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It was the first of January, and Kurosawa wanted to kiss Adachi on the lips.
This really wasn’t a new development.
He had been wanting to kiss him on the lips for 7 years straight, and Kurosawa doesn’t think that he’ll ever stop, no matter if he wanted to or not—
He had even asked Rokkaku about it at some point, despite his already dwindling dignity and embarrassment, and all he had said was that ‘most men have a period in their life where they experience physical attraction to a man.’
“Most of the time it doesn’t mean anything.” Rokkaku had comforted gently, and those few words alone fed into Kurosawa’s delusion.
Because surely it was true.
Right?
Of course there was nothing else to it other than meaningless physical attraction that just somehow lasted for 7 years. There was nothing else to it, because of course there wouldn’t be. At least, that’s what he’d told himself every day for the past years that he’d been in love with Adachi. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.
Because if it was as meaningless as he convinced himself it was, then why hadn’t his infatuation faded? If it was so meaningless, then why did he want to kiss him on the lips now. They were barely into the new year, and Kurosawa’s resolutions had already been broken.
A careful pat to the shoulder startled him from his train of thought.
“Kurosawa?” Adachi called softly, hand moving to cup over his gently, concern in his eyes.
‘God, why is he so pretty?’ He panickedly thought, eyes going back and forth between their slightly conjoined hands, to Adachi’s warmly illuminated face. It was a tough battle, but his eyes tried their best to stay firmly planted on Adachi’s face and nothing else. He didn’t need to be a pervert so early on in the year, he needed to exercise being calm and collected.
He took a shallow breath.
“Hmm? Do you need anything Adachi?”
‘Okay, good, that was smooth.’ He thought to himself.
Adachi shakes his head, muttering a quick, “I was just concerned.” before he retracted his hands from his own. A noise, something akin to desperation, almost exited his lips, and Kurosawa could only hope that Adachi hadn’t heard it. “You just looked—sad?”
‘Sad. That was definitely another word for it.’ He humorously mused to himself, not exactly sure about it himself. Maybe he was sad. Sad about what in particular? That he didn’t have the freedom to kiss Adachi whenever he pleased? That Adachi didn’t even know that he loved him? If those were the reasons, then Kurosawa was very much sad.
“I’m alright, Adachi.”
And like always, he was not.