Work Text:
"Did you see that hot chick..."
"Can you believe he..."
"...and I told her..."
The bar was cluttered with noise. Gossip drifted to the ceiling like smoke, the din of the crowd banging around his head like a church bell. Kenji clicked his tongue, his glass had been empty for the worst part of an hour now, but he was too lazy to order another.
Did he even have enough for another?
His chest burned, a sour tang in the back of his throat. There were people all around him, bodies crushed together in the small space. He knelt his head against the bar top, heat swirling around his head. He'd be sick if he didn't get out of here soon.
"Dammit..." his voice didn't feel like his own, and might as well have been vomit for the way they fell out of his mouth. He couldn't feel his lips, but he was pretty sure he had to piss.
He tried to drag himself upright. The pretty girl behind the bar was saying something, but it was lost to Kenji he was already sick of this place, he just wanted to get home and sleep.
He hit someone, staggering back a step as a tall man looked at him "The hell dude?" Kenji blinked widely at him, the guy's face was moving too fast, and he couldn't keep up with his lips.
Whatever they said, it pissed him off.
"Ahh fuck off man" he hiccupped, bracing his hands against the stranger's shoulders. The man recoiled, lashing out with a shout. He might have said something about not touching him but Kenji had already started swinging.
People scream, and something goes flying at his face. But all Kenji felt was sharp pain exploding against his head, and he blacked out.
* * *
"Are you..." low murmurs sound like they come from deep under the water. His head pounded, and heat pooled around the side of his face. He was slightly damp, the cold grit of the alleyway biting into his clothes and digging right into his flesh.
Were these pants always so fucking uncomfortable?
"Yeah...Kenji..." he almost recognized the voice. It was cloudy under the pain and the buzz keeping him from losing consciousness entirely. His fucking face hurt, and when he squinted to see where he was or who was speaking he couldn't make much out of his right eye.
"...him home...fight...banned..." the other voice was a woman's, he was pretty sure. Maybe that pretty girl from the bar. But then why would she be sticking around with his drunk ass?
"...understand...thank...Kenji?" the familiar voice came closer, a pale smudge where a person should probably be. He blinked at it, his mouth moving sluggishly as he struggled for words.
A small fire of recognition lit under waves of booze, the name appearing in his mind like a lighthouse in a storm. "Koto?"
A pause, then the smudge comes closer "Yeah, Kenji how many fingers am I holding up?"
He was holding up a hand? Sure enough, a smaller smudge appeared near the bigger smudge. A hand and a face. Though he couldn't make out much of either. He mimicked the motion, Makoto snorting slightly before the smudge...moved. "Wrong. You're too drunk, Kenji."
Kenji smacked his lips, his head bobbing stupidly "I unno...wazz trying to ged home..." he tried to explain, stumbling across his words. "I...'unk thoo much..." his stomach flipped, and a rush of oily heat spread across his front as he lost his stomach "Uugh...fuck..."
The smudge moved away a bit, skirting his side to kneel closer. Kenji consoled himself when cool hands stroked his back and nape, sweet vanilla cologne filling his nose.
"...hit...sowrry.." he sniffled, wiping his nose. He was filthy now. Sour throw-up mingled with trash and booze, and when he licked his lip it tasted like blood. He groaned. "Elp me...up..."
Cool hands left him, the smudge stepping gingerly around him, and then they returned under his left armpit. "Here we go...are you ready?" he waved him on, bracing his other arm against a dumpster.
He was hauled to his feet, his back bowing as his weight was transferred to his friend. He squinted at the smudge, now much closer "Ow...come..yer so...small.." he towered the other man by a head, which is not that tall. But still.
"I peaked in high school." Makoto quipped, shifting to carry Kenji's weight easier. It was one of those things about him that Kenji liked, he was always way stronger than he looked.
"Same..." he sneered, unhappy laughter bubbling out of him in a mad cackle. They pause for a moment, the smell of vanilla becoming stronger as Makoto must have turned to look at him.
"What happened Kenji?" his voice was low and soft. He loved and hated that tone from his friend. Because it meant he was listening. Kenji wasn't sure he wanted to be heard. It was shameful.
Still, "...later..." he meant for it to come out as a command, but it was a plea and they both knew it. Makoto relents, only squeezing him a moment before guiding him up the road and out the alley into the dazzling Toyoko nightlife.
Kenji stuffs his nose into his friend's collar and steels himself for the walk home.
* * *
He flops across the mattress, the strength wrung from his body as he sinks into a boneless puddle. The smudge had cleared up considerably, Makoto Yuki appearing like less of a blob and more of a ghost, slightly fuzzy around the edges.
"Kenji, are you still awake? You can't sleep yet." cold hands cradle his jaw, and he can't help but lean into them as he drags his eyes open enough to look away.
"Mm.." he groaned, struggling to sit up. His coat was in the was all over the place, and the vomit was saturating his shirt. He toed off his shoes "Gross..." he whined.
Makoto stepped away, sinking to his knees to help him out of his socks "Alright, let me help you." They pulled off his socks, his coat, his shirt, and his jeans. Leaving him in only his boxers, Kenji rolled across the bed, curling up more comfortably.
"You don't want Pajamas?" Makoto asks, folding up his close in a messy pile and dumping them in the hamper in the corner of his bedroom. Kenji makes a noise, neither affirming nor denying. It's only thanks to his friend's uncanny skill at reading him that he understands to leave it be.
"Alright, let me get the first aid kit. I'll be right back." Makoto says, shedding his coat and leaving Kenji's bedroom. Left alone Kenji doesn't move, staring blankly at the coat left on his bed before picking it up.
It's a long fancy thing, with silver cuffs and gleaming buttons. It's probably more expensive than anything Kenji owns if he's honest. Thinking about it, he wonders where his friend works. He brings it to his face, the fabric nice and soft. It smells like him too. A comforting smell, Kenji is ashamed to find he's become so reliant on.
The side of his face throbs, and he looks blankly at the ceiling. An argument from this morning came back to him in fragments. Even the thought of it makes him want to get drunk all over again.
"Kenji?" Makoto comes back, a first aid kit under his arm. He's wearing his sleeping clothes, he belatedly realizes. A simple t-shirt and some sweatpants that hung low on his hips. What time was it? Had he interrupted the man's sleep?
"Koto..." he pats the bed, heat crawling up his throat as he shoves the coat away. Makoto doesn't scold him, but then, his friend has always been maybe too indulgent with him.
The bed dips as the other man crawls in beside him. Pausing a moment before fiddling with the kit. "So what happened?" the smell of antiseptic cloys his senses.
"Got hit," he grunts, leaning forward and shutting his eyes. Cold hands cradle his face, thumbs grazing over cuts and bruises. "I know that much. Why did you get hit?"
He grumbles "...I started it. Was drunk."
"You're still drunk." his friend corrects, "Brace yourself." Kenji grits his teeth as a swab of alcohol is rubbed against his cheek and forehead, sharp stinging oozing from the small cuts on his face. "Why are you drunk anyway? I know you like to party, but not that hard."
Kenji sighs, his shoulders sagging "I got dumped." he admits, he doesn't open his eyes, but he can feel Makoto grow still for a moment.
A second passes, and then a bandage is pasted to his forehead, "Oh." is the other man's reply, then "I'm sorry to hear that, Kenji."
"You really shouldn't console me, Makoto."
"You deserve comfort, Kenji."
"You're too kind to me, you know that?"
"You aren't nearly kind enough to yourself."
Kenji's mouth clicks shut at that, and then something like disgust wells in his heart. Bitter and pervasive. "The last time I was kind to myself, I made a right fool of myself."
"People make mistakes, Kenji."
"You don't."
Makoto falls silent, and Kenji finds himself opening his eyes to see his friend's listless face. Makoto has always had a flat disposition, but his eyes had never seemed as hollow as they had now. "No...that's not true." the other man whispers.
Kenji's heartaches, and he finds himself pulling his friend into a hug. Their foreheads pressed together, the smell of vanilla saturating the air between them as he stares into pale blue--nearly periwinkle--eyes.
"It's ok." he doesn't know what's wrong. But he does know that Makoto can rely on him. More than he knows anything at all.
"...yeah." Makoto shuts his eyes, dark lashes fanning across his cheeks. "You too."
Kenji swallows, and then nods, pulling back. "We're ok." Makoto's eyes soften, and a tiny smile snakes across his expression. Whatever tension had been there drained from the room. Only leaving familiar serenity.
His buzz has hit its stride, his lips loosening enough to fight through the shame. "So yeah, Yui broke things off with me." he flopped on his side, reaching up to play with the band-aid on his forehead.
"Stop that."
"No."
"Anyway, she said I wasn't putting 'all of me' into our relationship." he throws an arm over his face, blocking the light from his eyes. Makoto gets up to turn off the lights, returning to his side shortly and lying down beside him.
Waves of cobalt hair fan across his blankets, and Kenji thinks it's the prettiest thing in the world. "Maybe she was right. I dunno, I thought things were fine..."
"But..." pearly eyes gleam in the dark, the night peers through the windows, and Kenji wonders if all of Tokyo is spying on him.
"You're really pretty." wind flew from his chest, he felt like a soda bottle that'd been shaken all up. All his feelings bubbled up to the surface. He wasn't nearly drunk enough to admit this, and terror mingled with anticipation as a tightly held secret fell right out into the open, filling the space between them.
"I love you," he murmurs.
"I've...been meaning to tell you that for a while now." he babbles now, a warm glow in his chest turning into a small sun. "I guess she was right. I mean, you came to pick me up. I put you as my emergency number, rather than her." he chuckles to himself now, his eyes burning and his nose clogging.
"Whenever I was feeling...you know. I came to you. Not her. What kind of guy doesn't confide in his girlfriend? You know? She was a saint for putting up with me." he sniffles, hiding his face in the blankets now.
"I thought these feelings would go away. I thought it would just...cool off. Especially after Gekkoukan...but. They just kept growing."
Fat tears rolled down his cheeks, staining the sheets below. He probably sounded really pathetic, didn't he? What a shit friend. He wouldn't be surprised if Makoto laughed at--
Arms wrap around him, a warm body folding against him in a loose embrace. Kenji doesn't look, he can't bring himself too. But he does shake, what the hell had happened to his night?
"Thank you, Kenji." Makoto's voice was so warm. He carded fingers through his hair, his hands rough and calloused as he stroked his ears and nape.
"I'm happy," he whispered to him. Kenji's heart raced in his chest, he felt he'd explode with a million colorful butterflies bursting from his chest. He was stunned, too shocked to move a muscle as he felt his friend lean over him and press a kiss to his temple.
"Go to sleep now. We'll talk about it more in the morning if you want?" Kenji looks at him at this, his eyes the size of dinner plates as he reels from the events.
His head bobs and his mouth moves wordlessly for a moment before he collects himself, wrapping his arms around the other man's waist. "Stay?"
"Of course. Now get under the covers, you'll catch a cold."