Archive of Our Own

1.

kindergarten

“What do you want for your birthday?”

Kaoru looks up to answer just as Kojiro steals the pink marker from the daycare’s box of art supplies, and elbows him in the side for it. “I was gonna use that!” 

“You can use it after,” Kojiro sniffs, holding it away from him. “I’m drawing cherry trees for my mom.” 

“Why?” Kaoru asks, distracted. “Does she really like them or something?” 

Kojiro nods, starting to draw shaky flowers around the brown trunks and branches he’d already put on the paper. “Yep! She said she and my dad got married under the cherry blossom trees, but they couldn’t stay outside for too long because it was February and windy.” 

Kaoru does remember their teacher mentioning something about how cherry blossoms come to Okinawa much earlier than the mainland. Maybe it would be fun to see them where the weather is warmer. “It was probably pretty, though. Maybe that’s what I want for my birthday.” 

Confused, Kojiro inclines his head with a frown. “You want to get married with cherry trees? But it’s March. They’re all gone now.” 

“I don’t care,” Kaoru shrugs. “We can have any old tree and we can find some other flowers. It’ll be fun!” 

“But who are you getting married to?” 

Kaoru rolls his eyes at him impatiently. “You, dummy. You were gonna get me a gift, so you gotta give it to me.” 

“Oh.” Kojiro pauses to consider this. “I mean, I guess you’re pretty. Do we have to kiss though?” 

“Ew, no,” Kaoru confirms. “I just want a little flower ring. And maybe some cake.” 

“I like cake,” Kojiro agrees. “I’ll ask my mom to help me make some.”

“Deal.” Kaoru holds out his finger for a pinky promise, which Kojiro completes by pressing their thumbs together.

They hold a tiny ceremony with just the two of them in Kojiro’s backyard, under a persimmon tree in the corner that Kaoru likes to climb whenever he comes over. Neither of them really know what a marriage ceremony is supposed to be like, but Kojiro carves a little heart into the tree trunk with his mom’s keys, and clumsily twists together a ring out of a buttercup stem to slip on Kaoru’s finger, just a little too big. 

Kaoru skips all the way home.

2.

high school

Kaoru leaves the house at a normal time for school, like any other day. As expected, he doesn’t hear any sort of special wishes for today in particular, and as usual, he ignores the shout to leave his damn skateboard at home as he tosses it to the ground and launches himself forward onto the street. 

At least it’s not as cold today, a nearly insignificant blessing as the wind slices through his jacket anyway. The gooseflesh prickle along his skin reminds him he’s alive and blessedly out of the house, so he’s grateful nonetheless. He narrowly avoids a couple cars and an older sister taking her sibling to school before making the turn off the main road toward the high school. Maybe it’ll feel better once he gets to class or sees his friends.

The closer he gets, however, the more he doesn’t want to go. Some kind of hard knot of defiance is solidifying in his chest, a familiar thing that he doesn’t know how to expel other than through skateboarding and amassing piercings and skipping school when the consequences can be mitigated. He slows as the school gates appear at the end of the road, and considers his options. No tests today, and he’s not on cleaning duty. If he really wanted to, he could pop in just for club activities, but even that’s getting less and less appealing by the second—

“Kaoru, hey!” 

Kojiro is waving to him from where he’d pushed off the wall next to the gates, and as Kaoru rolls to a stop and picks up his board, Kojiro’s already walking the last few steps toward him. He’d put on an annoying growth spurt recently—annoying both because he’s finally shot considerably past Kaoru’s height and because Kaoru is conflicted about how it makes him feel to know Kojiro is halfway to the perfect height to put his chin on Kaoru’s head. 

“Happy birthday,” Kojiro is saying, his smile melting into something slightly sheepish. “I uh, I wanted to get you something, but it sold out before I saved up enough money, so—”

“Ditch with me,” Kaoru finds himself interrupting.

“What?” 

Kaoru doesn’t know where the final flare of resolve came from himself. He seizes Kojiro’s wrist before either of them can think further and yanks him away from the gates, along the outer walls as Kojiro protests behind him. He doesn’t stop until he’s pulled Kojiro completely into a narrow alleyway across the street, the two of them and their boards crammed into the tiny space.

“Wouldn’t you not want your parents to catch you skipping?” Kojiro asks, fidgeting with his board. It’s slightly hesitant as though he knows the question will piss Kaoru off even more, but Kaoru simply blows an errant strand of hair away from his face.

“They can eat shit,” he says matter-of-factly. “My dad probably won’t even bat an eye, and my mom will stop yelling once she sees my grades and complain about the teachers making it too easy on us instead.”

Kojiro winces, and Kaoru wishes he would stop being so kind, stop worrying about someone like Kaoru. But he’s been this way through elementary school, junior high, and now well into their first year of high school, so he’s probably not about to stop now. 

What Kaoru can do is distract him, he’s learned.

“I was thinking,” he says, tapping his lip where the piercing is finally healed (and bingo , Kojiro’s eyes flit toward the spot), “that I know how you can make it up to me for the gift.”

“Yeah?” Kojiro tears his gaze away to meet Kaoru’s eyes instead. “How do I make it up to you then?”

Kaoru leans toward him a little, conspiratorial grin already tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Two things. First, you know Yamada in class C?”

“Hate him.”

“Thought so. Anyway, we made a bet that whoever could get someone to kiss them first this week would get to have the other do something for them for a month—homework, cleaning duty, whatever.” He lets his grin grow wider. “Now, I’m not saying you have to do it, but…”

Kojiro chokes, coughing and hacking and thumping his chest with his free hand. “You want me to kiss you? ”

Kaoru’s perfected his nonchalant shrug. If he acts like it’s not a big deal, it’s not, right? “Why not? You’re the closest to me, anyway.”

It’s adorable how Kojiro wrings his free hand in nonsensical gestures and looks anywhere but at Kaoru, then puts it down to meet his gaze again. “Kaoru,” he says, much too serious. “I haven’t kissed anyone ever.”

Kaoru’s heart picks up against his rib cage. “I mean, it’ll be good practice then.” He thinks he’s fairly successful at maintaining a lighthearted tone.

“Right…” Kojiro doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he doesn’t hesitate for long, something setting in his expression with a flash of… wistfulness, maybe. It’s too quick for Kaoru to really catch. “I guess we could. For practice, and so you can win your bet.”

The thing is, Kaoru hadn’t actually thought that would work. But he covers his surprise with a confident grin, leaning forward a little. “That’s the spirit. Besides, don’t I deserve a birthday kiss?”

“Not really, but I guess I’m giving you one anyway,” Kojiro laughs, his shoulders visibly dropping tension.

Kaoru had been about to protest, but all coherent thought flies out the window as Kojiro lifts the arm closer to the alley entrance to brace against the wall behind Kaoru’s head. He drops his board with the other hand, as if about to settle his hand on Kaoru’s waist instead, but his fingers hover, his expression pinched. He’s definitely back to overthinking it.

“Nervous?” Kaoru asks. It’s meant to be teasing, but even his shit-eating grin is fading as he sees the furrow in Kojiro’s brow and the slow bob of his throat as he swallows. 

“N-no…”

Well, Kaoru simply must do something about that. The air is heavier, thick between them, and he’s slowly losing control over how he licks his suddenly dry lips and notices Kojiro following the movement as he inches closer.

“It’s just me,” he tries, which comes out in a low, breathy voice meant to be reassuring and probably failing. This was all supposed to be lighthearted, and yet…

The last few centimeters between them close. 

What Kaoru had failed to tell Kojiro is that this is also his first kiss. His eyes shut tight on instinct as their lips are crammed together, and it takes a long moment, two, four, before Kojiro’s mouth moves against his and Kaoru forces his shoulders to relax. Kojiro’s hand flutters anxiously over Kaoru’s waist, and Kaoru has to firmly grab it to place it there on purpose, still with his eyes closed. When Kojiro’s lips part slightly in a gasp of surprise, Kaoru can feel the bump just inside his lower lip where he’d probably been chewing on it in anxiety, and finally moves his own lips in response, trying to coax Kojiro into relaxing as well. 

It’s much better as the both of them adjust and settle. They might not be doing this right—a bumbling, clumsy attempt at a teenage kiss—but somewhere in the depths of Kaoru’s brain is the comforting thought that they’re both equally shit at this, and somehow that makes him feel more confident. 

Experimentally, he lifts his hand not holding his board to wind around Kojiro’s shoulders and into his hair, and presses into the kiss a little harder. This has the opposite effect than he wants, however, because his teeth click painfully against Kojiro’s, eliciting a muffled noise of consternation and the two of them breaking apart.

Kojiro looks like he’s about to complain about it, but he takes one look at Kaoru’s mortified face and bursts into laughter that’s too soft to be anything but fond. “We’re both terrible at this,” he says, echoing Kaoru’s previous thoughts. 

“Shut up and let me prove you wrong,” Kaoru challenges breathlessly, and leans in again to wipe the smirk off his face. 

They’re both quick studies, it seems, or perhaps they’re able to predict each other’s rhythms, because this time they manage to kiss more smoothly, and Kaoru can feel the giddiness building in his chest and an almost fuzzy haze overtaking his brain as they both lean in again and again. Eventually though, their pace slows and Kaoru reluctantly lets Kojiro lean back a little, panting. 

“Had enough?” Kojiro asks slowly, more content than anything. Kaoru lets his eyes roam over Kojiro’s still half-closed ones, over his rumpled uniform shirt and tousled hair. If only his elementary school self could see him now.

“Still want to go back to school?” he asks cheekily in return. Where he’d summoned the nerve for that, he doesn’t know. 

Kojiro blinks a couple times, biting at his lip again. “I mean… It’s not going to look good for us showing up this late, I guess, so might as well skip.” Frowning, he adds, “Besides, didn’t you say there were two things I could do to make it up to you for the present? What’s the second?” 

Already grinning, Kaoru thumps his chest and edges out of the alley after checking that the coast is clear. Tucking the end of his board under his foot to prop it up, he inclines his head down the street away from school. 

“Race you to the skate park,” he tosses out casually, and takes off to the delightful sound of Kojiro’s indignant scrambling to keep up.

Maybe this birthday bullshit can be salvaged. Kojiro hasn’t let him down yet.

3.

college, first year

Kojiro

Happy birthday, nerd

When can I video call?

Kaoru stares at the screen blankly for a minute, three. 

More than sadness, it’s a weird feeling, as though he’s just an observer in his own body day in and day out. Kaoru had given too much of himself to Adam, and let Kojiro fall to the wayside more than he’d like to admit, so losing both of them in succession had swept his feet out from underneath him completely, had left him clenching his reaching fist around empty air where something once was.

At least he sees Kojiro through his phone screen, and Kojiro doesn’t fail to at least text him every day. He sends pictures of the sunrise, and his cooking when he’s satisfied with the outcome and presentation, and needles Kaoru about eating and sleeping regularly with his familiar psychic sixth sense for when Kaoru pulls all-nighters even all the way from Europe. In some ways, it’s like he’d never left, and yet Kaoru has a nagging suspicion that he never shares pictures of his new friends because he knows about the pinprick of jealousy at the back of Kaoru’s throat, about the phantom touch of what Kaoru remembers about pressing their shoulders together. 

Should he accept a video call when he knows Kojiro will pick up on anything slightly off about him? He supposes it would be weirder if he doesn’t.

Kojiro picks up on the first ring. It’s always more a relief than anything else when Kaoru sees the familiar mop of green hair and the crooked grin. Belatedly, Kaoru checks the little preview of his video to make sure it doesn’t look too messy around him in his dorm room, but thankfully it only catches his shoulders and the open closet behind him when he sits at his desk.

“Hey,” Kojiro says. Kaoru doesn’t like how the shitty quality of his phone distorts his voice; it’s much better in person. “You get my delivery?”

Kaoru nods. The tiramisu is sitting in his miniature refrigerator, though he’s not going to tell Kojiro it’s untouched. “You really had to make them write ‘four-eyes’ on it, huh?”

“I considered ‘douchebag,’ but I wasn’t sure about their policy on inappropriate words,” Kojiro grins. “It’s probably too big for one person even though I know you have your not-so-secret sweet tooth, so feel free to share with your college friends.”

Another thing Kaoru won’t tell him: he’s really struggled with making new friends once getting to college. After losing his two closest friends and the rest of their group to other colleges, he just can’t put himself out there like he had throughout high school. He’d taken out his piercings when he’d gotten the glasses and never bothered to put them back in, so it’s much easier to blend into the background in his classes and let his thoughts spiral behind the safety curtain of his hair. No doubt his classmates and professors think he’s a recluse or depressed or something, and it’s just been easier to let them think whatever they want as long as they’re not bothering him.

“Kaoru?”

Kaoru blinks slowly, his eyes refocusing. Kojiro’s face seems closer to the phone, brows furrowed. “You good?”

No, Kaoru wants to tell him. I’m not good and I haven’t been since you left. He swallows it down and says instead, “I’ll probably give some to your mom.” Silently, he’s thankful that Kojiro can’t see the restless bounce of his leg under the table or the way his hands close into fists and uncurl. Missing Kojiro is physically painful, sometimes, even through the apathetic haze.

“She’d love that,” Kojiro says patiently, but frowns. “Hey… I know it sucks that I can’t visit for your birthday this time, but I’m already planning for next year. I know you can’t live without me for that long, but at least you get to see my face in the meantime.” He gives a big, exaggerated wink, and Kaoru rolls his eyes, but can’t deny that it makes him feel a little better. 

“Stupid gorilla,” he mutters, half in denial and half so he won’t blurt out something too genuine. 

He knows Kojiro understands what he’s trying to say, though, at least to some extent. 

4.

college, later on

It’s easier to accept that Kaoru is still a bit childish about everything with time.

Kojiro is fulfilling his dreams and working hard to perfect his craft, and he wouldn’t have gotten as far as he has without leaving Okinawa. Besides, he’d saved for years and years to be able to lessen the financial burden on his mother of sending him to Italy, and Kaoru would never have held him back from something he’d poured everything into, even if letting him go is one of the hardest things he’s done. Kaoru does have his own goals to work toward, at least, though sometimes it feels like more of a distraction than fruitful labor, or sometimes he questions whether opening his own studio is actually his own dream or meant to rival Kojiro’s plans of opening a restaurant. 

Either way doesn’t change the fact that he misses Kojiro acutely. Not that he’d tell him outright, of course. 

Kojiro seems to know anyway. He always has, and it’s annoying that he’s got that intuition for people and knows how to make Kaoru feel better in the subtext without bruising his ego.

Today, he’s griping about how Americans ruined the concept of pizza over video call as he putters about his tiny student housing kitchen, and Kaoru is half listening as he pretends to work on an assignment. In reality, his brain is torn between Kojiro’s growing hair and rapidly broadening shoulders and the line of his forearms as he confidently chops tomatoes—Kaoru wishes, so suddenly and intensely, that Kojiro were right beside him. 

“And you’re spacing out again,” Kojiro is saying, putting down his knife with finality and turning his face toward the phone. “Gonna pay attention for your birthday surprise at least, princess?”

Kaoru blinks, willing his brain back to the mortal plane. “Hm?” His brain goes through a lot of emotions at once as it finally processes the pet name, and in trying to save face, he doesn’t quite think about the next words out of his mouth. “I didn’t think someone with your limited brain capacity would remember, idiot.”

In reality, Kojiro’s never missed his birthday, and it’s simply Kaoru’s anxiety that tells him that one of these years, he will, and then he’ll never remember it again. It’s not that Kaoru needs to be celebrated, but the fact that he’s special enough to Kojiro for him to remember—in whatever greedy way he can hoard—terrifies him because he could lose it.

But Kojiro—wonderful, stupid Kojiro—just laughs, easily dispelling Kaoru’s momentary lapse. “If you didn’t have that robot you’re working on, I’d be worried the other way around, four-eyes. Anyway, you should check your email.”

Kaoru would retaliate, but his laptop is already open and his curiosity does get the better of him. He opens a new tab with his personal email, and sure enough, there’s a forwarded email from Kojiro sitting neatly at the top, with the subject line that reads: Fw: Your Flight Receipt.  

Immediately, his head whips back toward the phone screen. “What did you do.” 

Kojiro grins. “I’m asking for forgiveness, not permission.” 

Kaoru’s heartbeat is already picking up as he clicks open the email and scrolls through the details of the flight. Okinawa to Paris, with a stop in Shanghai. A bit long for his liking, but he’s very sure Kojiro had scoured the internet with the balance of his wallet and Kaoru’s comfort in mind. Still…

“You spent so much money on this,” he says, trying to keep the bite out of it.

“Because I wanted to, and I planned for this since first year, remember? I wasn’t going to come all the way to Europe and not have you visit.” Kojiro folds his very nice forearms on the counter in front of his phone, leaning into them. His eyes are clearly searching for signs that Kaoru’s legitimately angry about this. “My mom helped with the hotel, and the tradeoff is that I take a much cheaper train to meet you there.”

Kaoru’s brain is both stalling and working in overtime as he scans the flight information again. “It’s after my school year, but won’t you be in classes?”

Kojiro shrugs. “Sacrifices had to be made, pinky.”

Kaoru summons enough composure to glare at him, adjusting his glasses. “I will not allow you to fail to graduate to go on some trip out of country—“

“Relax, I’m already doing makeup work, and my professors and supervisors know exactly how important this is.” Kojiro raises an eyebrow at him. “Besides, there’s not a lot of lecture-based classes around here anyway, even if I weren’t in this career. I know what I’m doing.”

Kaoru does settle enough to be slightly miffed, exhaling slowly. The more he thinks about it, the more his anticipation rises. “I see. So we’re going on a trip. Just the two of us. To Paris.”

“Yep!” Kojiro pushes back away from the counter, picking up the knife again and sliding over some garlic. “That way you can be less sulky when we actually spend your birthday together.”

“Sulky, my ass,” Kaoru retorts, which of course, devolves into one of their inane arguments.

When Kaoru finds himself stepping off the jet bridge into the airport proper at Orly and headed for baggage claim, even his grumpiness from being unable to sleep well on the plane can’t dampen the stupid tap dance in his chest. He’s just pulling out his phone to text Kojiro as he waits for his bags when he hears a shout of his name from the automatic doors, and he only has time to look up before Kojiro himself comes barreling into him at full force.

Kaoru’s first instinct, of course, is to yell profanities and attempt to shove him off, which probably alarms some passersby, but Kojiro only squeezes him tighter, and it feels like his body reacts too late as his brain catches up to him. Kojiro is big and warm and Kaoru’s muscles go limp and boneless as he belatedly sinks into the embrace, not returning it of course but just—receiving.

“Are you going to let me get my luggage?” Kaoru asks, muffled into Kojiro’s chest.

Kojiro holds on a moment longer. “Sorry, just. Missed you.” 

He does, however, finally step back, and Kaoru wishes he could have seen the expression on his face as he’d held him. His body is independently remembering the press of every muscle against his frame, but he manages to sniff and adjust his glasses where they’d been knocked askew.

“Yes, well, a little warning the next time you decide to act like a freight train.” He raises an eyebrow and gives Kojiro what he hopes is a casual onceover. “Especially now that you’re a goddamn gargantuan creature.”

Kojiro grins and flexes shamelessly. “You can just say you’re into my new muscle like a normal person.”

“You may have put on some build, but you’re the same insufferable idiot,” Kaoru tells him. Even he can’t deny he sounds a little fond, but he’ll chalk it up to playing nice after so long not seeing each other in person. “Do me a favor and grab my bag.”

“Sure thing, your highness.” Kojiro snorts and heads over to where Kaoru’s pointing at the suitcase adorned in cherry blossoms rounding the conveyor belt. Kaoru absolutely does not stare at the flex of Kojiro’s biceps as he hoists the suitcase easily and doesn’t even put it down as he ambles back over to Kaoru. “Shall we?”

Managing a nod, Kaoru follows him to the exit as he hails a cab and speaks to the driver in broken French. It’s just hitting him that he’s completely alone with Kojiro, on a trip in a foreign country for his birthday of all things, and it’s very obvious the cab driver thinks they’re a couple.

This will be… interesting.

Sure enough, the hotel receptionist asks for their reservation under the same last name, and a nervous-looking waitress at a cafe doesn’t respond to Kojiro’s casual flirting in favor of glancing fearfully at Kaoru instead. He’s not sure why, of course. When a stranger overhears their Japanese and strikes up a conversation, Kaoru’s fairly sure the spots he recommends are increasingly geared toward couples. 

Thankfully, Kojiro seems to take everything in stride, assuming he notices the same things. He’s clearly in his element even if he doesn’t know much of the language and Kaoru knows none, effortlessly charming staff and locals and excitedly dragging Kaoru to skate parks even here. It’s all unfortunate that Kojiro is obviously the only one Kaoru knows here, and therefore all his focus is on Kojiro and his broad shoulders and broad grin and just Kojiro, Kojiro, Kojiro. He furiously channels his energy into making sure they see every art gallery and museum possible, and lets Kojiro do the same with restaurants and cafes and markets, no matter how obscure. 

They bicker as usual, of course, but Kaoru’s more focused on Kojiro’s steady hand at the small of his back, and the way he leans in closer to hear Kaoru in noisier places, and the softening at the corners of his eyes. He still can’t believe they’re here in person together. 

It feels like something he could get used to.

5.

after graduation

Kojiro’s been too busy to video call much lately, it seems. It’s understandable, given that he’s wrapping up his degree, gearing up for graduation, and trying to explore the last bits of Italy he hadn’t gotten around to yet, and Kaoru’s not worried , per se, except for the niggling feeling that maybe Kojiro will decide to stay there after all. 

His anxiety is unfounded, of course. It’s highly unlikely that Kojiro won’t come back, at least for a while or at least to see his family, if not Kaoru. But Kaoru does catch the ways Kojiro expertly skirts around and deflects conversation about coming back, or gives vague answers about not being sure when it’ll happen. He’s got a good poker face, but Kaoru knows him enough to catch the tiniest shift in his expressions or the changes in his texts and knows there’s something else going on. The worst part is that Kaoru knows he’s at least on par with Kojiro’s family in terms of Kojiro’s closest confidants, so the fact that Kojiro’s clearly keeping something from him bothers him more than it should. 

“What are you hiding, stupid gorilla,” he mutters as he neatly drapes one of his yukatas over a hanger to squeeze into his closet. 

It’s tiny to match the whole of this apartment, but he’s just glad he can afford this place in the interim with sullenly accepted money from his estranged father and apprenticeship and part-timer money on top of it. He’d taken the first opportunity to move out, of course, and at least the freedom and independence outweighs the loneliness most days. 

If he can figure out what’s going on with Kojiro, maybe Kojiro would fill in some of the silence. 

The ringtone of his phone startles him from robotically stacking the last of his socks in the closet. “Master,” Carla says from her bracelet, professional and clipped. “Incoming call from Nanjo Akari.” 

It’s not uncommon for Kojiro’s mother to check in on Kaoru, so he tells Carla to accept the call. “Kaoru!” she says cheerfully, her voice impossibly sonorous even through the tinny speaker. “Got plans tonight?” 

She’d omitted any sort of proper greeting, but truthfully, Kaoru quite enjoys that she’s always straight to the point and fusses over him like she does her actual children. “Not currently, Nanjo-san. Did you need anything?” 

“Yes, actually. I know this is really late notice, but Emiko is having her partner over this evening, so if you wouldn’t mind running a couple errands with me and staying for dinner, that would be lovely. I was also hoping it would double as an early birthday dinner for you since I’m not sure I’ll be available that day! I would ask Sachiko to help out, but she just left on a trip out of town.”

Kaoru knows she knows that he wouldn’t say no to her even if his birthday wasn’t coming up, so he finds himself agreeing to meet her in a couple hours, which gives him enough time to slowly make himself presentable and make his way over by motorcycle. At this point, he doesn’t really have to look his best when visiting the Nanjo household, but he’d rather look nice in front of her anyway for undisclosed future purposes. Just in case.

Akari sweeps him up into a bone-crushing hug the moment she opens the door—of course the entire family is freakishly strong—and tells him to sit as she gathers the last of her things. As she disappears into the hallway by the kitchen that leads to her room, Kaoru considers the couch, but doesn’t sit quite yet in case she comes out sooner than he expects. 

There seem to be a lot of boxes stacked around the living area, or at least a lot more than usual. Kaoru has a moment to briefly wonder whether there’s some redecorating or something that Akari needs help with when he picks up on low conversation at the end of the hall, someone complaining as the other laughs. Kaoru frowns; Akari had mentioned Kojiro’s youngest sister was out of town and the other wasn’t coming until later. Does she have another guest? Kaoru supposes it’s none of his business, but he would have liked prior notice—

A familiar figure emerges from the hall. 

Kojiro stands there with his hands shoved into his pockets, having adopted a too-casual air as he regards Kaoru.

“Hey,” he says simply. 

Kaoru is dreaming. This must be a dream. 

“What are you doing here,” is what comes out of his mouth. It almost sounds accusatory, and it’s not what he wanted to say at all. 

Thankfully, Kojiro just laughs. He finally steps forward until he’s right in Kaoru’s space, reaching for his hands slowly to hold them between their bodies. Kaoru can feel his fingers trembling slightly, or maybe the trembling is from his own hands. There’s no other way to describe the way Kojiro is looking at him but tender , and Kaoru’s chest constricts until he can barely breathe. 

“I’m home.” 

Kojiro squeezes Kaoru’s hands as he says it. Kaoru can’t pretend to think that there aren’t multiple meanings to the phrase, but he also can’t jump to conclusions. 

“You didn’t tell me you were coming back today.” 

Kojiro purses his lips apologetically. “It was really hard not to tell you, honestly. Probably felt like I was avoiding you, huh.” 

“I thought you were thinking about… about staying there.” 

“Kaoru,” Kojiro says, frowning. His voice is quiet, intense, earnest. He leans down slowly until his forehead rests on Kaoru’s shoulder where it meets his neck and snakes his hands around Kaoru’s waist instead. “I was always gonna come back to you.” 

Kaoru’s knees weaken. He leans forward unsteadily until he’s returning the gesture, clutching at the front of Kojiro’s shirt and letting out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Kojiro is supporting more of his weight than he is, and Kaoru can’t tell whose heartbeat is more thunderous. It takes all of his courage to speak.

“If you’re saying what I think you’re saying, you’re going to have to be clearer than that.” 

He can feel the small huff of laughter against his neck, and Kojiro straightens after a long moment to meet his eyes, though he doesn’t loosen his hold on Kaoru’s waist. 

“We’ve been inseparable since kindergarten. I was the first person you thought of when you needed to kiss someone in high school. I missed you like crazy the whole time I was away, enough to extensively plan and pay for a trip to Paris for both of us so I could see you in person. I think it’s pretty clear that I’ve been madly in love with you for as long as I can remember, but let this be confirmation.” 

Kaoru’s hands curl into loose fists against Kojiro’s chest, lightly thumping against it once, twice. His vision is blurring with tears, but he blinks them away as he says, “I can’t believe you made me wait so long.” 

“I couldn’t rush this,” Kojiro tells him, voice thick because he’s always taken on whatever Kaoru’s feeling, too. “But hey, could say the same for you, if you feel like this too.” 

Right, Kaoru reminds himself. He’d asked Kojiro to be clear and direct, and Kojiro deserves the same. “I would be crazy to fall for anyone else, in the end. So—and I’ll only say this once—it’s always been you.” 

It’s a clumsy attempt at returning the sentiment, but Kojiro’s eyes light up anyway as he swoops in to kiss Kaoru’s cheek. He deserves better, and Kaoru will work up to it. For now, he’ll soak in Kojiro’s warmth and love in preparation like a flower turning toward the sun. 

(“Oh yes,” Kaoru says as an afterthought. “You roped your mother into this?” 

“She was even more excited than I was,” Kojiro chuckles, letting Kaoru go but only far enough to intertwine their fingers. “She was the one who said I would be giving you myself as an early birthday present.” 

“I still expect an actual present,” Kaoru tells him primly. 

“Naturally. Nothing less for my favorite stuck-up princess.” 

“Careful there, cocky ape. Your boyfriend privileges can and will be revoked.” 

“Boyfriend, huh?”

“Is that all you heard?” 

“Yep.” 

“...Idiot.”

“Love you too, pinky.”)

6.

soft opening

“I didn’t sign up for this shit,” Kojiro grumbles, glaring at his computer.

“Actually, you did,” Kaoru says, calmly sipping at his tea across from him at the low table. “You were the one who went to culinary school, got your permits and licenses, secured funding, started scouting for staff, etcetera. Rather late to back out now.” 

Kojiro sighs, pulling his legs closer to sit cross-legged on his cushion. “Not that I can’t do it, but flying blind by myself, not knowing anything about business practices, agonizing over all the little details… I don’t work like that. Wish there was a way for all of this to be like the cooking part—throw shit at the wall and make things stick.” He looks up, puppy-dog eyes almost pleading. “You did all this accounting-business-plan-equipment stuff so easily.” 

“I completed a certificate course for the practicality of learning from experts, but it still wasn’t easy,” Kaoru shrugs. “I can help, but ultimately I’m new to the trade as well, and our business models are much different. In the long run, it’s better for you to learn and improve on your own.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Besides, I’d probably feel better about knowing the ins and outs until I can hire someone for it.” Kojiro stares at the laptop again for a moment, then decisively lowers the screen shut. “Anyway, it’s late, and there are much better things I could be doing.” 

Kaoru raises an eyebrow instinctively, but he’s already expecting it when Kojiro scoots around the table to make a show of plucking Kaoru’s mug from his hands to set it down and draping himself bodily over Kaoru’s frame. 

“Get off me, gormless gigolo,” Kaoru says halfheartedly, but Kojiro simply leans even more of his weight onto Kaoru and smooches his cheek loudly for good measure. 

“No can do when I can kiss you whenever I want, four-eyes. Who else gets to do that?”

Of course, no matter how casual he tries to seem, Kaoru can tell that the preparations for the restaurant are still weighing on his mind, so he doesn’t push back too hard. Instead, he reaches up to smooth out the last creases between Kojiro’s eyebrows with his fingertips, smooth them over his cheeks, cup his jaw gently with both hands. His hands have always been better at communicating than his words, after all. 

Kojiro does seem to relax at his touch, at least. His shoulders and embrace loosen somewhat, and his eyes flutter closed, simply allowing Kaoru to rub circles into his skin and knead at his neck with their legs loosely tangled on the floor.

“You’re going to get there,” Kaoru tells him firmly, trying to inject all the confidence in Kojiro he has. “There might be some bumps in the road, but you’re good at handling those. You can take as much time as you need to sort them out, and you won’t be alone.” 

Eyes still closed, Kojiro smiles. “Heh… Usually it’s me jumping headfirst into things. When did you have to be the one to reassure me it would turn out fine?” 

“It’s harder when you’re personally invested,” Kaoru reminds him. He tilts Kojiro’s head forward slightly to place a kiss on his forehead. “You want this to go right because it’s a huge investment of time, money, and effort in your future, and despite being a bit of an impulsive idiot, you did lie about one thing: you do pay attention to the details, especially when it involves more than just yourself. So it’s natural to worry about it.” 

“Yeah. I’m so close, Kaoru.” Kojiro finally opens his eyes, the corners softening as he smiles. “Close enough that if some of this stuff works out, I’m gonna plan for a soft opening before your birthday.” 

Kaoru raises an eyebrow. “Don’t plan your business schedule around my birthday, sap.” 

“Too late. I almost named the carbonara dish after you, too, since that’s all you ever ask me to make.” 

Rolling his eyes, Kaoru hides his stifled smile by flicking Kojiro’s forehead. “If that’s the case, I deserve that menu item for free every time I step into your establishment.” 

Kojiro shrugs, grinning widely. “Wouldn’t be different from you eating me out of house and home on the daily.” 

They bicker right up to bedtime about inherent partner privileges, but Kaoru knows that Kojiro will make space for him in his kitchen without question. He watches Kojiro work harder than ever with silent pride, and he watches as the physical restaurant comes together with equipment and furniture and decorations, every bit a labor of love. 

The night before the soft opening, Kaoru steps into the building that will be Sia la Luce (an apt name for a place and an owner of light and warmth) to the lights dimmed and candles on tables and along the bar instead, washing everything in a warm glow. Kojiro is waiting for him behind the bar in full chef’s uniform already, and steps around it to give him a kiss hello when Kaoru approaches. 

“I was thinking… I wanted you to be the first guest to have a meal here,” he says. 

“Oh?” 

Kojiro nods. “Sit at the bar.” 

Kaoru does so, and Kojiro disappears for a moment to bring out two large trays with small dishes arranged neatly on them, as well as a bottle of wine. “Had to make sure everything was Sakurayashiki Kaoru-approved before I served it to anyone else,” he explains cheekily, placing a few of the dishes on the bar to start. 

“Very funny. What about all the extra?” Kaoru says. “I can’t possibly finish everything.” 

“If you don’t take it home, I’m sure my mom and sisters will,” Kojiro offers. “You don’t have to finish everything, I just want you to taste everything once.”

He deliberately steps back from the counter and gestures at the dishes on the bartop. Kaoru could tease him about how dramatic he’s being, but Kojiro has always been genuine about his craft and about seeking Kaoru’s opinion, and Kaoru’s not about to give him some sort of complex right before he opens this place to the public, so he reaches for the fork placed by the first plate in a neat little napkin roll and digs in.

Kojiro’s outdone himself, of course. Kaoru’s no culinary expert, and he might be biased, but automatically reaching for second and third mouthfuls with each new dish must say something. He manages to briefly make it to every last plate and details exactly which ones he’ll be taking home—carbonara included, of course—before he catches Kojiro’s tiny smile rich with both satisfaction and affection.

“What?” he asks, self-conscious now.

Kojiro shakes his head, the smile never fading. Setting the plates aside for a moment, he rounds the bar to settle one arm around Kaoru, resting his cheek on top of Kaoru’s head.

“Thank you. And happy birthday.”

Kaoru leans into him a little, closing his eyes in contentment. “It’s not my birthday yet.”

“I’ll just have to keep saying it until it is, then. Celebrate my beautiful partner every day, right?” The gentle movement of Kojiro’s cheek as he talks is soothing. 

Snorting softly, Kaoru replies, “With all this flattery, one would think you’re trying to soften me up to ask a favor.” 

“Well, now that you’ve put the idea in my head…” 

Kaoru elbows him away with pinpoint precision, and Kojiro’s still laughing as he goes to wash the dishes. 

7.

returning to S

“I was thinking,” Kojiro says, unscrewing the cap of a water bottle and handing it over, “that I kinda want to go back to S.” 

Kaoru’s body stills as he takes the bottle, not raising it to his lips just yet. Kojiro turns his gaze away from the waterfront next to the skatepark to look at him, completely calm but gaze weighted. His shoe knocks into the half pipe beneath them idly, other foot propped up on the ledge. Clearly, he’s waiting for Kaoru to reply. 

His initial reaction isn’t quite as vehemently opposed as he’d thought. Perhaps he feels adequately removed from it to have healed. It’s been several years since he’s been to S himself—he hadn’t felt up to facing it during college without knowing Kojiro would be there—but the snatches of whispers he catches on social media suggest it’s still alive and kicking. He’s not quite sure who runs things with all three founders having been out of commission for a while, but if he knows anything about the underground skate scene, it’s that they’re skating idiots through and through. They’d find a way, and that’s one of the things Kaoru loves and misses about it. 

But is he really prepared to face S, with the slim chance of Adam appearing again? 

“Hey,” Kojiro says, placing a hand on his wrist. “We can forget all about it, too.”

Kaoru shakes his head slowly. “It’s not that. If we do this… We have more at stake now as adults with our work and our relationship, and we can’t exactly blend into the crowd either as Cherry Blossom and Joe or as ourselves. I’m not saying we have to go separately, but I cannot have people tracing me outside of S, or tracking one of us through the other.” 

“So you’re saying pretend we’re not together.” Kojiro’s expression turns thoughtful. “I mean I’ll do it if it makes you feel safer, but I think with such a queer community with similar things at stake, you probably won’t have to worry about it so much.” 

“Still,” Kaoru emphasizes, releasing his legs from their cross-legged position to dangle off the edge. “I would much rather take precautions. Especially if he…” 

Kojiro nods. “Yeah, I get it. But you’re in?” 

Exhaling slowly, Kaoru nods. Kojiro will be there if he needs anything. “A tentative yes. As long as you don’t use my legal name. And no kissing, touching, or romantic gestures.” 

“Now that’s just torture, princess.” Kojiro rocks his skateboard next to him back and forth, an exaggerated sullen look on his face. “The next S is on your birthday, too, and you’re telling me I can’t even tell people to congratulate my partner?” 

“Pouting won’t get me to change my mind,” Kaoru tells him as firmly as he can. Kojiro is sweet and Kaoru does feel a little bad, but this is for both of their safety. “I’d much rather be safe than sorry.”

Kojiro leans back on his hands, affecting the biggest, most dramatic sigh he can pull off. “Alright, alright. But what I can do… is get my fill here and now!”

He lunges at Kaoru to wrap both his arms around him securely, and peppers kisses all over his face and anywhere he can reach. Surprised, Kaoru nearly knocks Carla down the ramp, but he’s largely unsuccessful at fending Kojiro off, and dissolves into giggles despite himself.

“Can’t you keep your meaty primate hands off me for one minute?” he gripes lightheartedly, catching his breath as Kojiro finally relents.

“Nope. You’re too pretty to, which is why S will be hard.”

Kaoru’s chest warms a little. Before Kojiro, he’s never really experienced anyone wanting him like that, or being so wholeheartedly, genuinely devoted to him. They might argue about inconsequential things, but he’s never once questioned Kojiro’s love for him, even though he’s a big flirt, and it’s small, consistent things like this that keep reaffirming it. At least outside of S, Kaoru wishes he were also as free and giving with his affection in turn.

After glancing around to confirm that the park is empty, he reaches up to grasp gently at Kojiro’s neck, pulling him into a kiss. He tries to let it linger as long as he can, as if he can physically transfer his gratitude and appreciation, and Kojiro’s muffled surprise melts quickly into eager reciprocation.

Kaoru pulls away to give him a smile of reassurance, and is met with a gentle one in return. “It’s just for S. And maybe if we make some close friends there, we can tell a few people. Might be good to have trusted folks in the know, just in case. But I’m strictly scoping it out for a while, see what’s changed and what the community is like nowadays.”

Kojiro nods. “Then we’ll go this next time. Gotta rethink my outfit now that I have this tattoo you designed for me, after all—where else can I show it off in plain sight?”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to bare your chest to the world either way,” Kaoru snarks, but the thought makes him anticipate some modifications to his own costume.

A fresh start is what he’ll hope for.

The day arrives sooner than expected, and Kaoru’s a little anxious as he swings one leg over his motorcycle. Kojiro is bringing the car, and they drive with building anticipation filling the relative silence between them, down familiar paths and around the mountain. The familiar iron gates rise in front of them, flanked by volunteer security, but it’s still second nature to pull out the S pin Kaoru had dug up from his closet to stare at earlier, and he’s easily waved through, Kojiro’s vehicle right behind him. 

Once they’ve parked, they pull out their skateboards to coast along with the crowd to the start line. The more people join the fray, the more excitement builds, and the more whispers surround them. Kaoru takes a deep breath through his mask; it’s like the scent of incoming storm, ripe with anticipation and the edge of danger.

It’s exhilarating.

“You missed this place bad, huh pinky?”

Kaoru can tell Kojiro had actively tried not to use his name, which stops him from sniping back. Instead, he swishes to a dramatic flourish near the start line to the excitement of the first of his new fans, Kojiro grinding to a halt right behind him. The sights and sounds, the familiar switchback of the treacherous mountain path, the groups of skaters free to laugh and outdo each others tricks in the safety of the witching hour and the shedding of societal norms under the night sky—it almost feels like a homecoming. 

“Truly, a happy birthday to me,” he murmurs, low enough for only Kojiro to hear.

8.

newfound family

Kaoru knows they’re planning something, of course.

Kojiro had let slip the general vicinity of his birthday while they’d been bickering in front of the kids a month or two back, and their little gremlin faces had immediately lit up, asking wait, Cherry’s birthday is in April? and the like. Kojiro had looked at him to confirm or deny, but Kaoru distinctly remembers the internal admission that these kids and Hiromi have been frequenting the restaurant and have seen him at public art exhibitions and generally weaseled their way inextricably into their lives, so he had simply sighed, pushed up his glasses, and nodded.

Now, Reki is the easiest to read, because he starts squirming when he has to keep secrets or makes up ridiculous excuses to avoid talking to Kaoru as much as possible—seriously, training his pet fish for a race?—and Kaoru can easily tell it’s eating at him from the inside. 

As is expected with two peas in a pod, Langa with all his bluntness is the worst at actually keeping lighthearted secrets he’s excited about, which is likely why Reki, Miya, and Shadow have kept him away from Kaoru as well. In contrast or perhaps to distract him, Miya is clingier than usual in his little tsundere way, asking Kaoru questions or making a point to sit next to him and, one memorable time, giving him some stickers to decorate Carla with. 

So, only Hiromi is a decently competent keeper of secrets, at least from Kaoru, because Kaoru knows Joe too well (and vice versa) for them to really keep secrets from each other. All this combined with the fact that they’d reacted so much to Kaoru’s upcoming birthday and the timing of everything can only leave the natural assumption that they’re planning some sort of celebration. 

It’s strange to have more people to consider close enough to celebrate each others’ birthdays, but Kaoru can’t deny that it’s nice.

Kaoru’s packing up to leave work a little early on his birthday when he gets a text from Kojiro, just a simple let me know when you’re heading over.

Immediately, Kaoru raises an eyebrow, because Kojiro usually just assumes he’ll show up and doesn’t have to text anymore. Kojiro had mentioned he had birthday plans for them, but Kaoru has more than an inkling now that at least some of those plans might include a certain handful of teenagers and a certain florist.

Still, even though he hates surprises, the thought makes him smile. He sends a message back confirming that he’s leaving work and exits the building to mount his motorcycle, winding his familiar way to Sia la Luce. 

It’s quiet when he gets there, which would be strange for the dinner hour except for the sign on the door that reads Closed for Special Event. Kaoru snorts softly and opens the door anyway, having known it would be unlocked, and sure enough, the five of them are sitting around some tables that have been clustered together in the middle of the restaurant.

“Surprise!”

Kaoru laughs as he approaches the carefully spot left open for him at the end of the table cluster, adorned in pink and purple fabric and white paper flowers to resemble a throne. “It would be more of a surprise if you lot weren’t so bad at lying to me. What’s all this?”

In front of him, the tables are covered completely in what looks like two generous layers of newspaper, and there are paints and canvases placed before each spot. He can see trays of food carefully set up at a separate table with burners underneath, likely so that they don’t mix with the paint. 

“Joe said you paint for your job but not for fun a lot,” Langa explains, picking up a paintbrush. 

“And since we’re all kinda bad at painting except maybe Red Slime, of course, we were gonna paint you,” Miya supplies. His tone is snarky even with the compliment, but Kaoru can feel something slightly anxious in it, like he’s hoping for approval. 

“Paint me?” Kaoru repeats. 

“‘Cause it’s your birthday!” Reki says. “You can paint whatever you want, but it’ll be a little gift from us.”

Kaoru doesn’t know what to say, but he looks askance across the tables at Kojiro, who gives him an encouraging nod, wiggling his own paintbrush in the air. There’s something unfamiliar but overwhelming in Kaoru’s chest, from all the detail and thought and planning put in for him, from the thought that as much as he knows he’s a sort of mentor figure for them, they’ve impacted him as well. He’s not going to think too much about this right now, or he’ll get too emotional. 

“Alright,” he relents, keeping his tone light. “Do your best, because I’ll judge them all at the end and give you a numerical score.” 

Langa and Hiromi especially look slightly alarmed at this, but Kojiro laughs, reaching for some pink paint. “He’s just being a little shit to cover up how touched he is, don’t worry.”

“I will score yours the lowest, clumsy ape,” Kaoru sniffs. He doesn’t deny it, though, and pretends not to notice Kojiro’s grin getting wider.

There’s chatter around the table as they work. Miya has his tongue poking out in concentration. Hiromi looks like he’s sweating bullets and going slow, while Reki is much more confident about his strokes, humming and mixing his paint happily and talking about summer plans. At one point, Langa accidentally flicks some paint on Reki’s face and hurriedly fusses over him to wipe it away, but Reki only laughs and smears a glob of paint across Langa’s cheek right back, and they continue sniping at each other back and forth in between painting, much to Miya’s dismay. Kaoru is too fond to stop them from flirting despite Miya’s complaining that mom, they’re being gross again, so he just smiles and turns back to his painting. 

He’d decided to paint Kojiro, partly because Kojiro had been the first subject he’d thought of and partly because he knows Kojiro had wrangled all these hooligans into turning their ideas for Kaoru’s birthday into action. He’s always giving Kaoru so much in the background, and it’s all Kaoru can do to give some of that back. It’s surprisingly easy to render Kojiro’s face in brushstrokes—his easy grin, his curling hair, the tattoo on his shoulder because that’s another thing of Kaoru’s that’s with him permanently in physical form. Inspiration and personal investment always does make art easier.

“Done!” Shadow proclaims about an hour later, dramatically taking his painting off the little easel and slapping it flat on the table. 

The rest of them lean over to peer at it, letting out appreciative noises of approval. For all that Hiromi had been careful and cautious, the lines of his piece are bold and flashy, done in black with jagged, abstract accent lines and stark cel shading. It kind of reminds Kaoru of graffiti he’s seen around S and definitely matches with the bottom of his board. The perspective is from underneath as Kaoru soars through the air overhead in his Cherry Blossom outfit, and Kaoru’s impressed at all the details Hiromi’s remembered about it without looking at a reference. 

“This is incredible,” he says, forgetting to be snarky for once. He touches the edge of the paper. It’s almost like a little peek into how Hiromi views him, a cool and respected person to look up to with the flair of secret grunge or punk aesthetic they share. “Thank you.” 

“You like it?” Hiromi asks, flushing as if he’d realized how dramatic he’d been. “I mean, of course you like it!” 

“I do,” Kaoru says, smiling wider. “You made me even cooler. Thank you.”

Miya had wriggled his way under Kaoru’s arm to peek over the table at it, and whistles. “Not bad, old man.” 

Hiromi goes even brighter red. “Let’s see you do better, squirt!” 

“Maybe I will!” Laughing and dodging Hiromi’s swipe at him, Miya ducks under the table to pop up on the other side, and turns his easel around where it’s still drying to show them. His painting is much more goofy, with an evil grin painted on Kaoru’s face behind his fan, glasses glinting—Kaoru suspects part of the reason is so that Miya hadn’t had to draw his eyes—and for some reason, pink cat ears sprouting from his head. Behind him, cartoonish flames erupt in a blazing inferno of reds, oranges, and yellows in a way highly reminiscent of a GIF Kaoru’s seen Miya use multiple times. 

“I’m the only one that can get away with this,” Miya says with no small amount of satisfaction. To Kaoru, he adds, “And also because I haven’t passed slime level in art to draw you as pretty as you are. Sorry, mom.”

“Pretty” comment aside, Kaoru doesn’t even bother telling him for the umpteenth time that he’s not actually Miya’s mother, and he pointedly ignores Kojiro’s smug look in the corner of his eye. Besides, it’s a very fun and not-half-bad rendering of him anyway, so he reaches out to ruffle Miya’s hair. He’ll forgive the brat, just this once.

“I love it despite the meme element. Thank you, Miya.”

“Did you even take this seriously?” Hiromi grumbles at the youngest as Reki and Langa put their brushes down and start giggling at the ridiculous painting. “Can’t believe you. Oi, Reki, what d’you got?”

Reki sits straight up as their eyes turn toward him, already fidgeting. “Um, well…”

“It’s the best one,” Langa tells them solemnly and decisively, and nudges the boy next to him. “Come on, show them.”

“Well, okay…”

Even without Langa’s heart eyes visible from space, Kaoru has seen Reki’s work on skateboards, so he’s not surprised when Reki turns the canvas around to face them to reveal a masterpiece, hiding his face in the process. The piece is done entirely in a palette of pinks and purples, with Carla’s design expanded to the edges of the canvas in geometric designs and repeating patterns. Large simplified cherry blossoms outline Kaoru’s stern but pretty face, and true to Reki’s style, it has a very clean pop art or graphic design feel to it in neat outlines and cool textures.

“I will certainly be hanging this one in my office,” Kaoru says, actively trying to let his tone color impressed. He knows it’s important for Reki to understand that Kaoru admires his skills, and it seems like he’s best picked up on that through Langa’s direct words of affirmation. “Thank you, Reki.”

He knows he’s not Reki’s parent or even a stand-in, but it’s nice to see Reki beam happily at the praise and nudge Langa to show his as well. 

“I’m not much of an artist,” Langa says slowly, “but here.” 

The lines are a little shaky, but he’d managed a sort of chibi figure of Kaoru with a giant paintbrush the size of his body. The edge of the brush is dipped in white, trailing from one of the simple clouds against a blue sky background. Kaoru is helplessly endeared by the too-large square frame glasses and the wrong shade of pink hair, and notes the several times Langa had tried to mix the right color in his makeshift paper plate palette. 

“Thank you, Langa, I love this one as well,” he says sincerely, patting Langa’s shoulder. 

“The paintbrush is because I put too much paint on the cloud and it ran a bit,” Langa explains sheepishly, but he looks shyly pleased. 

“But you made it into something awesome,” Reki reminds him. 

Miya leans forward onto the table on his elbows, head pointedly swiveling toward Kojiro at the end of the table. “So that just leaves you, Chesticle-san.” 

Kojiro’s eyebrow twitches at the moniker, but he does turn his painting around to show them as he responds to Miya. Kaoru doesn’t quite catch it, however, because he’s so focused on the painting itself. It’s Kaoru, obviously, but the colors are soft and muted and run together. His figure sits atop the half-pipe at the skatepark in the sunset, an echo of that moment where they’d decided to return to S with his side profile looking out to sea. And behind him, there’s the peek of other faces, the distinct colors of the children and Hiromi as if the viewer—Kojiro himself, Kaoru realizes belatedly—were taking a picture of them. 

His vision blurs with tears. 

He hears more than sees Kojiro’s chair scrape backward as he immediately rounds the table to set the painting down in front of Kaoru and slip an arm around his waist. Kaoru tries to wipe at his eyes, but they only fall faster, and he takes his glasses off to turn his face into Kojiro’s shoulder instead. Little arms that must belong to Miya wrap around his torso as well, and it doesn’t take long for the rest of them to jump into the hug as well, squishing Kaoru happily between them.

“What’s got you crying all of a sudden, hm?” Kojiro asks gently amidst the clamor.

Kaoru’s sure he understands already, even though Kaoru himself struggles to put it into words. It’s just been him and Kojiro for so long, and for these people to make themselves permanent fixtures in his life, to look up to him for guidance, to show him so much patience and care is so overwhelming. It takes him a long, long moment to slow his breathing and look around at all of them with a still-watery smile. 

“I’m just eternally grateful.”