clear what the look on his face is asking - something wrong? 

“Ah - nothing, just…” Kaoru pauses, trying to find the best way to phrase things. That even though his relationship with his mother isn’t as strained as it used to be, it isn’t really saying much. That it’ll make things difficult for the both of them, if he meets her. “I do want to meet your parents. But when it’s your turn to meet mine, try not to let my mother scare you off.” 

Kojiro huffs a laugh. He only knows about Tomoe from stories Kaoru has told him, and in most of them she only featured as the unfair mother who yelled at Kaoru for one thing or another. “Is she really that bad?” 

“She absolutely is.” Kaoru sighs, pressing his cheek against the fabric of Kojiro’s shirt. Just thinking about his mother raises his blood pressure. “She always looks at you like you’ve said something wrong. She’d get mad at you if you breathed wrong. Nothing’s ever good enough for her, because she’s convinced she’s perfect, and you have to be perfect, too. And she’s super traditional - you’ll have to cover your tattoos.” 

“I can do that,” Kojiro agrees, despite the fact that they both know it’ll be hot as hell when he does. Kaoru just rolls his eyes, letting out a scoff of doubt. “What? It won’t be that bad!” he exclaims, sounding much more amused than Kaoru feels. 

“You say that now, but you’ll see what I mean when you meet her,” Kaoru assures him dryly. 

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” Kojiro teases. Kaoru worries he isn’t taking this seriously, that she just seems like a typical strict mother - but then again, no one ever realizes just how terrifying Tomoe can be until they actually meet her. “I’ll have to get along with her if I’m gonna date you, anyways.” 

Kaoru softens at that. “You don’t have to,” he tells him, resting his forehead against his shoulder blade. Kojiro is warm, safe, and Kaoru feels himself getting duped into believing Kojiro could somehow crack through Tomoe’s icy exterior. He reminds himself that no one can - that the only person who had been able to, no matter how briefly, had divorced her. “I barely get along with her.” 

Kaoru can already foresee the way the meeting will go. His mother will hate Kojiro for wanting to become a tattoo artist. She’ll ask Kaoru, “are you really sure you want to spend the rest of your life with someone like that?” instead of just normally asking if they’ve thought about marriage. Tomoe will slyly raise a brow, lean forward with perfect posture, and take a sip of tea from her yunomi cup when he says his family isn’t rich. All things Kaoru doesn’t care about, and all things Tomoe will use as reasoning for him to break up with Kojiro before things get more serious. 

And yet, he thinks Kojiro might be able to get through it. He’s so easy to get along with that Tomoe probably wouldn’t be able to hate him completely - not like the other men Kaoru’s dated, which she torments him with by reminding him of his past, horrific tastes - but would still poke and prod at him nonetheless. But even if that happens, Kaoru will stand up for him, because he knows what will really piss her off is him disagreeing with her.

Also, the idea of spending his summer with just Tomoe sounds like his own personal hell. 

“Come home with me,” Kaoru whines, wrapping his arms tight around Kojiro’s middle. If he pouts, Kojiro doesn’t point it out. “So I don’t have to be stuck with my mother the whole summer.” 

Kojiro just laughs, sliding the omelet onto a plate and handing it to Kaoru, who pulls his arms away from him reluctantly. “Okay, okay, I will. I’d miss you too much not to.” 

Kaoru squeezes the ketchup bottle over the omelet, and he realizes something - he hardly knows anything about Kojiro’s family. Surely, they must be good people, if they made someone as empathetic, friendly, and compassionate as Kojiro. It’s easy to forget, with a mother like Kaoru’s, that there are stable families out there, ones that produce children like Kojiro, who are kind and perfectly well-adjusted. “What’s your family like?” Kaoru asks, looking Kojiro’s way.

“I have kind of a big family,” Kojiro says sheepishly. He passes Kaoru a spoon, working on making his own serving of omurice. “There’s my mom, dad, my older brother and sister, then me, and my two younger sisters.” 

“So you’re the middle child?” Kaoru asks, smirking around his spoon when Kojiro gives him a look. 

“I like to think I don’t act like one,” he says, “but you act like a spoiled only child.” 

“Why are you turning this on me?” Kaoru asks innocently, only getting a roll of his eyes in return. He presses on, wanting to learn more. “Do you have any nieces and nephews?”

“Just a couple.” His attention is fully on the pan in front of him, and the concentrated look on his face causes Kaoru to look at the omelet, too. “We’re all really close, though. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my parents get into a fight.”

Misplaced, unfair jealousy comes over Kaoru, to hear about such a normal family. “That sounds nice,” he says, and he means it, even if there’s the bitter taste of want on his tongue. 

Kojiro laughs softly, flipping the omurice over. Kaoru notices that it’s slightly smaller than his own, and he wonders if that was on purpose. “It can be overwhelming. We don’t have to spend all summer with them.” 

What Kojiro doesn’t understand - doesn’t know Kaoru’s life well enough to understand - is that it sounds much, much more delightful to Kaoru than he thinks. Because for someone like him, who’s had to make do with the strange, broken up little unit he has to call a family, the idea of being able to spend a holiday break with a group of people he loves sounds impossible. Most of his breaks are spent alone, either staying in Tokyo and wandering around the city while the rest of his friends have retreated back to their parents, or finding something to do during the day in Naha so he can avoid having to see Tomoe until dinner. To look forward to going home for a break - to have a family he can talk so easily about - is something he might never have. 

Not unless Kojiro gave me one, he thinks, before casting the thought aside as unhelpful selfishness. 

“I won’t mind,” is all Kaoru says instead, because it’s the simplest way he can say how he feels without having to bare all of his complicated, ugly emotions to Kojiro. 

Even then, Kojiro seems to pick up on the meaning. It’s unusual, how Kaoru can speak in half-truths and Kojiro can put together what he’s trying to say regardless. When Kojiro looks over at him, he just raises his eyebrows, though there’s well-meaning concern in his eyes. “You’re sure?”

Kaoru nods, certain. “I’m sure.” 

Kaoru’s birthday happens to fall on a weekend when Kojiro has Haruhi. As much as he’d like to keep her, he knows how badly Haruhi wants to spend time with her father and “Papa’s friend”, no matter how wary he still was. 

“You can take the weekend off, go to the spa or something. Consider it my gift to you,” he had said with a grin. Haruhi was bouncing on her feet, talking to Eri about something while her parents discussed who to leave her with for the next couple of days. “We can take care of Haruhi. Don’t worry about her.” 

“I don’t need a gift,” Kaoru had replied, but a spa day did sound nice. There was one nearby his home that had always been tempting, offering back massages and foot rubs and facials, seemingly geared specifically towards single parents like him.

So yes, on top of Kaoru’s worries about Eri and his wavering self-esteem, a spa day - more than that, just a day alone - was very sorely needed. The operative word being was, because just as he’s about to leave, he gets a very unwelcome, insistent knock at his door. And somehow, because he’s spent so much of his life with her, much of which was ignoring said knocking, he knows exactly who it is.

He almost considers ignoring it again. He’s almost ready to go, his bag thrown over his shoulder and in a comfortable outfit, but he realizes that he can’t really go without walking out the front door and, inevitably, having to interact with her. His fate sealed, he sighs, crossing the living room to get to the entryway. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he grumbles under his breath as he unlocks the door.

Standing on the other side is his mother, Sakurayashiki Tomoe, slightly gray-haired and clad in a kimono, her version of casual clothes. She holds a dessert box in one hand, a grocery store bag in the other, and even though she’s visiting her son, she wears the same stern look that she directs towards her pupils. 

“I can hear you, you know,” she says, her voice sharp as glass, and in a way it’s comforting. 

Kaoru hates that she came by unannounced, because of course she would; yet, he’s rather happy to see her. 

“Are you going to let me in?” she asks, and he quickly steps aside to let her through, knowing better than to argue with her right now. He barely gets the door closed behind him when he hears her say, after leaving her getas at the genkan, “This place is a mess.”

It’s really not that bad - one of Haruhi’s blankets is strewn over the back of the couch, her drawings still messily cover the chabudai, and a few of her plushies sit comfortably on her little, bear-shaped plush chair. “Maybe if you let me know you were coming, I would have cleaned it up for you,” Kaoru snarks back. 

“You should always keep a tidy home,” she scolds, finding a clean surface in the kitchen to set her things on. “You never know when someone might drop by.”

“Yes, because I always have people dropping by,” Kaoru agrees. 

“I drop by, when I can,” Tomoe points out. 

“And I wish you would tell me beforehand.” Kaoru joins her in the kitchen, already giving up on his plans to go to the spa - maybe tomorrow, he thinks wistfully. “I can’t just sit around in case you decide to come by.” 

She just sighs, a far cry from the judgmental glares she always used to fix him with that would result in ugly shouting matches. It’s gotten easier to talk over the years, both of them softened by the addition of Haruhi. “I brought you jo-namagashi,” she tells him, almost like a peace offering. She pops open the box of confections and reveals twenty-four perfectly shaped, tiny desserts in the shape of flowers. They’re pink and green and purple, all mouthwateringly beautiful. 

“Thank you,” Kaoru says, a bit stunned. He never expects her to bring him anything, since he never asks, but he should know better - she always gets him some kind of dessert on his birthday, citing his sweet tooth as her reason why. 

“And I brought konpeito for Haruhi,” Tomoe says, taking it out of the grocery bag. It’s only then that she seems to notice how quiet the house is; she glances around, the smallest evidence of confusion on her face. “Where is she?”

“It’s Kojiro’s weekend,” Kaoru says, a little bitterly. Tomoe merely raises an eyebrow. 

“Why do you sound so upset?” she asks, and Kaoru hadn’t thought he had, but, well - he and Tomoe speak almost the exact same way, just a generation apart. It’s a given that she’d pick up on any sourness in his voice. “Did he do something to you?” she presses.

“No,” Kaoru says with a sigh. Tomoe has busied herself with making tea for the both of them, and Kaoru knows better than to reach for the jo-namagashi before she’s done. He drops himself on a cushion at the chabudai, his head propped up on his hand. “He didn’t do anything.”

“So why are you so annoyed?” 

Kaoru frowns. It’s been about a month since he met Eri, and while this weekend isn’t the first one Haruhi has spent with them, it still leaves a bad taste in his mouth. He hadn’t been able to put into words why, or could really admit it to himself, but his mother always has this ability to get him to talk about stuff he’s been hiding. Whether it be Kaoru snapping at her or giving in and confessing what’s on his mind, he’s never been able to keep things from her for very long. 

Today, Kaoru just gives in. It’s easier than acting like nothing is wrong. 

“He has a girlfriend,” Kaoru tells her. There’s more to it - I don’t know if she likes kids, I don’t know if she likes my kid, I don’t know if she’s ready to take care of one and it makes me so anxious - but it’s all he’s able to get out before Tomoe tsks, clicking her tongue as the tea kettle starts whistling.

“You’re upset that he has a girlfriend?” She takes the kettle, pouring the hot water over the tea leaves she’s placed delicately in her and Kaoru’s tea cups. “You’re twenty-nine and you’re still being this immature?”

“It’s not just that he has a girlfriend, hahaoya, it’s that they’re serious.” Kaoru takes the cup she offers when she comes into the room, smells the fragrant aroma of hibiscus wafting from it, and takes a sip. It calms him for a moment, however brief. “I’m worried about how it might affect Haruhi.”

“That girl gets along with everyone,” Tomoe says, tucking her legs under herself and brushing off Kaoru’s concerns as she holds her cup to her lips. 

“Maybe she does, but his girlfriend…” Kaoru sighs again, and is thankful that Tomoe doesn’t tell him to stop. “I met her, when Haruhi and I went to the ohanami.” He hesitates, before adding, “I don’t know if she likes Haruhi.” 

Tomoe frowns. The look on her face is all too familiar to Kaoru - as if she’s asking are you stupid? or you can’t be serious. “And how did you come to that conclusion?”

“It’s complicated,” Kaoru clarifies, exasperated. “I just mean - I don’t know, she told Kojiro she loves kids but I don’t think she actually knows how to treat them, or deal with them, and it worries me. I don’t know if I want her to be alone with Haruhi.” 

“Do you think she’ll hurt her?”

“No, I just don’t know if I trust her enough yet.” 

Tomoe sits back on her heels and thinks for a moment, her hands cupped around her tea cup. While she can get on his nerves, and they don’t always see eye to eye, Kaoru always tends to seek out her advice. It’s how he’s gotten this far with Haruhi, after all. “Tell Kojiro, then.” 

Kaoru blinks. “Tell him that I don’t trust his girlfriend?” 

“How else is he going to know you’re worried? You’re coparents, right?” 

“I’m pretty sure he knows.” 

“Don’t make assumptions.”

“I told her that she upset Haruhi, and he was standing right there.”

That actually causes Tomoe some pause - her brows raise in surprise, just the tiniest bit. She doesn’t add anything, though, so after taking a breath, Kaoru keeps going. “I told her she doesn’t have to be a mother to Haruhi, but that she should at least try to get to know her. The whole day she was brushing her off, or ignoring her. I understand children can be a handful, but if you feel that way about them, then why say you like them? Even if you aren’t outright rude, why make one feel like you don’t like her?” 

“Calm down,” Tomoe says, her voice level. Kaoru can feel himself getting worked up, going over the same issues he’s been thinking about for the past month. 

“And she spent the whole time talking about her and Kojiro’s relationship. It’s like she wanted to rub it in my face!” 

“Now you’re just being unreasonable.” 

“I’m not!” 

“Kaoru.” She raises her voice, just enough to stop him from getting any more upset. It works - Kaoru shuts up, at least for the moment. “Stop sitting here and worrying about it and actually tell him.” 

It’s really as simple as that. Or it should be, but there are so many other factors at play that Kaoru has to consider. To Tomoe, none of those matter. While she knows a lot, far more than Kaoru, he thinks bitterly that at least her husband didn’t want to keep seeing his child. 

“I’ll look like a jealous ex,” Kaoru mumbles. 

“If you’re so worried that you’re getting this upset, then you need to tell him,” Tomoe reasons. “And if you’re worried about someone seeing you like you’re his jealous ex, then that’s their own fault. You’re worried for your child, not about breaking up his relationship, right?” 

Kaoru swallows the confection, careful it doesn’t stick in his throat. “Right,” he echoes.

“Then say something. Not saying how you feel is why you’re in this mess in the first place, isn’t it?” she asks, and Kaoru knows it was meant to sting. Even if they’ve softened, Tomoe still knows how to hit him where it hurts. He can’t help but feel a little more raw after that.

What hurts the most is that he can’t even deny what she said. She’s completely, utterly correct, and it pains him to be reminded of it. 

“Hahaoya,” he starts, his voice wavering, “I did not want to spend my birthday like this.” 

Tomoe’s lips tighten into a thin, straight line. “I have somewhere to be soon, anyways,” she says, and Kaoru’s not sure he believes her. She stands from her zabuton, leaning down to take both of their cups, and Kaoru knows it’s as close to an apology as he’s going to get. 

Not that she’s wrong, though - Kaoru just had no plans to deal with this today. 

“Thank you for coming by,” he says, holding the door open for her as she slides her getas back on. The wait for her driver to show back up only took ten minutes but felt like years, awkwardly eating jo-namagashi together and making small talk about some client or another of hers. 

“Kaoru.” Tomoe turns on him, ignoring his thanks and tilting her head up, just to make eye contact with him. She looks severe, fierce, and Kaoru has to admit it intimidates him into listening. “Trust me. You do not want to live the rest of your life like this.” 

Her driver pulls up then. With a courteous nod of her head, she leaves his home, like she hasn’t just ruined his entire birthday. She was right, that he needed to talk to Kojiro about his wariness with Eri, but her parting words - maybe her attempt at a gift - suggest something else. Perhaps she was alluding to his inability to say what’s really on his mind, in his heart, because it’s simpler to keep things to himself. 

If he told Kojiro everything he felt, though - well, he would really look like a jealous ex. He had made his decision about their relationship a long time ago, and even though he regrets it, even though he is jealous that he could make it work with someone else, it wasn’t his place to tell Kojiro that. It’s best to keep it to just his apprehensiveness, and to omit everything else entirely. Tomoe could call him a coward all she wanted, but to Kaoru, his stagnant life is better than a complicated one. 

Kaoru can feel a headache coming on. He wonders, as he presses his palm to his forehead, if the spa can still pencil him in today. 

22 - July 

Kaoru is pretty sure he’s been anxious for the past two weeks. Not just a little bit - no, it’s the type that twists in his stomach, threatening to bend him over the toilet and vomit, the type that he can’t get rid of with nice smells or relaxing face masks or deep massages from his boyfriend. 

He and Kojiro arrive outside the door of Kaoru’s childhood home, and he wants to run far, far away. 

It’s easy to act like Tomoe doesn’t affect him, like he’s completely immune to her judgment. Kaoru has spent a lifetime trying to live up to her expectations, and inevitably failing because of just how high they were. It’s only natural for him to still want her approval, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it out loud and damage his pride. 

In this case, though, he’s more worried about whether Kojiro will get out of this alive, with his self-esteem intact. 

Beside him, Kojiro whistles, his hands stuffed in his jeans as he takes in the house. It’s not absurdly big, but it’s still much larger than a normal home in Naha. Large enough that she has a front and back garden she tends to in her free time, where she grows so many things she never let Kaoru touch. “You grew up here?”

“Yes.” He says it like an afterthought, reaching over to grab Kojiro’s wrists and yank his hands out from his pockets. “Stand up straight. Don’t slouch or look too casual. And you can’t speak to her like you speak to me.” 

“I know.” 

“And you need to give her the main gift.” Kaoru hands it to him - a nicely packaged box of cake that will most likely be inoffensive. Kojiro holds it with both hands, ever polite, as Kaoru holds onto the potted plant they’d brought. “She’ll think you’re a coward if I do it.” 

Kojiro nods, attentive. Kaoru’s been running him through what he should and shouldn’t do over and over and over again, has been testing him on them for the past few weeks, only stopping when he’s satisfied with Kojiro’s answers. He knows realistically that Kojiro probably won’t make a mistake, will be perfectly polite and well-behaved, but he also knows that his mother will criticize him for any perceived misstep he might make. 

They both have to be perfect. Anything less and Kaoru will have exposed Kojiro to his mother for nothing. 

“Let’s go,” he says, voice faltering. Kojiro gives him a kiss, a small peck on the lips to try and comfort him. It works, for the time it takes them to walk up the walkway and to the front door. 

Kaoru knocks, three times. He checks his phone, too - 12:00 pm exactly. 

Tomoe opens the door at 12:02, and says, “You’re late.” 

Kaoru already wants to bite her head off. 

“We weren’t,” Kaoru says. “We got here right on time.”

“Hm.” Her gaze shifts to Kojiro, standing right next to Kaoru and not saying a word. “Is this him?” she asks, forgoing any formalities. It always bugs Kaoru, how she judges people for being informal when she rarely gives them the same respect. 

“Ah - it’s good to meet you,” Kojiro says, bowing his head. “How are you? I - “

“Don’t bother greeting me.” Tomoe cuts him off coldly, and if she relishes in the confused, stunned look on Kojiro’s face, no one would be able to tell. She’s shorter than him yet it’s as if she’s looking down on him, like he’s nothing more than dirt on her getas. “I know how it goes, and that my son has prepared you. It will all be pretend, anyways.” 

Kojiro simply blinks - at least he isn’t standing there with his mouth hanging open, because she’d find a way to call him stupid for it. Kaoru, however, is already enraged on his behalf. “Hahaoya -” 

“Come inside,” Tomoe tells them, leaving the door ajar and walking into the house, with no regard for either of them. Kaoru huffs, following after her after a quiet apology to Kojiro. 

“Thank you for welcoming us to your home,” Kojiro says, after taking off his shoes. He bows again, bending deep at his waist, before holding the dessert box out for her to accept. “I’m Nanjo Kojiro. This is for you.” 

It’s almost amusing to see Kojiro being so stiff and proper when he’s anything but, but Kaoru can’t find it in himself to find it humorous. He feels more like he’s on the edge, trying to make sure Kojiro doesn’t mess up. That, and watching Tomoe as she glances down at the package, looks it over, and says nothing. 

Kojiro doesn’t seem to mind. “I got strawberry shortcake, since it’s your favorite,” he adds, not breaking a sweat.

“Hm.” She takes the box, a good sign, and opens it to look at the cake inside. “It’s not from my favorite bakery. How sad.” 

“And this,” Kaoru butts in, handing her the plant with one hand. It’s petty, sure, but Kaoru thinks it’s deserved. He’d rather direct the disapproval onto himself, than make Kojiro have to bear it.  

As expected, Tomoe glares at him, clicking her tongue. “My hands are full, you expect me to hold that and my cake? And what if I was injured, hm?” 

“Obviously, you aren’t,” Kaoru replies, and it’s as if she completely forgot Kojiro was in the room. Her glare only darkens, before she huffs and takes the box into the living room. Kaoru can see she’s set up her chabudai, with three cups of tea already poured, still hot judging from the steam rising from them. Tomoe orders Kaoru to retrieve three plates, forks, and a knife from the kitchen, all of which he brings without talking back to her. Maybe, if she wants to eat the cake Kojiro brought, it might not be going as poorly as he thought. 

“You.” She points at Kojiro when the three of them enter, her outstretched finger keeping them in place. “By the door.” 

It’s so blatantly disrespectful, so incredibly rude, but Kojiro does as he’s told. He sits, his legs underneath him, right by the entrance, where anyone could come in at any time and disrupt Kojiro and his meal. Even if Tomoe won’t have any visitors - she doesn’t let people stop by unannounced - it’s still very pointed. 

Kaoru sits next to him, and Tomoe across, her back straight, her chin tilted up, bringing her tea cup to her lips in one fluid, trained motion. Neither Kaoru or Kojiro do, not until she says they can. 

“Cut the cake for us, will you?” she asks Kojiro, though she doesn’t spare him a glance. Her eyes are fixed firmly on the table, as if she can’t even bother to look up. 

Kojiro does so, the perfect image of a dutiful son in law, despite only just meeting her. He cuts the small cake into three equal slices, serving Tomoe first and himself last, and only eats after she does. Kaoru’s impressed - Kojiro’s always been someone easy to get along with because of how casual he is, how he treats almost everyone the same, not because of how traditional he was. 

He’s really trying, Kaoru thinks, and it warms his heart.

“What are you studying, Nanjo-kun?” Tomoe asks out of nowhere, after one bite of her cake. She doesn’t say anything about the quality, though Kaoru knows better than to assume that means she thinks it’s good. 

“Art - painting, at Geidai.” 

“Ah.” And there’s nothing bad Tomoe can say about that, given that her line of work is so similar to his. “What do you plan to do after?”

Here we go, Kaoru thinks. He eats another piece of cake, hoping it can help curb his worsening anxiety. 

“Well,” Kojiro starts, and in all the times he and Kaoru have gone over this exact moment, they realized there was no good way to say it, “I’ve actually been doing an apprenticeship with a tattoo artist, alongside school.”

The silence stretches on for far too long. It can’t be more than a few seconds, but Kaoru’s hair stands on end.

“A tattoo artist.” Tomoe sips her tea, tilting it gingerly to her mouth. Her lips press together tightly, and Kaoru already knows - she’s about to tear him apart. “And your parents are amenable to this?”

“It took a bit of convincing, but they’re supportive now,” he says. To his credit, Kaoru’s never had a boyfriend last this long with Tomoe. Either they ran off out of fear or out of fury, or Tomoe kicked them out herself. “It’s art, just like anything else.”

“Hm.” She sets her cup down, and the clatter of the ceramic against the wood of the table echoes in the room. “So you think a tattoo is equal to my calligraphy?” 

“I didn’t say that,” Kojiro replies, calmly, apologetically. Kaoru’s aware that he’s trying to relate to her, trying to get her to see his point of view, but the one thing about Tomoe is that doing that never, ever works.

“It seemed as if you were implying that,” Tomoe rebuts. Her voice is as severe as ever, and Kaoru can tell she’s angry, even if it’s barely held back between her teeth. “And I feel that something that can ruin your skin for the rest of your life - something that only yakuza and other deviants acquire - has much less artistic value than a piece of calligraphy that can last for generations.” 

Kojiro is used to hearing this, and has told Kaoru as much. He even expected to hear it from Tomoe. But even if he had prepared himself, what could he even say to that? He stays silent, and Kaoru knows it’s because anything he could say would be taken the wrong way, twisted and turned until it resembled something completely different from what he meant. 

So Kaoru decides to speak up instead; there’s nothing to lose, not when his mother already sees him as a lost cause. 

“Hahaoya,” Kaoru starts, sitting up on his cushion. “I don’t appreciate you acting like his work isn’t as meaningful as yours.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t meaningful. I’m sure his art is good, if he’s going to Geidai.” She cuts into her slice of cake, making sure to slide a strawberry onto her fork. “I still wish you had gone.”

“So what’s the problem?” Kaoru asks. It’s not as formal as it should be, and he knows she’ll scold him for it, but he doesn’t care, not when she’s offended Kojiro like this. 

“I don’t think he’s using his talent the right way,” Tomoe says, “and, to be quite frank, I think it’s a waste of time.”

“Why do you always have to make everything an argument?” Kaoru can feel the anger building now, rushing in his veins and clawing its way out of his throat. Kojiro is holding his hand under the table, but Kaoru doesn’t even register it. 

“You’re the one getting angry, not me,” Tomoe replies curtly, finishing off the last of her slice, like none of this even matters to her. Not her insulting all of Kojiro’s hard work and efforts, not her minimizing Kaoru’s feelings, not her being rude from the very moment she opened that door, nothing. 

This was a mistake.

“For someone who forces everyone to respect you, you really don’t do anything to deserve it.” Kaoru is red hot rage, his vision blurred, his words tumbling out of him before he can even catch up. If Kojiro rushes to say his name, he doesn’t recognize his voice calling out to him. “Koji-kun has been nothing but kind, respectful, and thoughtful towards you. He’s put up with your bullshit, and you decide to insult him?”

“Watch your language!”

“Don’t tell me to do anything!” Kaoru bolts upright, his fists clenched in righteous fury. He can’t have been here for more than ten, maybe fifteen minutes, but their meetings almost always end like this. Their relationship is so volatile that Kaoru doubts it could ever be repaired, not when she never tries to meet him halfway, and he’s too stubborn to accept her treatment. “I wish you would stop telling me what is and isn’t good for me! I’m an adult!”

“And yet you still act like a petulant child!” Tomoe shoots back, her own anger rising. “You have always taken everything so personally. If you’re an adult, act like one!”

“That’s rich, considering you never act like my mother!”

“Kaoru-kun!” Kojiro stands, too, grabbing Kaoru’s arm and squeezing his wrist as tightly as he possibly can - as if to say, relax, calm down. Kaoru still seethes, glaring daggers at his mother. “I’m sorry, Sakurayashiki-san - “

“Get out of my house,” Tomoe grits out, returning Kaoru’s glare with the same fervor, “and take that ridiculous plant with you.”

Kaoru glares at her for a moment longer, his lip curled and his eyes blown wide, before he storms out of the room without another word. He leaves it to Kojiro to collect the plant, because it’s all he can do to put his shoes on while trembling with rage. He stomps down the path, to the sidewalk outside of her house, and it’s only when Kojiro catches up to him that he starts to think clearly again. 

“Give me that stupid thing,” Kaoru huffs, reaching out for it. Kojiro holds it away from him though, then above his head when Kaoru tries grabbing for it. “Give it to me!”

“And do what? Smash it on the ground?” Kojiro asks, stern. It actually makes Kaoru pause, not used to hearing Kojiro speak like this. “That won’t do anything, except make a mess for someone else to clean.” 

“It would make me feel better,” Kaoru mumbles.

“Would it?” 

He thinks for a moment, as the anger clouding his mind begins to dissipate. It would make him feel better for a few seconds, sure, but it wouldn’t really solve anything. It won’t solve the strained relationship between him and his mother, or the way she treats people, or the countless grudges he’s held against her since he became a teenager, tallied up in his head and never forgiven. 

He drops his hand, and Kojiro lowers the plant, holding it in both hands. Kojiro just starts walking, and Kaoru finds himself following after him, looking and feeling not unlike a lost duckling. The light breeze and smell of salt that carries itself over from the sea does wonders to calm Kaoru down, as he keeps trying to find ways to apologize for his outburst with no success. They let it hang awkwardly in the air instead, with Kojiro not pressuring him to open up, and Kaoru not offering him an explanation. 

“When I was seven, my parents got a divorce,” Kaoru says. It’s out of nowhere, a random thought, but for some reason it comes tumbling out of him without prompting. Kojiro simply glances over at him, listening. “My father married my mother because she was from a family of good standing, and she was rich, so he figured it was good enough. But the longer they stayed together, the more they started to resent each other, and the more he hated her for being…well, the way she is. That’s what she told me, anyway.” 

“Was she always like this?” Kojiro asks, gently prodding.

“I remember when she used to be nice. She’d take me to her favorite bakery every Friday and we’d pick out something sweet together. She’d tell me she loved me.” He crosses his arms, his voice shakier than he wants it to be, more vulnerable than he had planned. “After they got divorced, she stopped. My father never wanted to see me - or her - again.” Kaoru scoffs, bitter. “And now we ended up like this.”

It’s a lot to take in, Kaoru knows. He almost feels bad for dumping it all on Kojiro, making him have to shoulder this burden with him when he didn’t ask to. He expects some kind of empty apology, an I’m sorry that doesn’t mean much from someone who has no reason to offer one. Kaoru will just accept it like he always does and change the subject. 

Kojiro, after a moment, sighs. Kaoru prepares himself for the condolences, but is surprised when Kojiro instead says, “We don’t have to talk to her again, if you don’t want to.”

Kaoru merely blinks at him. “What?”

“We can spend the rest of the summer with my family, if you want,” he clarifies, though Kaoru is still too taken aback by the suggestion. “It sounds like…like there’s a lot going on with you and your mom, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to talk to her, or make us spend time with her, just because we’re here.” 

It’s such a simple solution, yet one Kaoru didn’t really consider. Despite his relationship with his mother, he wanted her to like Kojiro, to see in him what Kaoru does. He had accepted that he’d probably have to spend the rest of this summer in an awkward limbo with Tomoe. He hadn’t thought that he could just…not deal with her, not when they’re in the same city.

But then, he remembers, Tomoe would never ask him why he was avoiding her. She’s not the type of person to reach out first, to try to make amends, to admit she’s done anything wrong. Neither of them have ever outright said sorry to each other, after all - they just acted as if nothing had ever happened, and that had been Kaoru’s life. It’ll be the same this time, and the next time, and the next, until something changes, but it’s more likely that nothing ever will. 

“...Will your parents mind?” Kaoru asks, suddenly self-conscious. He hates to impose on them like this, but it sounds like a much nicer way to spend his summer than in a tense stalemate with his mother. 

Kojiro just shakes his head. “Not at all.” He smiles, then, easing Kaoru’s mind, just barely. “They’ll like you. We should go now, before they have lunch.” Kaoru nods, holding Kojiro’s hand when he takes his, leading him off towards his childhood home. 

They walk in silence, up until they cross a bridge, seemingly innocuous, if not for how it reminds Kaoru of their date months ago. Their date when Kaoru had said he loved him, perhaps too soon, but with the same determination that fueled all of his decisions. It makes him want to ask something of Kojiro, despite how intimate his request is. “Can you please,” Kaoru begins, speaking up suddenly, “just call me Kaoru?”

He just feels like it’s the right time to ask him this. There’s a lot of reasons why, more than he can count - Kojiro meeting his mother and seeing Kaoru get really, truly upset; Kaoru telling Kojiro about his parent’s divorce, and Kojiro finding a way to remedy his still-tender emotions surrounding it; Kaoru about to meet Kojiro’s parents and spending the rest of the summer with them; and, most especially, the fact that Kaoru has never cared for someone as deeply as he has Kojiro, and wants Kojiro to see him as his Kaoru and not the Sakurayashiki’s, the family he despises so deeply. 

He wants to hear it. So when Kojiro, haloed by the high, afternoon sun, shining just as brightly as him, simply says, “Kaoru,” he feels lighter than he has for weeks. 

Kaoru closes the distance between them, leaving a kiss on his lips. “Can I call you Kojiro?”

“Of course,” Kojiro says, and Kaoru just kisses him again, the taste of strawberries and green tea on his lips, as light and airy as the summer that stretches out before them - one that they can spend together, content in each other’s company. 

Kaoru never gets a chance to bring it up to Kojiro. 

The two of them are always so busy, Kaoru swept up in the beginning of wedding season and Kojiro with his usual flood of clients. When he asks Haruhi about it, she always says she had fun with Kojiro and Eri, with a happy little smile on her face. Over the next few weeks, as Haruhi spends more time with them, he wonders if he had judged Eri too soon. Maybe his bias towards his daughter had caused him to be too worried about her without really giving her a chance. His mounting self doubt and relentlessly busy days cause him to tuck it away as something to discuss with Kojiro later, and amid the nights of overtime and figuring out what to make Haruhi for dinner, he almost forgets about it completely. 

That is, until Haruhi comes home from Kojiro’s place one Sunday, seeming more downcast than normal. For Haruhi, being sad is never normal, which is what makes it all the more concerning for Kaoru. 

She gets dropped off, and nothing is obviously strange, but Kaoru knows his daughter well enough to tell. She doesn’t babble about the weekend when they eat dinner together, and she doesn’t want to do anything more than watch TV with him. Even when he pats over her hair as she lays her head in his lap, she doesn’t seem enthused by it. When he asks if something bad happened, she tells him nothing did. Kaoru knows if something is wrong, she’ll tell him, and he doesn’t want to push her too hard. He lets it lie, trusting that Haruhi will eventually open up. 

It doesn’t take long; in fact, it happens when he’s cleaning the dishes. He feels a tug on his sweatpants, and when he glances down, finds Haruhi clutching onto his pant leg. 

“What’s wrong, darling?” Kaoru asks. He forgets the dishes, wiping his hands on a towel and crouching down to her height. 

Haruhi’s little fist is still balled into the fabric of his pants, and she looks strangely bashful. Kaoru’s brows furrow together, but he still waits for Haruhi to speak, whenever she feels comfortable. “Mama…” 

“Yes?”

“I know…some people don’t like hugs,” Haruhi starts, her voice a small little thing, “and Mama told me that’s okay. But I hugged Papa’s friend and she seemed mad.” Haruhi pauses, finally pulling her gaze up from where it’s trained on Kaoru’s knee to his face. “Did I make her mad?”

Kaoru can feel his stomach twist with anxiety, his mind immediately racing, wondering what exactly she could mean. But he isn’t like he used to be, so quick to anger and acting before thinking, and he knows that right now, Haruhi needs him to listen to her. So he calms himself, even though there’s concern etched on his face. “You hugged her and she seemed mad?” 

Haruhi nods gloomily. “Before Papa brought me home, I hugged her goodbye. But I don’t think she wanted me to…”

“Why not?” 

“She pushed me away,” Haruhi says. She sounds sadder than Kaoru’s heard her in a long time, not since the fish she had won at a festival had to be flushed away, or since the last really bad nightmare she had. “So I wouldn’t be hugging her anymore.” 

“She pushed you?” Kaoru asks, his voice tight.

“Haruhi didn’t fall,” she clarifies, “and I don’t hurt.” 

That’s good, Kaoru thinks, quietly relieved. “Did she push you hard?”

“No.” Haruhi tugs at the hem of her pajama shirt, and usually Kaoru would scold her for stretching the fabric, but right now he couldn’t care less. “But she looked upset…Haruhi should have asked first.” 

“Oh, my dear,” Kaoru sighs. He sits on the floor now, pulling her into a hug and letting her wrap her little arms back around him. “Some people don’t like hugs, and you should ask if they do before you hug them. But people bigger than you like adults should be more careful, since you’re so small.”

“Like how you have to be careful with babies?” Haruhi asks, and Kaoru nods, their cheeks pressed together.

“Exactly. I’m sure she isn’t mad at you, though, she was just surprised.”

“Okay, Mama,” Haruhi mumbles. Kaoru pats a hand over her hair soothingly. “Don’t tell Papa.” 

Kaoru frowns. “Why not?”

“I don’t want him to get mad at his friend, and then they can’t be together anymore,” Haruhi says. “Because they really like each other. They kiss and hug a lot.” 

The sharp pang in his chest at hearing that aside, there’s no way Kaoru will let his daughter inherit his incredibly bad habit of keeping things a secret for the sake of others. He pulls her away from him, holding her by the arms gently. “Haruhi,” Kaoru starts, seriously enough that she knows to listen to every word he says, “if someone upsets you, or you’re worried you upset them, they need to know. And Papa and his friend are adults, so if you tell them you’re upset, they’ll listen.” Or they should. Kaoru knows that Kojiro will, at the very least. 

“Okay…” Haruhi still seems unsure, but less so than she had a moment before. Kaoru takes the chance to kiss her cheek, and while she’s still a bit somber, Kaoru can tell she feels better. “You can tell Papa…so his friend knows I’m sorry.” 

“Okay, sweetheart.” Kaoru kisses her forehead, comforting her. “Thank you for telling me.” 

“You’re welcome,” Haruhi replies, and she grabs Kaoru’s face in her tiny hands, so she can plant a kiss right on his cheek before squeezing him in a tight little hug again.

The crisis averted, Kaoru manages to finish the dishes and put her to bed, and after a bedtime story Haruhi falls asleep shortly after. He sits up in his futon, his skincare done for the night, his hair pulled back by a headband, and stares at his phone. He’s still trying to find the right way to approach this without sounding accusatory. He’s about to give in after glaring at his phone hard enough for it to shatter, when a text appears on the screen.

Kojiro [8:36 pm]: can you call me?

Kaoru stares even harder. 

He’s more than certain that Kojiro wants to talk about what happened today, and while he knows he should, he wonders why Kojiro can’t just call him. Or, for that matter, why Kojiro didn’t tell him it happened when he dropped Haruhi off. Sure, he didn’t leave the car - part of their agreement, now that they see each other more, is that if he drops Haruhi off he has to stay in the car, just to spare Kaoru’s own feelings - but he could have, just this once. 

Kaoru’s thoughts, swirling with all of these possibilities, goads him into picking up his phone and finally dialing Kojiro’s number. 

Kojiro, to his credit, answers on the second ring. “Hello?” he says, as if he doesn’t know who it is. It annoys Kaoru, however irrationally, just for a second. 

“What did you need to talk about?” Kaoru asks curtly. He has Kojiro on speaker, holding the end of the phone close to his mouth, his legs pulled up to his chest and his arms resting on his knees. 

“So, Eri told me about what happened,” Kojiro starts. Kaoru can at least appreciate that he always cuts to the chase, at least when it comes to Haruhi. “I was in the bedroom grabbing the car keys. Haruhi hugged her around her waist, and Eri said she didn’t know how to react.”

“So she pushed her?” Kaoru interjects, his frustration barely contained. It all sounds like excuses to him, in his anger-clouded haze. 

“She said she patted her on the back, but Haruhi didn’t let go. She thought that Haruhi had gotten something stuck on her clothes, so she gently shoved her off of her,” Kojiro concludes. “She says that it was on instinct, and when she saw how sad Haruhi looked, she felt really bad. But I came in the room right after so she couldn’t apologize to her.”

“Hm.” Kaoru taps his finger against his knee, taking it all in. “And why isn’t she the one telling me this?”

“You kinda scared her off at the ohanami,” Koijro says, his voice light. It’s clear he’s joking, but Kaoru doesn’t find it very funny. “Which, by the way - I talked to her about how she treated Haruhi. I didn’t like it either, even if she didn’t mean to come off that way.”

“But she did.”

“She did, and she said she would be better in the future.”

“And now I hear she’s pushing my daughter,” Kaoru says, sounding as nervous as he feels, because really, how is that instinct? “I thought she liked kids. Didn’t she tell you that?”

“Sure, but - it’s one thing to like kids and another to actually deal with them,” Kojiro reasons, and Kaoru can’t fault him for that, because he had thought the very same. But there’s something lying deep in his throat, itching to get out. Anxiety that has morphed into frustration triumphs over logic and reason and he can’t help the words that spill from his mouth, forcing Kojiro to just sit and listen. 

“I agree. Not everyone is suited for children, and that’s fine - but then why not make that more clear? If she doesn’t want to deal with Haruhi, that’s fine, I really don’t mind, but if she’s going to be in her life in any capacity, I don’t want her to make her sad. She was so sad, Kojiro. She thought she made Kitamura-san mad, just for hugging her. If Kitamura-san supposedly wants to be in Haruhi’s life, then she needs to understand that she’s going to have to deal with everything being around a child entails, even the things she doesn’t like.”

Kaoru pauses, once his brain catches up with him. He realizes, after saying all of that, that it’s probably not the best idea to criticize his ex’s girlfriend to his face. It had just tumbled out of him, all of his worries, all of the things he was wary about when it came to Eri. He should have brought it up sooner, like Tomoe had told him to, when he had a more level head and was feeling less upset. Now, though, it’s all out in the open, all for Kojiro to chew on, to pick apart. Kojiro, thankfully, doesn’t let the silence linger for too long. 

“I know that. I don’t want you to think I’m taking anything lightly,” he says, and there it is again - that raw, hurt tone to his voice, and it reminds Kaoru this is exactly why he broke things off when he did. A lifetime of hearing the sorrow he had caused would be far too much to bear. “Eri and Haruhi have been getting along fine, up until now. Haruhi likes spending time with her.”

“Kojiro.” Kaoru interrupts, just because he needs to ask this. He needs to know Kojiro’s answer more than anything else tonight. “For the record, I’m not asking this out of jealousy. But if you had to think about it, could you see Eri as a stepmother to my - ” and then, because he swiftly realizes his blunder - “our daughter?”

The pause can’t be more than three seconds, or maybe five. Each second, however long it feels, is telling. Should Kojiro not say anything, that would be all the answer Kaoru needed - not that he could actually do anything with it. He could never tell Kojiro to break up with his girlfriend, or keep Kojiro away from their daughter. All he can do is wait for his answer, and prepare for a broken heart, not the first caused by Kojiro and certainly not the last. 

“I think,” Kojiro starts slowly, and Kaoru can tell he’s choosing his words carefully, “it’s too soon to tell yet.”

And what an interesting answer that is. 

Kaoru mulls over it for a brief moment. This all reminds him of why he had hardly tried to date since having Haruhi, keeping his own self alive through his hobbies and his work so he didn’t drown in his role as a parent, or lose himself in a man at the detriment of his daughter. Not that Kojiro is doing any of it - far from it - but it is a sobering reminder nonetheless. It’s simpler to parent, Kaoru had decided, a long time ago, when you’re the only one doing it.

Not only that, but Kojiro had wanted to introduce the two because he was thinking about marriage. Had things changed? Not that it was any of Kaoru’s business, but he can’t help but wonder what - if anything - had shifted between the first time he had learned about her and now.

“Well.” Kaoru takes a breath, letting out the tension in his shoulders, his back. “I don’t know how much longer Haruhi and I can wait for you two to figure that out.”

Kojiro sighs too, a stressed rush of air into the receiver of his phone. “So you don’t want Haruhi around her anymore?”

“I didn’t say that,” Kaoru says. “I’m nervous about her, and I’m less than thrilled to hear that she made Haruhi sad. But when Haruhi comes home from your place, for the most part, she seems to be happy. She tells me she had fun, and she can’t wait to see you and Kitamura-san again. I don’t want to keep her away because of one instance. But if something like this happens again, I don’t think I’ll feel comfortable letting her be around Kitamura-san.” 

Kojiro knows Kaoru means it, too. “I get that. I’ll keep an eye on the two of them,” he says, weary. Kaoru feels bad, just a bit, for being so strong-willed yet antsy, just like he always is. But when it comes to Haruhi, he knows, if the roles were reversed, Kojiro would do the exact same. Despite their troubled past, their less-than-ideal co-parenting arrangement, and all of the hurtful things they’ve done and said between them - Kaoru being the perpetrator of most of them - they can always connect on one thing; doing what’s best for Haruhi. 

Kaoru can count on that, at least. 

“Haruhi’s birthday is coming up,” Kaoru says, when it really isn’t - it’s about three weeks away, right in the middle of May. But he wants to make it clear how he feels, that he’s trying to not be so draconian, and that he’s willing to give Eri another chance. “You two should plan something for her.” 

“Just us two?”

“She’ll have two birthday parties.”

Kojiro chuckles a bit. “You can’t stand being around Eri that much, huh?”

“It’s you I can’t stand being around,” Kaoru snaps, though it’s lighthearted - there’s no way Kojiro can’t hear the smile in his voice, seconds before Kaoru realizes he’s even smiling at all. He even laughs, bright and hearty, and it’s so familiar that it pains Kaoru to hear it. “And I would just be taking up space,” he adds.

“No, you wouldn’t,” Kojiro says softly. “Not at all.”

It’s much too fond. It actually causes Kaoru’s heart to skip a beat, as cliché as it sounds. Kaoru thinks Kojiro must have been able to tell some practically undetectable variance in his speech, some shift in tone that betrayed how he actually feels - lonely, bitter, depressed. In fact, it’s yet another addition to his reminder from moments before. 

Kaoru has raised Haruhi on his own, and has hardly ever dated, because he’s still desperately, hopelessly stuck on her father. Even though there’s no future for them - Kaoru had foolishly made sure of it - he still holds on to the one person who had ever really, truly known him, had accepted him, ugly, twisted barbs and all, and had loved him for it. And that misplaced, devoted love had only hurt him in the end, because the thing about trying to traverse through the innumerable thorns that cover a thick bramble bush, all in a vain attempt to try and collect a few meager berries, is that it tears up your skin, makes you bleed, leaves too many scars to count.

How could Kaoru ever make him trek through that again, when the reward isn’t half as sweet as it used to be? 

Kojiro was kind, back then. He’s kind now - he’s barely changed, actually, still that same boy that Kaoru met all those years ago, who still makes his chest tight and his stomach hurt. All that’s left of Kaoru is someone who realized it isn’t that simple to grab life by the neck and force it to do his bidding - someone who isn’t the same fiery mess of a person that Kojiro had known. He’s completely different, while Kojiro is the same, but only one of them ever moved on. 

It’s pathetic, really.

He probably just pities me now, Kaoru thinks, and that makes more sense to him than the idea that Kojiro had meant anything more than what he said. Seeing him with Eri, hearing about how much they seem to love each other, he knows it’s fruitless to even consider the possibility. 

God, I really am the jealous ex.

“I’ll let you go,” Kojiro says suddenly, when Kaoru doesn’t respond for a moment. “Thanks for talking this out with me.”

“Of course,” Kaoru replies. He hates this feeling that talking with Kojiro gives him, and he wants to wash it down with a glass of wine. 

“Goodnight,” he says, his voice still tinged with that warmth from earlier, the kind that had made Kaoru fall in love with him, and the kind that now only crushes his heart, squeezes it into tiny little bits like an abused piece of fruit. This is why Kaoru needs the wine, because he could have just said bye, or talk to you later. Why is it that a simple goodnight can feel so intimate, when Kaoru knows it wasn’t meant like that?

“Goodbye,” Kaoru responds, before hanging up. His phone slides from his hand and to his side, splayed sideways on the comforter. 

Kaoru grabs a pillow before he wraps his arms around his knees. He buries his head into it, far enough that he can only see the smallest slivers of light, transforming the rest of his world into an endless, jet black void, and screams. 

2 2 - September 

Summer passes by, feeling not unlike a dream. Gauzy and blurred, Kaoru feels like so much happens and yet nothing at all. 

Kaoru had met Kojiro’s family, which had gone worlds better than their own meeting with Tomoe. They celebrated Kojiro’s birthday in Naha, shared watermelon and popsicles on the porch of the Nanjo family home, and spent too many late nights alone at the beach (and whether or not that was allowed, neither of them cared). When they had come back to Tokyo in the beginning of August, the rest of their break was spent together, rarely leaving one or the other’s apartment unless they needed more food, a change of clothes, or got the urge to go somewhere. Needless to say, the break had been relaxing, the exact vacation that Kaoru had sorely needed from school before his last year of university continued. 

It shouldn’t be all that surprising, then, when Kaoru holds the fifth pregnancy test in his hand and finds that it comes up positive. 

Strangely, Kaoru isn’t panicking. Not yet, at least. He can feel it building in the pit of his stomach, but maybe that’s the persistent stomach ache he’s been dealing with for the past two weeks, coupled with throwing up and constant exhaustion that he chalked up to the stress of university. He had felt like shit for absolutely no reason, but figured the illness would pass and he would feel better soon. There was a reason now, though. 

Panic hasn’t set in because Kaoru can’t quite believe what he’s looking at. Five tests lined up vertically on his bathroom sink, all with the two very clear, magenta pink lines. Of course, he won’t know until he goes to a doctor, which he supposes that he has to do now, before anything else…

He calls Kojiro instead. 

“Hey, what’s up?” he answers. Kaoru can hear wind on the other side of the line - he’s probably walking home from the art studio he’s been spending most of his time in since the school year began. 

“I need you to come over,” Kaoru says. His voice sounds detached, hollow, like it’s not coming from him. Kojiro can likely tell, because Kaoru himself realizes it rather quickly. “Can you?” he asks, a little softer this time. 

“Of course. I’ll be there in twenty.”

When he hangs up, Kaoru is left alone. Alone in his tiny apartment, with a small trash can next to his toilet filled with pregnancy test wrappers, the box itself. He stares at himself in the mirror for a bit too long, notes the faint dark circles under his eyes, the way his shirt hangs off of him as his shoulders are unconsciously raised high, high up under his ears.

His eyes settle on his stomach, and that’s when the anxiety takes over. 

He can’t sit still. He collects the tests and washes them off, hurries out into the living room where he sets them on the coffee table, arranging them as neatly as he had on the sink. He sits down, stands up, paces the floor, circles around his couch and tries laying down for all of three seconds before bolting upright again. He considers making coffee but the last thing he needs in the midst of a panic attack is caffeine. Kaoru makes do with a glass of water, which he drinks quickly before pouring another, the liquid trembling in the cup as he refills it. He keeps checking the clock, finding only five minutes have passed by when it’s felt like twenty. 

It’s not a panic attack where he’s unable to breathe, or his heart is thrumming fast and unpleasant in his chest; instead, his mind is racing, and dread settles deep in his stomach. He can’t sit down because that means being alone with his thoughts, but so does standing, and so does walking, and everything he does to try and help himself just makes things worse and worse and worse - 

There’s a knock at the door, and Kaoru nearly trips over himself to answer it. 

“Kaoru?” Kojiro can instantly tell that something is deeply wrong. Kaoru must look frazzled, neurotic and unwell. Even when Kojiro closes the door and comes inside, he doesn’t step too close to Kaoru, giving him breathing room instead. “What’s wrong?” 

“I - “ Kaoru can’t get the words out. He can hardly believe that this is even happening. There should have been such a microscopic chance of this happening! He was on birth control, Kojiro always used a condom, they were always so safe, but they must not have been at least one time and now this was happening.

“Take a deep breath,” Kojiro tells him, so he does, a shaky exhale that rattles around in his chest. His body is still blocking Kojiro’s view of the table, and he thinks, even if he’s too mortified to say it, Kojiro should hear it from him. He deserves that much, at least. 

“You know,” Kaoru starts, slowly, “how I’ve been feeling sick recently?”

“Yeah,” Kojiro replies. He watches Kaoru’s face steadily, his hand squeezing tightly around Kaoru’s in a silent show of support, and Kaoru is hit suddenly with the thought that he loves him. He loves Kojiro so, so much, and there’s no way he can drag this out, can hold this back any longer, because Kojiro deserves to know. He deserves to know first, no matter what happens next. 

“I think I’m pregnant.”

The words hang in the air. Kaoru can feel the oppressiveness of the sentence weighing down on him, on both of them. It’s a sentence he never thought he would say to Kojiro - not that he never wanted children, but that he might have one so soon. He had planned on it, if it happened, years down the line, when he was more prepared to be a parent and had the means to raise a child, not right before graduating college with a guy he hasn’t even known for a year. A guy he loves, more passionately than he’s ever loved anyone in his life, but a guy he’s only spent a tiny fraction of his life with nonetheless. 

It’s frightening. He can’t blame Kojiro for the way he reacts - that is, he barely does anything. His jaw doesn’t drop to the floor, he doesn’t start jumping up and down in excitement, and he doesn’t get unfairly angry. All that happens is that his eyes widen, and he blinks a few times out of shock. Kaoru gets it - neither of them had planned to wake up today to get this kind of news. 

“I…” Kojiro trails off, the beginnings of a sentence sticking to his throat. His mouth opens and closes, like he’s trying to find the right thing to say, despite Kaoru not giving him any indication of how he’s feeling about it besides the mini panic attack Kojiro had quelled. “You…have you taken a test?” 

At that, Kaoru glances over his shoulder at the coffee table. Part of him hopes that the tests would vanish into thin air and this was all some fucked up dream of his that he just needs to wake up from. When his eyes land on the table, though, they’re all still there, still sitting in the neat line that Kaoru had made. 

“Oh,” is all Kojiro says. A quick look back at him and Kaoru can see the surprise coloring his expression, blinking again at the pregnancy tests sitting right in front of him, an obvious answer to his question. “Let’s sit down,” he says, bringing Kaoru to the couch. He likely does it for Kaoru’s sake as well as his own, an attempt at regaining at least some composure before discussing what they should even do next. 

Kaoru watches Kojiro’s eyes flit to the tests again, taking in the pink stripes decorating them. He lets out a deep, stressed sigh, one Kaoru has never heard come out of him before, and he immediately feels awful. “I don’t have to have it, if you don’t want me to,” he blurts out, his hormones and brain a mess, all of his rationality having been thrown out the window.

Kojiro actually looks shocked, then. His brows shoot up, clearly taken aback by the suggestion. “What? No, don’t say that,” he hurriedly replies, right as he takes both of Kaoru’s hands in his. It does wonders to anchor him, to bring him a little bit back down to earth. “In the end, it’s up to you, Kaoru.”

“But I don’t know what I want to do!” Kaoru cries, rendering Kojiro’s attempts at calming him down completely useless. He can feel himself spiraling, now that he’s being faced with the realization that he might actually want to keep it. “If I have it, I don’t want you to feel like you have to stick around…I don’t want you to have to settle for me just because I’m having your baby. I mean, we’ve never really talked about this before, and I don’t want you to say you’ll stay just because you think it’ll calm me down, and - “

“Kaoru,” Kojiro interrupts, stalling his rambling, if only for a moment. “No matter what you decide to do, I’ll support you.” 

Kaoru just blinks at him. He can feel tears welling up at the corner of his eyes, and he doesn’t know what it is, the hormones or the unpredictability of the situation or both, but everything about that makes him want to lay his head down and sob. It’s all so overwhelming, to think about a future he hadn’t seen happening for another five years. “It’s not that easy, Kojiro.”

“If we stay together - “

“But what if we don’t?” Kaoru rudely cuts him off. Kojiro shuts up, then. “What if things don’t work out?”

“Why do you assume that’ll happen?” Kojiro counters. He’s endlessly patient, though stern enough that Kaoru knows he’s serious. In any other instance, he’d appreciate it; now, though, it just stings, to think he hurt Kojiro. “Is there not a world where you and I could make it work?”

“I don’t know,” Kaoru says, more of a wet, sad little whimper than anything. The tears are freely flowing now, running down his cheeks, not enough that he has to cover his face but enough that he feels ashamed for being such a crybaby, like his mother always said he was. “I don’t know, I don’t know…” 

Kojiro, thankfully, lets the conversation drop, realizing it’s much more effective to pull Kaoru into a tight hug instead of pestering him with far-off theoreticals while he’s highly emotional. Kaoru wraps his arms around Kojiro’s middle and squeezes him, his fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, a warm comfort from the stress overflowing from him. His tears soak the shoulder of Kojiro’s shirt, but he doesn’t say a word about it, just clutching Kaoru in his arms. 

“I mean it,” Kojiro promises, his voice low and soothing in Kaoru’s ear. “I’ll support you, no matter what.”

And it’s such a naive thing to say. Kaoru doubts Kojiro really understands what he’s committing to. Kojiro has a normal family, with normal parents who love each other as much as they did the first day they met. Kaoru, meanwhile, has seen firsthand what happens when someone settles - he had been the product of that relationship. The last thing he would ever want is for Kojiro to feel like he has to stick with Kaoru out of obligation, whether that means them getting married for the baby or Kojiro thinking he has to remain in the baby’s life even if they broke up. Not that Kaoru thinks he would be a deadbeat father, but, more than anything, he doesn’t want his hypothetical child to grow up with a father who’s only there because he feels like he has to, or until he decides he’s tired of them. He had been that child, and he wouldn’t dare let it happen to any of his. 

But then, it isn’t fair to think Kojiro would do that. He doesn’t know what he’s thinking - nothing makes sense right now, not when there’s so much to consider, not when there’s so much happening inside of him, his mind and his body alike. 

“Just stay with me tonight,” Kaoru says against his shoulder, his face sticky with tears and his throat terribly dry. He knows he’s being dramatic, that he isn’t thinking clearly, that he needs to come back to this when he feels less distressed. Any decision he makes right now won’t be rational, so he decides it’s better to not make any at all, even if the pressure to hangs over his head, weighs down his shoulders. The conversation they’ve had tonight hasn’t even been that successful, the two of them not coming to a conclusion about what to do next. He wants to give Kojiro an answer, but he just can’t - not until he’s calmed down, slept, and recovered from the initial shock. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

“Okay,” Kojiro agrees. “I’ll stay.” 

Kaoru doesn’t even remember falling asleep. He just remembers crying his eyes out for what feels like hours, and Kojiro holding him, so close and so strong, not complaining for even a moment. He withstands Kaoru’s meltdown, soothing him until his tears inevitably dry up, and probably takes him to bed. Kaoru isn’t sure - the last thing he remembers thinking is that, regardless of whether or not Kojiro wants to be with him, that it would be selfish to try and convince him to. Not when he’s this much of a handful, the burden he had almost forgotten he was. 

I can’t ask him to stay, Kaoru thinks blearily, barely a coherent thought at all, before drifting off to a deep, dreamless sleep.

Kojiro, true to his word, does keep an eye on Eri and Haruhi. 

Kaoru hadn’t asked him to, but he texts Kaoru throughout the days that they have Haruhi, updating him frequently. They’re usually innocuous texts, saying things like Eri and Haruhi made cookies together with a picture of said cookies attached, or Eri helped put Haruhi to bed tonight, and she fell asleep pretty quickly. Although they hadn’t talked about doing this, it does put Kaoru’s mind at ease, even just a little. 

It’s not just the good things, though. Sometimes his texts are a short paragraph, saying something like, We went out for ice cream today after dinner. Haruhi accidentally let some of it drip on herself, and then on Eri’s new pants…you can imagine that Eri got upset. I managed to keep it from getting worse, and the two of them apologized to each other. I don’t think there’s any need to worry. 

So yes, if it makes Kaoru feel a little closer to Kojiro, then that’s his business; he’s mostly relieved that Kojiro is keeping him updated, after he had to learn about the hug from Haruhi herself instead of the two adults watching her. He still feels antsy about Eri, but he thinks that if Kojiro is there, then there’s less to worry about.

One Saturday, in the beginning of May, he gets one of these update texts while halfway through another cheesy romance movie, finishing off the last of the sushi he had picked up at the conbini. He opens it leisurely with one hand, sticking another piece of sushi in his mouth right before reading it. 

Kojiro [5:28 pm]: Bringing Haruhi back to your place early. I’ll explain when I get there. 

Kaoru blinks. He even leans forward in his seat, glaring at his phone as it lays on the chabudai, squinting as if it would make the message make more sense. His sushi forgotten, he grabs his phone and sends a text back. 

Kaoru [5:29 pm]: Did something happen?

Kojiro [5:30 pm]: I can’t really text right now. She’s okay. Will tell you when I get there

That doesn’t make Kaoru feel any better. His appetite is very quickly replaced with the all too familiar dread of anxiety gnawing at his stomach, radiating all the way up to his chest. Kojiro only lives fifteen minutes away, but the wait is agony. It’s all Kaoru can do to breathe, to remind himself that Kojiro said she’s okay. Maybe she’s just having a bad day. Maybe she just needs to be somewhere familiar. But then, her father’s apartment is just as familiar, and even if she’s had a bad night, she’s never had to come home this early before. 

He paces around the house, circling the island, trying to focus long enough to make some tea to calm down the acid rising in his throat and being barely able to put a kettle on the stove. He doesn’t even turn the burner on, choosing instead to tidy up the small mess he made in the living room, stashing away the empty wine glass and half-drank wine bottle before Haruhi comes home. He debates throwing the sushi away for a good minute before deciding to force himself to down the rest of it, just so he has something in his system in case worst comes to worst and he can’t eat for a while because of whatever’s happened with Haruhi.

Kaoru’s heart sinks deep, deep down to his stomach when he hears the doorbell ring. 

When he opens it, he finds both Haruhi and Kojiro standing outside. Haruhi is staring at the porch, at her slightly dirty pink sneakers, for all of two seconds before her head jerks up to look at Kaoru. Her button nose is a bright cherry red, her forest green hair a fluffy, frizzy mess, but Kaoru doesn’t get much time to look over her before she bursts into tears and rushes to him, wrapping her arms around his legs and wailing, “Mama!” 

Kaoru is concerned, to say the very least. He pats Haruhi’s back, immediately shifting into overprotectiveness, holding his daughter close to him as she buries her face into the fabric of his lounging yukata. “Oh, my dear, what’s wrong?” he coos, kneeling down and scooting back just enough that Kojiro can step in, closing the door behind him. 

“My head hurts,” Haruhi sniffles, before rubbing the top of her head with a hand. Kaoru looks for himself, smoothing her hair down with his hands, and finds that her scalp is red - not an angry, we need to go to the emergency room type of red, but an irritated red that Kaoru’s never seen before. “K-Kitamura-san brushed it too hard and it hurt,” she babbles, her voice wobbly and wet. Haruhi rarely ever cries, Kaoru knows - she never cries when she falls off of a swing or scrapes her knee, her absurdly high pain tolerance protecting her from sobbing. It must be serious, then, if she’s this upset. 

Kaoru glances up at Kojiro from where his eyes are trained Haruhi’s scalp, and while he can’t see his face, he knows what he must look like - fierce, quietly enraged, barely keeping himself from yelling at Kojiro for their daughter’s sake just to make himself feel better. “What happened?” he asks, keeping his voice level, because he knows it won’t do any good to sound mad when Haruhi is already so aggrieved. 

“We were gonna go out to eat,” Kojiro says, and he sounds as weary as he looks, his gaze downcast, his expression dark. “Haruhi asked her to brush her hair for her. I was still getting ready, and I thought it was fine, but I heard her yelp and ran out as soon as I did - “

“Haruhi had a tangle,” she adds, for more detail. “And when I was talking she brushed it really hard and I don’t know why but it hurt.” 

“And she asked to go home,” Kojiro finishes for the both of them. He bends down too, his hand placed comfortingly over Haruhi’s back, nearly brushing against Kaoru’s own before Kaoru jerks his away. Kojiro doesn’t notice; he sighs, clearly disappointed in himself. “I should have been watching them.” 

“It’s okay,” Haruhi says easily. She turns, leaning up on her tip-toes to hug Kojiro around his neck. It’s heartwarming, Kaoru thinks, to see just how close they really are when he hardly ever gets to. She sniffs, and while most of her tears have dried her nose is still runny. “Haruhi isn’t mad at Papa.”

Kaoru often wonders what he did to deserve such a sweet, loving, intelligent little girl, and it’s only now that he’s hit with the realization that oh - she wasn’t born like this. For Haruhi to decide that what happened wasn’t Kojiro’s fault, and for her to forgive him, speaks to the way they’ve raised her, even if not together. It’s an unsettling reminder that Kaoru had made such a monumental mistake in keeping Kojiro away, a reminder that he has to push to the very back of his mind so he can focus on the issue at hand. 

“My Haruhi is so sweet,” Kojiro says, his voice terribly fond, his arm wrapping around her in a tight hug. While Kaoru just sits on the ground awkwardly, he watches the father-daughter exchange, knowing that a hug from Kojiro is warm and comforting enough to make all of your worries melt away. He can see it working, how Haruhi has stopped crying, how she rubs her nose on Kojiro’s sleeve. He doesn’t flinch, all too used to the mess that comes with babies, toddlers, and children alike. “I’m so sorry,” he barely whispers, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. 

Kaoru finds himself pretending for one solitary, agonizing moment, that the three of them could be like this - a normal family unit, coming together to comfort one or two or all of them - before remembering why Haruhi is even upset in the first place. Melancholy turns into slowly simmering fury, and Kaoru knows the second he’s alone with Kojiro, he won’t be able to hold himself back.

For now, though, he runs a hand over Haruhi’s head. “Do you want something to eat?” he asks. Haruhi turns her head to look at him and nods, her eyes puffy, her nose still red and matching her chubby cheeks. She waddles over to him, just a couple of steps, and wraps him up in a hug too. “Oh,” Kaoru sighs, squeezing his arms around her, “my sweet girl.”

“I’ll cook us something,” Kojiro says resolutely. He stands, then, and Kaoru’s eyes follow him up. “It’s the least I can do.”

And he’s right. It is the absolute least he can do, but, well - “I was planning on grocery shopping tomorrow…I don’t have any food right now.”

Kojiro blinks at him. “What did you have for dinner?”

“...Sushi?” 

“Can I go?” Haruhi asks, with another dramatic sniff. She’s pulled away from Kaoru now, enough that she can look at him with those big, hopeful eyes of hers. God, she looks just like Kojiro, Kaoru thinks, as if he’s not struck by the thought every day of his life. 

“Well, Haruhi,” Kaoru starts, “I wanted to wash your hair for you and brush it so your head feels better. Can Mama do that?” 

Haruhi thinks for a moment, swaying a bit on her feet. He can tell she’s really thinking about it, because usually she gives an enthusiastic “yes!” or an apathetic “no, I don’t want to.” Kaoru waits patiently, because he knows that she’s had a stressful day already. “Yeah,” she finally answers, and Kaoru doesn’t have it in him to reprimand her casual, barely impolite reply. 

It’s decided, then; Kojiro leaves to go to the store, and Kaoru coaxes Haruhi to the bathtub. He makes sure the water is lukewarm at most before running it over her head, wetting her hair and then ever so gently scrubbing the shampoo into her scalp. It’s relaxing, in a strange way, since they can both focus on the careful motions of Kaoru’s fingers in between her strands of hair. It lends itself well to Kaoru getting distracted, lost in his own thoughts. 

He knows it’s ridiculous of him to think, but he can’t help it; his mind wanders, and comes to the conclusion that had he not broken up with Kojiro, back when he was young and pregnant and barely knew what he was doing, Haruhi wouldn’t have been hurt - however inadvertently - and this entire situation wouldn’t be happening. There’s no way he could have known this six years ago, of course, not when he was so scared of what the future held for just him and Kojiro, so much so that he had cut off any chance of them having one together. It’s much easier to blame himself, though. 

Haruhi has calmed down and doesn’t seem that upset by it anymore, not when Kaoru dries her hair softly with a fluffy towel, but Kaoru can’t stop thinking he could have done more to prevent it. Maybe he could have cut off Eri from seeing Haruhi after they first met, maybe he could have listened to his mother and talked to Kojiro about it sooner, maybe he could have not given her a third chance. Maybe, maybe, maybe, but the fact of the matter is he did none of it, and now is left to pick up the pieces of his inaction and his desire to not seem like he’s still trying to control Kojiro’s life.

Kojiro takes longer at the grocery store than he probably should, and Kaoru is more than sure that he’s talking to Eri while he’s gone, just so he can have the privacy of doing it in his car or standing on the side of the street. Kaoru is still brushing through Haruhi’s hair with a comb, taking care to not pull too hard or try to rip through tangles, when Kojiro comes back, grocery bags in hand. He seems ragged, tired, but he still smiles when Haruhi does while running up to him for a hug. 

It’s just further confirmation of how foolish Kaoru had been, to think things couldn’t have worked out. But now, he’ll never know. Not as long as he’s unable to tell Kojiro how he feels, and not as long as Kojiro seems to be interested in everyone but him. 

It’s not like I can really blame him, Kaoru thinks, resentful. 

Dinner goes by, and it’s strange. Everything tonight is just strange - the three of them eat dinner like a family would, with Haruhi babbling about her week at school and the two of them listening intently, hands brushing when they pass dishes between each other and jerking away just as quickly. Kaoru doesn’t know how he gets through it at all. Catching glimpses of Kojiro laughing, or their eyes meeting while they’re talking and lingering for just a bit too long, all of it adds up to be too much for Kaoru to bear. It makes him think of a life where this is normal, where he hadn’t ruined everything so disastrously, and where maybe, Kojiro could love him again.

But that time has passed, just like everything does. There’s nothing Kaoru can do to go back, to change his mind and try to make things work, to fight against himself and his irrationality a little bit harder than he had. Even if he could, there was still no guarantee that things would be fine, so he finds himself stuck in the middle, regret creeping into every nook and cranny of his body until it threatens to overflow, and logic being the only thing that keeps him from letting it spill out. 

He hasn’t moved on, he knows, but all he can do is deal with the aftermath of his half-decade mistake and keep pressing forward anyways. If not for his sake, then for Haruhi’s.

After Haruhi is put to bed, more or less back to her usual self, Kojiro says, “We should talk.” He’s sitting on Kaoru’s couch, looking unfamiliar, out of place. Kaoru remembers that Kojiro’s never been in his home this long before, has never sat on his couch or ate at his dinner table and he wonders if Kojiro feels as awkward as he does. 

Kaoru stands, his arms crossed in front of Kojiro. He doesn’t feel as furious as he did hours earlier, but he hasn’t really stopped being upset. He has so much to say, and it would be easy to just go off on Kojiro, make him bear the brunt of Kaoru’s rage, but what would that really do? Kaoru would feel better, sure, but it wouldn’t solve the root of the problem. 

“I meant it when I said if something happened again, I wouldn’t let Haruhi be around Kitamura-san,” Kaoru says. “I’ve given her chance after chance. I thought it was just my anxiety clouding my judgment. But whether or not it was an accident, the moment my daughter comes home to me and starts sobbing, I’m going to do everything I can to keep it from happening again.”

“I understand.”

“And it’s not my place to tell you what to do with your life,” Kaoru continues, and maybe he shouldn’t, not with how stern he sounds and what he’s about to say, “but if you don’t break up with her, I’ll lose all respect for you - as a father and a man.” 

The words leave him before he can really understand their impact. He still has the nasty habit of saying the first thing on his mind, of telling a person what he’s really thinking without any regard to whether they want to hear it or not, or if he should even say it. In this instance, though, he stands by it, so he lets Kojiro absorb the words, not trying to backtrack. 

Kojiro just leans forward in his seat, his elbows on his knees and his hands covering his face, his nose. They come to rest under his chin, and he just looks at Kaoru with an expression he’s rarely ever seen - one of irritation, or even offense - and says, “Do you really think I’d stay with someone who hurt my child?” 

It gives Kaoru pause. He gropes around for an answer, because oh, he’s done what he always does - assumes the worst without any consideration that he might be wrong. There’s nothing good he can say, no way he can defend himself. “Of course I don’t.”

“Then I really wish you would stop acting like it,” Kojiro bites out. He’s not angry - he’s still perfectly calm - but Kaoru can tell he’s hurt, and that he’s the reason why. “I understand that you’ve spent the most time raising her, but, Kaoru - Haruhi’s one of the most important things in my life. Don’t you think it upset me, too? I mean, hell, it happened while she was at my apartment, when I was supposed to be watching her. I already feel like shit, so I just - “ he inhales, deep and shaky, “I just don’t need you to rub my face in it, okay?” 

Kaoru blinks. He is, for the first time in a while, speechless. Kojiro is usually incredibly slow to fury, but then, he’s probably been stewing over this for the past few months while Kaoru inadvertently accused him of not caring enough. It wasn’t fair of him, no matter how upset he was. 

He may not be able to make up for the past, but he can make up for what he’s done in the present. His arms, still crossed, slacken, and he just says a soft, genuine, “I’m sorry.”

“When I came here,” Kojiro keeps going, now that the wall between them has broken, however slightly, “I knew I was going to break up with her.” 

Kaoru walks around the chabudai, still set up on the floor from earlier in the day. He sits next to Kojiro, far enough away that they aren’t too close, but enough so that they can keep their voices down, so they don’t wake Haruhi. “I’m sorry,” he says again, because he means it, and he wants Kojiro to know just how badly he does. “I was unfair to you, especially when I know you’ve been trying your best. It must be difficult to date and have a child.” 

“You wouldn’t know?” Kojiro asks with a huff of a laugh, lighthearted yet still sullen. 

“I haven’t really dated anyone,” Kaoru admits, his words feeling raw and far too intimate to confess to his ex. “Not since I had Haruhi.” 

Kojiro seems surprised by that. His eyes widened a bit, like he wasn’t expecting to hear that - but it’s not like he didn’t know, just that Kaoru had never outright told him. “Oh.” 

Kaoru clears his throat, sitting up a bit straighter, in an attempt to move on. “Well.” He takes a breath, steadying himself. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t glad you’re ending things with her.” 

“I know,” Kojiro replies. He sounds more playful than anything, even if his words still feel a bit hollow. “I’m always going to put Haruhi first, though. You know that, right?” 

“I know,” Kaoru reassures him. He wants to rub his back soothingly, or maybe take his hand in his to squeeze it, the same way he used to way back when. Of course, he does neither - he doesn’t have the courage to. Even just looking at each other the way they are makes him nervous, because Kaoru doesn’t remember the last time he held eye contact with Kojiro like this, not when he didn’t have to. “I trust that you will. I’m sorry that I ever implied otherwise.”

Kojiro just looks at him. Really looks at him, blinking slowly, his eyes trained on Kaoru’s, on his expression, taking in his words and letting them sit for a moment. Kaoru is tempted to look away when he can feel the heat rising to his cheeks, but just as he’s about to Kojiro sighs and stands up from the couch. “I guess I better go do it, then.” 

“Oh,” Kaoru says softly. He stands up too after a moment. “Okay.”

Kaoru leads him to the door, watches him slip his shoes back on, and says nothing. For once, for the first time in what feels like forever, the silence between them feels comfortable. Kaoru almost doesn’t want him to leave - he considers asking him to stay, under the guise of staying for Haruhi, but decides against it. The sooner this situation is dealt with, the better. 

Kojiro stops outside of the door frame when he steps outside onto the porch, though. He turns to look at Kaoru, only illuminated by the moon overhead and the light streaming out from inside the house. Kaoru presses his hand on the doorframe, and he opens his mouth to speak when Kojiro just blurts out, so, so genuinely, with none of that sickening flirtatious tone of his, “You know, maybe you were smart to not date around. It’s always been easier to parent when it’s just you and me.” 

That hits Kaoru, makes him feel like he’s had the breath knocked out of him. How is he even supposed to respond to that? What does he even mean by that? That it’s just easier to parent when he only has to worry about Kaoru, or that it’s easier to parent because it’s Kaoru? Has he always felt this way? Why did he even date, if he felt this way? Or is he just realizing it now that he’s seen how difficult dating while a child is? 

There’s too many questions, and Kaoru cannot ask any of them, not if he wants to save face. Instead, he just deadpans, “I’m not going to be a rebound, if that’s what you’re implying.” 

It’s snarky enough that it makes Kojiro laugh, and a smile threatens to twist Kaoru’s lips upwards - it reminds him of when they first met, how he had said something similar to Kojiro then. “You’d never be a rebound, Kaoru,” he says, so tender and fond and genuine and it’s one of those things where Kaoru just cannot tell what he means by it. It could mean so many things, or could be so simple, and there’s absolutely no way of knowing, not unless he asked. And Kaoru, under no circumstances, can just ask. 

Besides, Kojiro’s just always been like this - he’s always blurred the line between sincerity and flirtation, unless the situation called for solemnity. Kaoru had spent too much time when they were together trying to decipher anything he said - whether a compliment was serious or not, whether something he said had a loaded double meaning that he couldn’t figure out, or even if the way he looked at him meant something more - and he hadn’t really missed having to do so. 

But there’s something nostalgic about it. Something familiar and habitual about the guessing game, the push and pull of their relationship, Kaoru always being the one to run away and Kojiro pursuing. It makes it feel like less has changed than Kaoru thought - if they can still act like this, then perhaps they could at least be friends.

So, in typical Kaoru fashion, he frowns at Kojiro, watching as he wanders down the steps and back to his car. “Go home, Kojiro,” he says bluntly, and if he finds any joy in the smile Kojiro throws over his shoulder, he keeps it to himself.

He shuts the door, locks it, and slouches against it as buries his face in his hands. What an asshole, he thinks, even though he knows his cheeks are flushed a pretty, soft red.

22 - October

Kaoru makes his decision soon after he finds out he’s pregnant, but he knows - he knows Kojiro won’t like it, and he puts it off longer than he should. It’s only when the wind gets nippier and the leaves begin to turn various shades of maple red and burnt orange that he decides he needs to suck it up and talk to him. 

The thing is, he’s tried thinking up a hundred, a thousand different ways of doing so, but he still isn’t sure how to tell Kojiro he wants to keep the baby. 

He doesn’t understand it himself. Everything going on in his life should be enough to convince him to not have it - the last year of university, only being twenty-two and having his whole life ahead of him, not having the best support system. There’s so much happening all at once, it’s too much all at once and everything just feels so complicated, but something in him just - he cannot do it, and he barely understands why. He even ends up outside a clinic a couple of times, determined to go through with it, but he just can’t. There isn’t some moral reason for it either - although it’s generally frowned upon, Kaoru thinks that if he really wanted to, he would. But he chooses to keep the baby. No one forces him to, and he doesn’t feel that he has to, for Kojiro or for anyone else. He wants to, as ridiculous as it sounds. He wants to be a parent, he wants to raise this baby, even though he knows it won’t be easy. He has no idealistic misconceptions about parenthood, especially not with his life being what it is, but all he knows for sure is that he wants this.

He thinks about it a lot, and one of the only reasons he can come to about why he wants this baby, besides his own visceral want for it, is that he loves Kojiro. He loves him so much, and he wants to keep something they’ve made together, however much of an accident it was, however selfish and idiotic it seems. Every bone in his body screams that he’s being naive, that he shouldn’t do it, but he balances it out with the other big decision that comes with him keeping the baby. 

Now all he has to do is go through with it. 

He asks Kojiro to meet at the park near his apartment, partly because it’s big enough that they can have an intense discussion but also public enough that neither of them could really cause a scene, and partly because Kaoru just needs to get out of his apartment. He’s been locked up studying, thinking, and panicking, and the idea of having this discussion in a closed, almost claustrophobic space makes him more stressed than he can even describe. Not that a park will make it any better, but it will at least be marginally easier to handle. 

The weather is perfect, as if it’s mocking him. It’s crisp, still warm but windy enough that he has to wear a sweater when he goes out, fallen autumn leaves crunching under his boots. They had made plans to meet at a specific bench, right in front of a jungle gym. He had picked it for the ease of finding it, but now it feels like a cruel irony, having to sit and watch toddlers and elementary schoolers play and run around as their parents keep a close eye on them from afar. Kaoru’s hand presses against his stomach, suddenly feeling like he wants to throw up, and he’s sure it’s from anxiety, since recently the nausea that accompanies him wherever he goes hasn’t been as debilitating. It’s a small favor on his body’s part, though he wishes it could stall the ensuing panic attack he can feel coming on. 

Kojiro arrives twenty minutes later, having had to trek across the city to meet Kaoru. He’s in a cute bomber jacket that makes Kaoru have to swallow thickly. It’s strange, how they haven’t said a word to each other yet Kaoru already wants to cry. 

He sits next to him on the bench, close; to anyone watching, they obviously look like lovers. “Hey,” Kojiro says, like he always does, and Kaoru holds onto it, sears it into his memory. 

“Hi,” he says, and he finds his voice comes out shakier than he had wanted it to. He needs to remain resolute, steadfast in his decision. He knows how easily Kojiro could convince him otherwise, just by saying a nice word or giving him a kind look that always makes him melt. “So.”

“So,” Kojiro repeats, goading him on. He leans in a little closer, his arm coming to rest on the back of the bench. Kaoru would lean into it, if it was any other moment.

“I decided to keep the baby.” That part is easy enough to get out, because he knows Kojiro will be thrilled to hear it. He’s seen him with his little cousins, his nieces and nephews, and he’s a natural - Kaoru thinks, if he can’t give him anything else after this, he can at least give him this happiness. 

He is, predictably, ecstatic. He breaks into a smile, though restrained enough that it could trick Kaoru into thinking he feels otherwise. It’s useless, not when Kaoru knows him the way he does. “That’s - I mean, that’s great,” he stutters, trying not to sound too overjoyed. It might be charming, as if the next thing Kaoru says won’t immediately make that smile disappear. 

“I think we should break up.”

Again, predictably, Kojiro’s face falls. It’s almost instantaneous, the way his face darkens just as quickly as it had lit up, and Kaoru can barely stand to look at him. 

Kaoru had just barely been able to say it. He’d been preparing for days now, trying to find the right way to let Kojiro down easy, to break things off as seamlessly as possible. He had tried hardening his heart, so it would make it easier, but it hadn’t done a thing at all. He sees Kojiro’s expression, one of utter confusion, sadness, and shock all balled together, and he wants to fucking sob. 

There’s no coming back from this, he knows - he has to follow through. He has to, even if the broken look on Kojiro’s face tempts him to take it all back. 

“...What?” Kojiro asks, appalled. Kaoru can’t blame him, though it makes his heart ache to see Kojiro, usually so sunny and happy, so deeply depressed, grasping at anything he can to understand what Kaoru’s thinking. “I - why keep the baby?” 

“I want to raise it,” Kaoru says. He takes care to sound detached, because maybe, if the last thought Kojiro has of him is someone cold and miserable, he can save him the heartbreak. That’s the absolute least he can do, he thinks. “But I want to raise it alone.”

“Why?” Kojiro all but cries. He’s clutching the back of the park bench, but he’s not inching any closer to Kaoru than he already was, not that it matters - Kaoru almost can’t look him in the eye, no matter if he was up close like this or standing tens and tens of feet away. 

“We barely know each other, Kojiro. I mean, think about it - it’s not even been a year.” Kaoru has prepared this, and everything else after he knows he has to wing, but maybe this will be enough. It’s all Kaoru has to say, his reasoning wrapped into one nice little speech. “You don’t know what I’ll be like a year from now, or five, or ten. You might stay with me because of the baby and realize you actually hate me, after seeing me at my worst or realizing just how independent I actually am. And if you did, if we got married and you decided you had enough, I do not want my child to have to go through that. I don’t want them to see us grow cold with each other, or see you start to hate me because of who I am, or have to watch us go through a divorce, and then only one of us can have custody. And I’m scared - “ here he chokes up, because now he’s getting far too vulnerable, showing Kojiro a side of himself he never wanted him to see, “I’m scared that I might lose myself. That I might become a shell of who I used to be - I’m terrified, Kojiro.” 

Kojiro takes a moment to take it all in. Kaoru just sits there, feeling stupid with the way tears are threatening to spill over and down his cheeks, despite being the one doing the dumping. “Kaoru,” Kojiro starts, slowly, “how can you be sure any of that will happen?”

“I can’t, and that’s why,” Kaoru gets out, sniffing, trying to will himself not to cry. “That’s why…that’s why I just can’t take the chance. I’d rather us just break up now and get used to it before having a baby, than be five years into a relationship and our child has to watch us start to hate each other.”

“Why do you assume that’ll happen?” Kojiro asks. It reminds Kaoru of the night he found out he was pregnant, how serious he had sounded then. “I understand why, but we aren’t anything like your parents. I mean, have we been dating this whole time just for you to assume we’ll end up hating each other? What was the point of any of this, then?”

“No!” Kaoru exclaims, though he hadn’t meant to. He lowers his voice, so as not to garner stares from the strangers surrounding them in the park. “No, I dated you because I love you, and I just - I can’t stand the idea of me even possibly hurting you.”

“So you decided that for me?” Kojiro grits out. Kaoru can tell he’s mad, now, though Kojiro’s anger is more of a low simmer than Kaoru’s dramatic outbursts. “I don’t even get a say in anything?”

“I know you’d want to stay with me,” he reasons. “That’s why - “

Kojiro, to his surprise, lets out a bitter, almost cynical huff of a laugh. He pulls back from Kaoru, and that in itself is hurtful enough, without him saying, “You don’t even want to try? I mean, God, Kaoru, you could really break up with me this easily?”

“It’s not easy!” Kaoru cries out, and this time, he doesn’t even think to keep his voice down.. He’s beginning to realize, now, that no matter where they went, this likely would have happened. Kaoru is too temperamental to not cause a scene, no matter how hard he tries. “You think this is easy for me? Kojiro, I agonized over this! I decided to do this because I thought it would be best for us - “

“You thought it would be best for you.”

“I thought it would be best for you! I was always thinking of you!” Kaoru can’t stop now, as incensed and emotional as he is. He’s not even fully aware that he’s crying, can’t even feel the hot streaks of tears fall down his cheeks. “You don’t understand how scared I am. To you, it’s easy, because you’re so fucking perfect - well, I’m not!” 

“Kaoru - ”

“I’m neurotic, I’m depressed - ”

“Kaoru - “

“I can’t make friends as easily as you, I get angry quickly - “

“Kaoru!” Kojiro exclaims, though Kaoru ignores him, too wrapped up in his own spiral. 

“And I thought maybe I could do one good thing in my life!” If there are people staring at them, Kaoru doesn’t care anymore. How could he care about any of them, when he so desperately needs Kojiro to understand? “I could have this baby, and I would be happy; and I could let you go, so you could be happy!”

“And you didn’t think for a moment that I could be happy with you?” Kojiro counters, pointedly not raising his voice but speaking so firmly that Kaoru knows he’s serious. He knows, but he just can’t believe him. There’s no way someone could love anyone like him, this prone to meltdowns and this unreasonable. “That we couldn’t be happy together?”

“I would just make your life miserable,” Kaoru says, and he can feel the tears now, and tries desperately to wipe them away with the sleeve of his sweater. “I can’t - I don’t even want to let that possibly happen! I can’t do it, Kojiro, I can’t.”

And, maybe, something clicks in Kojiro’s head. Maybe he realizes there’s no changing Kaoru’s mind, or that Kaoru really is as unsettling as he says he is. Kaoru doesn’t know; he’s still wiping his tears, his chest wracked with sobs that he can’t stop, that hiccup in his throat. “If you really think that,” Kojiro begins, slowly enough that Kaoru’s frazzled, frantic brain can keep up, “then I guess I can’t change your mind.” 

Too stubborn, Kaoru thinks. Stubborn and fucked up and a freak. 

“But I want to be part of my baby’s life,” Kojiro continues. Kaoru glances up at him then, because of all the things for him to say, he wasn’t expecting that; though, really thinking about it, he probably should have. “Because it’s my child too, Kaoru.” 

Kaoru had planned on it. He didn’t know how it would work, but he didn’t want to have Kojiro’s baby and then never let him see it again. They’d have to figure it out once it was actually here, but Kaoru agrees immediately, nodding. “Of course,” he sniffs, now somewhat calmed down, but not completely. 

“It’s up to you how much you want me to be in your life while you’re pregnant,” Kojiro adds. “But when its born, I don’t want it to grow up not knowing its father.”

“Of course,” Kaoru repeats, because that’s all he can say. “I would never keep you from it.” 

Kojiro lets out a shaky, defeated sigh. Kaoru notices, then, that the rim of his eyes are red, more than likely from held back tears. “Are you sure about this?”

This is the out Kaoru had been scared of. Faced with a Kojiro that’s this heartbroken and close to tears himself, Kaoru wants to say no. He wants to change his mind, to say he had made a terrible mistake and that he had come to his senses. But Kaoru knows that what might hurt now for a bit would be nothing compared to a lifetime of resentment and, more than likely, hatred of one another. 

So he steels himself, and he nods. He forces himself to say, “I am,” and somehow, he’s able to watch the expression on Kojiro’s face turn into one of begrudging acceptance, the dejection settling into Kojiro’s face and looking so, so foreign on his features. 

“If that’s all you had to say,” Kojiro says, voice strained, “then I really need to go.”

Kaoru knows he doesn’t. He had picked this day specifically because Kojiro had no classes, had no plans until the nighttime tattoo apprenticeship he went to every other day and on the weekends, too. So much about him that Kaoru wouldn’t need to remember anymore, yet knows he won’t ever forget. He never could, even if he tried, not with how much Kojiro means to him. 

Kaoru thinks, one day, that Kojiro will see what he means - that he’ll be happily married, with a perfect wife and perfect kids and the very first one that Kaoru gave him. That he’ll thank him for making the decision for both of them, because he had been right. Even if Kaoru never moves on from him, at least he gave him something invaluable as a parting gift - the chance at normalcy, a chance he would probably never find with Kaoru. He would be satisfied if Kojiro could be happy, whether or not that happiness was found with him. 

He lets him go. 

Kaoru’s told the very next day that things are over between Kojiro and Eri, and while he shouldn’t be, he’s surprised at the immediacy. 

He doesn’t pry about it, though. Kojiro, despite leaving in somewhat high spirits, seems more solemn when Kaoru sees him next, the smile he puts on for Haruhi dull and hollow for just a few days. Kojiro only indulges Kaoru once, a week after the break up, when he had already seemed to be doing better. 

“I know I said I saw a future with her,” Kojiro said, while Haruhi was busy playing with the alley cat, “and I did, at one point. I loved her. But I think she was more invested than I was. My mind was always somewhere else, especially near the end.”

Kaoru chews on that for the rest of the day. 

“My mind was always somewhere else”?  What does that even mean? Surely, it could be as simple as him being more focused on his job, on Haruhi, on his own life, but Kojiro’s never been someone to ignore the person he’s dating. And Kaoru had seen it himself - they had seemed happy, Kojiro had wanted things to work with her and Haruhi, and that was one of the reasons Kaoru kept giving her chances. If Kojiro loved her, Kaoru wanted her to have the opportunity to make up for her mistakes, especially since he knew Kojiro wouldn’t date someone evil or uncaring, much less let them meet his daughter. 

But if he had been less invested in the relationship than she was, had been focused on something else, then what was it? Was it Haruhi? That would make sense, but it wasn’t like he was the only person raising her. He had the chance to balance a love life and his daughter - he never had to choose one or the other.

Was it me? 

Kaoru shakes his head, tucking a flower into a bouquet. It’s too easy to let his mind wander into dangerous places, to let it betray him and fill him with false hopes, however momentarily. It seems to be all he does these days, anyways - daydreaming about what could have been, what he ruined, what their lives would have been like if Kaoru had let him stay. 

He’s almost so lost in his reverie that he doesn’t recognize the tingling of the bell hanging over the door, not until after it chimes. He glances up from the bouquet as soon as he realizes a customer is here. “Hello, how can I - “

Kaoru stops short, because the absolute last person he ever expected to see is standing in the middle of his shop.

Eri is glancing around at all of the premade bouquets, the potted plants sitting carefully on various shelves, the fridge that holds individual flowers that Kaoru needs to restock soon. She looks like she’s just gotten off work, if her smart pantsuit is anything to go off of. It stands in stark contrast to Kaoru’s own apron and more casual clothes, smeared with dirt and other, more permanent stains. When their eyes meet, Kaoru can tell she’s not sad, or upset, or angry at him - she looks perfectly fine, in fact, and it makes him wonder why she’s even here. 

“I had to drop off my spare apartment key to Kojiro,” Eri explains, before Kaoru can ask. “And I’ve always been curious about your shop…it’s cute,” she says, though it doesn’t sound mocking. It’s still unsettling, to say the least, to have his ex’s now ex in his shop. He’s glad it’s a slow day, and that there’s no other customers - he feels a bit affronted, actually. 

“You didn’t run into Haruhi there, did you?” Kaoru asks, because he had sent Haruhi off with her father when she had asked. 

Eri’s expression changes a little, morphing into something like a very, very subtle form of shame. “You were right, you know,” she says, ignoring Kaoru’s question completely. He raises an eyebrow, coaxing her on. “I wasn’t ready to help raise a child. I thought I could. I knew how important she was to Kojiro, and I wanted to keep him. You can make fun of me if you want, but,” and here she sighs, a shaky, nervous thing, because she’s likely never gotten over her apprehensiveness towards Kaoru since they first met, “I really wanted to be able to, so we could stay together. But I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“So you lied to him?” Kaoru asks, and Eri simply shakes her head. 

“It’s not that I lied. do like kids, but I didn’t realize how much effort went into taking care of one, even just for a few days,” she admits. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I wasn’t used to having to deal with a kid, all day, even when I didn’t want to. It was overwhelming.” 

Kaoru, despite his anger, can understand that. “Children aren’t for everyone,” he says, snipping a stem to tuck into the bouquet, “but you shouldn’t take out your stress on them.” 

“I know.” Eri, to her credit, does seem genuinely remorseful. At least, Kaoru doesn’t think she’s putting on an act, and really, there’d be no reason to - he knows that Kojiro broke up with her and told her in no uncertain terms it was because of how she treated Haruhi. He had assured Kaoru of that, so there’s no chance of her getting him back; that also means there’s no reason for her to lie. “I never meant to hurt her, and I’m so sorry that I did. Haruhi-chan is such a sweet girl but I just - I couldn’t handle being left alone with her, it made me too anxious.”

“Did you tell Kojiro this?” 

“Was I supposed to tell him I didn’t want to help him with his daughter? I loved him. I didn’t want to lose him.”

“That’s not a good enough excuse.” Kaoru cuts a stem too short, and he sighs in annoyance, setting it down on the counter. “I understand where you’re coming from, I really do. But that’s my little girl. And having her come home sad because her father’s friend pushed her away when she tried to hug her or crying because she brushed her hair too hard is something I cannot forgive. I won’t forgive you for it.” 

“I never expected you to,” Eri says. Kaoru knows she means it. “I should have told him sooner, and it’s my fault that I didn’t.”

Strangely, he feels content with that answer. He just sighs, though, more concentrated on the bouquet than on her. “You should be glad he broke up with you,” Kaoru mutters, even though it’s harsh. Maybe he should have kept it to himself, but just like Eri has nothing to lose, Kaoru has no reason to be nice to her anymore. “You can find someone who doesn’t have a child, or wants one. I think you’ll be happier.” 

“I think so, too,” Eri agrees. She laughs a bit, crossing her arms over her chest. “Maybe I won’t have to be the second most important person in their life, either.”

“You had to know that Haruhi would be more important to him,” Kaoru reasons. He finishes the bouquet, a pretty arrangement of pink and purple flowers ordered by a teenage girl for her mother. It’s cute, and he pokes around, slightly rearranging the smaller filler flowers. 

“I wasn’t talking about his daughter.” 

Kaoru glances up at her then, blinking rather dumbly at her. She just smiles, detached and half-heartedly. “I feel a lot better,” she sighs, stretching out her arms. “Thank you for hearing me out.”

“I - you’re welcome?” Kaoru asks, more confused than anything. She had said she wasn’t looking for forgiveness, sure, but was she just looking for some way to get it all out, to admit to what she had done and clear her conscience? 

He doesn’t get the chance to ask; she turns and leaves, her heels clicking on the linoleum tile alongside the ring of the bell as she closes the door behind her. 

–

So much happened in the lead up to Haruhi’s birthday that Kaoru almost forgot to organize her little sleepover with all of her friends. They stay over the weekend before, and Kaoru leaves them mostly to their own devices, checking in on them every so often to make sure nothing has gone awry. It’s successful, though, and Haruhi can’t stop talking about how excited she is for her actual birthday. 

Her birthday wish is less than ideal, though. 

“For my birthday,” she had said, bouncing on her feet as she and Kaoru walked around the grocery store the Sunday before, “I want Mama and Papa and me to go to the aquarium together! Fuyumi-chan told me they have this big,” and she dragged out the word for emphasis, her arms reaching up above her head and stretching out, out, out, “big whale shark! I wanna see it!”

“That sounds exciting,” Kaoru replied. He had been looking at the produce, but now he’s too distracted by Haruhi’s request. “Does Papa have to come along, though?” 

“I want him to see it, too!”

And, well. Kaoru can’t say no to her, not when it comes to her birthday. 

So, on May fifteenth, a sunny, clear Saturday morning, the three of them end up at the Churaumi Aquarium, with Kojiro taking a picture of Haruhi in front of the whale shark statue just outside the entrance. Kaoru is left to read the map, going over the route he had planned in the days leading up to her birthday. 

They enter on the fourth floor and take an escalator down to the third, but the whale sharks Haruhi wants to see are on the second; still, he thinks it's worth the time to wander around the third floor, if only to see the tropical fish and coral reef. He knows Haruhi will want to, anyways - she’ll likely forget her beloved whale sharks the second she sees the array of colorful fish swimming around. Besides that, he wants to get his time and money’s worth out of this trip - the drive was just over ninety minutes, and it had been a special kind of agony, to be stuck with Kojiro in such a small space for so long, and so early in the morning. Haruhi herself had fallen asleep in the car, little snores drifting from her mouth every so often. Kaoru wanted to join her, but he just couldn’t, not when he was aware of how close Kojiro was, how anxious he was about this day. 

This was the first time he and Kojiro had taken Haruhi anywhere together, and the timing could not be worse. With how Kaoru had taken to overthinking everything - about what Kojiro had told him outside the shop that day, or Eri’s comment right before she left - he isn’t sure if he’ll be able to survive today. 

“Mama!” Kaoru stops daydreaming when he hears Haruhi’s voice calling out to him. Her arms are stretched up above her head, and she jumps a few times, trying to get his attention. “Take a picture with me!”

Kaoru smiles softly at her, forgetting his map and his worries for a moment to join her by the statue. “You’re so big,” Kaoru groans overdramatically when he picks her up and rests her against his hip, pulling bright giggles out of her. 

“I’m six now!” she exclaims, as if Kaoru doesn’t know. He merely grins, his chest warm. “Haruhi is a big girl!”

“She is!” Kaoru agrees enthusiastically, an impossibly wide smile on his face. Obviously, as the years pass by, so do people’s ages, but it’s so strange to think that he had her six years ago, almost completely alone, with little help for months. Haruhi was the best thing to ever happen to him, though, something he’s reminded of not just with each birthday, but with every second he spends with her. 

“Smile!” Kojiro calls out, and Kaoru already is; he smiles at the camera, Haruhi following suit, her cheeks filling out as she beams and her eyes squeezing into little crescents. As soon as Kojiro finishes, he has to put her down - she is heavier than she had been as a baby or even a toddler, though Kaoru supposes that just comes with growing up - and he takes a picture of the two of them this time, Kojiro easily swinging Haruhi up into his arms and Haruhi laughing loudly even as Kaoru takes the picture.

It’s easy to forget that this isn’t normal for them; when they finally decide to go inside, Kaoru sees whole families having their pictures taken by strangers, and is struck with the realization that he hadn’t even thought to do that. 

Haruhi doesn’t seem to mind, though. She holds Kojiro’s hand as Kaoru looks over his map again, which turns out to be useless, because the second Haruhi sees the fish in their tanks she starts jumping. “Papa, Papa!” she says excitedly, pointing at the huge, curved tanks that stretch across the entire floor. “Look at all the fish!” 

“I see,” Kojiro replies, with a similar childlike wonder that he likely puts on for Haruhi’s sake. It’s endearing, to see them together - Kaoru feels bad for ever seeing Haruhi as mostly his daughter, when she’s so obviously her father’s daughter, excited by everything and always, always smiling. “Do you wanna look at them, or the starfish first?”

“Hmm…starfish!” 

Kaoru keeps a close eye on her as she all but mushes her face against the glass of the shallow tank, joining the other kids doing more or less the same just to get a closer look at the starfish and sea cucumbers crawling around in the sand. He makes sure she doesn’t get too close, though, because the last thing any of them need is her getting sick from another kid. 

“So,” Kojiro starts, not letting Haruhi out of his sight, “what’s the plan for today?”

“Well,” Kaoru sighs, “the floor after this is where the whale sharks are. Hopefully, since we came pretty early, it won’t be too crowded. There’s a restaurant here, too, in case she’s hungry afterwards.”

“Have you come here with her before?” Kojiro asks. 

“No, but I’ve taken her to aquariums and museums before,” he replies. “We need a plan or else she’ll get off track and we’ll be here all day.” Kojiro laughs a little at that, and Kaoru’s almost offended; he frowns, arms folded across his chest. “What, is it funny to have a plan?”

“No! No, it’s just,” and Kojiro stops laughing now, smiling softly at Kaoru, much too familiar and fond and, if Kaoru felt daring, loving, “you haven’t changed, huh?” he settles on, and in the dim light of the aquarium, he can see a dimple appear in Kojiro’s cheek, still as charming as ever.

It doesn’t matter that what he says could be seen as patronizing; Kaoru flushes despite it, blinking once, twice, before tearing his eyes away from Kojiro. What does he mean? he wonders, spitefully. Of course I’ve changed.  

“Well.” Kaoru lets out a humph of a sigh as he tries to recover from whatever that was. It’s childish, to get this worked up over such a mundane comment. Once again, overthinking everything. “Haruhi, come on,” he calls out instead, finding it safer to focus on her than on the man standing next to him, wondering what his expression looks like now, whether he looks irritated, or amused, or affectionate. 

Haruhi turns her head, her pigtails bouncing when she skips over to the two of them. “Haruhi wants to look at the fish!” she declares. 

And look at the fish, they do, with Haruhi singing under her breath with every fish she sees. It would be enough to make someone go crazy - and it has, given the fact that Kaoru has very nearly gone crazy hearing the exact “sakana, sakana, sakana” song Haruhi is performing right now over and over and over again - but she’s so adorable that Kaoru doesn’t mind, only tells her to keep her voice to herself so she doesn’t bother anyone else. The further they venture in, Kojiro lifts Haruhi up onto his shoulders, so she can see the fish swimming closer to the top of the tank. She oohs, reaching her hand out to try and touch the tank until Kaoru quickly tells her not to. 

She does much of the same as she drifts into the displays where just one or two fish are kept, with a short paragraph or two of information on them that Kaoru reads out to her. 

“The surgeonfish is covered with venomous spines,” Kaoru reads out slowly, crouching next to Haruhi, “so when predators attack them, they can use them to defend themselves.” 

“Wow…” Haruhi gasps, staring intently at the blue and black fish swimming around in front of her. “That’s scary!” 

“As long as you don’t bother them, they won’t bother you,” Kaoru reassures her. Of course, Haruhi probably won’t ever encounter one in her life, but he tries to convince her regardless. 

“But if you do,” Kojiro interjects, bending down so he can be eye level with Haruhi, too, “don’t get any closer and get help. Same with jellyfish, if you get stung. Okay?” 

Haruhi nods, determined, like she’s been entrusted with life-changing knowledge. It’s so, so cute, that Kaoru just wants to scoop her up and pinch her cheeks. “Okay,” she agrees, her face serious, her mouth fixed into a straight line. 

Kaoru catches Kojiro’s eyes when he looks over at him, and doesn’t even realize he’s smiling until Kojiro grins back. It’s cowardly, but he looks away again, guiding Haruhi to another miniature tank instead of sharing Kojiro’s gaze.

This whole trip is so unusual. Kaoru finds himself staring at Kojiro and Haruhi more often than not, watching the pair as she excitedly points out fish that look pretty or weird or interesting to her and Kojiro indulging her, always having something to say - “Wow, it’s so big!” or “Look at how colorful it is!” It comes so naturally to him, responding to Haruhi’s elation with the same energy, in a way that it doesn’t for Kaoru. And Kaoru thinks, each time it happens, how sweet the two of them are together, how heartwarming it is to see Haruhi giggling with her father, and how easily Kojiro takes to fatherhood. Of course, there had been no doubt in his mind that Kojiro was a good father - it was one of the few things he could count on, after all - but seeing it in real time, how responsive he is to Haruhi and how much he cares about every little comment she makes, just reminds Kaoru of how Kojiro was made to be a father, and how he had been able to give that to him, even in the most unconventional way. 

And of course, inevitably, his mind wanders to what would have happened if he had let Kojiro stay. Would things be like they are right now, with the occasional weekend family trip to an aquarium or an art museum or a beach? Would they have been able to parent Haruhi together, instead of being households apart? Maybe, in some different universe, one where Kaoru hadn’t damaged everything so thoroughly, this could be their normal; maybe, there’s a world where this isn’t just make-believe, where Kaoru can stop hiding. 

They even look like a family, when Kaoru catches their reflections in the glass; Kojiro, holding a daughter who looks exactly like him on his shoulders and messing up his hair, and Kaoru reaching up to make sure she doesn’t fall over. It’s all too terribly domestic, and Kaoru almost wishes he hadn’t joined them, so he could stay at home and stew by himself instead. 

But coming along was worth it for Haruhi, if only to see her happier than he ever has. 

She lets out the biggest, most exhilarated gasps when they come to the tank with the two whale sharks, the main attraction of the whole aquarium, leisurely floating around in the water alongside the stingrays. It’s predictably crowded here, too, though Haruhi doesn’t seem to notice; she leans forward on Kojiro’s shoulders, her little hands sliding down his hair and into his face. 

“Hey!” he yelps, lighthearted, after she nearly pokes him in the eye. Kaoru can’t help the smile that twitches at the corner of his mouth, and he only comes closer to move Haruhi’s hands for her, resting them on the top of Kojiro’s head again. 

“Be careful,” he says softly, but Haruhi doesn’t even respond. She’s too entranced by the whale sharks, gliding past the glass of the tank as the crowd around them chatters, some oohing and aahing, others talking about just how cool it is to be this close to a whale shark, and others still attempting to create the perfect photo op as the sharks swim by. 

“So pretty…” Haruhi murmurs. Her big, brown eyes seem to sparkle as she takes them in, unable to tear them away from the sea life in front of her. Kojiro is looking, too, though he isn’t quite as enchanted, and he glances up at Haruhi above him.

“Do you want me to put you down so you can get closer?” he asks, and Haruhi only replies with a silent nod. He sets her down and she immediately rushes up to the glass, just as the whale shark swims lower, right in Haruhi’s face. 

Kaoru takes a picture, when her little head tilts up and she watches with a slack-jawed expression on her face. For whatever reason, when he stares at the picture on his phone and then gazes at Haruhi in front of him, he’s seized with an overflowing of emotion. 

Six years. It’s only been six years, yet they’ve been the most important, trying ones of his life. They had all been worth it, though, because now he had Haruhi. Haruhi, who had come into his life and immediately made it that much more meaningful. Who had taught him patience as a baby better than any adult ever could. Who had made him kinder, softer, more forgiving. He knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he’d give her the whole world if he could. He had sacrificed so much for her, and would do it all over again, if it meant he could have this moment right now as his reward. 

He’s become more sentimental too, though he realized with her that he always has been. It’s why he’s struck with such fondness, seeing his little girl so enthralled and overjoyed to see these sharks. It makes the ninety minute drive worth it, all of the planning worth it, everything.

“Kaoru. Kaoru, hey.” 

It even makes spending the day with Kojiro worth it, despite every bewildering emotion he feels for him, emotions Kojiro likely doesn’t return, no matter how badly his subconscious tries to convince him otherwise. 

“Kaoru.” 

Kaoru finally glances over at Kojiro, who, when he looks at him, stops talking immediately. He waits a moment, and when Kojiro says nothing, Kaoru just frowns at him. “What?” 

“I - “ Kojiro starts, but his words get stuck in his throat. He’s staring at Kaoru, and while Kaoru figured he looked a little softer than he usually does, he didn’t think it would be enough to render him speechless.

Weird. “Well? What is it?” he presses, tilting his head curiously.

It’s then he notices Kojiro’s eyes - particularly, that they’re fixated on Kaoru’s lips. 

Kaoru is convinced it’s a mistake. There’d be no reason for Kojiro to be looking at that part of his face, right? He must be seeing things, must be imagining things, but then his mind interrupts his ensuing panic. 

“My mind was always somewhere else, especially near the end.”

“I wasn’t talking about his daughter.” 

It just makes the panic worse. Worse, and worse, and worse, and he feels paralyzed, like he can’t move away even if he wanted to (and he realizes, to his own horror, that he doesn’t want to). And Kojiro probably doesn’t notice it himself, but he’s leaning closer, just the tiniest bit, enough so that Kaoru’s own eyes go lidded trying to look at him, and maybe, just maybe, if they wanted to… 

“Mama! Papa!” 

Kojiro seems to remember himself, because just as quickly as he leaned in, he pulls away. His attention shifts to Haruhi, like what had just happened hadn’t happened, leaving Kaoru to just stand there awkwardly.

Kaoru feels like his world is spinning. He’s barely aware he’s even in an aquarium anymore, and the absolute last thing on his mind are the damn fish in this building. Not when Kojiro had just been so close to him, looked like he was about to kiss him, and Kaoru was about to let him! 

“She wants to go to the Aqua Room,” Kojiro tells Kaoru. He’s gone back to holding her in his arms, Haruhi fitting perfectly in the crook of his elbow. Kaoru blinks. 

How can he act like nothing happened?

“Sure,” is all he’s able to force out, because really, how can he be expected to act like his heart isn’t racing, running a mile a minute? No, a mile a second? 

He calms down enough that he can follow the two of them throughout the rest of the building, gazing up and gasping at the whale sharks at the exact same time Haruhi does, listening with intent at the shark research lab, and pointing out the tiny deep sea creatures crawling around in their tanks for Haruhi to see. He acts normal, normal enough that Haruhi doesn’t realize anything is wrong, and he can convince himself that nothing is amiss either. 

It hardly works, but it does work - that’s all he can really ask for. 

Before they leave, Haruhi complains of being hungry. While she’s never been one to throw tantrums the second she gets peckish, Kaoru can tell by how she drags her feet that she might start crying out of exhaustion if she doesn’t get some food in her and fast. Luckily enough, they have to pass by the restaurant on the way back to the car; it’s an easy solution, and Haruhi, thankfully, isn’t a picky eater. 

Kaoru is, though. When his soki soba is served, he immediately discards the pickled ginger, before the taste can permeate the broth and the noodles. 

“You still don’t like that?” Kojiro asks, seemingly astounded by his choice to get rid of it. Haruhi, munching idly on her smiley-face potato, looks between them while lightly swinging her legs in her chair. 

Kaoru just blinks at him. “No, I don’t.” And then, because he can’t quite believe it; “You still remember that?”

“Of course I do,” Kojiro replies, like it’s obvious, like there’s no way he could ever forget. And maybe there isn’t - Kaoru still remembers the way he likes his coffee, how he adds extra menma in his ramen. How, whenever he goes to the store, sees the cuts of beef and remembers that Kojiro primarily subsisted on gyudon, and how Kaoru had teased him for eating so much meat. “I’d always have to eat it whenever we got sushi, remember?” 

He does - he does. Kojiro would lean over the table and snatch it from him without a second thought, without a word said between them, the most communication being a sly grin as he ate it alongside a roll. It twists something in his chest, that Kojiro would remember such a useless fact about him. 

“Well.” Kaoru picks it up with his chopsticks and deposits it on Kojiro’s plate - wagyu sirloin, predictably - and gently wipes the residue of the ginger off with a napkin. “You can have it, then.” 

“Wait - I like ginger!” she exclaims, unhappy to have been forgotten. Kojiro just chuckles, splitting half between them (if he gives her a little more than he gives himself, Kaoru pretends not to notice). It floats on top of her little cup of noodles, and Haruhi, pleased to have been included, digs in. 

Kaoru eats his soba in a daze.

After her meal, Haruhi falls asleep on the way to the car, Kojiro holding her so she can lay her head on his shoulder. Kaoru follows behind them, each step feeling unsteady, every word they say sounding distant, muffled. 

Kaoru half expects Kojiro to say something. Maybe, “So, about earlier…” or “I didn’t mean to do that, I’m sorry.” It would have hurt, of course, but it would have at least put Kaoru’s thoughts to rest, at the very least. Instead, he doesn’t even mention it. They don’t say a word to each other as they walk out to the parking lot and locate his car, not even when Haruhi is strapped into her car seat, or when the two of them get in themselves. Kaoru knows he could say something, and he even tries, but whenever he thinks of bringing it up, the words get stuck. 

Kaoru almost deludes himself into thinking Kojiro was making a move on him. Try as he might, he can’t find another explanation for what did - or didn’t - happen. That, coupled with the comment that he hadn’t changed, along with him remembering one of Kaoru’s random food preferences, and it all leads to one terrifying conclusion that Kojiro was trying to kiss him. If Haruhi hadn’t interrupted them, maybe they would have, too - Kaoru would have let him. 

But then, another voice comes to the forefront of his mind, naggy and unrelenting. It reminds him of two very important facts - one, that Kojiro had just broken up with a long term partner, and two, Kojiro told him that he wasn’t a rebound. And maybe he was just joking with the latter point, but even if he was, Kaoru refuses to let himself be a second choice in this situation. There’s no way Kojiro could have been attempting to kiss him - Kojiro wouldn’t do something so abrupt, so borderline scummy as making Kaoru a hook-up to help him get over his failed relationship, and it hasn’t even been a month since the split. 

No. Kaoru decides he can’t talk about it. Talking about it means Kaoru being told for a fact that Kojiro had just made an honest mistake, and having actual confirmation of that is something Kaoru just wouldn’t be able to deal with. 

Kojiro carries Haruhi inside when they get back to Kaoru’s house, and even with a long nap she still feels drowsy. Kaoru lays her down for a proper nap, even though he should probably keep her up; it’s mid-afternoon, and she might end up staying up all night. If he lets her sleep on his futon, though, he knows she’ll fall asleep as soon as she cuddles her way into his arms. 

“Kaoru,” Kojiro says, just to get his attention. He decided, somewhat foolishly, to see him off, with the excuse that he needed to check the mailbox Kojiro had parked in front of. Kojiro is leaning against the car door, hands in his pockets. 

Kaoru waits for him to say something else, and when he doesn’t, rudely says, “What?”

“I just wanted to tell you,” he starts, and Kaoru thinks this is it, him telling me to give up and stop being so desperate, “I’m glad we went to the aquarium together today.” 

Kaoru blinks. It’s, obviously, not what he was expecting at all. Maybe he’s planning to say more. “Me too,” Kaoru admits, holding the mail closer to his chest. “Haruhi seemed to have fun.” 

“She did, huh?” Kojiro says with a laugh. It’s awkward, far too awkward, and Kaoru doesn’t know how to respond. “But I meant that I’m glad…” He glances down at his shoes, scuffing one against the concrete, and it reminds Kaoru so much of how he used to be, shy and gangly and boyish, that it hurts. “I’m glad you came, too,” he says, finally looking Kaoru in the eye. “It was nice, hanging out with you and Haruhi.” And there’s something in his expression, something that Kaoru can’t quite place, or maybe his brain won’t let him - a sort of sincerity saved for things like confessions, or trying to get someone to understand something important. 

Now I’m just being stupid. 

“Of course I came,” he says, his words stilted. “Haruhi wanted both of us to go.” 

Kojiro’s response, though silent, is interesting all the same. He chews the inside of his mouth for a second, deliberating; then, he clicks his tongue, sighing and straightening up. “Well,” he huffs, opening the car door, “I’ll see you soon.” 

“...Bye,” Kaoru says, his voice stupidly soft. Kojiro hesitates for a moment, like he has something to add; he must not, though, at least nothing of pressing importance, because he doesn’t say a word. Kaoru wants to ask, wants so desperately to know, but he stays just as silent. Neither of them make any move to speak, locked in a stalemate that neither of them are courageous enough to break. 

Kojiro drives home, with nothing else said between them. He leaves Kaoru standing on the sidewalk, all alone once again, and feeling so, so confused. 

22 - November 

Tomoe, like she always does, imposes herself on Kaoru’s life and expects him to just deal with it.

“I have a client in Tokyo I need to meet,” she says over the phone, while Kaoru’s in the middle of studying. That’s really all she needs to say, because Kaoru knows she expects him to roll out the futon for her and to shift his schedule around for her sake. 

He does, this time, but mostly because he can’t focus on anything else. Kaoru lays out the futon, rearranging it until it’s to his liking, making sure to push the table out of the way so she doesn’t complain about stubbing her toe in the middle of the night. He skips class on the day she’s meant to arrive, because while she doesn’t expect him to come pick her up from the station, mostly because she usually has transportation arranged, she does expect him to greet her when she shows up to his place. He concentrates on making sure everything is absolutely perfect, because she doesn’t know he’s going to have a baby, and he can already envision the argument they’re about to have.

Usually, Kaoru wouldn’t care. Tomoe, after that disastrous meeting with Kojiro, never contacted him anymore, except to send an allowance at the beginning of each month that he stashed away in his savings, after she sent it back for the fourth time with the message “Just take it already.” He doesn’t feel scared of her anymore, not in the slightest, and he can withstand an argument with her. At least, he normally can, but he’s already so emotional as is (he cried when Kiriko’s cat had rubbed against his leg, and that was how she found out all that had happened) he doesn’t think he can handle a big argument. So he makes sure the futon is placed perfectly, that his apartment is literally spotless, and that her favorite tea is made and warm when she walks through the door, suitcase and purse in hand.

Tomoe takes one look around, and then at Kaoru, who had greeted her like a filial son should - with a gentle “Good evening, hahaoya-sama,” - and says, “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” 

Kaoru doesn’t really know what he should have expected. Maybe, at least, they can get this over with before she gets settled in. “...Is it that obvious?” 

“You’re not a very good liar.” She wheels her suitcase in, setting it against the wall, before sitting on his couch, much too prim and proper for the sorry excuse of furniture he’s stuck in here. He can tell by the way her nose crinkles ever so slightly that she’s thinking about what a dump his apartment is, even though it’s humble and typical at best. “Don’t tell me that boyfriend of yours got you pregnant or something.” 

Kaoru doesn’t answer. He just stands there in front of her, and when he can’t take being scrutinized by her cold, severe stare, looks down at the floor. 

Tomoe, always a quick thinker, shows a rare crack in her facade. 

“No.” Her voice is quiet, though it splinters around the vowel, growing more panicked. “No. You cannot be serious. You aren’t thinking of keeping it, are you?” 

“I am,” Kaoru replies, his eyes flitting up to her, a swirling combination of slowly brewing fury and tenacity. “As a single parent.” 

Tomoe just gapes at him. Gapes, and gapes, and then she scoffs, in that same, irritating way she always does when she decides Kaoru’s not done what she wants him to do. “Absolutely not,” she declares. “No. While I’m here, I’ll find a private clinic -”

“Hahaoya -”

“No one will have to know, and you can forget all of this - “

“No - “

“I’ll even pay for it myself!”

“No!” Kaoru raises his voice, nearly yells, just so she’ll shut up and listen to him, just for once in her goddamn life. “Why is it always about what you want me to do? Why is it never what I want? It’s my life, not yours!” His neighbors can probably overhear the argument, and Kaoru would feel bad for disrupting their nights, if not for how genuinely taken aback he is. He had expected her to be upset, but not to suggest getting rid of it. “If I want this baby, I’m going to keep it!”

He only stalls in his tirade when Tomoe glares up at him with the most terrifying expression he’s ever seen on her face; an uncomfortable mix of rage and offense, and Kaoru knows - he’s struck a sore spot, and he’s about to pay for it. 

“Life isn’t about what you want,” Tomoe says, icy cold. “When I was your age, I wasn’t thinking about what I wanted. I wasn’t thinking of my freedom or my happiness - I was thinking about being a good daughter.” 

It always fascinates Kaoru, how two people with such different outlooks can be so similar. Tomoe, clutching so tightly to the society she was born in that it’s turned her into a bitter, angry person; Kaoru, ignoring every lesson his mother has ever taught him because of the resentment he feels for having it forced upon him. It hits him now, just how oppressed his mother was. He would feel sorry for her, perhaps, if things between them were different. Maybe he could even be empathetic, but with the way she acts, how she pushes it on him, he doesn’t know if he ever could. 

“I don’t care about that,” he says, because he doesn’t. He hasn’t, ever since he was a teenager and found more joy in sneaking out in the middle of the night and getting sent to the principal’s office than in the calligraphy or ikebana classes Tomoe made him go to. Why should he, when all it’s ever gotten him was a lifetime of insecurities, of anxiety and depression and countless other issues? “And I’m sorry I can’t be exactly like you, but it doesn’t even matter, because nothing has ever been good enough for you. You’ll always be perfect, and I’ll always be the son you’re ashamed of.” The words feel sharp and biting on his tongue, spat out with such vitriol and underlying sorrow that Kaoru can already feel the tears pricking the edge of his eyes.

And it’s frightening, to have your face, a couple decades older, glare right back at you and not even twitch. 

“I am not perfect,” Tomoe says, the first time she’s ever admitted it. It shocks him into silence, stuns him enough that he doesn’t interrupt her. “Do you think it was easy to raise you? Do you think it was some simple feat? There were so many days where I wanted to give up, so many sleepless nights wondering if I did the right thing, if I should have even let your father leave.” She leans back on the couch, and she just seems melancholic now more than anything, though there’s always anger hidden beneath every word of hers, no matter how mundane or monumental they are. “You are making the biggest mistake of your life if you go through with this.”

“I’ve made worse mistakes,” Kaoru says, but he doesn’t know if he believes himself. Even if this is the worst mistake he’s ever made, ever will make, it feels right to him. To have something of his own, to raise and care for when he rarely ever had that same treatment - how could it ever be a bad idea? 

“You’re a fool,” Tomoe says simply. 

“I’d rather be a fool than end up like you,” Kaoru replies, on the verge of tears. It’s the most hurtful thing he’s ever said to her, or at least, if he tallied up all the rude things he’s said to her into a list and had to organize them from worst to best, this would be at the top. This is just how it always is - their conversations rarely amount to anything outside of arguing, or her lecturing him and him ignoring her advice. Two people, worlds apart, could never have anything valuable to say to one another. At least, that’s how Kaoru’s life has always been. 

“Maybe you didn’t try hard enough,” Tomoe shoots back. She seems barely shaken, though Kaoru can tell he’s chipped away at the impenetrable wall of ice she had erected, ever since he was a child. “Look at you now.” 

That is the most hurtful thing she’s ever said to him, and he knows it immediately. To be compared to her in any way, something he already detests, and to have it used against him to show her disgust for his choice - it hits all the right nerves, one by one. And of course she found a way; if anyone can cut deep, deep into your chest and carve your heart out, vein by agonizing vein, it would be his mother. Kaoru doesn’t regret his choice, and he knows better than to let her change his mind just so he’ll do her bidding, but he knows - he knows nothing will be the same after tonight. If they never speak a word to each other again, he wouldn’t be surprised. 

“I’m not like you,” he says, sarcasm dripping in his voice even as tears have begun to slide down his cheeks. Maybe this crosses a line, but he figures that if his assumption is right, and they never see each other again after this, then it likely doesn’t matter. “At least you had a husband.” 

“You’re right.” Tomoe stands then, and moves to gather her suitcase that she had just set down. Kaoru already knows - she’s going to a hotel instead, and he cleaned up for nothing. She tsks, clicking her tongue at him in that way that always grates on his ears. “You’re not like me, not at all,” she sighs in clear disapproval. 

Kaoru’s mouth moves faster than his mind, like it usually does. “What do you mean?” he asks, ignoring the way his voice cracks with the question that he doesn’t want an answer to. But she had spoken so harshly of his childhood, of spending half of her life raising him, and he just wonders - he wants to know, before she leaves for good. 

“Raising you was hard. Do you want me to pretend like it wasn’t?” She pauses, letting it sink in for a moment. She still hasn’t cracked, not since she found out he was pregnant, and it’s infuriating, to always feel like he’s lower than her, more emotional. “And raising that child will be hard for you too, but not for the same reason.”

“Then why?” Kaoru asks, so choked up that he can barely get any words out. He’s been sobbing too quickly and too often, and he hates it, wishes that he could remove the need to cry out of his system like his mother somehow has. 

“You won’t have the same satisfaction as I did, because that baby of yours will never be you.” Her eyes turn fierce again, almost predator-like, a tiger having found its prey and glaring at it to keep it in place before pouncing. She shakes her head, and he can see, now, that in that gaze of hers are wet, unshed tears. “That baby will never be worth all the trouble, all the money, all the time and anger and joy, because it isn’t you.” 

Kaoru has never in his life felt so stunned. Of all the reasons she could have given - that he was doing this completely alone without a steady job, that he was starting as a single parent with less experience than she had - he wasn’t expecting it to be your child will never be as worthwhile to you as you are to me. And even if he understands, somehow, he does not agree, not in the slightest. How could his child mean less to its grandmother just because it isn’t Kaoru? How could this fractured mockery of a mother-son relationship be considered “worth it”? How can she expect him to believe that, when she’s spent the better part of his life criticizing everything he’s ever worn, thought, loved, said, or done? 

Why does it steer him that much closer to weeping?

“That’s why I want you to get rid of it,” she says, briskly, like it’s normal business. “There are so many other things for you to spend your life doing than raising a child.”

“It’ll be worth it,” Kaoru replies, because he always has to be contradictory. In this case, though, he feels it’s warranted. “It’ll be worth it, if it ends up nothing like me.” 

Tomoe tsks again, and for some reason, the sound he’s hated all his life feels like a goodbye. “So stubborn,” she mutters, shaking her head. 

She leaves him with that, the futon untouched, her tea gone fully cold. She couldn’t have been here longer than ten minutes, and yet the world feels as if it's tilted on its axis in her presence and when she left, leaving him jolted and unsteady.

Kaoru starts sobbing, then. 

Ugly, full on sobs, his mouth turning into such a deep frown that he has to cover it with his hand, his other clutching onto the kitchen counter he had been leaning against. The tears that stream down his face feel red-hot, wet and sticky and threatening to give him a headache. He somehow finds his way towards the futon, plopping down on it pathetically and curling up and wailing, and he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know if he’s crying because of what Tomoe had said, because he knows she doesn’t want him to keep it, or because he’s mourning their tenuous excuse for a relationship. Maybe it’s all three. Maybe it’s because he knows that after this, he’s even closer to being alone.

Almost all of his bridges have been burned and he had been the firestarter, the arsonist, and here he sits, a poor little thing crumpled up on the floor, his frame wracked with sobs. 

Haruhi has spent all of her summer break with Kojiro and his family, and even as it comes to an end, Kaoru still isn’t used to how quiet the house is. 

It leaves him alone with his thoughts all too often. He tries to work overtime to make up for it, to focus on flowers and weddings and needy brides and picky mothers, but it only temporarily stalls the overthinking that has become a louder, more frustrating constant in his life. 

Because this time, he isn’t overthinking about the best day to buy groceries, or whether or not he should buy a new shirt, or what kind of wine to get. No, he’s still thinking of the aquarium, the way Kojiro had almost kissed him, and the fact that they still haven’t talked about it. 

Not once has it come up. They’ve seen each other here and there - at work, of course, and usually they’re too busy to talk about it or Haruhi tagged along behind Kojiro - and they’ve even started to text more often. Not just about Haruhi, either; but about silly things Kojiro saw that reminded him of Kaoru, running the gambit of pink training chopsticks that he had to tell Kojiro not to buy for him to pastel pink flowers he saw while on a run, or coupons Kaoru found at the grocery store they both go to, or recipes they found on the internet. Sometimes, they just spend their nights chatting about nothing. They’ve been acting more like close friends than two reluctant acquaintances, and it makes it all the more strange that they haven’t addressed this thing hanging over their heads. Especially since Kaoru more often than not thinks about it, the way Kojiro had leaned in, the way he had stopped speaking when Kaoru looked at him, and how, if Haruhi hadn’t interrupted them, they might have actually done it.

It’s on his mind again, towards the end of summer break. He’s watering the flowers that he has on display outside, for people to come and grab when they’re in a rush, and he just keeps watering. Watering, and watering, and wondering if Kojiro had actually meant anything by it, and by saying I’m glad you came, and - 

“Your posture is terrible as always.” 

Kaoru turns then, towards that all too familiar voice. His mother, in a pristine lilac furisode with a deeper violet obi wrapped around her waist, narrows her eyes at him. Her posture is perfect, her hair is perfect, everything about her is perfect and Kaoru is old enough to know that it’s all for show. 

“I was watering the flowers,” he says, a meager excuse for his slouching.

“That doesn’t mean you should be hunched over.” Tomoe has never slumped in her life, he’s sure of that. “Remember - chest out, back straight.”

“Did you come to nag me?” Kaoru cuts in, looking at her wearily. The poor succulent he had overwatered finally gets its reprieve when he picks it up carefully and lets the excess water drip out of the bottom of the pot and onto the concrete. 

“We had plans for lunch at one,” Tomoe says. She looks suspicious, which, to be fair, makes sense - Kaoru rarely forgets plans, especially when he’s the one who made them.

Thankfully, her reminder jogs his memory and he lets out an apologetic sigh right as he sets the succulent back on its display. “I’m sorry,” he tells her, and he means it; working around her very busy schedule isn’t easy, even for her own son. He should have remembered - he did have a feeling he was forgetting something today - but with everything else clamoring for attention in his head, it had slipped his mind completely. “Just give me a second.” 

Tomoe, thankfully, doesn’t complain for once. She doesn’t complain as much as she used to, actually, and whether that was because she didn’t find any use in doing so anymore or because she was just tired of it, Kaoru isn’t sure, but he’s grateful either way. All Kaoru has to do is put his gloves back inside and tell Izumi to cover for him while he goes to lunch, and then they’re off, to a swanky yet humble restaurant that one of Tomoe’s clients owns. He spots his mother’s familiar calligraphy hanging on a wall the second they walk in, her familiar handwriting in practiced, swooping lines on a scroll spread over an entire wall. 

It should just be lunch. A nice, relaxing lunch, full of good food and catching up with his mother after their busy summers. But Kaoru’s mind can’t stop drifting to what it’s been drifting to for the past few months and he doesn’t even realize how his chopsticks are floating, hovering over dish after dish after dish, until Tomoe points it out. 

“Sakurayashiki Kaoru,” she hisses, enough to garner his attention, “what have I told you about hovering?”

“Oh - sorry,” he replies, not as polite as she would probably like. She seems to notice, if the way her brow twitches is any indication. He doesn’t make mention of it, snatching a piece of sashimi just to get her to stop scolding him, as if it would actually work. 

“If something is weighing on your mind enough that it is making you display such terrible manners, you might as well spit it out,” she says sharply, and while she sounds venomous - she is venomous, to be fair - he knows this is her way of asking him if something’s wrong. He wishes she could just ask him like a normal mother, but he knows that’s foolish. Even if things aren’t as strained as they used to be, they’re still not totally perfect. 

“It’s nothing,” he says, deciding to lie - Tomoe still doesn’t like Kojiro, and likely doesn’t want to hear about him, or Kaoru’s feelings about him. 

“You’re an awful liar,” she replies, almost immediately, not even looking at him as she does so, instead much more focused on eating another helping of rice. 

Kaoru sighs. It’s always been useless to lie to his mother, not when she’s so discerning or when she knows him so well. She’s always been a little sharper, wittier, and Kaoru’s an idiot if he thinks he can hide anything from her. It’s never worked, and when it has, it was never for very long. 

“It’s about Kojiro,” he admits, feeling a bit sheepish. Exactly like he expected, she just blinks at him, unimpressed. 

“This better not be about another baby,” she says dryly. Kaoru would laugh, if he didn’t know she was completely serious, and if the last time it was about a baby didn’t go so horribly. 

“No, it’s not that,” Kaoru assures her, and he sees the instant relief in her face, even if it’s barely perceptible. 

“Then what is it?” 

And how is he supposed to phrase it? He almost kissed me and I would have let him, if he wanted to? I’ve been in love with him for years and it’s why I pushed him away, but now I can’t anymore and it’s eating me alive? Or maybe I thought he hated me all this time but he might not, and I don’t know how to handle it? Any of those would definitely earn the scorn of Tomoe - honestly, anything he said would, because Tomoe will more than likely see him as being stuck in the past, unable to move on. If anything, she’d probably say the same thing she did months ago.

“Not saying how you feel is why you’re in this mess in the first place, isn’t it?”

There’s really no delicate way to say it, or at least, no way to say it that’ll spare him his dignity. So, he settles on, “I’m still in love with him,” and it’s the first time he’s ever admitted it out loud. It’s frightening to put it into words, to actually speak them aloud, to acknowledge what he’s known for all these years. 

Tomoe, true to form, doesn’t seem fazed by it. She simply keeps eating, like it isn’t the most daunting, world-shattering thing she’s ever heard. “I know,” she says, so totally nonchalant that it’s almost infuriating. 

“What do you mean, ‘I know?’” Kaoru asks, gripping his chopsticks a bit harder when she just blinks at him again. So annoying. 

“It was obvious, considering how upset his girlfriend made you,” Tomoe reasons. “Or, I suppose, his ex-girlfriend.” She raises a brow at him now, all-knowing. “And you’re not going to do anything even though he’s single again, are you?” 

Kaoru nearly balks at that. There’s so much at play here - their past together, their daughter, all of the unsaid things still simmering between them - that it’s not as if he can just simply ask him on a date, or confess his feelings without fear of being shot down. “It’s not that easy,” he murmurs, a paltry excuse for his inaction. 

But, to him, it makes sense - it’s easier to keep things exactly as they are, and not disrupt what’s already working for them. Even if it’s cowardly, a selfish thing for him to do, it’s just simpler. It’s simple, and it’s safe, and nothing has to change.  

“It will be easier than you think,” Tomoe says, far more certain than Kaoru ever could be. “And I know that you will hate yourself for not saying anything when he eventually gets married and you have to pretend to be happy for him. You have never been a good liar,” she says again, with a disapproving shake of her head. 

And he knows she’s right. He knows that if he doesn’t say anything, he’ll only have himself to blame when Kojiro actually finds a spouse. He’ll still be alone, with the only person he’s ever truly loved taken for good, all because he didn’t speak up. Kaoru can’t decide which is worse - the prospect of confessing how he feels, or the prospect of never doing so at all. 

“If you want to say nothing, then I can’t force you,” she muses with a sigh, like she’s the one who’s exhausted. “I just don’t want you to regret anything.” 

It’s such a simple, rare moment of Tomoe being honest, and yet it means the world to Kaoru to hear. No guessing, no jumping around to try and understand what she means by some obscure proverb or another that he’s convinced only she uses, just her unfiltered, genuine feelings. He knows now, as a parent himself, exactly what she means. 

“I know,” he says, a little too softly. Whether or not he takes her advice or her confession to heart is another issue altogether, but at least he understands her insistence. 

Tomoe just looks at him, something sad and remorseful in her own expression; then, as soon as it had appeared, it vanishes, and she clicks her tongue, just like she always does. “Eat. Don’t let all this food go to waste.”

“You aren’t even paying for any of it!” 

“It’s rude. Eat.”

–

Kaoru gets an unexpected call that night from Kojiro, but when he answers, it is absolutely not him. 

“Hi Mama,” Haruhi says, keeping her voice to a whisper. Kaoru can hear the sizzle of the stove nearby - Kojiro must have let her call Kaoru while he cooks the both of them dinner. 

“Hello, sweetheart,” Kaoru replies, sitting up in bed for a better angle, as if Haruhi cares. She’s sitting on the couch herself, the phone held precariously in her little hands. “Are you about to eat?”

“Uh huh. Papa’s making dinner,” she says. “But Mama! We painted today, and I saw this big painting of Mama!” She draws out the big, just like she always does, though her tiny voice barely raises.

Kaoru swears his heart stops beating. 

It stops beating, because he knows exactly which painting she’s talking about. He had seen it in real life, when it had debuted at Kojiro’s last art showcase at Geidai. He hadn’t thought about it in such a long time - not the impact it had on him, the effect it had on their relationship, the way it had changed things so thoroughly between them. Kaoru had kept it out of his mind for his own sanity, and it had worked, up until now. 

And Kojiro kept it. It’s been over six years, and he’s kept it, and it makes Kaoru’s head spin. Did he have it out when Eri lived there? Did she know about it? Did he hide it all this time? Why does he still have it? It must not be easy to part with art you put so much time and effort into, but this isn’t that simple. 

That piece of art was a love letter to Kaoru, a final farewell, and he still has it. Not only that, but he had to have brought it out when Eri had left - surely, Haruhi would have seen it before now if this wasn’t the case.

It makes Kaoru rethink everything. He had been resigned to the idea that Kojiro didn’t still harbor feelings for him, but maybe that kiss, or what was about to be a kiss, meant more to Kojiro than Kaoru thought; maybe everything he’s said to him hasn’t just been mindless flirtation, or him being too nice; maybe Kojiro didn’t feel that heartbroken about Eri, because he still - 

No. Kaoru can’t let his mind go there. Considering it is dangerous, because it leads him down a rabbit hole of maybe, maybe, maybe, and he ends up getting far too ahead of himself. 

“It was from college. He worked hard on it,” is Kaoru’s tight reply, though he thinks he manages to sound normal for Haruhi. Her eyebrows furrow, though, and he can tell she doesn’t believe him. Or, at least, she’s thinking hard about his answer, and he can see the gears turning in her little head. 

“Mama, Haruhi wants - ” Haruhi starts, but then in a moment of unrefined six-year-old hand-eye coordination, the phone slips in her hands and she accidentally hangs up, the video call ending abruptly. Kaoru knows he should call back, ask her what she wants to know and answer her truthfully, but he doesn’t think he can. He certainly doesn’t make any movement to tap on Kojiro’s contact info, instead holding the phone lifelessly in his hand. 

It might be selfish, but he just can’t. Not when he had been inadvertently forced to remember something so important to him, something he wanted desperately to forget, and to confront the fact that, though the chances are very, very slim, Kojiro might actually still care for him. Not just as the person who gave birth to his daughter, but as a person all on his own. Enough to keep a painting he made for him, of a brief moment of time where they were so in love that nothing else mattered. 

Enough that he wanted to look at it again, after his girlfriend left.

It’s wishful thinking, he knows - it’s much more likely that Kojiro held onto it for nostalgia, or because he couldn’t find someone to sell it to, or because it’s a shame for all his hard work to go to waste - but still. Still.

Kaoru has to acknowledge that, after seeing the results of his plan from years ago, maybe it didn’t work how he wanted. Maybe, though to him it’s unlikely, Kojiro never even began to hate him after all. 

22 - January

Kaoru decides, perhaps out of loneliness , the inability to let go, or both, to keep in touch with Kojiro during his pregnancy. 

The two rarely meet. Most of it is kept to brief texts between them, with Kaoru updating him after he goes to doctor’s appointments just so he knows that everything is okay. Brisk texts, ones that let him know that the baby is doing well, is healthy, and is more than likely a girl. He thinks Kojiro would be excited no matter the gender, but his enthusiasm is palpable through the message he sends back - That’s amazing!! I’m so excited to meet her :)

All things considered, it’s a surprisingly easy pregnancy, even as his body changes. The only thing he can take solace in is not having to suffer through any major side effects, because it makes the sting of what he’s lost easier to bare; Kojiro’s no longer here to hold him at night, his mother's annoying voice doesn’t come through the phone anymore, and he’s more alone than he’s ever been. The situation becomes more and more real with each appointment and ache of his back and new garment he has to buy because the clothes he’s worn since high school don’t fit him anymore, and it’s too much for Kaoru to handle. He thanks his baby often, for being so easy otherwise. 

He’s just - so lonely. He can’t go drinking with his friends, and he works for as long as he can at the café he’s spent most of his college career employed at until he can’t get through a shift anymore. After that, he spends most of his time studying and budgeting the money his mother still sends him, though now there’s no message attached, not after the first one that simply said Use it for the baby. 

So, when Kojiro invites him to go to his art showcase, Kaoru - foolishly or not - jumps at the chance to go. 

“I just want you to know,” Kojiro said, and his voice is filled with trepidation over the phone, “my piece is a painting of you. I started it before we broke up, so…”

“I understand,” Kaoru replied. “I want to see it.” 

Kaoru thinks he can handle seeing it, anyways. It’s just a portrait of himself - he should be more flattered than anything, even if the idea of Kojiro slaving away on a piece of art based around his ex makes something akin to guilt rise in his throat. 

He’s here, though, right outside the University Art Museum, his new pink peacoat he bought on sale obscuring the bump that peeks through his oversized sweater underneath. It’s cold outside, but his legs don’t push him forward; he stares up at the building, the modern gray design and floor to ceiling windows, so big and overwhelming and holding something - someone - Kaoru is admittedly very scared to see. 

“Kaoru-chan!” 

Kaoru, surprised, turns at the sound of his name; who he sees is unexpected, but then, considering the event, it shouldn’t be. 

Nanjo Kasumi is a short, stout middle-aged lady who Kaoru has come to adore. It’s embarrassing to admit, but after the break-up Kaoru has spent more time talking to Kojiro’s mother than Kojiro himself, or even his own mother. He thinks it runs in the Nanjo family to stick your neck out for anyone you meet, because really, she has no reason to help him after he broke up with her son, but she does so with a smile on her face. A lovely, friendly woman who has had five children of her own, she’s been indispensable to giving Kaoru advice - he would even go so far as to say that she’s helped him survive, no matter how many miles away she is. Except now she’s here, and she’s already ran up to hug Kaoru, her husband Toshio standing close by with a fond smile on his face. 

Kaoru, of course, hugs her back. “Kaa-san,” he says, because from the moment they met and even now she refuses to let him call her anything more formal, “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too! It’s been so long!” Her round, round cheeks glow a bright red against her tan skin from the frosty, windy day. “Oh, let’s go inside! It’s too cold out here.”

And Kaoru, still nervous to see Kojiro for the first time in months but less so now that Kasumi is by his side, follows her lead. 

The building, thankfully, isn’t too crowded. There are guests and students alike wandering around the different displays of sculptures, photographs, and even the occasional playable art piece here and there. It’s impressive, to say the very least, and the three of them take in the art as they make casual conversation. 

“You’re how many months along now? Five?” Kasumi asks, as they pass from one piece to another; a line up of photographs of multiple different people, all in grayscale, and all in different environments. Kaoru nods, drawing an over dramatic gasp from her. “You’re still so small. I remember I always felt so big when I got to five months!”

“You are shorter than him,” Toshio adds with a grin - he’s where Kojiro gets his height from, the two of them roughly the same when paired next to each other. 

“You like that I’m short, though!” Kasumi exclaims in faux annoyance. Kaoru can’t help but smile to himself as he leads them up the stairs to the next exhibit; he wonders what it would have been like, to grow up with parents who so clearly love each other. He gets a taste of it when he’s with the Nanjos, and he remembers very frequently how lucky he is to still have some kind of tie to them.

“I never said I didn’t!” 

“You - “

Kaoru stops short, causing Kasumi and Toshio to nearly run into him from behind. 

At the top of the stairs, on the third floor, he can see him - Kojiro, in a nice sweater that covers his tattoos, looking perfect as he chats with someone who must be a professor, or maybe a potential employer, laughing at all the right intervals and looking friendly even with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s not standing by his painting, Kaoru knows, because the painting is supposedly of him. 

Kaoru hasn’t seen him in so long that it doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t feel like he’s actually here, standing in the same room as Kojiro. The only thing that jolts him out of his thoughts is Kasumi rushing past him to greet her son as soon as whoever he was talking to walks off, wrapping him in a hug similar to the one she gave Kaoru outside. 

“I am so proud of you!” Kaoru hears, when he approaches the family. Toshio is giving him a firm pat on the back, a prideful shake of his shoulder despite the fact that neither of them have seen his painting in real life yet. It’s likely just the fact that he’s made it this far. Getting his art put in a gallery, even if it is just a senior art exhibition, is no small feat. 

“Thanks,” Kojiro says with a bright laugh, and Kaoru thinks he’s made the right choice - Kojiro seems happier than he ever has been, dazzlingly so, like Kaoru is staring directly into the sun.

It’s when the sun finally realizes he’s there though - the way his smile softens into more of an awkward upturn of his lips, and the light in his eyes just barely dimming - that Kaoru feels he’s gone blind. 

“Kaoru,” Kojiro utters, “you came.” 

If there’s anyone else in the room, they don’t matter for the moment; the entire crowd has blurred, and right now it’s just Kaoru, struggling to find the right words to say, and Kojiro, waiting on bated breath for whatever may come out of Kaoru’s mouth. 

He could ignore him. He could say something dismissive, make Kojiro realize that Kaoru is not as perfect as he’s probably made him out to be in his mind. He could be mean, but faced with that boyish sincerity that made Kaoru fall for him in the first place, he just can’t. Not when Kojiro’s so happy, not when it’s one of the most important days of his life.

“I wanted to see the painting,” he says - a basic reply, but an honest one. 

Kasumi, thankfully aware of the tension between them, glances back and forth before looking up at her son. “Me too! Is it in this room?”

“Ah - no, it’s in the next one,” he replies. Kaoru doesn’t think he’s ever heard Kojiro so antsy, picking up on the way his voice barely trembles. It’s scary, Kaoru knows, to show someone art you’ve worked so diligently on, doubly so if that person is the muse. But Kaoru also knows that he’ll love the art, because despite the subject of it, Kojiro has always been one of the most talented people Kaoru’s ever known. 

Kojiro points them in the direction of it, letting his parents lead the way while straying behind with Kaoru. The buzz of conversation keeps things from feeling too unbearably awkward, but Kaoru still keeps his head down and doesn’t say a word, not until Kojiro says, “You look…good.” 

Kaoru glances at him then. If only he knew how much time Kaoru put in into looking put together today; actually going through his skincare routine after neglecting it for a couple of days, washing his hair and deciding to keep it down with some of his locks pinned back, color coordinating his outfit and trying to not make the bump too noticeable, but giving up when nothing made him look slimmer. Kaoru realizes Kojiro’s eyes have lowered to the bump, then, and he puts a hand on it protectively. “At least you didn’t say I look like I’m glowing,” he jokes, no mirth behind those words. 

“I didn’t think you’d let me,” Kojiro quips back, sounding just as hollow. If it had been the past, Kojiro would have made some lighthearted joke, like I was thinking it or you always do. Kojiro might want to say it now, but it’s not the past, and Kaoru feels it so viscerally.

Kaoru takes in a deep, shuddery breath. He forces himself to tear his gaze away, focusing on some painting he doesn’t actually care about. I shouldn’t have made a joke, he thinks, though he doesn’t utter it out loud, because he doesn’t want to get stuck in an uncomfortable loop of apologies. “Where’s the painting?” he asks instead, switching from one unpleasant topic to another. 

“Ah - in here,” he says, this time loud enough that both of his parents, who had been talking about a painting of a landscape hanging nearby, hear. He manages to herd them all into the same room, and Kaoru holds his breath, preparing for the worst. 

What he sees, the second he enters, takes his breath away. 

It hangs in the middle of the wall, so when one enters, it’s the first thing they see. A medium sized canvas, its color scheme various shades of pink - cherry blossom pink, hot pink, rose, pastel, with accents of cream and olive green and warm chestnut brown scattered throughout, acting as the leaves, the branches, the middle of sakura buds. It stands out against an otherwise white background, and Kaoru recognizes what the reference is from on sight. 

It’s not an exact replica, but it’s that picture Kojiro had taken of him, when they had gone flower viewing, almost a year ago. 

He almost can’t tell that he’s in the painting at all, not until he gets closer; Kojiro had blended Kaoru in with the fluttering blossoms, all but obscured his face behind the branches of the sakura tree, until it’s difficult to tell where the flowing brush strokes of Kaoru’s pink hair ends and the flowers begin. Some even drift from his hair, too, or at least it looks that way - Kaoru’s head is turned upwards, his hair curling over his shoulder and up, up, until his hair connects with the tree and cherry blossom petals bloom from his hair and float into the sky. 

“Wow,” Kasumi gasps, her eyes widening as she takes in the portrait. Toshio, though silent, wraps an arm around her and looks at it appreciatively. 

Kaoru already feels panicky. This is so - this is too much. This is too fucking much, more than he thought he could take. He glances at the panel of information next to it, with Kojiro’s name on it, and sees the title of the piece.

The best flower is the cherry blossom flower;

The best man is the warrior. 

Kaoru remembers that day so clearly that he can recall their exact conversation, little things that others would probably forget but that he clings onto like a lifeline. 

“What should I do? Recite an idiom? Or maybe a haiku?”

“I’d be impressed. I’ve never dated a guy who could.”

“Then I’ll learn more. More idioms and haikus.”

Kaoru doesn’t even say anything; he takes a step back, then another, until he’s able to turn and rush out of the room. 

His heart is racing. It stutters against his chest, clawing at his ribs and threatening to rip his skin apart and tear itself out of his body. Kaoru finds a small, hidden hallway on this floor and a bench and he drops himself into the seat, bent over and covering his face with both of his hands. He must look like a freak, but he doesn’t care - he doesn’t care, because coming here was the worst mistake he could have ever made. 

He doesn’t know what he was expecting. Kojiro had told him it would be a painting of him, and it isn’t even a realistic, picture-like portrait. It’s minimalist, it could be anyone, yet Kaoru knows it’s him. It’s him, and it’s painted so lovingly, so masterfully, that it makes him want to cry. To know Kojiro worked on that for the past five months, while Kaoru had almost entirely iced him out, save for a few dry updates here or there, makes Kaoru feel so, so awful. Kojiro had kept this to himself, had nervously offered for Kaoru to see it, all while tending to his own broken heart. 

It could be a declaration of love, likening Kaoru to that of Japan’s favorite flower, dainty and delicate yet strong and beautiful all the same; or, it could be closure for Kojiro, spilled out onto the canvas, a similar idea to mono no aware - the realization that nothing lasts forever, not cherry blossoms, and not their relationship, as fleeting as sakura season. 

It’s too beautiful, and too meaningful, and too heartbreaking, and Kaoru is crying, now, quiet enough that he doesn’t make a scene. 

“Kaoru!” Kojiro’s voice echoes through the hallway, and Kaoru can hear his footsteps hitting the floor as he jogs over, his parents forgotten. And that makes Kaoru feel worse, to tear Kojiro away from the family he rarely ever gets to see. “Kaoru - “

Kaoru stands, wiping his face frantically and saying nothing; he just starts to walk away, because he cannot do this right now. Not when he feels so raw and sensitive, the chill of January chafing against his exposed nerves. Kojiro just follows him, until he can grab Kaoru by the wrist and stop him from running any further. 

That’s all he does - run, and run, and run, and when the consequences of it rear their ugly head, he runs even further away. 

“Kaoru - “

“I can’t do this!” Kaoru exclaims, surprising even himself with the volume of his voice. It sounds like it doesn’t belong to him, foreign and hollow and detached from his body. “I thought - I thought, maybe, I could keep in touch with you for the sake of the baby but I just - I can’t. Kojiro, I can’t -”

“Kaoru,” Kojiro says softly, though it does nothing to soothe Kaoru’s burning anxiety. He looks distressed himself, his brows furrowed, the look in his eyes desperate. “I’m going to be in my daughter’s life.”

“I didn’t say you can’t be!” Kaoru cries. He realizes, through the panic attack he’s still trying to shake off, that it sounded like that, like Kaoru would take the baby and run. He would never dream of that, not in a million years. “I just don’t want you to be in mine!” he yells, the words bouncing off of the empty hallway, ping-ponging off the clean tile and the white walls. 

He only realizes just how scathing it sounds after he says it. If he hadn’t, the look on Kojiro’s face would have done it. The concern turns into miserable, genuine hurt. Every time Kaoru thought he couldn’t be worse, he somehow outdoes himself. He wants to apologize, wants to take it back, but the words have already been said and Kaoru can see Kojiro taking them in, swallowing them down like an oversized, bitter pill. 

Kojiro lets Kaoru’s wrist go. 

“I shouldn’t have invited you,” he says. Kaoru’s never heard him sound like this before - so cold, so dejected, and knowing he was the one who caused it makes him despise himself even more. “I just - I didn’t want to display that piece without you knowing.” 

“No, I shouldn’t have come.” Kaoru’s wiped most of the tears from his face now, and he just feels numb. Numb, and logical, and so deeply unhappy. There’s only so much heartbreak he can take - heartbreak he created for himself, but heartbreak nonetheless - until he decides crying isn’t worth it anymore. “It’s a beautiful piece, it really is. I just never should have looked at it.” 

Kojiro says nothing to that. What could he say? 

“I’m leaving,” Kaoru decides, and Kojiro doesn’t try to stop him again. Even if he had, Kaoru would have jerked away from him, told him off, and rushed out of the building, but thankfully it doesn’t happen. He can hear Kasumi asking Kojiro what’s happened, though the further he walks away, the harder it is to eavesdrop. 

He hopes, at the very least, that Kasumi doesn’t hate him now. His own mother does, and there’s no way Kojiro could still care for him after today, after he ruined Kojiro’s proudest moment with his own outburst. And really, doesn’t it always end up like this? Kojiro having to cater to Kaoru’s needs, to the detriment of his own? Why would he still love Kaoru, after all that he’s done to him? 

He’ll get it, Kaoru thinks, in a halfhearted attempt to comfort himself. The leftover remnants of his tears sting his cheeks, cooling his skin in the breezy winter air. He’ll look back on today and realize why I broke things off. He’ll see that I was right. 

One day, Kojiro will forget he ever loved me, and he’ll be better off for it. 

–

That night, Kasumi reaches out to Kaoru, asking if he’s alright, to which Kaoru gives her a dry, simple reply of I’m alright, thank you to placate her. Kojiro doesn’t say anything, doesn’t send a text or try to call him, and neither does Kaoru. Their last text to each other was Kojiro giving Kaoru the directions to the University Art Museum, and it’s such a pathetic way for things to end. 

It stays that way, for the rest of Kaoru’s pregnancy.

“Mama, Mama, I wanna go inside!” 

If Haruhi had her way, she would have run into her kindergarten unattended. Kaoru is nervous, though; there are so many children and parents from other classes loitering around the front of the school and talking that he thinks Haruhi may get lost if he takes his eyes off of her for a second. “Let’s wait for Papa,” Kaoru reminds her, squeezing her little hand. 

“Oh…okay!” Haruhi exclaims, appeased by the suggestion. 

It’s Parent’s Day at Haruhi’s kindergarten, a day Haruhi has been looking forward to for weeks, ever since the date was announced and she brought the information back home to Kaoru. He had gone before, since he could afford to take a whole day off in October, and while each school is different, he remembers generally how Haruhi’s goes; after the parents watch their children in the classroom, painting or writing or being read to, they’re able to wander around the kindergarten, talk to the teachers, and meet other parents. While Kaoru isn’t particularly close to most of the other parents, it is still nice to go and meet them, especially the parents of Haruhi’s friends. 

The main difference this time, though, is that Kojiro is accompanying him. 

Kaoru, maybe against his better judgment, had invited him, when in the past he never has. Not that he ever stopped him from going, but things had been different - they weren’t as close in the past, but now they are, and especially since this is Haruhi’s last year at the kindergarten, he thinks it’s only fair to make sure Kojiro can come, too. Haruhi had jumped for joy when she heard both of her parents would be coming, and, like always, her happiness makes any sort of discomfort worth it. 

They still have fifteen minutes until the school day starts, and Kaoru is too busy chatting with one of Haruhi’s friend’s moms to notice the way Haruhi is peering past the gate and down the street. He’s caught off-guard when his arm suddenly jerks forward, and Haruhi wriggles free from his grip, yelling “Papa!” and running down the sidewalk. 

“Haruhi!” Kaoru cries, and he doesn’t even politely excuse himself from the conversation; he runs after her, his heart racing wildly at the thought of Haruhi being lost or stolen or hurt. Luckily, though, he doesn’t have to run very far.

Never in his life has he been so relieved to see Kojiro, lifting Haruhi up in his arms and laughing as she wraps her arms around his neck in a hug. “Good morning,” he coos, hugging her back, enveloping her in his arms. Kaoru feels a bit like an outsider, watching the exchange. 

If his thoughts about Kojiro weren’t already as complicated as they are, this would have made them worse; seeing them interact like this, so much love clearly shared between them, melts his heart. 

And then Kojiro looks over at Kaoru, that same soft, saccharine expression on his face, and Kaoru can barely stand to look at him. After all that’s happened, all that’s still on his mind that they haven’t talked about, he just can’t.

He shifts his eyes to Haruhi instead, sighing in disappointment. “Haruhi, you can’t just run off like that!”

“But I saw Papa!” she says, a solid defense in her eyes, but not in Kaoru’s. 

“You need to tell me when you do, because you might see someone who looks like him, but isn’t actually him, and they might hurt you,” he lectures. Haruhi frowns, ducking her head in shame. 

“Mama’s right,” Kojiro says, and it still baffles Kaoru to hear him refer to him that way. “You’re lucky that it was me.”

“I'm sorry…” she pouts, an apologetic frown on her face. She’s so cute that Kaoru can’t stay upset with her for very long.

“Just be more careful next time, alright?” Kaoru asks, and is satisfied enough when Haruhi nods her head. 

Kojiro puts her down on the sidewalk, then, holding her hand in his, big enough that it swallows up her tiny hand in his palm. “Let’s have fun today, Haruhi,” he encourages, bending down a bit as he does. Haruhi nods once, resolutely, with a small ‘mm!’, garnering a wide smile from Kojiro, dimples and all, and a soft grin from Kaoru. 

It’s then that his eyes drift down to the pale yellow drawstring bag in Kojiro’s hand, resting comfortably in the crevice of his elbow. “Did you bring lunch?” Kaoru asks, admittedly feeling a bit excluded. 

“Oh!” Kojiro stands upright, carefully resting a hand under the bag so it doesn’t jostle the food any more than it already has. “I made a bento for Haruhi, yeah. And for you, too,” he says. “I made sure to put salmon in yours,” he tacks on. Curiously, he sounds sheepish, even though he keeps smiling that same friendly, boyish grin of his that always makes Kaoru feel weak in the knees, though he’s loath to admit as much. 

“Oh,” he says, because really, there’s nothing else he can say. “That was very thoughtful of you,” he settles on, polite enough that he can still maintain some dignity. 

“Don’t mention it,” he insists. “Of course I’d make something for you.” 

Kaoru doesn’t know how many times Kojiro has to be so damn nice until he gets used to it. He’s not even sure why it trips him up so much - Kojiro has always been like this, kind to a fault, constantly thinking of others. Kaoru just hasn’t been subject to it for so long that he had almost forgotten what it felt like, how it’s at once pleasant and anxiety-inducing to be on the receiving end of Kojiro’s consideration. 

He has to blink a couple of times to get the disbelief out of his system before he clears his throat, nodding his head down. “I think it’s almost time to go inside.”

One by one, the parent-student pairs are let into the kindergarten. Kojiro and Kaoru are the only full set of parents that come today, which the other mothers tease them about before the class starts - “I wish my husband would come with me, too!” or “How nice of your husband to join you,” and Kaoru doesn’t have the heart or the social tact to tell them that Kojiro is not his husband, and has never even been given the chance. 

Kojiro just laughs it off, like he always does. “We aren’t married,” he says, making light of the misunderstanding. He looks too big in the chairs they have set out, and looks even more out of place surrounded by young and middle-aged mothers alike. “But I wanted to be here for her last Parent’s day.” 

Instantly, the chorus of mothers chime in, with “How sweet!” or “Such a thoughtful father…” or even “So you’re single?” which earns riotous laughter from the group. Kaoru says nothing, even as jealousy stings at his chest. 

It’s not rational, he knows; still, he feels unfairly territorial. 

The class goes like it typically does. Today, the children are given a piece of paper and told to draw their favorite thing. The teacher makes her rounds through the four-desk groups and watches carefully over what the students are drawing. Haruhi, like always, seems to be friends with everyone at her table - theirs is the loudest, reprimanded the most often for being too disruptive. The knowing looks that get thrown his and Kojiro’s way makes him want to vanish, or maybe meld into the wall and hide. 

And then there’s Kojiro. He looks positively delighted to be there, even if it is just forty-five minutes of watching children draw and crudely color stick figures or strange-looking animals. Haruhi keeps looking over at the two of them - as are the rest of the children with their own parents - with a big, gummy smile, and he waves back at her, coaxing her to go back to work. It strikes Kaoru, then, just how much Kojiro’s missed despite being in Haruhi’s life - the Parent’s Days, the sleepovers with Haruhi’s friends, greeting her as she comes home from school everyday, just the little daily things that make up a childhood. Kaoru had stolen it from him, kept it hidden away selfishly for years, until now. 

Kaoru still isn’t convinced Kojiro doesn’t at least dislike him. Hate, as he once decided Kojiro felt for him, now seemed too drastic. A general disdain for him was much more likely, even though Kaoru wonders - and he knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help his mind wandering - if he still holds some kind of affection for him. It’s far-fetched, and highly unlikely that he does, but Kojiro had almost kissed him after all, and still has that painting he made of Kaoru, and will smile at him when he sees Kaoru with Haruhi, and will reach out just to talk about their days. But then, Kaoru’s more logical mind reminds him, that’s just the kind of person Kojiro is. Kaoru was foolish to think Kojiro would hate him, because Kojiro probably doesn’t know how to hate anyone. He is so, so endlessly kind and forgiving, and Kaoru knows he doesn’t deserve that treatment, instead actively rejecting it. 

Looking at their relationship this way, though, after years of being convinced Kojiro hated him and only a few months of realizing that he probably doesn’t, is still something Kaoru needs to get used to. He still doesn’t believe it himself, but he lets himself hope, just enough that if he’s proven wrong, he won’t be that disappointed. Kojiro stays a comfortable arm’s length away, though Kaoru belatedly catches him scooting closer and closer, inch by inch. Parent’s Day is an extra three steps forward, but Kaoru is ready to pull back if he has to. 

After class, the kids are let out for recess, and the parents are able to tour the school. Kaoru, though, stays behind in the classroom to help tape up the drawings from today on the wall, in order of last name, while the teacher watches the children outside. Kojiro helps, too, handing Kaoru the drawings and watching as he hangs them up. 

“She takes after you,” Kaoru says, an aside not meant to be a joke. Kojiro laughs, though, a soft chuckle. 

“You think so?” he asks, handing Haruhi’s drawing to him. “You spend the most time with her.” 

“I meant art,” Kaoru clarifies. It’s not exactly true. Haruhi is like him in every single way - her smile, her laughter, her personality, even how she looks. There’s not a trace of Kaoru anywhere in her, just the sobering reminder that she’s Kojiro’s daughter more than she is Kaoru’s. He looks at her art, then - a drawing of herself, not as a stick figure but something slightly above that, standing between what must be Kojiro and Kaoru, based on the slinky form with long, pink hair and the triangular body with green spirals of hair, and holding their hands. My family, the title reads, and it threatens to choke Kaoru up. He plasters it to the wall instead, pausing in his duties to stare at it. 

“She does love drawing.” Kojiro stands up too, the tiny kindergarten chair squeaking as he scoots out from it. He stands next to Kaoru, crossing his arms and scrutinizing the family portrait himself. “She might be better than me at this point.”

“That’s not true,” Kaoru bemoans, lightly swatting at his arm. Kojiro laughs again, and for a brief moment Kaoru can pretend that this is their normal. “You’ve always been the best artist I’ve ever known.”

“How many do you know?” Kojiro challenges. 

“More than you think I do!” he protests, earning another laugh from him. “My mother gets commissioned by them quite often.” 

“Couldn’t they do it themselves?”

“It’s not the same!”

Another chuckle, and then silence. It sits between them like it always does, a wall towering over the both of them. Kaoru should go back to hanging up the drawings, but his thoughts stray, and for once, he isn’t able to control the words from bursting forward from his mouth.

“Do you still have that painting from senior year?” he asks, his voice coming out more delicate than he’d like. He doesn’t look at Kojiro as he asks, merely at the half-finished wall of amateur art before them. 

Kojiro is quiet for a moment. It’s agony, waiting for his response. Kaoru opens his mouth to tell him to just forget it, but he says, “I do, yeah.”

“Why didn’t you get rid of it?” He’s never been good at jokes, and still, he tries to make one, if only to lighten the mood withering inside his chest. “I’m sure your exes didn’t like seeing it.”

"They never saw it. And I guess I couldn't…” Kojiro starts, swallowing thickly. "Say goodbye to you or get rid of it. I couldn't do either, huh,” he reflects, with a bitter huff of a laugh. 

Kaoru doesn't say anything. Only stares ahead, glossy-eyed, heart heavy. 

"Y'know." Kojiro combs a hand through his hair, and Kaoru is terrified of what he’ll say next. "I still remember exactly how I painted it. Which layers I applied first, the way my wrist moved. I remember that the finishing touch was on the bridge of your nose. And that I cried after." 

Kaoru is still silent. He's always been a coward. It impairs him even now. 

"It felt a lot like closing a chapter of my life, and failing. I finished it, and now what? What would I do with myself after? I still missed you just as much. I still wanted you back." A pause, and then, a pained inhale of air -  "You really hurt me then, y'know."

To match him, Kaoru lets out a shaky exhale. “I’m sorry,” he says, because what else can he say? To have Kojiro lay his feelings bare like this, for the first time in years - to have confirmation that yes, that painting was a goodbye to Kaoru, and that yes, he hurt Kojiro enough to make him cry, stabs at his heart, his chest, his stomach. Not that Kojiro would have to tell him to know - Kaoru was well aware of it - but actually hearing it is another thing entirely. 

“I’m not mad at you for it. Not anymore.” And Kaoru wonders why? Why? You should be, you should hate me for it! “I was then, though. But I understand why you did what you did.” 

“You don’t have to say that for my sake,” Kaoru tells him. “I’d rather you be honest with me.”

“I’ve always been honest with you, Kaoru.” They look at each other, then - Kaoru, his eyes wet but no tears falling (he will not let any tears spill, not right now), and Kojiro, his naturally downturned eyes making him look even more depressed. “Neither of us knew what the right thing to do was. If I had to go back now, I still wouldn’t know what to do. All I know is that we were young, inexperienced, and immature, and we can’t hold that against ourselves. Right?”

Kojiro’s always been like this. He’s always been more able to forgive, to let things go, to not hold grudges. He’s always been more mature than Kaoru, likely a consequence of having a normal childhood, with a normal family, and a normal upbringing. Kaoru usually appreciates that about him, but now, it just feels like too much. Because now, he knows for sure - Kojiro doesn’t hate him. He doesn’t even dislike him. He had loved him enough to cry when he painted him, and to keep the same painting years later, despite the heartbreak that had been carefully stained into the piece with each brushstroke. He might not love him now, but - he doesn’t hold what happened against him. 

Kaoru’s the only one of them who does. 

“Kojiro,” he starts, his head still reeling, his thoughts far too jumbled. He wants to tell him he regrets it, that even though it made perfect sense to him then, he regrets how stubborn he was, how roughly he had pushed Kojiro away. But that means admitting that he still loves him, and Kaoru isn’t ready for that. He doesn’t think he ever will be. “You’re too perfect,” he settles on instead, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“I’m not perfect,” Kojiro disagrees, almost immediately. “Not at all.” 

Kaoru wants to ask him what he means by that, because the evidence isn’t adding up. Kojiro is always too kind, too loving, too forgiving, and Kaoru has rarely ever seen a flaw in him. The only one he can think of is the fact that he wakes up at five in the morning, and forces Kaoru up at seven when he brings Haruhi home. Kaoru has never met a man like Kojiro, not before or since, and he doesn’t think he ever will again. 

Kojiro must be feeling merciful today, though, because he doesn’ t make Kaoru ask, instead clarifying things for him. “I’m almost relieved not to be with Eri anymore,” Kojiro says, and it makes Kaoru’s breath hitch, however quietly. “I wasn’t unhappy with her, but I kind of led her on.”

“What do you mean?” Kaoru asks, but the question comes out stilted. There’s been far too much revealed to him today, enough that it makes his head spin - he can’t keep up, no matter how desperately he tries. 

Kojiro, strangely, looks nervous himself. He has to take a deep breath, and it seems the tension has finally become too much for him to bear. “It’s not that I didn’t love her, but - “

At that exact, inopportune moment, the teacher comes back into the room, sliding the door open with a gaggle of six year olds following closely behind her. Recess must be over, Kaoru thinks, because he sees Haruhi near the back of the line, rocking a little on her feet as she resists the urge to talk to her friends, or to run towards Kaoru and Kojiro. Kaoru, having distracted himself from his task, decides to again focus on it and let the conversation end abruptly. 

Lunch is awkward, to say the very least. Kaoru has to eat the bento Kojiro packed for him, and it, of course, is delicious. The salmon melts in his mouth, the rice is perfectly steamed, and the pickled plum sitting atop it is sour, just the way Kaoru likes it. He half-wonders if Kojiro remembered it all, the specific way he likes his food cooked, and swiftly reminds himself that of course he does; he had picked one of his favorite foods, had remembered his distaste for ginger at the aquarium. 

His eyes trail over to Kojiro, making small talk with the mother of one of Haruhi’s friends, and they meet, however briefly; Kojiro’s polite smile fades for just a moment when he looks at Kaoru, an intense, perhaps too serious expression crossing his face. Kaoru, feeling like a frightened animal, quickly glances away and stuffs another bite of rice into his mouth. 

The day ends at two in the afternoon, with the parents all taking turns to say their goodbyes to the teacher. When it comes to their turn, Haruhi beams. “Sensei!” she exclaims, bouncing up and down, “Haruhi is so happy she got to be with Mama and Papa today!” 

“I’m happy for Haruhi!” her teacher replies back. Kaoru’s known her for a bit - a nice, middle-aged lady who was also a single mother, she was one of the only teachers who didn’t judge Kaoru when he enrolled Haruhi into the school. “Hopefully they can both come to your graduation!” 

“Of course we will,” Kaoru offers, before he can stop himself. It’s not like they wouldn’t, but to offer it so casually is unlike him. “Thank you for taking such good care of her,” he adds, in an attempt to save face. 

“Thank you for coming,” her teacher replies with a bow, not batting an eye. Kaoru will miss her, once Haruhi starts going to primary school. 

The walk home is surprisingly relaxing. They each hold Haruhi’s hand, exactly like the picture she had drawn, and Kojiro even swings her, which means Kaoru has to swing her, too, and she giggles each time they do.

“I'm so happy!” she repeats, after being swung for a sixth, seventh, eighth time. She’s grinning so wide that the dimples that have just started to make an appearance show, yet another thing inherited from her father.

“You are?” Kaoru asks, his voice higher pitched than usual, smiling down at his baby girl. 

“I’m so happy,” Haruhi says for a third time, “that I get to spend time with Mama and Papa now!” 

Kaoru and Kojiro just look at each other. 

“We’re happy we get to spend time with Haruhi, too,” Kojiro replies, and thankfully Haruhi just giggles again, too elated to poke and prod any further. 

Haruhi doesn’t know how difficult it is for them to be in the same room together, or how much courage it took for Kaoru to even ask him to come today. She doesn’t know that up until a few hours ago, Kaoru thought Kojiro didn’t like him, yet spent time with him for Haruhi’s sake. She doesn’t know what happened in the past, why they aren’t together anymore, why it took so long for them to actually see each other again.

Haruhi doesn’t know, and Kaoru is aware he’ll have to tell her at some point. Not today, though. Not after everything he’s learned, not after the state of their relationship has changed, at least for Kaoru. So she stays blissfully unaware, happy to just be sandwiched between her parents as they hold her hands and walk her home, one of her few tastes of what having a normal, typical family can be like. 

23 - May/August

A month after he graduates college, top of his class with a degree in engineering to show for it, and two months after his twenty-third birthday, Kaoru has a baby, and it is the hardest thing he has ever done.

Kasumi is by his side through it all. Having come a week before the due date, she had helped Kaoru put together an overnight bag, had kept a close eye on him in the days leading up to it, and had taken control the second he went into labor. Toshio had somehow gotten them to the hospital fifteen minutes after it began, and Kaoru only briefly hears about him calling Kojiro before being rushed into a hospital room. 

Surprisingly, everything goes as smoothly as it can - it lasts for about half a day, ending in the early morning, and there are no complications. It’s still painful, and he still nearly squeezes Kasumi’s hand off, but it’s a perfectly unremarkable birth. The only issue, which isn’t much of an issue at all, is that his baby is big. The doctor and nurses marvel at her, though, pleasantly surprised that the baby is so healthy, at a sizable nine pounds.

Kaoru is still catching his breath when his baby is handed to him, cleaned up and wrapped in a soft white blanket. He holds her so close to his chest, and when her eyes blink open, he takes one look at her and starts crying. 

She looks exactly like her father. A tuft of green hair, soft, fat cheeks, skin tanner than Kaoru’s, and big brown eyes. She’s heavy, warm, and just stares up at him as he sobs, when she should be the one crying. Her little hand reaches up and grabs for a lock of his hair, messy and loose from its bun, and just holds it. Doesn’t pull, doesn’t even tug, just holds his hair and makes his heart melt. 

“Oh, she’s so beautiful,” Kasumi coos, staring down at her alongside Kaoru. He’s so choked up, so emotional, all he can do is laugh through his tears. 

“Hello, Haruhi,” he says softly, gently cupping her face and brushing his thumb against her cheek. Haruhi just blinks at him again, so small and precious and perfect and everything Kaoru had hoped for. 

–

After Kasumi leaves a month later, things get harder. He still lives alone, and while he’s gotten into a routine, it’s so difficult to do it alone. 

He feels bad asking anyone for help. Every so often, Kiriko offers to help, but with her new job it’s not consistent enough for Kaoru to look forward to. He lets Kojiro take her a couple times a week, at least, after he told Kaoru he got a job offer in Okinawa and was going to move back as soon as he finishes his apprenticeship. Despite everything that’s happened between them, Kaoru still wants Haruhi to get used to Kojiro. 

Haruhi, thankfully, is the easiest baby Kaoru ever could have asked for. She only cries if she’s hungry or needs her diaper changed, and sleeps for the rest of the day. She always smiles when he leans over the crib to pick her up, and giggles whenever he playfully lifts her up in the air. Once in a while she wakes up and wants to be rocked, and she does wake Kaoru up at ungodly hours, but it could be worse. Kaoru reminds himself of that every day - he’s all alone, he’s unemployed, and he has a baby he has to take care of by himself, but it could always be worse. 

He knows, logically, that he’ll need to get a job sooner rather than later. He can only coast for so long on the money from Tomoe that he had saved up. The thing is, though, he doesn’t want to stay in Tokyo. It’s more expensive than Naha, more competitive, and he doesn’t think he could raise Haruhi here. He wants her to grow up somewhere slower, more languid - somewhere like Naha. Most of his time is spent applying for jobs, searching for a little apartment for the two of them, and keeping Haruhi alive. He nearly forgets about himself, except for when the growl of hunger seizes his stomach or he realizes his hair is greasier than it should be. 

It doesn’t matter. Kaoru never gets unexpected visitors. Not until now, at least. 

Kaoru doesn’t remember the last time he’s seen his mother clean. Once they were well off enough, she would hire someone else to do it while she was at work, or would make him do it instead. He sits, justifiably shocked, in the middle of his living room, mindlessly rocking three-month old Haruhi in her cradle as Tomoe scrubs away at the kitchen sink. 

“I cannot believe you would let yourself live in such squalor,” she sighs, rubbing the sponge against a particularly tough spot. It’s really not that bad. Kaoru is not a fan of mess and while it isn’t perfect, it’s livable, but to Tomoe that’s not good enough. He knows she wants it spotless, not a speck of dust sitting on any counter, any piece of furniture. 

“I didn’t ask you to come clean my apartment for me,” he points out. Tomoe had shown up without any warning, for the first time since their eruptive fight, and took one look at the place and decided to tidy it all up. Kaoru hadn’t even gotten the chance to ask why she was here, before she started washing the few leftover dishes and stacked them on the drying rack. 

“And I didn’t expect to have to clean today.” It’s obvious, considering the nice summer yukata she has on, her hair and makeup as flawless as usual. “But I suppose I should have.”

“Come sit down, then!” Kaoru insists. “You haven’t even looked at Haruhi yet.” 

The suggestion seems to get her attention; for the first, and possibly only time in his life, Tomoe listens to what he says. It must be a reminder of why she actually came here. She leaves the sponge in the sink and washes her hands, before coming over to the living room and peering over Haruhi. 

Haruhi, true to form, gurgles at her with a smile. 

“She looks just like him,” is the first thing Tomoe says, her voice flat and neutral, and Kaoru takes in a deep, shuddery breath. “The poor thing barely even resembles you at all.”

“Are you calling her ugly?” Kaoru asks wearily, because really, he wouldn’t put it past her.

“Not at all.” Tomoe reaches down to pick Haruhi up, and Kaoru watches as her face softens, the permanent frown on her face turning upwards ever so slightly, the corners of her eyes crinkling. 

Tomoe must have held a baby before. Certainly, she held him when he was Haruhi’s age. But Kaoru has never laid eyes on the sight, and he feels like he’s dreaming, like what he’s staring at before him is fake. His mother coos softly, rocking back and forth on her feet, and her granddaughter babbles back, her little hand clutching the neckline of her yukata and tugging, just the tiniest bit. 

Kaoru realizes, then, that he’s missed her. 

Being a parent, even for such a short amount of time, has been so humbling. Kaoru’s entire life - what he eats, when he gets up in the morning, what kind of job he wants and what kind of house he needs - revolves around Haruhi. Especially as a single parent, with little help, the past few months of Kaoru’s life has been a struggle. Even if Haruhi is an easy baby, he’s had endless nights where she just won’t fall asleep, or days where she refuses to eat, and he has no choice but to keep trying until he exhausts himself. It’s caused him to spend a lot of his time thinking. He thinks about how his life used to be, how his life could be, and about his mother. His mother, who had always put more pressure on him than anyone else to be perfect; who tried stopping him from expressing himself as a rowdy teenager; who went through a divorce all because her husband decided she was too cold and unloving and was envious of her success, and came out a frigid, tougher woman with a child to raise. 

Kaoru doesn’t think he could ever forgive her for all of the fights, or all the times she made him angry, or the strife she’s caused him, how irreversibly anxious and temperamental he is because of her. But he can understand why she did what she did, and how she did it, even though he’s already decided that there’s no way in hell he’ll let his own daughter be raised that same way. 

She was a new, young mother once, just like he is now. She was a single mother for even longer. Now that he’s going through the same thing she did twenty-three years ago, he feels as if he knows her better. 

“Look at your hair,” she says, and Kaoru glances up at her, breaking himself out of his daze. It’s in a bun, thrown together sloppily just so it would stay out of his way. Haruhi has a habit of grabbing things and pulling, or trying to stick his hair into her mouth. The last time he washed it was a couple of days ago, or at least he thinks it was. Tomoe shakes her head, clicking her tongue like she always does. “What a mess you are, Sakurayashiki Kaoru.”

He doesn’t know what it is about it, but he just starts crying. 

His vision blurs before he can stop himself, and he covers up his face with both hands, because the last thing he wants her to see is how ugly he looks when he sobs. If she’s ever made him cry, it’s always been out of her eyesight, muffled into a pillow or loud heaves in the shower. Kaoru’s only heard her cry once or twice before, both times hidden behind her bedroom door after he told her he hated her when he was fifteen and didn’t understand anything about her or himself. The Sakurayashikis do not cry, which is why she kneels down, Haruhi deposited safely back in the cradle, and says, “My little crybaby.” 

Why can’t you just say you love me?

Kaoru just hiccups a sob; Tomoe, uncharacteristically, pulls him into a hug. 

He cannot remember the last time he cried in his mother’s arms. Maybe when he was a child, after scraping his knee or after someone at school hurt his feelings. He stopped running to her for comfort when she became the reason for his tears. Not today, though - he wraps her arms around her waist and buries his face into the expensive fabric of her yukata. Tomoe says nothing, just pats his back soothingly. 

“You’re a horrible mother,” Kaoru sobs. They’re wet and strained, an unsavory sound that Tomoe would usually scold him for. “I missed you.”

“I know,” Tomoe replies. 

Kaoru pulls away after what must be five minutes, maybe ten. He wipes his nose on his cardigan sleeve (and the look of disgust on Tomoe’s face does not go unnoticed). Kaoru lays his head in her lap, like he used to do when he was a child, and says, “I want to go home.” 

His mother just smooths a hand over his hair, and he wonders what it would have been like, if she had been like this more often. If it didn’t take them over two decades to listen to each other, if they could have been a normal family, just the two of them. 

“Alright,” Tomoe says, and Kaoru’s cries of anguish turn into ones of relief. 

With November comes cooler weather, though never as cold as on the mainland. It’s the perfect weather to spend a day outside in, and Haruhi had jumped at the chance to go to the playground with both Mama and Papa. 

“If you want to play, you need to keep your sweater on,” Kaoru gently chides, pulling it over Haruhi’s head to layer it over her shirt. Kojiro holds her boots in one hand, standing politely by the entryway and waiting for his cue. 

“Okay,” Haruhi agrees, before immediately wiping her slightly runny nose on her sleeve. Kaoru halts momentarily, his hands frozen, but ultimately decides that she’s going to get her sweater dirty anyways - what’s the point in changing it now?  

“Let’s put your boots on,” Kojiro says. He leans down and, with a tissue Kaoru didn’t even see him take out of his pocket, has her wipe her nose after she laces up her boots. Kaoru just glances over at him, still surprised by how easily he deals with small problems like this. “Are you ready to go now?”

“Yes!” 

The park nearby is only mildly crowded, and they run into one of Haruhi’s friend’s moms the moment they arrive. It leaves them with the chance to sit together and watch Haruhi, but also to just sit, enjoying each other’s company. 

It’s something Kaoru hasn’t done in such a long time. His own hangups about himself, the way he handled the pregnancy and the years following it are still prevalent as ever, but it somehow feels…easier. Simpler. Like he can be around Kojiro and, while he may hate himself, knows that Kojiro doesn’t hate him. Things aren’t perfect, of course, but - things are better than they have been.

That leads to different issues, though. Kaoru’s mind, as it always does, thinks and thinks and thinks. If Kojiro doesn’t hate him, maybe there’s a chance for them. Maybe Kojiro could fall in love with him again. Maybe Kaoru isn’t as alone in his feelings as he thinks he is. But before any of the thoughts can take root, he reminds himself, oh, yeah - there’s no way he’d want to be with me. Because even if things are a little clearer, and Kaoru feels a little lighter, there’s still so many things wrong with him that Kojiro would be an idiot to try and date him again. 

He can live with this, though. The wind rustling through his hair, causing him to pull his scarf a little tighter around the collar of his turtleneck; Kojiro, calling out to Haruhi in amazement as she swings on the monkey bars and begs for him to watch; the comforting presence of having a warm body next to him, when he had gotten so used to coming here alone. 

Kaoru crosses his arms across his chest and shivers. 

“Too cold?” Kojiro asks. He’s in a jacket, too, but he doesn’t seem to mind the weather; it’s been much colder in Tokyo, but it’s also been years since either of them have been there.

“I’m fine,” Kaoru says, though he makes no move to uncross his arms. “It gets even colder in the shop.” 

“God, it’s always freezing in there,” Kojiro grumbles, sounding more aggrieved than he likely feels. “I’m worried that one day I’ll walk in and you’ll be frozen to the ground.” 

Kaoru, despite himself, laughs. It’s not even a good joke - it’s probably not even a joke at all - but that’s the thing about Kojiro. The longer Kaoru spends with him, the easier it is to laugh. “Maybe I could finally take a break,” Kaoru replies, feeling triumphant when Kojiro laughs too, and whether it’s because what he said was funny or out of solidarity, he isn’t sure.

“At least you aren’t working a desk job,” Kojiro points out, and Kaoru just rolls his eyes in response, a clear sign of regret.

“I did once,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Never again.”

“You know, that reminds me,” he starts, and Kaoru glances his way, waiting for him to continue, “I never asked - why do you own a flower shop, anyways?”

Right. Kaoru had never really told him, because he never thought to. It was just a part of his life that became so normal to him that he never considers it may be unusual to anyone else. It’s certainly not what he spent years of studying to be, but he’s more content to be doing this than to be working for some huge engineering company that doesn’t care about him at all. 

“It was passed down to me,” Kaoru says, needlessly vague. He still, admittedly, has trouble opening up, even on small things like this.

“From your mother?” Kojiro asks. “I didn’t know she owned one.”

“No, from the lady who owned it first,” he clarifies. “She’s the wife of one of my mother’s clients. She gave me a job and decided I was so good at it that I should run the shop after she retired.” 

“You are good at it,” Kojiro agrees, “but you’re always good at everything you do.” 

He says it so casually that it catches Kaoru off-guard; there’s no flirtatious smile or shift in body language, just a genuine thought, and maybe that’s worse than if Kojiro was actually hitting on him. Kaoru, after a moment, clears his throat. “I might be too good,” he jokes, somehow managing to sound both confident and self-deprecating at the same time. “I’m too much of a workaholic.” 

“It could be worse. You could be married to your job." A pause, and then, "actually, you could be married to some Diet member your mother picked out for you."

Kaoru freezes at that, even as Kojiro laughs, and it takes him a moment to realize he’s joking. He joins in, despite the fact that if things had gone any different, that could have been his life. “I don’t even want to think about that,” he groans, throwing his head back dramatically.

Kojiro chuckles, a low, deep rumble of a noise. “Jokes aside, it’s crazy,” he muses incredulously, shaking his head. 

“What is?” Kaoru asks. 

“That you’re single.” The laughter dies down a little, now. Kaoru just blinks at him, and while he’s still smiling, Kojiro’s eyes betray something more serious, telling Kaoru that he really, actually means it. Kojiro seems to realize it faster than Kaoru can even properly react to it, because he tacks on, “a part of me thought you’d get married to some doctor.”

Kaoru, thankfully, manages not to gape uselessly at Kojiro. “My mother would love for me to,” he teases back. The breeze brushes past them, and he has to tuck a few loose strands behind his ear. “But if I married anyone, I’d just want them to love Haruhi.” 

“That’s it?” Kojiro asks, almost like he’s offended on Kaoru’s behalf, though for what reason Kaoru is unsure. “What about someone who loves you?” 

Kaoru looks at him, then, bewildered and wide-eyed and speechless. 

Of course, he wants someone who loves him. But when Kaoru can’t find it in him to love himself, how could he ever expect the person he wants to love him that way? To cherish him, to accept him, faults and all, when those same faults had wounded him so irreparably? Maybe that’s what’s stopped him this whole time - his crippling inability to see him as anything other than some shriveled, undesirable person whose only good point is how much he loves his daughter. 

But the way Kojiro’s looking at him now - his brows are furrowed in concern, and the swirling expression in his eyes is borderline unreadable, save for the possibility of curiosity, or, if Kaoru was more reckless with his thoughts, desire - challenges all of that. 

“I haven’t really thought about it,” he lies, because he has. Most of his time, if not spent thinking about Haruhi or his job or the various errands he has to do, revolves around Kojiro. Wanting Kojiro to love him, then reminding himself that it’s just wishful thinking. Over and over and over again, neverending, and only worsened when in his company. 

“You should,” Kojiro says, his voice low enough now that only the two of them can hear each other, the intimacy of it causing Kaoru’s hair to stand on end. “You deserve someone like that, Kaoru.”

But I want you, he thinks desperately. I want you, but you would probably never love me like that again, and I want -

Kaoru, unbeknownst to himself, too lost in his own thoughts, tilts his head up. 

I want… 

Kojiro, unbeknownst to Kaoru, doesn’t move away. He doesn’t stop him, he doesn’t say anything - he leans in, hesitant, his eyes only barely lidded and fixated on Kaoru’s lips. 

I want - 

A loud thud has Kaoru’s eyes - which he didn’t even realize were closed - fly open. They both look in the direction of the sound and see Haruhi, laid out flat on her stomach as a swing flies up in the air. 

“Haruhi!” Kaoru cries, and he’s on his feet in an instant; the other girl she had been swinging with stops, grabbing the other one to keep it from hitting Kaoru as he runs up to Haruhi. “Oh, sweet girl, are you alright?”

Haruhi, to Kaoru’s surprise, is laughing. She’s laughing, and laughing, and when she finally looks up at Kaoru, she has blood trickling from her mouth. “That was fun!” 

“Are you okay?!” He hadn’t even noticed Kojiro following after him, but he picks up Haruhi to sit her on her bottom, trying and failing to wipe the blood away before it gets on her sweater. Kaoru glances around the ground and finds the culprit of the stream of blood. He picks up a tooth - the baby tooth that had been wiggling in her mouth for a few days now - out of the sand that had just barely cushioned her fall. She’s still giggling, even though Kaoru is struggling to find the situation humorous. He had taken his eyes off of her for a second and now - 

“I'm okay!” she exclaims, and when she grins Kaoru can see the gap in her mouth where her canine used to be. 

He lets out a dramatic, relieved sigh. “You need to be more careful!” he scolds, though he sounds more exhausted than actually angry. “Don’t swing so high again, okay?” 

“But it was fun!” 

“It was dangerous!” 

“She’s alright, though,” Kojiro butts in, and Kaoru just fixes him with a glare. He ignores it, keeping his gaze on Haruhi. “But Mama is right. Be more careful next time, alright? You might hurt more than your baby teeth - like your arm, or your leg, or your nose.” 

“Oh…okay,” Haruhi replies, placated. She nods dutifully, now that the crisis seems to have been averted. “It hurts a little,” she admits. 

“We should go get some ice,” Kaoru tells Kojiro, who, without further instruction, picks Haruhi up to carry her home.

Haruhi gets a random, probably freezer-burned popsicle pressed against her cheek until the swelling goes down. Kaoru watches Kojiro as he holds it to her cheek, her sitting on the couch with one of her favorite shows playing on the TV, and he knows what happened at the park won’t be discussed tonight. It probably won’t be, ever. Two times that they’ve almost kissed each other and they continue acting as if nothing happened, everything is normal, and this doesn’t mean anything for their relationship. 

Kaoru doesn’t know how much longer he can keep pretending. It’s getting more and more difficult each day to act like he doesn’t care for him, to keep it hidden deep within him, so far down that even if he tried, Kojiro would never be able to pull it out of him. 

Haruhi smiles at Kojiro after he makes a joke, and Kaoru sighs. Things are fine the way they are, he decides, if Haruhi is happy. 

I can wait a little bit longer. 

26 - April 

“Kaoru, what do you think of older men?” 

Kaoru is exhausted. He had planned to spend his weekend off alone, unwinding from his grueling, borderline unbearable sixty-hour work week and unpacking the rest of his boxes in his new house while Haruhi was at her father’s. He has no such luck, though - Tomoe had shown up unannounced and demanded he accompany her to some client’s wife’s birthday dinner. Now, she’s tying the back of his obi for him, and he knows he has no one to blame but himself for relenting so easily. 

“If you’re trying to play matchmaker, just say so,” Kaoru sighs, patting out the bottom of his kimono gently.

“Their son is thirty-five and a neurosurgeon,” Tomoe confesses, rather than beating around the bush. He doesn’t know why she started off with a hypothetical to begin with. “And he’s single.”

“No.” It’s what he always says, when Tomoe propositions him with some doctor, or lawyer, or son of a CEO. That she hasn’t given it up already is anyone’s guess - Kaoru thinks it’s because she’s just as stubborn as him. “I’m not interested, hahaoya, so I really hope you didn’t tell them that I was.”

“I didn’t,” Tomoe says, and Kaoru knows she’s lying. He just exhales again, an irritated, aggrieved huff of a breath, as she straightens out his obi, makes sure his collar juts out in the back just enough. “Put your getas on and let’s go.” 

Unfortunately, it’s not the first or last time Tomoe has dragged him to some business dinner or anniversary party for one of her many, many clients. Kaoru can’t even use the excuse of needing to stay with Haruhi, because she isn’t there, so the first one that comes to mind is, “Do you even have a gift for her?” 

Tomoe pauses, and he knows he’s got her. She would rather die than show up empty-handed to anyone’s home, and it’s too late to run out and buy something, lest they seem unpunctual. “Shit,” she murmurs, one of the only times he’s ever heard his perfectly poised mother curse. 

Kaoru glances around his living area. Even though it’s still sparse, he does have some bouquets of his own from when he invited a couple of his colleagues over after he moved in, alongside one arrangement that Kasumi brought him as a housewarming gift. In a fit of desperation, he hastily throws something together - a flower bowl full of purple irises standing straight up, with a white lily decorating the shallow base. It’s sparse yet beautiful, the minimalist design something Tomoe had made sure he had learned a lifetime ago, in all of those countless ikebana classes. 

“Now we can go,” he says, and then, “how did you forget a gift?”

“Be quiet.”

Despite his efforts - all five minutes of them, but efforts nonetheless - Tomoe is the one who gives the client’s wife, a nice lady older than Tomoe named Tanaka-san, the blooms as soon as they enter their home. Kaoru doesn’t really care, not when he just wants to get this over with and go home. 

“Oh! These are so lovely!” Tanaka-san gasps, accepting the vase with a practiced elegance typical of a rich man’s wife. It doesn’t seem faked, though, if how grateful she sounds is anything to go by. “Who made it?”

“My son did,” Tomoe says, stepping aside the tiniest bit to force Kaoru to show his face, rather than try to hide behind her like a scared child. “He is very talented in ikebana, as well as calligraphy and playing the biwa and koto.”

What she fails to mention is that Kaoru hasn’t done any of those things ever since he was eighteen. He knows it makes him all the more attractive, though, especially to a wealthy, traditional woman with a single son she needs to marry off. He simply tilts his head down in a humble bow. “My mother speaks far too highly of me. I haven’t kept up with my playing, or my calligraphy, or my ikebana in a very long time.” 

“But you seem like a natural!” Kaoru merely smiles serenely at her, ignoring the angered side-eye Tomoe is throwing his way. “This looks like it was made by a professional.”

“You’re too kind,” Kaoru replies. She doesn’t need to know that they’re leftovers of his own flowers, arranged as an afterthought. “Thank you for inviting us to your home,” he says, with another practiced nod of his head. 

“Of course! Come in, come in.” 

It’s a beautiful party, really. Their mansion is designed in the traditional style, a modern mix of both Japanese and Western architecture and furniture choices. He could get lost in the building alone, admire the masterful construction of it, but Kaoru, of course, isn’t able to avoid the eventuality that is meeting their son. He isn’t awful to look at, but he isn’t Kaoru’s type - no one could be, except for the man who completely changed what his type is. He’s barely shorter than him (a fact he hides by spending most of their time together sitting down), not very interesting, and, frankly, a waste of Kaoru’s time. 

When the topic of children comes up, and he says, “I hate kids, but you need to have them to carry on the family line,” Kaoru knows there’s no future. 

“That’s a shame,” he says, faking disappointment. “I would love to have children.”

“Well, I’m sure we could make something work,” he replies. Kaoru leans back when he presses forward, further into Kaoru’s space, and he really realizes just how unappealing the prospect of being with this man is.

“That won’t be necessary,” Kaoru assures him. He stands, politely bows, and says, “excuse me,” before finding Tomoe in the crowd and making his way towards her. 

“So?” Tomoe asks expectantly, her brows raised. Kaoru shakes his head, and she immediately frowns. “You shouldn’t be so picky, Kaoru.” 

“He hates children,” Kaoru says blankly, and it shuts Tomoe up, if only for a moment. “If you want me to marry someone so badly, how about you actually pick men who aren’t worthless?”

“Kaoru!” she chides, her eyes flashing with brief irritation. “Not so loudly!” 

“I wasn’t loud at all!” 

Tomoe just huffs. 

Kaoru’s asked her before why she’s so insistent on pairing him up with somebody, especially when she herself has been single for close to three decades, and her answer is always the same - “I just want the best for you.” There are variations, of course - “you’re too codependent to be on your own” if she’s angry, or “you’re so busy, you’ll need someone who can cover the cost of childcare and extra help for Haruhi” if she feels more sympathetic. 

And she’s right, in a way. Kaoru is busy. His engineering job demands longer and longer hours out of him the more time he works there, expecting twelve hour shifts more frequently. He only sees Haruhi during bedtime, if Tomoe or Kasumi haven’t tucked her in yet, or every other weekend he has her. She just keeps getting older and older, and Kaoru can just barely scrape together something resembling himself at the end of the day to see her for fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. 

He sees Tomoe’s point - he’s a workaholic, and she more than likely misses him - but he doesn’t want to accept it. Even if he’s miserable now, he knows marrying someone he barely even cares about would just make things even worse, for both him and Haruhi. 

She doesn’t pester him about it for the rest of the night, though. That in itself is a small victory, that he can just trail behind her and make forced small talk until she decides it’s an appropriate time for them to go home. 

Their route throughout the mansion eventually brings them back to Tanaka-san, alongside her husband, who thanks Tomoe for the piece that now hangs on their living room wall. “It was a perfect gift for my wife,” he says gratefully, flattering Tomoe. Kaoru watches in quiet amusement as she just barely tilts her chin up, like it physically pains her to try and defer to anyone anymore. It’s admirable, if he’s being honest with himself. 

“I am thankful that you chose me to create such a thoughtful gift,” Tomoe says, her refined upbringing oozing from her words. “I hope you feel so inclined to hire me again.”

“Of course I will. There’s no better calligrapher in Okinawa,” he replies, to which Tomoe lets herself grin, just the tiniest bit. 

“Well, you are much too kind,” she demures, though she doesn’t deny his praise. 

“Kaoru-kun,” Tanaka-san says suddenly, reaching out to touch his arm. He doesn’t pull away, perhaps because the touch froze him in place. “You really aren’t a professional florist?”

“Oh, darling,” her husband laughs, and it’s a bit condescending to Kaoru, though saying as much would ruin both his and Tomoe’s reputations. “You can’t recruit everyone to work at your shop, you know.”

“I know, but - “ And here she looks at Kaoru, something like determination in her eyes, something that Kaoru recognizes immediately. “Kaoru-kun, if you ever want a job as a florist, call me.” She reaches into her little clutch bag and pulls out a business card, handing it over to him. It’s a light buttercup yellow, with raised forest green text on it - not the most professional, but just quirky enough for a florist. “It’s a bit of a passion project. It’s just me now, and I would appreciate the help very much, if you are so inclined,” she says, reeling her excitement back after her husband’s light scolding and seemingly reminding herself of how she ought to speak.  

Kaoru laughs, though it’s a little awkward. He hadn’t come here expecting to receive a job offer, but, well - maybe he should have known better, considering the guest list. “I’ll think about it,” he promises her, even though the prospect of doing something as mundane as putting flowers in vases seems like it might be a waste of his degree. 

But Tanaka-san just smiles at him, hopeful and warm, and for some reason, he feels it’d be a disservice to her to not even attempt to consider it. 

“I’ll be waiting, then,” is all she says. 

– 

Kaoru quits his job the next day. 

He only takes a night to decide to do it. Flipping the business card over and over again in his hand, he takes note of the location - not too far from here, close to a kindergarten he wanted to start sending Haruhi to - and the hours - nine in the morning to five in the afternoon, which she assures him won’t require any overtime from him when he calls to ask for more information and, ultimately, accept her offer.  

Really, the decision was one of the easiest ones Kaoru has ever made. The burnout from his current job, the proximity to Haruhi’s potential kindergarten, and the change of pace is more than tempting. Most important of all, though, is the fact that he can spend more time with Haruhi - Tanaka-san had said she could come to work with him, so long as she doesn’t act out, and Kaoru swears to her that Haruhi will be on her absolute best behavior. That, plus being able to have dinner with her and go through her bedtime routine with her, makes it a no-brainer. 

The moments leading up to his first day are spent finishing up most of his projects at his old job, finally unpacking all of his boxes, enrolling Haruhi into the nearby kindergarten and somehow managing to squeeze her in late, and going out for farewell drinks with his coworkers, who tease him for being the first one to “get out of here.” 

It’s strange, but despite it being such a monumental plunge, he’s excited. 

“Now, Haruhi,” Kaoru begins slowly, tucking her into a jacket on his first day, “you need to behave, alright? Mama is bringing all of your favorite coloring books and toys, and you can have fun as long as you aren’t too loud.”

“Okay!” Haruhi exclaims, because to her three, almost four-year-old mind, joining Mama at work feels like a field trip, some place fun and new for her to explore. “Haruhi will be quiet.”

“Good,” he says, kissing her on the forehead. He reaches his hand down for her, and she grabs it, the both of them squeezing each other gently. “Are you ready?”

Haruhi nods, bouncing on her feet. The two of them step out into the world, hand in hand, embracing the unknown together. 

Kaoru trades his business attire for soft sweaters and slouchy cardigans, his engineering blueprints for dozens and dozens of freshly-cut flowers, and his life changes again - this time, for the better. 

Kaoru can tell Haruhi has something on her mind. She’s never been a good liar, because she has such an expressive face. Her eyebrows wrinkle together, her eyes are downcast, and she looks like she’s on the precipice of asking something but never getting the courage to. 

It starts when she gets home from a friend’s house during winter break, and lasts until later that night. Kojiro had made the excuse of buying too many ingredients for this new recipe he wanted to try, and invited the two of them over for dinner - and it’s not like either of them would have said no. She says nothing while they eat dinner - nothing out of the ordinary seemed to happen, and it sounds like she had fun - so Kaoru wonders just what occurred that’s making her seem so pensive, her mouth twisted into a little frown in between bites of food.

Even though he tends to follow the philosophy of “don’t pressure your kids to talk to you, if they want to they will,” in almost direct opposition of his own mother, Haruhi doesn’t say anything, not once, and it worries him. In the past, when she’s been upset - like when Eri pushed her away from a hug, or her hair was brushed too hard - it doesn’t take very long for her to crack. It must be something serious, for her to still be so deep in thought and not speak up about it.

Kaoru takes it upon himself to figure out what’s wrong.

While Kojiro is busy washing the dishes (he hadn’t let Kaoru even though he insisted, but glanced between him and Haruhi as if to say “take care of her first”), Kaoru squats down to Haruhi’s level and says, “Is something wrong, darling?”

She just shakes her head wordlessly. 

Kaoru decides, then, to pick her up - a bit of a struggle, considering she isn’t a toddler anymore - and sets her on the counter, so they can look each other in the eyes, and so she doesn’t feel too small. “If you want to tell Mama what’s wrong, you can,” he reassures her gently, holding her little hands in his. “I’ll wait for you to feel comfortable enough to.”

Her face contorts just the tiniest bit when she pouts, an unusual look on her typically content face. He can tell it must be eating away at her, because she looks down at their joined hands, then back up at him, once she gets the confidence to speak. “Why aren’t Mama and Papa married?” 

The dishes clink together harshly in the sink. Kaoru just blinks at her, completely taken aback - he had expected it would be about a friend making fun of her, or struggling to fit in, which wouldn’t have been better but it would have been easier to explain to her, to help comfort her. This, though - he knew the day would come where she would ask this, but not this soon. Maybe when she was a little bit older, ten at the youngest.

Haruhi watches him, and he knows she’s waiting for a response. All he can muster up, though, is, “Why are you thinking about that?”

“Mitsumi-chan’s parents act a lot like Mama and Papa, and they’re married,” Haruhi says. “They take her places and make dinner and talk to each other like Mama and Papa do…it made me sad.” She pauses for a moment, and then adds, “And Ayane-chan’s parents aren’t married, but they live together and are happy…” Her indignant pout turns into a sad, melancholic frown, as she puts it all together in her head. “Haruhi wondered why Mama and Papa don’t.” 

Kaoru wishes it was simpler to explain. The situation is just so complex, so needlessly convoluted by his own neurotic mind, and he has no clue how to make it easier for a six-year-old to digest. He glances at Kojiro for a moment, to see if he has anything to say, but he looks just as lost as Kaoru feels. The dishes have been neglected, and he washes his hands off with a towel, counting on Kaoru to try and find a way to make it all make sense to Haruhi. 

“Before you were born,” Kaoru starts, slowly, carefully, because her mind is still so malleable and anything he says she might take at face value, “Papa and I loved each other. And we loved you. That’s why we had you. But we decided that it would be best to not be together, so we could raise you separately, like we do now.”

“But why?” Haruhi stresses, and it’s clear his simplified explanation doesn’t do much to help her. 

Kaoru really doesn’t have a good answer. At least, there’s not one he could give her that would make any sense to her, or that wouldn’t make her feel like she has to comfort him. He flounders for a moment, scrambling to find the right reply, when Kojiro finally interjects with, “Mama and Papa weren’t ready to get married, and we needed to be alone.” 

It’s not entirely wrong - it’s not entirely right, either, but unraveling the complicated mess that is their relationship is too monumental a task. He nods, though, agreeing with Kojiro, who has now come to stand at Haruhi’s side. 

“But Mama and Papa seem ready now,” Haruhi points out, and it comes out as a desperate sort of whine.

Once again, Kaoru doesn’t know what to say to that. He figures, at least for now, that he doesn’t need to. “As long as Haruhi is happy, then the way things are now are okay,” he says. He’s thought it so many times in the past few months, and while that alone was taxing, uttering it aloud is a different sort of pain that he hadn’t expected. He doesn’t look at Kojiro’s expression when he says it, either - he’s too terrified to see how he reacts. 

“Haruhi wants to see Mama and Papa everyday,” she says, and she sounds so distraught, a tone of voice that Kaoru has rarely ever heard coming from her. It shocks him, and he has absolutely no idea what the right thing to do is, other than let her get it all out. “I want to hold hands with both of you when we cross the street! I want ice cream and swings and parks with Mama and Papa everyday, forever and ever!” 

“Haruhi - “ Kojiro begins, but it’s worthless - her burgeoning tantrum turns into her face twisting as she suddenly bursts into tears. 

“Haruhi would be happier if Mama and Papa were together!” she wails, and Kaoru instinctually reaches forward to pull her into a hug.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he mutters, petting over her hair. Haruhi grips into the fabric of his shirt and bawls, her pleas melting into wordless cries. “You must have been thinking about this a lot, haven’t you?” he asks, getting a small nod in response. 

“I like - “ she hiccups, in between sobs, “I like when Mama and Papa spend time with me!” 

“I know, dear.”

“I want to! Forever and ever!”

“Shh, shh.” 

They manage to calm Haruhi down together, Kaoru gently stroking her hair and holding her as Kojiro patiently talks her through it, enough so that she tires herself out from all of her crying. They wipe her tears, the snot running from her nose, and get her tucked into bed, her face still red and splotchy as she passes out. 

Kaoru closes the door gently, making sure to dull the click, to not slam it into the doorframe too roughly. “Do you mind if she sleeps here tonight?” he asks, keeping his voice low.

“Not at all,” Kojiro whispers back. In the dim light of his hallway, they feel closer, a little bit more intimate. Kaoru selfishly doesn’t step away. “It’s about her bedtime, anyways.”

Kaoru nods, crossing his arms. He sighs heavily, staring at the floor. “I had no clue she felt that way,” he admits. He’s not proud to, but really, maybe he’s been too far into his own head to really notice Haruhi’s feelings about the fact that, after an entire life of her parents rarely speaking to each other, they’re suddenly together more and more often. “It must be hard for her to adjust.”

“She did make a good point, though,” Kojiro says. When Kaoru only raises an eyebrow in response, he adds, “We kind of act like we’re together, or like we’re a family.” 

It takes everything in Kaoru to not balk at Kojiro, to keep his jaw from hitting the floor. He does gape a little at him, his heart running a mile a minute, because if Kojiro thinks that, then…

“Is this you asking me out?” he asks, in a very, very futile attempt at a joke despite his anxiety ramping up and up and up, until it nearly becomes too much to bear. He should sit down, take some deep breaths, try to center himself, but the idea of moving from this spot seems impossible. 

Kojiro, painfully, laughs it off. “No, but…I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about it before.” 

And what is Kaoru supposed to do with that? “You did?” he blurts out, because it’s the first thought that comes to mind and the filter between his brain and his mouth is currently out of order, like some frazzled old machine, frayed wires and rusty slabs of iron and all. 

“I have. A lot, honestly,” Kojiro replies, so genuine and truthful, enough so that it feels overwhelming. “I’m…pretty sure there’s a spot in my life only you could fill,” he admits softly, rushing through his words.

He literally just stares at him, saying nothing, doing nothing except for blinking uselessly, because he can’t tell what the hell Kojiro means by that. If that admission - two, if Kaoru is counting correctly - wasn’t bad enough, Kojiro instantly covers it up with an awkward huff of a laugh, as if he’s realized he’s said too much.

“I’m sorry, that was kind of corny, huh?” Kojiro tacks on, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, just like he used to in college, when he was shy about embarrassing himself in front of Kaoru. That doesn’t go unnoticed, even though Kaoru doesn’t point it out.

“It was,” Kaoru says blandly. He tries desperately to keep his voice level, just so he doesn’t wake Haruhi up, or reveal too much. “I should…I should go, I need to sleep.”

“You can stay the night here,” he offers. 

“I should go home.” 

And Kojiro, while seemingly disappointed, doesn’t stop him.

Kaoru leaves, and strangely he feels less unsure about his decision to not try and change the way things are, the way they have been for years; Kojiro's words are a worm in his ears, constantly eating away at him, constantly reminding him of what's just been said. They don't make sense, in the same way that they do - Kaoru's hurt Kojiro in the past, to an extent that can't really be put into words. 

Maybe that space that no one else can fill is because of how irreversible what he did was, his legacy that of a heartbreaker who had wriggled his way into Kojiro’s life forever. 

Maybe it's because there is hope, and there is a chance for them both, still - Kaoru might be irreplaceable to Kojiro, though he had no idea until tonight. 

Or maybe it's none of that at all, and he's being selfish, as he usually is, placing his own wants before what is best for them all, for Haruhi. But if what’s best for Haruhi is her parents being together, then maybe - just maybe - he wouldn’t be acting selfish, just this once.

No matter what, he wishes Kojiro were a little more upfront. He wishes Kojiro would be able to say such heartfelt things without having to act like he was kidding, because it makes Kaoru think that he is kidding, until he inevitably says something heartrendingly earnest or flirtatious again. One moment Kaoru thinks there’s nothing between them, just Kojiro being overly friendly as usual, and the next Kojiro is trying to kiss him, saying he doesn’t resent him, implying that there’s no one who could ever measure up to him. 

He’s always so sincere, except when he realizes Kaoru doesn’t want to accept it, has no clue how to accept it, and then he acts like he didn’t mean a word he just said. It reminds him of when they were younger, when everything Kojiro said was followed with a shy laugh, or a bashful look, up until they decided to start dating, because he didn’t know where they stood.

It’s only when Kaoru’s mind wanders to the past that he realizes something - something so obvious, something that had been staring him in the face that he had almost completely neglected to consider. The thought is so frightening, so horrifying, and so entirely possible that Kaoru feels like an idiot for not thinking of it sooner.

Kojiro, acting like he had before they started dating, saying there was a spot no one else could fill, that he had thought about asking him out again, that they act like they’re together already, something which Kaoru himself had pointed out years before on that cold, snowy street, as an admission of his feelings towards Kojiro - 

Did he just confess to me? 

Kaoru’s throat feels dry. 

Or perhaps dry isn’t the right word for it. It hurts. It hurts, and so does the rest of his body. His joints are achy, his head feels like it might explode, and he can’t stop sniffling. He should have expected this would happen, though - he always gets sick right after Haruhi goes back to school from winter break, when she inevitably brings some cold or flu home and passes on to Kaoru’s admittedly weak immune system. 

Usually when it happens, Tomoe or Kasumi or even Kojiro will take Haruhi so she doesn’t get sick, too, and Kaoru nurses himself back to health; this time, though, Kojiro comes over with Haruhi in hand, calling out a soft “Hello?” as they open the front door.

Kaoru hadn’t been expecting anyone. He had told Haruhi to go straight to Kasumi’s house when she got out of school, which she had agreed to with an enthusiastic nod of her head. His plans were to lay around for the rest of the day in bed, take some medicine, maybe even take a few naps in between meals, but now he has to hastily grab around for a face mask, just to greet them. “Haruhi?” he croaks out, sliding open the bedroom door and coming down the stairs to find her standing in the genkan, with Kojiro still toeing off his own shoes by the doorway. “I told you to go to oba-chan’s house!” he lightly scolds.

“Haruhi told Papa you were sick so he could take care of you!” Haruhi explains, grinning wide and swaying a little, clearly proud of her decision. And, really, Kaoru can’t be mad at her for it - it’s so thoughtful that he softens, forgetting his frustration momentarily.

“Ahh, Haruhi, I don’t want you to get sick too,” he sighs, covering his forehead with his hand. He already feels a little woozy, having leapt from his futon to run downstairs so quickly. Kaoru’s eyes squeeze shut, trying not to faint. 

“Oh…I’m sorry,” Haruhi mumbles, voice small. 

“No, it’s okay sweetheart, just - “ and here his sickness catches up with him, overcoming him so swiftly that he has to sit down on the stairs before he can pass out. 

“What’s wrong?” Kojiro leans down, then, his hands on either one of Kaoru’s arms. If he wasn’t so sick, he’d blush - although, he probably is blushing from the fever. Kojiro moves Kaoru’s hand to feel his forehead himself, huffing when his palm comes into contact with his skin. “You’re burning up,” he murmurs, before touching his cheek, finding that he’s warm there, too. 

“I’ll be okay, it’s just a cold.”

“No, it’s worse than a cold,” he decides, before turning around to look at Haruhi. “I’m going to take Mama upstairs. When I come back down, I need you to do a favor for me, okay?”

Haruhi nods, serious - Kaoru wants to know what the favor is, but he’s too tired to ask just then, and also too preoccupied by the fact that Kojiro has bent down to sweep him up into his arms like he weighs nothing. He probably doesn’t, really, but Kaoru’s still shocked by such a casual display of strength. “Put me down!” he protests, halfheartedly swatting at Kojiro’s arms, his chest. 

“You think you can walk upstairs by yourself?” 

Kaoru has no response to that - he wants to argue back, and opens his mouth to do so just as another wave of nausea washes over him. 

Kojiro, seemingly pleased with his lack of an answer, carries him upstairs. 

The bed is unmade from when Kaoru had jumped out of it, and Kojiro kneels down to tuck Kaoru into the futon, bringing the blanket up to his chin. “Hang on,” he says, before disappearing back downstairs. 

It can’t be more than a few minutes, but Kaoru finds himself dozing off still. It’s so warm, the futon is so comfortable, and closing his eyes is the only thing that helps stave off the dizziness that makes his head pound even harder. He’s almost half-asleep when the door slides open again, and blinking his eyes open he can make out Kojiro’s feet, trying to quietly walk across the wooden floors before kneeling by his side again. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

Kaoru shakes his head, his eyesight a bit bleary. “No,” he murmurs, feeling miserable. “What did you make Haruhi do?” he asks, suddenly remembering the favor he had mentioned.

“I sent her to go get you medicine, and spring onions for okayu,” he replies. Kaoru feels a cool weight on his forehead, likely an ice pack, and it soothes his fever somewhat. “I had to call the stores to make sure she gets there, too.” 

“She does tend to get distracted,” Kaoru muses with a weak sigh. 

“She was very serious,” Kojiro laughs, crossing his legs and making himself more comfortable. He leans forward a bit, taking the mask off for Kaoru. “It must be hard to sleep with this on.” 

“Hey!” He tries to grab it, but Kojiro has set it out of his reach - he only stops when he finally looks up at Kojiro and sees that he has a mask on himself. 

“Were you really gonna just lay here and be sick all by yourself?” Kojiro asks.

“I’ve done it before,” Kaoru replies, haughty even with a fever. 

“That doesn’t mean you should,” Kojiro says. He looms over Kaoru, a steady, comforting presence, just like he always has been, always will be. “You should let people take care of you.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience them,” he says, and it’s true. Kaoru knows he can lean on others - it’s how he’s been able to raise Haruhi, after all - but when it comes to himself, it’s easier to suffer alone than to bother people for their help.

“You think you’re inconveniencing me?” 

Kaoru just nods, slow enough that the ice pack doesn’t fall off his head. 

“Well.” Kojiro readjusts the ice pack, so it rests on his brows, too. He looks a bit contemplative, maybe even sad, though Kaoru doesn’t know why. “You aren’t.” 

Kaoru blinks. “I’m not?”

“No,” Kojiro reassures him, shaking his head. “I wish you’d let me take care of you more, actually,” he adds, almost as an aside, a shy admission that would make Kaoru’s head spin, if it wasn’t already. 

Kaoru blinks again. It would be so easy to ignore it, to let it go, to hang in the air awkwardly as the two of them sit and wait for Haruhi to come home. He could do what he always does - that is, absolutely nothing - and it would probably be fine. Kojiro would probably let him, too. He wouldn’t bring it up again, and then they’d keep going in that same circle, over and over, a constant loop of Kojiro laying his heart bare and Kaoru running far, far away. 

Maybe it’s because he’s sick - maybe he isn’t thinking clearly, but he decides to stay put for once. 

They’ve been playing this game of hide and seek for so long that they’re experts now, with Kojiro reaching out just the tiniest bit to find him and retreating when Kaoru cowers behind a wall, or a tree, or in a closet. It’s just been their life, but now it feels like the game is coming to a close - that Kaoru is about to be spotted, found, and dragged out of his hiding spot. 

Even if it didn’t feel like it was ending, Kaoru has grown tired of entertaining this for so long. Because when Kojiro has told him there’s no one who could replace him, when he’s said he wants to take care of him, when he’s shown that he still loves him, even in discreet little looks or fond, tender smiles hidden behind awkward laughs or jokes to save face, there’s nothing else Kaoru can do but stop pretending he doesn’t care for him, too. 

Kojiro begins to stand up, with the excuse of “I need to go make some rice,” and Kaoru somehow wiggles his arm out from under the comforter to wrap his hand around Kojiro’s wrist. Kojiro just glances back down at him, blinking in surprise, because for once, Kaoru isn’t letting him go. 

“Stay here,” Kaoru orders; then, softer, “Don’t go.” 

Kojiro exhales. It’s shaky, unsure, shocked. He sits back down, though, and Kaoru doesn’t free his wrist just yet. “Are you feeling that bad?” he asks, vague enough that it could be taken a multitude of ways, yet Kaoru knows - he knows what Kojiro means. 

He shakes his head. “No.”

Kaoru feels calm. He’s feverish, and sick, and his whole body is aching, but he feels serene, peaceful. It’s likely because it’s something he already knows, something he’s felt for such a long time but hadn’t been able to admit to himself until Kojiro had more or less confessed weeks ago.

I still feel the same, Kaoru thinks. My feelings never went away, and I want to be with him, and I can’t keep it hidden any longer.

Still, the confession doesn’t come out of his mouth. He’s too ill to risk confessing now, because Kojiro won’t take him seriously. But he hopes Kojiro knows. He hopes he can tell what Kaoru is saying without him saying it. That hope is all he can cling to, until he feels better enough to come clean, to get the courage to tell him how he feels. 

He feels more sure than he has, in the last year that they’ve reconnected, that Kojiro loves him. If he didn’t, then why would he take time out of his day to care for him, or tell him he deserves someone who loves him, or that he wasn’t able to get rid of the portrait he had made of him years before, or even nearly kiss him, twice? 

It’s still scary. It’s terrifying, but Kaoru realizes, now more than ever, that he has to say something. He has to do something, because if he doesn’t, then he can’t even blame his belief that Kojiro hates him anymore, because it’s so obvious that he doesn’t.

It’s so obvious, when Kojiro shifts his arm up and intertwines his and Kaoru’s fingers together, just so he can hold his clammy, sweaty hand. 

Kaoru, feeling a sudden bout of sleepiness, nuzzles his cheek against Kojiro’s hand and closes his eyes.

–

Kaoru wakes up to okayu with chopped spring onions, headache medicine, and a concerned Haruhi with a mask on watching him intently. 

“Mm, it tastes so good,” Kaoru praises, as if congee ever tastes like anything more than rice, water, and the earthy taste of greens. He sips it even so, mostly for Haruhi’s sake. “I feel better already. Thank you for getting the spring onions for me, Haruhi.”

“You’re welcome!” she exclaims, and then covers her mouth quickly when she remembers her Mama still has a headache. “I’m sorry!” she whispers instead, muffled behind her hands and her mask. 

“We still need to take you to oba-chan’s,” Kojiro says, leaning down to take her hand in his and helping Haruhi up. “Let Mama rest and you can check on him tomorrow, alright?”

“Oh…okay.” She looks back at Kaoru, then. “Get well soon, Mama.”

“I will, thanks to you.” Kaoru replies. She beams, pleased that she was able to help, and it takes everything in Kaoru to not smother her in kisses. 

They leave, and when Kaoru finishes off his porridge, he lays back down and curls up on his side, nestling deep into his pillows. 

Kaoru takes a breath. He won’t say anything today, but soon. Soon, he’ll have to answer Kojiro’s confession with one of his own, and he thinks, finally, even if it frightens him, he might be able to scrounge up the bravery to do it.

Haruhi, predictably, gets sick right after Kaoru does. And she also, predictably, doesn’t say that she feels under the weather when he sends her off to school - he only hears about it when he gets a call from the nurse, telling him that she threw up during lunchtime and needed to be picked up at his earliest convenience. 

Lucky for Haruhi, his earliest convenience is now; he goes on his break at the same time, and plucks his umbrella out of its holder as he rushes out the door. 

It’s been raining for the past couple of days, adding to the slight chill of February. He opens his umbrella, a cheap one made of clear plastic, holding it upright before venturing out from under the shop awning. 

“Oh, hey! Going out for lunch?” 

Kaoru glances over his shoulder, in the direction of the tattoo shop, and of course sees him; Kojiro, in that ridiculous bomber jacket of his that he had bought when they were still dating, that Kaoru had teased him for even then. It’s a little heartwarming, to see that he’s held onto that piece of clothing, even after Kaoru ribbed him for purchasing it. He strides over to Kaoru, then, more of a light jog so he doesn’t get caught in the rain. “Are you?” Kaoru asks, blinking up at him. 

“I want to, but, ah - “ Kojiro puts his hands on his hips, looking out at the drops of rain falling around them. “I forgot my umbrella.”

“Are you worried about your hair?” Kaoru teases, and Kojiro just laughs, running a hand through his locks. Kaoru can’t help but watch the movement; how he can maintain such curls in this humidity is a mystery to him. “You’re so vain.”

“You got me,” Kojiro replies, earning a roll of the eyes from Kaoru, though he feels just as equally amused. “Where are you headed?”

“I’m not going out to eat,” Kaoru informs him. “Haruhi threw up at school, so I need to go pick her up.” 

Kojiro’s face falls a bit at that, eyebrows pinched together in worry. “Can I come with you?” he asks, seemingly forgetting all about his next meal. The idea of it makes Kaoru’s stomach turn; walking alone with him, in such close proximity, for at least fifteen minutes, as they share an umbrella and huddle close together in the cold. It’s like something out of a romance drama, a concept so cliché that Kaoru is embarrassed to find himself slipping.

“Yes,” he agrees, because as anxiety inducing as it is, Kaoru can’t help but admit to himself that he wants to. He wants to, because maybe he could finally say something - maybe, being alone together would inevitably lead to a conversation, one about themselves, and one where Kaoru could return Kojiro’s own confession. 

“Oh, let me hold that,” Kojiro says quickly, taking the handle from his hands, and the two of them start off towards her kindergarten. 

Starting a conversation, Kaoru finds, is not as easy as he thought it might be. Of course he knew that - when it comes to serious discussions, he’s always been abysmal at making the first move, unless he forced himself to blurt what he’s thinking out. In the past couple of weeks, though, he’s been thinking about what he would say to Kojiro, should a moment come up where they could talk about everything going on between them, all the confusing, messy emotions that were never properly cleared up back in college, and were never attended to afterwards. Going over each and every option he could when he wasn’t able to sleep at night had nearly driven him crazy, and now that he’s here, with the opportunity to say something, he finds himself at a loss for words.

The two of them simply walk in silence for a few minutes, the raindrops landing fat and heavy on the plastic encircling them, pushing them closer and closer together, until their shoulders brush or they nearly bump into each other when rounding a corner. Kaoru crosses his arms over himself protectively, like it’ll make being this close to Kojiro any easier - it, of course, doesn’t. 

“Do you think she caught whatever you had?” Kojiro asks, abruptly enough that Kaoru has to shake himself out of his thoughts. He’s still looking ahead, thankfully, so he doesn’t see Kaoru recovering from the shock of suddenly being addressed. 

“I don’t think so. I didn’t throw up when I was sick,” Kaoru replies. He has to press closer to Kojiro, to avoid wetting his new boots in a puddle cradled in a dip in the sidewalk. He stays close, because there are so many people strolling past them, either alone or obviously together, holding hands and leaning into each other as they make their way to lunch, and the sight makes something bitter rise up in his throat. 

“Kids are always getting sick,” Kojiro sighs, only partially joking. “If you want, I can watch her.”

“No, we should take care of her together,” Kaoru counters. It comes out so naturally, so unplanned, and yet it’s the bravest thing he’s said in years. He can feel Kojiro’s eyes on him, the heat of them searing his skin despite the rain and the cold, so he tilts his chin, like he’s unbothered. It’s instinctual at this point, to act haughty even if he doesn’t want to. “She’ll feel better sooner if both of us are there,” he adds, which is true, even if it’s a measly way to cover up his blunder. 

Kojiro doesn’t reply for a moment. Kaoru can still tell that Kojiro is gazing at him, and he tries his absolute best to ignore it, despite knowing there’s no use, not when the warmth radiating from him is so overwhelming. “You’re right,” he says, before they fall into another bout of silence. 

The rain only picks up. What was once a drizzle is now a proper downpour, but neither of them begin running to get to the school faster. Kaoru knows Haruhi is likely snoozing away in the clinic, and sprinting to her would only be dangerous - one of them could slip and fall, maybe sprain an ankle. 

(Kaoru just wants to keep walking alongside Kojiro, even if he can’t find the right words to say).

Kaoru can see the school in the distance, rising up towards the sky and looming over the houses nearby, the playground unusually empty, closed due to the storm. They pass under a bus stop, the covered bench giving them momentary relief from the rain, and it’s then that the silence is broken again. 

Kojiro stops with no warning. Kaoru, not expecting it, walks forward a couple more steps, only stopping when he realizes his right side feels colder than it has for the past few minutes. He turns, frowning when he sees Kojiro’s face - sullen, uncharacteristically sad, pensive, still shrouded by the umbrella. “Kojiro?” he asks, blinking in confusion. 

“Do you ever think,” Kojiro starts, slow, like the words are thorned and pain him to even utter, “maybe, in another life, this could have been our normal?”

The question nearly bowls Kaoru over. He feels his stomach sink, his heart immediately begin to stutter, and despite feeling breathless he knows, this is it. 

This is my chance. 

There’s so many things he could say. So many things he wants to say, that he knows will come spilling out of him the second he opens his mouth. But that doesn’t matter; all of that can come later. Right now, while they stand under this old, wooden bus stop, with the muffled patter of rain hitting the tiled top, dripping down the slope of the roof, Kaoru has to find the right words. From this moment on, everything will change between them - Kaoru needs to make sure that it’s for the better. 

He exhales before he speaks. A cool rush of air puffs from his lips, and he realizes he’s trembling; his hands are shaking, and he knows it isn’t from the cold. “Why can’t it be?” he manages, plain and simple, not at all the flowery confession he had envisioned. He feels raw, raw from the wind biting at his cheeks, his nose, raw from finally, finally laying his feelings out in the open, the way Kojiro’s been doing the entire time he’s known him. “Are there…” Kaoru trails off, blinking fast, trying to keep the oncoming tears at bay. “Are there really no chances left for us in this one?”

Kojiro is, in a word, stunned. Kaoru’s struck with the thought that Kojiro probably expected Kaoru to turn him down, just like he always has, over and over again. He probably thought this was his last chance, and after this, he’d give up. He’d leave Kaoru alone, he’d distance himself again, and they’d only ever meet because of Haruhi. There was likely no chance in his mind that Kaoru might possibly return his feelings, so this - this was unanticipated, and he doesn’t quite know what to say. 

It’s sobering, actually, to realize that Kojiro had such similar doubts. 

“You were the one who left first,” Kojiro says, and it hurts. It hurts, but it’s a fact, a reminder of a decision Kaoru made that he only stuck to out of some unproven, stubborn belief that things could never work out for them. But now, now he knows that it would have, and that maybe, it still can. 

Kaoru breathes in, shuddery, jumpy. “I know I ruined everything between us. But God. I regret it everyday, being so - so immature. Because I -” And here, his words stall; they get stuck in his throat, even as they scratch up, up, tearing at his skin until they can burst out of his mouth. “I still love you,” Kaoru gasps, and he can’t believe he’s able to say it. “I always have, Kojiro. I never stopped. I loved you so much I ran away, and I kept running, and I know now that it was the biggest mistake of my life.” 

Kojiro just stares at him. He doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t stop Kaoru, just lets him get everything out. Tears are freely running down his cheeks, now, the most he’s let himself cry over this in so long. “I can’t force you to love me back, and I don’t expect you to after all I’ve put you through, but - “

Kaoru hears the umbrella clatter to the pavement before anything else. It rolls on the ground, still open, clanking against the bench and coming to a stop, completely forgotten by Kojiro. Kojiro, who’s stepping closer and closer and is suddenly so close that all Kaoru can see is him, his face clear and determined, his eyes only barely glossy with tears, though none of them slip out. Kaoru just blinks up at him, blinks more and more of his tears away, when Kojiro cups both sides of his face in his hands, his palms warm enough that they sting at Kaoru’s cheeks. Neither of them say anything; Kaoru merely gapes at him, lashes still wet, and Kojiro’s lidded eyes flit down to Kaoru’s lips.

Kojiro thumbs away a tear, and he kisses him. 

It’s not simple or innocent either, not the sweet ones he used to peck onto Kaoru’s lips and cheeks. Kojiro kisses him, each press of his mouth against Kaoru’s starved and wanting, needing to get closer and closer. Kaoru’s shocked, to say the very least; shocked at the intensity of it all, shocked at the fact that Kojiro can hold him in place so easily, shocked at everything that’s happening. Most astonishing is that Kaoru returns it - he melts into it so easily, like it’s second nature, like it hasn’t been over half a decade since they did this last. His own hands come to Kojiro’s biceps, belatedly enough that Kojiro pulls away as soon as his hands make contact with the cool fabric of his jacket, feeling at his biceps underneath. 

“You’re an idiot if you think I ever stopped loving you,” Kojiro says, a smile growing on his face, wide enough that his dimples appear, just as charming as the first time Kaoru ever fell victim to them. 

“But - “ Kaoru starts, confused, “With Eri, you said - “

“I still wanted you,” Kojiro tells him, and it makes Kaoru shiver. “I’ve tried moving on, tried dating to get over you, but - I couldn’t. I can’t. I’ve only ever wanted you, Kaoru, but I thought I didn’t have a chance anymore.”

“Well.” Kaoru swallows thickly. He still doesn’t feel like this is real. He must be dreaming - he must! He’ll wake up from this, and he’ll feel empty and hollow. But, just in case it is, he says, “You do.”

And Kojiro just beams, so positively bright and blinding that Kaoru thinks the clouds must be clearing and the sky is opening up, and that he’s staring right at the sun, squinting at its light. He kisses him again, this time pulling Kaoru in by the waist, and Kaoru lets him; he lets him, because he wants to press his hands against his sturdy chest, appreciatively running his fingers over the muscle that he has yet to acquaint himself with, that appeared only after he ended things between them. 

But now, that doesn’t matter. There’s still so much they should discuss - the past, what this means for them right now, and what this means for their future, the rest of their life together, for Haruhi - 

“Haruhi!” Kaoru gasps, pulling back from Kojiro. Kojiro just blinks, still in a daze. “We need to get Haruhi!”

“Kaoru - “

Kaoru peels himself from Kojiro’s grip to grab the umbrella, now very lightly covered in a sheen of dirt, and shoves it into Kojiro’s hand. “Let’s talk about this later. We need to go!”

Kojiro just laughs. He laughs so, so heartily, so genuinely, the loud rumble of his voice comforting and warm, even as Kaoru drags him out from under the bus stop to run in the rain with him. Their shoes splash against the puddles of water already accumulated in the sidewalk, in the concrete pathway leading up to the school, Kaoru’s fear of falling on his face all but forgotten. 

Kaoru realizes, while he catches his breath and waits in the chilly front lobby of the school, that he hasn’t felt this happy, this elated, in such a long time. As Kojiro talks to the teacher, letting her know they’re here to pick up Haruhi, Kaoru feels light, airy, free. 

They don’t have to wait for another lifetime. Their normal can be this, picking up their daughter from school, taking her home to nurse her back to health, and doing it together. It can be spending everyday together, cooking dinner together, taking Haruhi to the park together, going to bed together - they can be a family, the three of them, and it can be their normal. 

It will be their normal. 

Haruhi finds out they’re dating earlier than they wanted her to, all because Kojiro can’t keep his hands off of Kaoru. 

Kaoru had wanted to wait until they’ve been back together for at least half a year, because he’s still wary about things not working out - maybe one day, Kojiro will realize that he actually doesn’t want him, and that his own nostalgia was clouding his judgment. It hasn’t happened, though, and with each day that goes by, Kaoru starts to feel a little more sure that it won’t occur at all. 

They’re washing dishes together, cleaning up after the dinner Kojiro made for the three of them, with Haruhi coloring at the dinner table, always wanting to be close by. Kojiro hands Kaoru another dish, and before Kaoru can even begin wiping it dry, Kojiro sneaks a kiss on his cheek. 

Immediately, panic builds in Kaoru’s chest. “Kojiro - “

A sharp, over dramatic gasp interrupts Kaoru’s train of thought, and Kaoru winces at the sound of colored pencils rolling off the desk and onto the ground, clinking as they hit the wood floor.

“What?!” Haruhi cries, her mouth agape. She leaps from her chair, clambering over to the kitchen, immediately demanding answers. “Why are you kissing Mama?” 

“Kojiro!” Kaoru hisses, lightly smacking him on the arm. “I told you to be careful!” 

“Ow!” Kojiro complains, feigning injury. Kaoru knows it doesn’t hurt him - it just makes him even more frustrated, his frown deepening. He puts his hands on his hips, glaring at Kojiro, telling him this is your mess to clean up. Kojiro takes a deep breath, and as soon as Haruhi is standing in front of them, he wraps Kaoru up in his arms, pressing reckless kisses all over his cheeks and leaving Kaoru sputtering. “Your Mama and I are together, Haruhi!” he exclaims, kissing Kaoru quickly on the lips as if to prove that yes, they are dating. 

It doesn’t placate Haruhi, at least not yet; she puts her hands on her hips, mirroring Kaoru moments prior, and her little eyebrows pull together. It’s the closest to angry Kaoru’s ever seen her, and he hates that she looks so damn cute. “Why didn’t Haruhi know?” she questions. 

“Haruhi - let me go, Kojiro,” Kaoru grumbles, lightly pushing Kojiro enough that he can pull away from him, so he can squat down to Haruhi’s height. “We wanted to make sure that we would stay together before telling you, Haruhi. But you’re right, we should have told you sooner. I’m sorry that we didn’t.” 

That pleases Haruhi, thankfully. Her hands fall from her hips, hanging limply at her side. “So…” she starts, once she realizes - really realizes - what this means. “You and Papa are dating?”

Kaoru nods, reaching out to take Haruhi’s hands in his. “We have been, since February.” 

It dawns on Haruhi, then. Any resentment she might have felt seems to wash away all at once, and she just grins, wide enough that Kaoru thinks it must hurt her cheeks, before she screams. A high-pitched, excited squeal accompanied by her jumping in place, twisting around in pure, utter joy. “Mama and Papa are together!” she exclaims, so exuberant that Kaoru can barely keep up.

“Don’t jump, Haruhi, Papa has neighbors downstairs,” Kaoru lightly scolds, though as soon as he stops he pulls her in for a hug, letting her stand between his legs as he holds her. 

Kojiro finally kneels down, joining the two of them and grabbing the both of them in his arms, squeezing tightly and jostling them slightly just to make Haruhi giggle. Kaoru laughs, too, and he finds that he can’t stop smiling - even if he wanted to, he doesn’t think he’d be able to. “Oh, my sweet little family,” Kojiro says, his voice strained when he clutches them even closer.

Haruhi giggles, and giggles, and Kaoru thinks it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. “Are Mama and Papa getting married?” she gasps, her young mind inevitably taking her to the next step.

“I want to - “

“It’s a little too soon for that,” Kaoru interrupts, shooting Kojiro a halfhearted glare. “Let’s just focus on being a family for a little while, okay?” he asks, redirecting the conversation. 

“Oh…” Haruhi seems to think about it for a moment, considering the proposition, before she nods in agreement. “Okay!” 

–

Life, simply put, isn’t perfect.

Haruhi starts going to elementary school, and the fact that only one of her friends ends up going to the same school is a difficult adjustment for her. Doing homework is another problem altogether, because she can barely focus long enough to get anything done, wanting instead to draw or color or spend time with Mama and Papa. And then there are the days where she cries, or hurts someone else’s feelings and makes them cry, or refuses to go to the piano lessons she had begged Kaoru to sign her up for a few years prior (although that was rectified by getting her a different, kinder teacher). 

It’s stressful. The toddler years were worse, Kaoru thinks, but this stage of her life is still tough. The adjustment isn’t impossible, though. 

With Kojiro by his side, it’s much, much easier. 

“You know, I don’t remember having this much drama in elementary school,” Kojiro muses. He’s laying in bed, his arms folded behind his head while he stares up at the ceiling. Kaoru had taken care to get a bedframe and a new mattress when Kojiro moved in, after an offhand comment that sleeping on the floor made his back ache. 

“It’s because you were a boy, and Haruhi isn’t,” Kaoru replies sardonically, loud enough that his voice carries from the bathroom. All that’s left is his moisturizer, which he rubs carefully into his skin. “All you cared about were beetles and soccer and your dog, I bet.”

“And? Is that a bad thing?” Kojiro asks, faux offense in his words. Kaoru just rolls his eyes, tugging his hair free from his headband. “I wish my life was still that simple.” 

“Really?” He turns the bathroom light off, stepping through the door into their bedroom, still mostly decorated the way Kaoru had it save for the bed in the middle of the room, the dresser full of Kojiro’s clothes, and his assorted junk like his watch, cologne, and folded but yet to be put away shirts sitting on top of it. There’s even some artwork by him hanging on the walls - Kojiro had suggested displaying the painting of Kaoru, but Kaoru had vehemently disagreed, thinking it would feel too weird to be staring at himself every single night. “Then you wouldn’t be with me.” 

“Ah, that’s a good point,” Kojiro concedes, and Kaoru smiles a little, playful and teasing. He can feel Kojiro’s eyes on him, following his every move, every slight jut of his hip as he braids his hair in their standing mirror, shifting on his feet. “C’mere,” he coaxes, his voice little more than a low rumble. 

Kaoru simply glances over his shoulder, but he decides not to put up a fight; he crosses the room, his feet lightly plodding on the floor right as he lifts himself up into the bed, kneeling at first until he gets close enough to lay on Kojiro’s chest, propping himself up on the broad expanse of muscle there. “What?” Kaoru asks, sounding more annoyed than he actually is.

“I love you,” Kojiro tells him. It’s unexpected enough that Kaoru doesn’t reply immediately, just blinking at him. Kojiro kisses his forehead, and Kaoru gasps, his hand flying up to cover it. 

“You’re going to mess up my skincare!” he cries, though he’s not really that upset - he’s found that it’s fun to mess with Kojiro like this, to be a little petulant when he’s usually so put together. 

“Oops,” Kojiro says with a smile, not at all sorry. 

“If you want to kiss me, kiss me on the lips,” Kaoru demands. He cups Kojiro’s cheek in his hand, scratching uncomfortably against the faint line of stubble covering his face. He bears it, though, long enough that he can lean down and kiss him. 

They can never just kiss. At least, not if they’re alone. Kaoru always inevitably tilts his head to the side, so Kojiro can press closer and deepen the kiss, wrapping an arm around Kaoru’s waist and pressing his hand against the small of his back. Kissing is far too enjoyable for the both of them, and Kaoru wonders how he went this long without doing it. Especially since their time apart has meant an accrual of more experience for the both of them - but, well, that’s a different issue. 

Kaoru quite likes reaping the benefits of that experience, though. 

Kojiro pulls away first, a dopey grin on his face as Kaoru studies him. He takes in everything, from how his eyes are so brown they almost look a deep, crimson red in the lamplight, how perfectly straight his teeth are, the fullness of his lips, the dimples in his cheeks. He rubs his thumb over his jaw, thinking about kissing him there, but knowing what will ensue if he does - and, really, tonight he’s just too tired. “You need to shave,” he tells him bluntly. “I could barely stand kissing you.”

Kojiro just chuckles. “I’ll shave in the morning.”

“You better,” Kaoru mutters, lowering himself to lay his head on Kojiro’s chest. His leg creeps between Kojiro’s own, and he gets comfortable, pulling the blanket over the both of them.

It hits Kaoru sometimes that this is his life now. It’s been a little over a year, and it still doesn’t feel real to him. To have Kojiro in his bed, in his life, every single day is still as unbelievable as it was when they were only a few months in, hesitant and antsy and wary. Kaoru never thought that he’d get this chance, not after he had thrown it away when he was young and pregnant and scared of what the future held; but Kojiro had been right, even back then. 

They did have a chance. They could make it work. They are making it work, right now, every day. 

Everything hasn’t been fixed overnight, not by a longshot. Kaoru still worries from time to time that Kojiro might leave; Kojiro has told Kaoru that he’s sometimes worried that Kaoru might leave, like he did back then, with a frantic explanation as to why. But what matters, Kaoru’s come to realize, is that it’s okay if things aren’t perfect, if they sometimes irritate each other, or if they say things they don’t mean. What matters is how they work it out, and how they come back together. 

It makes Kaoru feel a little foolish, to assume that it couldn’t be like this. 

“I love you, too,” Kaoru says, belated. He can feel Kojiro’s smile, his cheek resting on top of his head, shifting down to press a kiss against his hair.

Kojiro wraps his arms around Kaoru’s waist, pulling him close, close enough that Kaoru couldn’t wriggle away even if he wanted to. “I’m glad I found you,” he mumbles, right into the crown of his head, a secret for just the two of them to share.

And, oh - he’s happy to be found.

Life isn’t perfect. It never will be, but that’s okay - it’s okay, because Kaoru doesn’t have to be perfect anymore. He’s made his mistakes, and he’s hated himself for them. He had pushed away one of the only people who truly loved him, had denied himself happiness out of some misguided belief that it would be better for the both of them, had made decisions based on things that hadn’t even happened yet - things that he couldn’t even be sure would happen. Kaoru hates himself still, when he lets his mind wander and go over every single error he’s ever made, but Haruhi and Kojiro don’t. They love him despite it, and those mistakes led them to this moment, as two loving parents with a daughter, a perfect little trio. It shouldn’t have taken this long, but well - it’s a miracle Kaoru had the humility and courage to admit he still loved Kojiro at all.

Kaoru’s stubborn, and anxious, but he’s done playing hide and seek. After years of concealing himself behind closed doors or underneath beds, hidden away so expertly that he was almost impossible to find, he’s realized that it’s okay to lose the game. 

If it means being found, then he’ll keep losing, over and over and over again.