Chapter Text
Kenji nudged his foot across the ground, kicking up dirt.
He’d had plans to meet with Emiri after class, but she ended up being busy. He didn’t feel much like studying, and there was nothing he needed to see on TV today.
Even Yuki had been busy with club, Kenji was on his own.
Or was he? Makoto would probably hang about if Kenji met him after club ended. Kenji fiddles with his phone, leaning against the stone rails around the courtyard and scrolling through his contacts.
He didn’t really feel like talking to anyone else if he were honest. Makoto was probably the chillest friend he had, especially after he started going out with Emiri.
Don’t get him wrong, she was a beautiful and charming woman. But Kenji found himself strained in ways he hadn’t considered when he thought of dating an adult.
Kenji rubbed at his face, he’d strained his eyes at some point last week, and it still hurt like a bitch to blink. It was probably all the studying, he’s been working himself to the bone lately.
At least his grades have been good.
He would have asked Emiri about it but she’d just nag —scold him. Like a caring girlfriend. Who he loved.
He loved her.
Kenji pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing away from the railing and rolling his shoulders. He decided to go watch Makoto practice, anything to get away from troublesome thoughts.
He wanted to relax dammit.
***
He was regretting his choices already, he grumbled to himself.
The track team practiced outside, and it was too damn bright to be sitting around in the sun if you asked him. A bunch of guys ran around the track, sweaty spry, and much hench than him.
He wasn’t jealous. Though he did wonder if Emiri would like him more if he built some muscle, she was always on and on about the importance of clubs anyway. Maybe he’d even get out of applying for cram school.
He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the bow around his neck. It was too damn hot for any of this. If he knew it’d be like this he would have just gone home. At least he would have been cool and bored then…
A flicker of blue ran around the track, outpacing everyone else.
Kenji sunk into his seat at the bleachers, reminded of why he came here. Makoto Yuki was leagues ahead of the other track members, the blue-haired boy gliding gracefully with long powerful strides.
A flare of pride flashed in his chest at the sight, and Kenji found himself relaxing into his seat as he settled to wait it out. His friend had worked hard today, after all. Kenji would take him out to eat after.
He popped his top three buttons and fanned himself lazily with his hand, eyes traced on his friend sprinting across the track field.
“Tomochika.”
Yuki had bounced up to him after the last lap. He was drenched in sweat and his hair seemed to have melded to his forehead.
Kenji passed him a drink he’d bought from the concession stand.
“Thank you.” the blue-haired boy fell onto the bench beside him, cracking the tab with a crisp ‘hiss’. “Why are you here?”
“What am I not allowed to watch?” Kenji leans forward on his elbows, a cool wind settling in as the sun descended into the horizon.
“You don’t like sports.” Yuki hummed, Kenji could see him take a long drink from the corner of his eye. His adams apple ripples and Kenji swallows as he trails the sweat that rolls down his neck.
He rubs the back of his neck, distracting himself.
“Says who?” he blusters, wiping at his brow. He can see the track team cleaning up down on the field. He thinks he recognizes one of them from class…Mori-something?
Yuki licks his lips and looks at him, “You. You literally told me you don’t get—”
“—I’m a man of mystery, Yuki.” he interrupts flippantly. “My mind changes several times. I’ve decided I do like sports.”
Yuki hums, “Does this have something to do with Ms. Kanou?” He’s wiping his face with his hands. Kenji doesn’t have the heart to tell him it won’t help.
“Not everything I do is about her.” Kenji pouts, folding his arms.
Makoto shrugged. He peels up his shirt to wipe his face now, apparently having given up on his hands. Kenji's eyes glance across him, taking in the smooth planes of his tummy and the taper in his waist.
He rips his eyes away and looks out at the horizon, he hurried to bridge the gap in conversation.
He swallows thickly and makes a show wrinkling his nose “You’ll get dirtier like that. Just go hit the showers, man.” Yuki glances at him pensively, “Will you wait for me?”
Kenji nods, “Sure, I came all this way to see you, after all.”
“You did?”
“No, it was for my genuine appreciation of running in circles—of course, it was you, dude.” he stands up, grimacing at the way his uniform sticks to him. Now he wanted a shower too.
“I’ll meet you outside the practice building, we can grab something to eat on the way home.” Makoto nodded, pushing back his hair again as he pulled himself out of his seat.
His friend leaves to hit the shower, and Kenji…does not stare.
***
Kenji is playing on a keyboard outside the music room when Yuki comes jogging up to him, freshly washed and visibly damp.
“That’s terrible.” the cobalt-haired boy quips as he pats his hair dry with a towel around his neck. He’s still wearing his shorts, but he’s traded his top for the tracksuit jacket.
He’s only wearing slippers. “You’re terrible.” he sniffs, poking random keys on the instrument. They probably shouldn’t just be sitting outside the club room, he thinks for a moment. What if someone trips over it?
“I can neither confirm nor deny that.” the blue-haired boy leans over Kenji, settling his head on his shoulder.
He pokes several keys and they make beautiful music together.
“I’m hungry,” Yuki mutters, fiddling now with the MP3 player around his neck.
“Hi hungry, I’m Dad.” Kenji tries and fails to play a tune he’d heard on TV.
“Hi, Daddy.”
A beat passes, heat flaring up from Kenji’s toes to the very tips of his ears. His heart waffles and his stomach flops several times. “Son.” he chokes out.
Yuki snorts.
“So what do you wanna eat?” Kenji stretches his arms over his head, rolling his neck and looking around the nearly empty Iwatodia Station.
Yuki plays with the MP3 around his neck, punchy music pouring from the earphones dangling around his chest. The blue-haired boy squints, looking around.
“Something heavy.” he decides. “No ramen.”
Kenji looks at him, stricken.
Yuki’s eyes glow mischievously, “Sorry, but if it won’t knock me out when I get home, I don’t want it.” he slides his hands into his pockets.
Kenji thinks he looks sleepy, but he might always look like that.
“Fiiiine.” he sniffs, turning his nose up at his friend's terrible tastes, “How about beef bowl?” he shucks off his blazer, giving up any decorum and shoving it in his bag.
“Sweaty.” Yuki points at him, and Kenji looks down at his own stained armpits. He grumbles but declines to cover up.
“I’ve been working so hard I tell you.”
Makoto gives him a flat look, but Kenji only juts out his chin, “Quiet you, or I ain’t feeding ya.”
Makoto puts his hands up in surrender.
Umiushi was crowded on a good day, but it was just late enough and early enough to not be jam-packed.
A spicy scent permeated the store, people dotted the shop in small booths. Chatter and music buzzed in the background as a pleasant din. Kenji loved the sounds of life, of people.
“Hey, it’s Senpai.” Yuki pointed at a pale head of hair at the bar, bent over a large steaming bowl.
He turned to look at them as they slipped onto the bar beside him. Kenji hailed the cook behind the counter before snatching a menu from its holder.
“Ah, Yuki…and Tomochika?” the pale-haired man was Sanada-senpai, Kenji realized. It was pretty hard to miss the most popular boy in school after all. He was dressed in a gym uniform, and sporting a bruise on his eye and nose.
“You know me?” Kenji passed the menu to Yuki.
Sanada shrugged, “Not really, Iori just talks about you sometimes.” he waved his hands, licking at his lips.
“He does?” Yuki squints, “One Great Yakiniku Bowl, please.” he calls to the cook, and Kenji places his order in after.
“You’d know if you actually listened, Yuki.” Sanada chided.
Makoto only shrugs, tucking his hair behind his ear. “I don’t need to hear that from you. Kirijo is going to freeze your pancreas, you know.”
“Don’t remind me…damn.” the older boy finishes the rest of his bowl, staring at it pensively before shaking his head and pulling out his wallet.
“Might as well go face the music now, rather than later.” he pays for his food and pushes away from the counter, “See you later, Yuki.” he waves goodbye, leaving.
“You know he’s right, you should listen to your friends.” he reaches over to pull his friend's cheek, Makoto makes a small and pathetic noise but apparently doesn’t see fit to bat him away. “, Especially when they’re talking about me~”
“Why ignore you second hand when I can ignore you first hand?” Yuki sniffs, and the cook slams down two beef bowls, Yuki’s is moderately larger than his.
“Where the hell do you put all that, you should be bigger than a house.” he breaks his chopsticks, plucking some napkins to put in his lap and handing one to Yuki.
“My ass,” he replies instantly, Kenji nearly chokes but he ain’t no chump, so he snorts instead. Wincing as spicy broth is sucked into his sinuses.
“Really? Cause I ain’t seeing it.” Kenji glances down, it’s actually—nothing. It’s nothing because Kenji isn’t looking.
Kenji has a beautiful girl friend he loves.
Makoto’s eyes gleam as he cranes his head close to his bowl, shoveling savory meat into his mouth at an alarming pace.
Kenji shakes his head and calls for some drinks.
***
On the walk back to the station, Yuki pulls him aside. It’s dark out now, and the street is filled with the warm glow of street lights.
“Tomochika.” Yuki’s cheeks are dusted pink from the cold, he looks tired but happy—if not for the small snarl in his brow.
Kenji runs a nervous hand through his hair. It’s a bit shorter than it used to be. Emiri really got on his case for looking too ‘shaggy’, as she put it. “Yeah?”
“Are you ok?” Kenji looks at his friend, surprised by the question. “Huh? Yeah, I guess.”
“And with Ms. Kanou?”
Kenji shifts, shrugging. “…It’s ok. I’m…” he fiddles with his bag “A little burned out, is all.”
“You probably shouldn’t get burnt out from your partner, Kenji.” Yuki’s voice is very gentle. Too much for Kenji really, he looks away. Down at his shoes.
“What? I’m pretty sure that’s normal. Those Americans even have a name for it.” he wracks his head for bits of English “The seven-year itch or something…?”
“It hasn’t even been one year, Tomochika.”
“Huh? Well maybe it feels faster cause she’s an adult.” he shrugs, unwilling to look at his friend now. Because he loves his girlfriend. He loves her. He…
Yuki pats his head, carding fingers through his hair. “Maybe, but come to me when you’re feeling tired ok?” Kenji’s eyes fall shut, heat blossoming in his face.
“…Yeah.” he licks his lips, his throat suddenly bone dry. “Thanks, man.” Yuki looks at him a moment longer before letting go. “No problem, Tomochika.”
The train pulls in, but Kenji’s cheeks don’t cool until late into the night. Way after they’d parted ways that evening.