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Kaoru wakes up to the smell of something so inexplicably divine that he can’t even think of words to describe it.
That, and he’s half asleep, so his vocabulary isn’t at his best right now. Still, Kaoru thinks as he stretches his arms out with a lazy yawn, there probably isn’t a word in the Japanese language that could encapsulate it. If he had to choose one, maybe—
—bliss.
After reluctantly tugging off the many blankets piled on top of him, Kaoru stumbles his way to the attached bathroom, where he quickly splashes water on his face. After drying his face off and brushing his teeth, Kaoru manages to make his way to the kitchen feeling vaguely more awake.
“Morning, sunshine,” Kojiro greets with a grin, and Kaoru mutters something half unintelligible in response. Kojiro’s grin only widens, already used to Kaoru’s less-than-sunny disposition in the early hours of the day.
Not that it was very early in the day at all: actually, Kaoru realizes as he blinks blearily at the kitchen clock, it’s quite a bit past 9 in the morning. Kaoru recalls needing to wake up quite a few hours prior during his typical work schedule, but ever since the Adam-smashing-in-his-face-with-a-skateboard incident, Kaoru’s been more lax, choosing to wake up later and end his work day later to compensate for the lost time in the morning. It means that Kojiro’s usually out of the apartment before he awakes, but there’s always something on the table for breakfast and a post-it note with a scrawled smiley face to greet Kaoru every morning.
This morning, though, it’s not a scrawled smiley face on a post-it note, but Kojiro himself who greets Kaoru, and it’s not until Kaoru’s halfway through his breakfast when he remembers to ask about it.
“Not working today?” he asks around a mouthful of eggs. Normally, he’d be aghast at his own table manners, but it’s too early in the morning for Kaoru to really care. Plus, Kojiro’s seen him in worse situations; he doubts talking while eating will be enough to appall Kojiro, who undeniably has more deplorable habits than himself.
“One of Sia’s few days off,” Kojiro answers in reference to his restaurant, and Kaoru hums in reply. “I was thinking, actually, we could go somewhere… do something?”
“Real eloquent,” Kaoru mutters around a yawn. Kojiro rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah. You’re not even half conscious yet, are you?”
Kaoru mumbles something vague in response.
“I figured.” Kojiro slides a steaming cup of coffee next to Kaoru. “Try this. It’s a new blend I’m testing out.”
“Stop using me as your taste tester,” Kaoru grumbles half-heartedly, even as he reaches for the cup with both hands.
“You know you love it.”
Kaoru gives him a weak glare over the top of the cup that Kojiro responds to with a cheeky wink.
“Idiot gorilla,” Kaoru mutters to himself as he brings the cup to his lips. After gauging the aroma for a few moments, he takes a tentative sip, and his eyes widen.
Kaoru wasn’t stupid. He knew Kojiro was a good chef, of course he did. It wasn’t just anyone who could open a thriving Italian restaurant in Okinawa, and certainly not Kaoru—no, he’d probably burn the place down the second he turned the stove on.
But still. Still.
How the fuck can Kojiro make coffee taste so good?
“Well?” Kojiro presses. “How is it?”
Kaoru doesn’t deign to answer, instead taking another sip from the cup. The flavor sinks through him, his shoulders automatically relaxing, any lingering stress seeping away from his bones, and his eyes slip closed.
God, I could marry him, Kaoru thinks.
Then, he thinks, what the FUCK.
His eyes snap open. All of a sudden, he is awake. Incredibly awake. Much too awake.
“Kaoru?” Kojiro asks, clearly picking up on Kaoru’s distress. He waves a hand in front of Kaoru’s face. “You there?”
Kaoru blinks rapidly. Oh, no, he thinks. Oh, no. Surely—no… it can’t be—
“Earth to Kaoru Sakurayashiki?”
Oh my god, Kaoru thinks, horrified, I’m in love with this idiot gorilla.
It’s too much for Kaoru, all of a sudden. The coffee, the homemade breakfast, the blankets, the late mornings at Kojiro’s apartment, the late nights at Sia la Luce—it’s too much for Kaoru, all of a sudden.
Kaoru has to leave. Now.
“I have to leave,” he blurts out, setting down the coffee cup hard enough for it to make an ugly sound as it makes contact with the surface of the counter. Kojiro’s eyebrows draw together in concern.
“Kaoru…?”
Kaoru is out the door before Kojiro can say another word, barely comprehending enough to snatch his motorcycle’s keys on the way out, tugging his shoes on hastily—
He’s on the road before Kojiro makes it out of the apartment.
At his own apartment, Kaoru is forced to undergo the utterly mortifying experience of fumbling with his many keys and shoving each into his apartment’s door waiting for a perfect match. It frustrates Kaoru to no end, and it’s as he’s flicking through the entire set for the second time that he realizes why he’s needing to go through all this trouble in the first place—
—because he’s spent the last three months at Kojiro’s apartment. Because he’s spent three months at Kojiro’s apartment under the guise of “recovering,” even though it’s been three months. Three months of fighting over bed space because Kojiro didn’t trust Kaoru to ask for help in the middle of the night unless Kojiro was half a foot away, three months of Kojiro’s careful hands flitting over Kaoru at any cause of worry, three months of homemade breakfast even when Kojiro wasn’t around because of Kojiro’s insistence that if Kaoru was going to monopolize so much of his apartment’s space, the least he could do is eat well to help him recover—
—a key finally slides into the doorknob. Kaoru shoves the door open, slamming it shut as soon as he’s inside. He throws his keys on the couch, coughing in surprise at the puff of dust that emerges when the keys land.
Because Kaoru hasn’t been inside his own apartment in three months.
What the fuck has he been doing for three months?
Falling in love with Kojiro, apparently.
Although that wasn’t entirely true, was it? No, when Kaoru reluctantly traces the origins of his epiphany, it doesn’t start at a scintillating cup of coffee. It doesn’t start with the opening of an Italian restaurant, it doesn’t start with the beginning of an underground skating ring, it doesn’t start with an airport reunion, it doesn’t start with a graduation ceremony—
—it starts with a skinned knee, an apologetic smile, a hand offered in conciliation.
It starts with Kojiro, Kaoru realizes, and it starts with love.
“Fuck,” Kaoru says aloud. “Fuck!”
He tears a hand through his hair, letting out a frustrated noise when his fingers get tangled in a knot that likely formed while he was asleep. He hadn’t even given himself time to pack, much less untangle his hair—
Right. Kaoru hadn’t brought anything with him other than the clothes on his back and his keys, which meant everything else he had accumulated in Kojiro’s apartment was still there—
—including Carla.
“Fuck,” Kaoru mutters miserably.
Kaoru manages to avoid Kojiro for a grand total of 9 days, 11 hours, and 15 minutes. In all honesty, Kaoru’s surprised it takes so long, but he still can’t hide his wince when he hears a series of familiar knocks.
“Kaoru?”
Kaoru scowls at the door, as if Kojiro can see him with x-ray vision, but stays silent otherwise. He hasn’t stepped foot outside his apartment or contacted anyone at all for the past nine days, and he has no intention of breaking it. Even if it was getting a bit difficult to survive on rations of month-old snacks.
Another series of knocks, this time hard enough to rattle Kaoru’s door.
“Kaoru, I know you’re in there.”
Kaoru stays silent.
“If you don’t open the door, I’m tearing it off its hinges.”
Kojiro’s probably being facetious, but Kaoru would rather not have to worry about the expenses of covering a new door for his apartment. He slowly makes his way to the door, undoing the locks reluctantly to open the door a crack. Of course, it’s Kojiro outside, with a plastic bag in hand.
Kojiro lifts the bag when he notices Kaoru’s eye peering out of the thin crack. “I brought leftovers?” he offers, and Kaoru scowls.
“What are you doing here?”
Kojiro frowns. “What do you think I’m doing here?”
“Don’t answer a question with a question, idiot.”
“I didn’t think such a stupid question warranted an answer,” Kojiro shoots back. “I haven’t seen you anywhere for the past ten days—no one has.”
“Nine days,” Kaoru can’t help but correct.
“Nine days,” Kojiro repeats with a roll of his eyes. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or do I have to bribe it out of you?” He shakes the plastic bag in his hand.
Kaoru’s eyes dart to the food—Kojiro’s cuisine has always been appetizing to Kaoru, and now, especially so—but returns to squinting at Kojiro with suspicion.
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” he lies. There’s something very wrong with him, and it’s the fact that he’s in love with his best friend.
“Sure,” Kojiro says, unconvinced. “Look, I…” He trails off, and for a split second, he almost looks embarrassed. “Was the coffee really that bad?”
Kaoru’s so stunned by the question that he almost opens the door wider. “What?”
“The coffee I gave you last time you were at home—at the apartment,” Kojiro quickly corrects. “Was it that bad that you needed to run away from me for the next nine days?”
“What?” Kaoru repeats, incredulous. “No, it was—that was—” He cuts himself off. “It was good. Acceptable. Passable.”
Kojiro brightens, but only for a moment. “Then, what is it?”
“Nothing,” Kaoru repeats stubbornly. “It’s nothing, Kojiro. I just don’t want to talk to you right now.”
Kojiro’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.
“...okay,” he says slowly. “When will you want to talk to me, then?”
“Never.”
Kaoru slams the door shut. He hears an indignant “hey!” from Kojiro on the other side of the door, and with a weary sigh, Kaoru sinks down to sit with his back against the door.
“What do you mean, never?”
“I mean never.”
“Kaoru, that’s not funny.”
“I’m not trying to be.”
“Will you stop beating around the bush so much?” comes Kojiro’s next question, and although it’s muffled by the barrier between them, Kaoru can still pick up on the frustration bleeding through Kojiro’s tone. “Just tell me what’s wrong. If it’s not the coffee, what is it?”
“Shut up.”
Kojiro does not shut up.
“It’s something I did, right? I’m sorry. See? I apologized. Will you open the door?”
“No.”
“So it is my fault then.”
Kaoru pinches the space between his eyebrows. “I didn’t say that—” he begins to say through gritted teeth, but Kojiro interrupts him.
“You might as well have. Are you going to tell me what’s my fault that got you like this, or are you going to make me stand out here all night and guess—”
Kaoru stands up, his hands curled into fists by his side. “Fine,” he yells at the door, still closed. “Fine! It’s your fault. Happy? Are you happy?”
“I’d be happy if you’d just tell me what’s—”
“Fine!” Kaoru yells again, throwing the door open to meet Kojiro’s frustrated gaze. “I’m in LOVE with you, and it’s your fault. Happy?”
Kojiro’s mouth falls open.
“You’re what?”
“I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU,” Kaoru screams. “YOU FUCKING IDIOT.”
Kaoru realizes, belatedly, that he’s screaming at the top of his lungs. He snaps his mouth shut and takes a step back as his face begins to heat up, his hands falling weakly to his sides. Kojiro hasn’t moved a muscle, and Kaoru half debates pushing past him and making a run for it.
Kojiro blinks before he can. “You…” he starts, but he quickly trails off.
Kaoru buries his face in his hands. “Fuck,” he groans. “I wasn’t supposed to—fuck.”
“You’re… in love with me?”
Kaoru’s response is muffled by his hands.
“What?”
“Yes,” Kaoru snaps, removing his hands from his face to glare at Kojiro. “Yes, I’m—what, are you going to rub it in, now?”
But it’s not disgust or amusement that’s playing on Kojiro’s face, Kaoru is realizing. Instead, it’s something that looks an awful lot like hope. Kaoru’s mouth turns dry.
“You’re in love with me?” Kojiro repeats quietly, and now that Kaoru’s paying attention, he can detect a sort of awe in Kojiro’s voice.
“How… how many times are you going to make me say it?” Kaoru asks weakly. “In any case, I—”
And then, Kojiro’s kissing him.
It’s a quick thing, though, and Kojiro pulls back immediately, hands in the air, his face a beet red.
“I’m sorry,” he blurts out as Kaoru gapes at him, “I didn’t mean—I should have asked—it’s just—Kaoru, I…” He blinks rapidly. “I’m—in love with you, too.” Kaoru’s eyes widen. Kojiro grins sheepishly. “In case you couldn’t tell.”
“Mm,” Kaoru hums when his brain goes back to fully functioning, which is a few moments later than Kaoru would have liked. “I don’t think I could tell with that.” He blinks pointedly at Kojiro, whose eyes widen with realization. “Why don’t you try again?”
Kojiro is only too glad to oblige.