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Standing outside Kenma’s house, waiting for him to come to the door, Tetsurō feels eager. He can’t believe his luck. He and Kenma are about to go on a date. Their first date as boyfriends. He thinks back to the events of the week that lead to this moment.
They were huddled together under the same old blanket in Kenma’s spacious living room, trying to focus on a movie neither of them was particularly interested in. Kenma had been dozing off with his head resting on Tetsurō’s chest, when all of a sudden he mumbled, “We should date.” Tetsurō’s breath hitched; he was certain his ears had just played a trick on him.
“Huh?”
Kenma raised his head, narrowed his sleep lidded eyes at Tetsurō. “Tell me I misinterpreted it all. That I’ve got it wrong and it’s not like that.”
Tetsurō exhaled. “You’re too perceptive.”
Kenma placed both of his hands on Tetsurō’s chest, that evening. He vividly remembers how warm they’d felt. “I…” Kenma trailed off, staring pointedly at Tetsurō’s lips. He leaned in, closer, until their mouths were inches apart.
Tetsurō’s brain whirred into action. “No, wait.” He pushed Kenma backwards, trying not to be too rough with his movements.
“Kuro.” Kenma’s tone felt resentful.
“I don’t want to rush things, Kenma. There’s no need to. Let me date you properly.” He explained. “I’m not budging on this.” He then added, noticing Kenma’s vexed look.
“Fine.” Kenma conceded, planting his head back down onto Tetsurō’s chest. “When are you taking me out, then?”
“You’re the one that asked me out.” Tetsurō wanted to point out. Instead, he ran his fingers through Kenma’s hair and said, “Saturday night?”
Kenma hummed. “That works.”
The rest of the week hadn’t been easy for Tetsurō to withstand; he could only assume the same went for Kenma. The constant touches, and small gestures that nobody on the team questioned anymore, now carried an entirely different meaning for him.
He hoped it wasn’t too obvious.
While he’s still waiting, he checks himself out in the reflection on the window. He didn’t bother dressing up and opted for something casual, not any different than what he usually wears when he’s with Kenma: black hoodie and jeans, his usual shoes; some gel to tame his hair.
Suddenly he hears the familiar footsteps nearing the other side of the door and takes a deep breath to keep his feelings in check.
It’s happening. Once Kenma opens the door, Tetsurō’s going to drive them to their first dinner out as a couple. His hands feel sweaty; he’s nervous.
There’s some more shuffling, the noise of keys jangling, Kenma bidding his parents goodbye; then the handle turns. The door creaks a little as it’s being pulled open. Kenma appears, backlit from the faint glow of the living room lights.
All air is knocked out of Tetsurō’s lungs.
Kenma looks stunning . And this isn’t a matter of Tetsurō finding him beautiful even with rags on, no. Kenma positively looks dressed to the nines tonight. He’s wearing waist-high dark pants, with a black shirt with gold accents tucked inside; even his hair looks more refined. They both eye each other from head to toe, stunned.
Tetsurō is the first to break the mutual silence. “Wow.” he comments. “You look great, Kenma.” he manages to dish out a meager compliment before his brain shuts off completely.
“And you look normal.” Kenma deadpans in return.
“Uh, it’s ‘cause I figured this was going to be a normal dinner out. I didn’t expect you to show up all fancy like this!” Tetsurō argues. “Look at you! It must’ve taken you hours to get ready! And is that cologne?”
Kenma raises an eyebrow. “You’re the one who wanted us to date.”
“Yeah, but… this wasn’t supposed to change anything. There’s no need for you to dress up for our dates, Kenma. You’re perfectly fine as you are. I just want to make sure you know that.” Tetsurō speaks with the best intentions; he instantly figures he’s chosen the wrong words. Kenma is glaring up at him, and upon closer inspection Tetsurō realizes he’s also wearing some white eyeliner on his waterline. It definitely doesn’t do good to his synapses.
“Is it so absurd for me to want to look good for a date with my boyfriend, Kuro? Is it really?” he spats.
Tetsurō’s eyes soften. “Of course not.” Then, he stammers. “Hold on. I’ll go change.” He glances at his own house; he only takes a couple steps in that direction before Kenma’s assertive voice stops him. “No.” Tetsurō turns to face him again. “It’s late and we need to get going.”
Keeping his eyes fixed on the road with Kenma sitting beside him on the passenger seat is the closest thing to pure torture Tetsurō has ever experienced. More than once during the ride, he has half a mind to skip the dinner altogether. Rue his idea of dating and taking it slow.
He parks out front right in time for their reservation. They step inside; they’re going to eat in the restaurant where they’ve hosted team dinners a few times before. It’s not an elegant establishment by any means, which, incidentally, is another reason he’s now underdressed. The hostess leads them to a secluded booth partially out of the way, and Tetsurō is thankful for the extra privacy. Especially when Kenma climbs up on his same side, making himself comfortable while their sides press against each other.
“Wouldn’t it be better if you faced me?”
“No, I’m good like this.”
Tetsurō gulps. The proximity, combined with the amplified degree of perfection Kenma has achieved today, and the heady perfume, will most likely drive him crazy by the end of the meal. “You’re going to be the death of me.” He mutters.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
A waiter shows up to take their order and Tetsurō is ever so grateful for the distraction he provides. He scans through the menu, trying to choose over his three usual favorites; in the meantime, Kenma asks for something, but the words are lost to his ears. Both turn to him. Under the pressure of their stares, he panics and picks the simplest ramen soup. He cringes internally: it’s not even one of the three options planned on choosing between.
“You could’ve gone with something more sophisticated.” Kenma comments once the waiter has left them alone.
“Oh yeah?” Tetsurō stretches his back as far as the partition behind him allows. “What did you get, then?”
“You didn’t hear?”
“I was looking at the menu!” Kenma looks annoyed, but it’s only a fraction of a second before his face goes back to normal.
“The quail eggs with rice.”
“Wow, extravagant much!” Tetsurō’s nonchalant remark has Kenma immediately agitated. “Wait, really? Do you think the kitchen staff and the other customers find it weird?” Tetsurō places one arm around Kenma’s shoulders, pulls him closer. “You’re fine, Kenma. I promise it’s okay.”
He’s still on the fence on what he can and can’t do on a first date. He insisted on them taking it slow, after all. Despite all his reasoning, he gives himself a pass to press a soft kiss to Kenma’s temple, purely because he wants to, and Kenma looks like he needs one right now. Kenma relaxes under the affection, and Tetsurō doesn’t miss the way he ever so slightly presses his head against his mouth. It probably isn’t even voluntary, yet his chest feels all sorts of funny, knowing he has that effect on Kenma.
A waitress passes by to drop some appetizers. “These are on the house.” she explains when she’s met with their perplexed looks. “On behalf of our entire staff, have a nice date, guys!”
“Thanks.” they mutter in unison, both equally stricken by are we being that obvious? worry.
“How’s the uni life going?” Kenma asks Tetsurō.
“Ah, can’t complain.” Tetsurō answers, truthful. “Lessons are demanding and take up a lot of time but the study load isn’t huge, honestly.” He takes a slow breath. “The worst part is not seeing you everyday anymore.” he admits.
Kenma grins. “Next year, I’m moving in with you.”
Tetsurō raises one eyebrow. “Oh, really?” he playfully questions. “Do you miss me that much?”
“Shut up.” Kenma retorts. “I was suggesting it for your sake, you sappy jerk.” Tetsurō’s eyes crinkle in happiness, and Kenma adds, “Of course I miss you too. You know that already.”
It’s as if he’s touching Kenma’s soul directly; every feeling out in the open, with no need to be spoken aloud to ring true. Gold irises glow, alight with a rare shine reminiscent of long ago, and there’s this soft fondness etched in Kenma’s features, and Tetsurō can’t hold back.
He steals a kiss from Kenma’s unsuspecting lips.
Eventually, his brain catches up and he backs away. “Shit–” he curses. “I couldn’t even wait until the end of our date, I guess. So much for taking it slow.”
Kenma takes one of his hands, squeezes it between his much smaller palms. “Kuro, it’s all good. You didn’t do anything I didn’t want.” Tetsurō adds his other hand to the mix of interwoven fingers and Kenma confesses, “I’ve been waiting for this all week.”
“I know!” Tetsurō groans. “Which is why I wanted it to be super romantic, and now I ruined it!”
“I didn’t realize this was so important for you,” Kenma studies Tetsurō’s pained expression, before declaring, “Let’s go on with dinner, pretending the kiss didn’t happen.”
“How…”
“These spring rolls look so tasty, I want to try one.” Kenma brings the chopsticks to his mouth. He hums, appreciatively as soon as the flavor registers on his tongue; checking out Tetsurō in his peripheral vision, he can tell the taller boy is still not convinced they can ignore the incident. “I started streaming.” he says, in an attempt to change topics for Tetsurō’s sake.
“Seriously?”
“It’s mostly for fun,” Kenma details. “But having an audience interested in my playthroughs is pretty cool.”
“An audience, huh?” Tetsurō elbows him lightly; Kenma’s effort to carry them past the untimely kiss worked, it seems.
“I mean, there’s not many viewers yet.”
“Still, that’s so impressive, Kenma.” Tetsurō downs the last of the rolls right as their waiter stops by to serve their main courses and collect the empty dish. “Do you have any regular watchers?” he asks once he’s far enough away.
“Hm…” Kenma gets lost in thought for a moment. His face lights up in recall. “There’s one. If I’m not remembering wrong, his name is Pedro. Says he’s from Brazil, and that he doesn’t understand much Japanese, but I’m helping him improve.”
“Already international!” Tetsurō jests.
“You could say that…”
“What’s your nickname?”
Kenma sighs. “I haven’t settled on a definitive one. Right now, my handle is ˝kozumeplays˝ but it comes off as… lackluster.” He idly picks at his rice, targets a particularly small quail egg to swallow whole. “I need something recognizable, you see.”
“How about ˝gamerkitten˝?”
“Not even in a thousand years, Kuro.” he shoots down the first suggestion straight away. “That’s so corny.”
“Okay, then ˝loneclaw˝, without spaces.”
“The meaning of my last name?” he huffs, grabbing Tesuro’s bowl to steal his ramen. “Boring, and I couldn’t use spaces anyway.”
“Well, then…” Tetsurō makes a move for the rice dish in turn, curious to become acquainted with the universally praised quail eggs. As he chews down, he admits to himself they really do live up to their reputation. He’s at his second mouthful, when a new nickname idea strikes. “ Kodzuken, ” he almost chokes on his food, but once it’s in the air, it lingers and echoes around them and somehow, it just feels apt.
“ Kodzuken… ” Tetsurō awaits a response, observes how Kenma is revisiting the moniker. Finally, the verdict is out. “I like it. I’ll consider it.” Tetsurō performs a short victory cheer. He knows how hard Kenma’s consideration is to obtain; his boyfriend’s willingness to entertain his pitch is enough reason for him to celebrate. Kenma shakes his head in feigned resignation at Tetsurō’s antics as they finish their meals.
For dessert, they ask for a serving of the restaurant’s infamous apple pie that Kenma has elected as his favorite to share, and soon, they’re in the car, stomachs full and hearts even fuller. Tetsurō drums his fingers on the steering wheel, forcing his eyes on the road ahead.
Sometime during the ride, he risks a glance and takes in how pretty Kenma is, illuminated by the dim yellow halo of the streetlamps they pass by, and, mindlessly, his left hand wanders to Kenma’s thigh. Catching up on what he’s done, he turns; Kenma appears tense, but not uneasy. “Keep going, Kuro.” Kenma encourages, and Tetsurō’s not sure if he’s referring to him driving or the action going on. The situation warrants him to continue both, as a matter of fact, so he tears his gaze away and lets his palm soften against the fine fabric of Kenma’s slacks.
Since he’s accompanying Kenma home, Tetsurō doesn’t waste time parking in his dad’s driveway; he’ll take care of it later. For now, he unceremoniously pulls up the handbrake on the side of the road closest to the Kozume household. It’s a short walk to Kenma’s door from there.
“I had a wonderful time, Kenma.” he begins once they stand near Kenma’s gate. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” his boyfriend looks up expectantly. “Aren’t you forgetting something, now?” Tetsurō doesn’t need to be told twice. He tucks a loose strand behind Kenma’s ear and leans in.
This is the kiss he was waiting for, the one he’d yearned to savor the entire time. It’s the picture perfect culmination, not solely of their evening, but of their lives up until that point. In a way, everything we did lead to this moment, Tetsurō ponders as Kenma reciprocates. He revels in the way Kenma’s lips slot against his own: a seamless fit. They belong together, and not in the sense they were destined for each other, no; it’s as if they were born to reach greater accomplishments, by each other’s side.
A warm feeling reverberates in their chests. Kenma falls back from his tiptoes after the kiss, Tetsurō notes. “So, how’d you like taking it slow?”
Tetsurō shows off with the best smug face in his arsenal. “It was cool.”
“You hated it.” Kenma lays it out, straightforward. He surrenders. “Okay, It was a little torturous…” He pauses before continuing, “But I loved going out on a date with you, I want it to become a tradition.”
“Like I said, sap.”
“I probably am.” he agrees, so happy he’s beaming. “Next time I’m kissing you beforehand, though. And…”
“And?”
Tetsurō winks. “I won’t be underdressed.”