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Kojiro knows those words absolutely broke Kaoru’s heart. Ainosuke told them that bluntly, as if it wasn’t even a big deal, but they all knew it was. It was to Kaoru. It was to Kojiro. And he knew it was to Ainosuke— it had to be. Because if it wasn’t, that meant everything meant nothing. Their skating, the laughs and jokes they shared, the fact he let them see him without his hood.
The touches, the kisses, the hugs, the fact he’d let Kojiro see him vulnerable.
Those words absolutely broke Kojiro’s heart, too, shattered him like a fragile glass plate. Kaoru had a crush on Ainosuke, sure, and Kojiro knew it—that was a source of guilt on many occasions—it was pretty obvious considering he looked at Ainosuke like he hung the moon and stars. It wasn’t just adoration. But Kojiro had been the one Ainosuke let in, let close, the one he ended up asking out. They agreed it was better to simply not tell Kaoru.
Maybe it was cruel, heartless even, to hide something like that. If Kaoru found out—it was inevitable, one day, one day—he would feel betrayed. Who knew if it would be rectifiable, if they would come out the same when that day came and passed. But Kojiro was too scared to say anything, to tell Kaoru. And when he had Ainosuke alone, when the other snuck in through his window to lay next to him and exchange quiet conversation, watch a movie together, when their lips met.. Kojiro couldn’t say no. He couldn’t end it, not when he had something so sweet, so perfect, right there.
He thought it was perfect.
He thought it was perfect, until he heard those words, heard that goodbye. He knew teenage relationships rarely lasted forever. He hadn’t banked on theirs lasting that long; in fact, he reminded himself it wouldn’t regularly. He thought he’d convinced himself, and had come to accept that the chest-churning warmth and comfort he felt was not eternal. But knowing Ainosuke was going, knowing it was over, this was the end, he knew he hadn’t. Kojiro had lied to himself, said it was okay and he would be fine when it all finally settled down, but it was just that.
A lie.
Ainosuke was gone.
He didn’t want to be selfish, truly. When Ainosuke left them alone, saying that was it and they weren’t worth his time anymore, Kojiro helplessly collected whatever shattered remains he could of himself and turned to Kaoru, feeling all the order he’d haphazardly put together fall right back apart.
He didn’t want to be selfish, but seeing Kaoru look so distraught, Kojiro could feel that part of him that said Kaoru had no reason to be so upset. Kojiro was the one who’d been fostering a relationship with Ainosuke. It should be him that was being held, that part insisted as he instead swapped those remains he’d tried to hold together in favor of holding Kaoru. But that part was irrational. Kaoru was close to Ainosuke too, loved him almost as much, had been caught in his web just the same. No matter what that little part of Kojiro said, Kaoru was just as valid in his pain.
So he pushed it down.
He said nothing.
Kaoru left soon after, and Kojiro knew there were too many emotions going on in his head to organize properly right now. He would come with, but he knew right now was not the right time; Kaoru needed time alone to figure out his emotions and thoughts, and Kojiro’s own emotions would only complicate it. No matter how he held Kaoru, assured him his emotions were valid, told him he’d be there, Kojiro was distraught as well and nothing would change that. Kaoru was far too receptive to other people’s emotions to benefit from that.
So he went home too.
And he wasn’t ashamed, not really, to admit he cried. He kept his phone on in case Kaoru needed to contact him, needed reassurance he wasn’t leaving, too, but he cried. The moon hung high overhead and he was still crying until he was too tired to continue, until his tear ducts felt dry. He’d never cried so hard before in his life, not since he was a little boy and Kaoru skinned his knee trying Kojiro’s older sister’s skateboard out for the first time, and he thought that Kaoru was going to bleed out and die.
There was no fear of death this time, but there was most certainly an overarching sense of loss, so deep within his chest it felt all-consuming. His chest churned and tightened the same way it always did when he thought of Ainosuke, but this time the emotions were painful, loss and despair. Grief for somebody who never even died.
He put on his headphones sometime during it all and turned over, blasting music in hopes to drive out the emotions. The room seemed to get colder at some point, and he turned over, pulling his blanket over himself and curling up. It barely even registered at first, but then he noticed the slight draft, and frowned a little deeper. Did he even remember to close and lock his window? It had become such a habit to leave it cracked open and unlocked for Ainosuke..
It took a while to convince himself to turn over to check, but when he did—
There, sitting on the window sill, just kind of staring at him, was Ainosuke. They both looked at one another like deers in headlights for a while, and Kojiro had to question, actively, if he was hallucinating.
Ainosuke moved, slipping down from the sill. He probably wasn’t. Though it didn’t make any sense. Why would Ainosuke be here? He told them, with no room for misinterpretation or questions or any hesitance, that he wanted nothing more to do with either of them. He looked them both in the eyes and said he was leaving, and they were done, their little trio’s days of skating were over.
It was the most clear break-up that wasn’t actually a break-up Kojiro could have ever received.
“Why?” Kojiro breathed, sitting up. The cold didn’t matter. He needed answers. Ainosuke was here, no matter the reason and no matter what he said in the past, and Kojiro needed answers. Ones he was afraid he’d never get.
Why are you leaving?
Was it your choice?
Do you still love me?
Do you hate me?
Is this goodbye forever?
Did I do something wrong?
He expected, maybe, an explanation. Part of him expected Ainosuke to say nothing, to just bury into his arms. Part of him, maybe, expected him to act like nothing happened, just seek out one more night. Just one more. And that would be okay; it would hurt, but it would be okay if he could hold him and cherish it knowing it was the last time.
Kojiro did not expect to watch as Ainosuke’s eyes filled with tears, pouring out onto his cheeks almost as soon as they were visible in his eyes. And all of the walls he’d been starting to build to separate himself from the loss crumbled, and all that was left behind was the love he’d had for Ainosuke since their very first kiss. He moved so quickly he left his bed in shambles, his pillow falling to the ground and blanket barely holding on. It didn’t matter. Ainosuke was crying.
Ainosuke didn’t cry.
Kojiro had seen him upset before, sure. He’d seen him quiet, even entirely non-verbal and unable to speak, overwhelmed with emotions. He’d seen him scream before, an outlet for emotions Kojiro didn’t even know. He’d seen him hide under covers, too tired and emotionally exhausted to do anything but just be by Kojiro’s side.
Crying?
He’d never seen Ainosuke cry.
Kojiro moved instinctively, pulling Ainosuke into his arms, feeling his heart break all over again when he was clung to, his boyfriend (ex-boyfriend? What were they? What would they become?) shaking like a leaf in his arms, shuddering with each and every sob. And in that moment, Kojiro wondered how he ever thought this could have been Ainosuke’s choice. He wouldn’t leave like that, with no warning. Kojiro would’ve liked to think he’d talk to him, too, before making that kind of a choice.
He didn’t know much about Ainosuke’s parents, or his aunts (he’d mentioned them before), but he knew they weren’t very keen on Ainosuke’s choices. And most certainly weren’t supportive of most of the things Ainosuke was openly around him, or even Kaoru.
“I-I’m sorry–” Ainosuke choked out, barely even audible, just barely fitting between his sobs. And it made Kojiro hurt, to hear him like this. It wasn’t right, this wasn’t Ainosuke. So Kojiro shushed him, held him carefully, tightly, a promise he wouldn’t say goodbye so easily. He didn’t need to explain, not until he was ready. He had nothing to prove here, because nobody could make Kojiro hate him.
It took a concerningly short amount of time for Ainosuke to calm down; or perhaps it was long. Any time somebody like Ainosuke spent crying was too long, really, if you were to ask Kojiro. But sooner rather than later, they were separating, and Ainosuke was wiping his tears and taking a deep breath. Kojiro gently reached out to take his hand, leading him to the bed and laying down, bringing him close.
He didn’t know when he’d get this chance again, but if this was the last or not, Ainosuke needed to be held. Needed comfort, something he sure as hell didn’t get at home.
“They found out. About us.” Was the first thing to come out of Ainosuke’s mouth, quiet and hoarse with emotion and exhaustion. And Kojiro knew what happened. He was being sent away because of Kojiro. Because of their relationship. Kami-sama, Kojiro should have known this would happen, Ainosuke told him his aunts weren’t supportive of him. Wouldn’t be supportive if they found out he was with a guy. He should have left then and there to protect him, because maybe then he’d still be able to see him, maybe then they wouldn’t be losing each other so soon.
Maybe they never should have pursued this at all. Kaoru was in love with Ainosuke, they both knew it, and this was directly betraying his trust. That should have been enough to not do this. And yet every second felt worth it then. Now it didn’t– did it? Every stolen kiss, every time they held each other into the late hours of the night, talked about anything they felt like? Was that all worth this?
“It’s not your fault.” Ainosuke mumbled. “It was mine.”
“Yours?” Kojiro parroted. “You deserve love, you’re not wrong for looking for it.”
“You couldn’t have known they’d do this.” Well, that much was true, Kojiro would admit. But that didn’t mean Ainosuke was to blame for wanting to love and be loved freely.
“So maybe it’s neither of our faults.” He decided on quietly. “We made some dumb decisions. But you.. they don’t have to send you to America for it.”
“They want me to study there.” Ainosuke explained quietly. “That’s why they chose America. But they said it was because I needed to be away from… you.” Kojiro had a feeling that the word his aunts had actually said was a little more harsh than that.
Everything felt wrong. This was unfair. Ainosuke was being taken away from his friends and his life here because he was with a guy. Because he was bold enough to love. It made no sense, at least not to Kojiro. It hurt. But it wasn’t Ainosuke’s fault. And yet…
“Why did you tell us like that?” Kojiro whispered. “Why did you act like you didn’t care?”
He did. These tears made it clear enough. They were not just for Kojiro, but Kaoru too— Ainosuke cared about them both. He hid it behind aggression and a cool demeanor, but Kojiro knew it all the same, just like he knew he would kill or die for Kaoru, just like he knew he wanted to be a chef one day, just like he knew exactly how to move his body for an ollie.
“I thought it would be easier.” Ainosuke admitted. “If you two hated me. If you two thought I didn’t care.”
“Was it?” Kojiro asked, even though he knew the answer. He felt Ainosuke’s head shake slightly, saw it, and of course it wasn’t. How could it be? He came here sobbing because it wasn’t.
“Please don’t tell Kaoru.” Ainosuke whispered. While they were a group, Ainosuke almost always used Cherry; but here, alone, it was always Kaoru. Always Kojiro, never Joe.
Right now, Kojiro felt confused. It was like he was on a roller coaster. But he had questions. If Ainosuke had realized it wasn’t fair, that it was harmful, to play the enemy, why would he ever want Kojiro to not tell Kaoru?
“You’ll have to explain everything.” Ainosuke clarified, quietly, adjusting himself so he was resting more comfortably against Kojiro. “Why I told you. And he’ll feel more confused. It’s.. better.. that he views my leaving as a betrayal.”
“He’s still going to hurt,” Kojiro tried to counter. But it was a rather futile effort; of course he would hurt. They’d all hurt, no matter what happened from here on out. Reality was cruel, and this was how it was.
“I know.” Ainosuke mumbled. “But he has you. You’re a better friend than I ever was.”
Kojiro wanted to fight with him on that. It wasn’t fair. Ainosuke wasn’t the best at handling his or others emotions, sure, and he often seemed cold and distant— but he did care, and deeply. He would die to protect either of them. Maybe he wasn’t the most warm and inviting person, but that was fine, it was just how it was. Maybe he was a little insensitive sometimes, but it was defense, it was protection. But the words died out on his tongue, he had no way to verbalize it.
“I’m not supposed to be here.” Ainosuke whispered. Kojiro had a feeling that was the case. He was never supposed to be here, but if he was caught tonight, it would end up worse for him, surely. They couldn’t remain in each other’s arms for hours like they usually did. Like they once did.
“Okay.” Kojiro whispered, slowly letting go. He knew it for what it was. No matter how much either of them wished it, this was a finite moment, a to-be memory. It would have to be short. He watched as Ainosuke stood up, heading to the window. He followed him, to say his goodbyes.
And then, expectedly, Ainosuke turned and grabbed Kojiro’s shirt roughly, pulling them together one last time. With a practiced ease, Kojiro slipped closer, pulling him so they were chest-to-chest, slotting their lips together. It was everything it had ever been, everything it would ever be. It was a goodbye. It was an ‘I love you.’ It was fondness and grief. They fit together like puzzle pieces, but Kojiro knew it was frustratingly easy to find a puzzle that was missing its final piece.
They would have been perfect, in another universe, maybe.
He pulled back slowly, looking at the boy in his arms with an indescribable expression. Ainosuke stared back, before pulling him in again, kissing him for a long few seconds before slowly pulling back again.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I would stay if I was allowed to. I don’t want to leave.”
“I know,” Kojiro whispered. He did, he really did. He trusted Ainosuke like he’d always trusted Kaoru, really. Those words had no room for doubt.
“Promise me something, Kojiro,” Ainosuke said slowly, carefully stepping back as if it physically pained him. It might as well.
“Anything,” Kojiro replied, with an instant ease, no hesitation in his mind. He could do anything asked of him.
“Wait for me.” He didn’t expect that, though. His eyes widened slightly, and he looked at Ainosuke as the other teenager took a deep breath and looked off to the side. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. I don’t know when I’ll be free. But wait for me, because I know I’ll be back eventually.”
Kojiro opened his mouth to speak, and closed it again. He felt stunned. But it wasn’t surprising, at the same time. He wasn’t offended. His chest turned and squeezed, and he knew his answer.
“Okay.” He whispered. “Okay, I’ll wait, Aino.”
And then, as fast as he’d arrived and with the very same, overwhelming rush of emotions, he was gone. Truly, this time. Leaving Kojiro alone, sitting in his room.
Already waiting.
. . .
Things.. had changed. Of course they did, Kojiro thought; since that night, he’d gone to Italy, gone through college, come back, become a different person. Time had passed, and there was no denying that; Kojiro was not the same boy he was when he was living off the thrill of every secret kiss he stole from Ainosuke, when they were alone and together, before it had to come to an end.
He was twenty-four now. In the years that had passed, his feelings became– muddy. That was the best way to explain them. While Ainosuke was gone, Kojiro kept in contact with Kaoru even when he went to Italy. And without a doubt, he had come to the conclusion he’d fallen in love with Kaoru, too.
And yet he still waited.
Maybe it was wrong, to know he had fallen in love with Kaoru, too, and yet he still harbored and fed the feelings he had for Ainosuke. He was asked to wait, and Kaoru had always described him as loyal to a fault. Maybe he was. Six years had passed, and he waited the entire time for the day Ainosuke would show up again in his life.
He was aware he’d returned to Japan, Ainosuke Shindo, a politician. It wasn’t what Kojiro expected of him, but maybe it made sense, considering his family. But Ainosuke had not come back into his life, and so Kojiro continued to wait for when he thought it was the right time. Eventually he’d return; he promised, and maybe he wasn’t everything Kojiro had made him out to be when they were teenagers, but he wasn’t a traitor.
That’s what Kojiro told himself, at least.
The day Ainosuke returned was a spectacle, to say the least; it was at S, so of course it was. Among the chaos, it was practically impossible to get a moment to speak to him. Everybody was cheering, excited for the return of Adam, and for a while, Kojiro wondered if he’d even get a moment. Ainosuke— Adam, here— was soaking in every bit of attention, which was honestly quite in-character.
And Kojiro knew his feelings had barely faded. Honestly, standing off to the side, watching as Ainosuke, Adam, stood there, looking and acting so different, so grown, he felt everything rush back. It was like no time passed at all, and he was a teenager again, standing there and admiring the boy (man, now) that he’d come to love.
Time passed. Things had changed. Kojiro had waited.
A little while longer would be fine. So he did, he waited; until the crowds had calmed, until Adam had taken any beefs he wished to, until he finally, at last, got a chance to talk to him alone, away from any prying eyes.
It seemed Ainosuke was expecting it; it wasn’t mere coincidence they had gone off to speak alone without talking about it. Although it did take Kojiro catching his gaze for Ainosuke to finally concede.
Kojiro didn’t know what was going to happen now. They’d both grown up, changed; it wouldn’t be the same. But they could be them, perhaps, once more. They both looked at each other, silent, for a moment; but something felt wrong. Kojiro felt more at ease, finally being alone with Ainosuke again; and yet, the man before him still formally stood, as tense as he was within the crowd, his expression hidden behind his mask and a frown.
“Ainosuke.” He began, slowly, quietly. And then, like a flick of a switch, Ainosuke was grinning. But it felt wrong. It wasn’t the same affectionate smile from back then, it wasn’t the same playful grin, it wasn’t.. right. It wasn’t Ainosuke.
That grin was Adam.
“Don’t tell me you actually did?” He sneered. And it felt like everything went quiet in that one moment, from that one sentence. It was dripping with condescending venom, amusement that could only be derived from the misfortune of another. “I had expected you to have fallen in love with Cherry by now, with the way you were looking at him earlier.”
“No, I…” Well, he did, but not harder than he had fallen for and stayed in love with Ainosuke. The man’s grin widened, and for a moment, Kojiro had to stop what he was saying and think about this.
What kind of a response did Ainosuke want? What kind of a response would fix this? Was he jealous? Angry? Had he fallen out of love? (Was it ever love? Surely, it was?)
“No.” He eventually sighed. “No, not like I love you.”
That was wrong.
That was the wrong choice of words.
Because almost immediately, Ainosuke began to laugh. Like what Kojiro had said was funny, something he’d made a joke about, but it wasn’t; he felt his heart skipping beats, suddenly overworking with fear and confusion. Ainosuke’s laugh had always been beautiful, but this was.. Adam. This was Adam, and his laugh was cruel and thoughtless. He wasn’t laughing out of relief or nervousness, not out of happiness. It was pure amusement. He found amusement in Kojiro’s words, in his feelings.
“You really did wait?” Ainosuke jeered. And suddenly Kojiro’s heart was being ripped out of his chest. He was shaking, watching as Ainosuke calmed down, a sneer on what was visible of his face as he moved, walking around like a predator sizing up prey. He didn’t even move much, but he didn’t need to. Anything, even stillness, was intimidating. “That’s pathetic.”
“Whatever was going on between us askids was stupid.” Ainosuke declared. Adam. This wasn’t Ainosuke. He kept trying to lie to himself, but this wasn’t Ainosuke. He wished that meant it was just a persona, but he knew acting. This was not acting. This was not Ainosuke, but it was not an act— Kojiro didn’t know what happened in the years they’d been apart, but whatever did happen had left Ainosuke behind. “I can’t believe you thought you had any hope. Waiting. How foolish.”
Foolish.
He wasn’t foolish.
His feelings weren’t foolish.
Right?
Or were they? Kojiro could not see this man’s eyes from behind his mask, but he could read his body language, his grin. He wasn’t Ainosuke. He was different, and Kojiro was different. Maybe he was foolish. Thinking he ever had purpose in loving a boy who was destined to never be for him. And they’d known it too. Ainosuke would not have asked such a thing of him if he didn’t believe he, too, would wait, but he should have known feelings may not last that long. Kojiro should have known. What happened to make Adam find their feelings so scornful and amusing?
Adam waved his hand, already stepping away, as though this conversation was of so little importance he didn’t even need to bother talking any longer. Kojiro felt a variety of emotions start to rise from inside him, and he turned, sharply, to watch Adam as he started to leave.
“Foolish?” He echoed. His heartbreak filtered into his voice as anger, frustration, and it hurt, but the less Adam seemed to care, the more Kojiro felt angry. “What happened? You asked me to wait. You. And now you’re laughing at me?”
Adam paused, turning to look at Kojiro. The amusement was still there, but his grin wasn’t.
“We were kids. It was wrong. You should have known I’d never stay in love with you.”
Wrong?
“What do you mean, wrong?” Kojiro snapped, his eyes desperately searching for any hint of an explanation. But Adam only stared, as though it should be obvious.
“You clearly haven’t grown up at all.” Adam sneered, turning away once more and, this time, leaving before Kojiro could even think twice. Leaving him standing there, feeling worse than he had when he first received Ainosuke’s original goodbye.
What had happened? Why did Ainosuke go from the teenager he once was—cold, closed off, but young, open enough to let somebody in, young and willing enough to let himself be befriended and loved—to the man he was now? Had something happened during his time in America? Kojiro felt sick, and he could feel tears building up again, the same burning hot feeling from the first time he lost Ainosuke.
Except this time there was no going back.
Except this time, Ainosuke didn’t want him back.
Kojiro waited, but time hadn’t waited with him.