Archive of Our Own ^beta

☆

The plan took three days to construct.

Day one was spent stressing out.

Day two was spent questioning his life choices.

Day three was spent actually planning it. 

As self-certified Reki Fact File™, Langa had learned that the best way to ease Reki into certain ideas was to do just that; give him a lot of reasons to believe that what was happening wasn’t just a fluke. Of course, sometimes, Langa wanted to just rip the bandaid off and see what happened, to hold him and kiss him and hope he kissed back, but he knew that his own anxiety would override the joy and Reki’s anxiety would make the whole thing not worthwhile.

So the plan was conducted.

Over a few weeks, do a few small things for him. Buy him flowers, spend longer days together (mostly skating, because Reki loves skating), and compliment him a lot.

It started out well enough. Langa headed to Shadow’s flower shop, purchased some yellow and blue flowers (he said they were sunflowers, irises, and forget me nots… whatever those were), and went home to get ready for S. Keeping them in tact on the ride over to Reki’s was fairly difficult too, with the wind and all causing a few stray petals to be whisked away, but they seemed almost in one piece by the time he arrived. As usual, he flashed a light at Reki’s window, and the boy was opening it in a rush of red and yellow, peeking his head out of the window with a bright grin.

“Langa! You’re later… than… usual… are those…?” Reki faltered, eyes almost glued to the flowers for a quiet moment. All Langa could do was shuffle his feet and cough his nerves out.

He could do this.

It’s just giving Reki some flowers—

“Are you asking some lucky girl out tonight?” Reki teased, but he didn’t move from where he stood in the window, brown eyes constantly flicking between the flowers and the boy holding them. 

“No.” Langa returned, noting relief and hope in Reki’s shimmering eyes. Ultimately, that’s what led him to say, “They’re for you, actually.”

“… oh.”

“You don’t have to take them if you don’t want to—“

“I want to!” Reki almost shouted, clasping a hand over his mouth and leaning further out the window with a scowl. “Do not throw them away.”

And then he was grabbing the flowers out of Langa’s hands and rushing back into the house. A few long moments later, Reki was hopping out of the window, battered skateboard in hand and wearing an even brighter smile than before, hair messied and freckles prominent from the imminent summer weather.

Langa thought he’d never looked more handsome.

Then again, he always thought that, so he wasn’t entirely sure how realistic of an interpretation this was, but one thing was for certain — something had changed. Something about his smile shone that bit brighter, and Langa vowed to do everything in his power to keep it that way.

And he must have done something right, because by the time they arrived at S his smile had hardly dimmed, skating into the place with renewed vigor, fistbumping passersby that recognised him from his beef against Adam and calling out to Miya from across the way.

“You seem happier today Slime,” Miya said in lull of a greeting, smirking as he sidled up beside him on his own board, nudging his shoulder, “Something happen?”

“Langa got me flowers,” Reki immediately replied, excited enough for Langa to get excited by proxy, letting himself continue to smile beside his best friend. Miya, however, took this opportunity to groan, a disgusted look overtaking his features. “They were yellow and blue.”

“Yeah I bet,” Miya grumbled, slowly moving away from the two with a frown, “That’s nice. On an unrelated note, I’m gonna go find Cherry.” Miya announced, skating off as quickly as he’d arrived. 

Except his hunt didn’t take long, because the moment Langa felt a large hand clamp down on his shoulder he knew Cherry couldn’t be too far behind.

“You two are later than usual,” Joe commented, patting Langa once more on the shoulder before stepping back, board under his other arm as he tilted his head, smirking, “What was the hold up?”

“Uh, nothing—“ Reki started, but then Cherry arrived with Miya at his side looking far too proud of himself. 

“Miya tells me you two are dating,” is what Cherry says, and Langa feels his face heat up just as quickly as he watches Reki’s go bright red, almost the same shade as his hair, “It took you long enough.”

“Dating?” Joe asked, seeming just a little taken aback.

“Oh— we’re not— those weren’t—“

“We’re not dating,” Langa explained, just about holding in the yet, as he eyed Miya, “Why would you say that?”

“Well with the flowers I just assumed—“

“Flowers?”

“Keep up, Gorilla.” Cherry almost scolded, whacking the man on the back of the head with his fan and eliciting a quiet yelp. “Langa got Reki flowers, and apparently they aren’t dating and Miya just got things mixed up.”

“Miya knew exactly what he was doing—!”

“Okay, hold on,” Joe cut in, hands splayed out in front of him as confusion knitted his brows, every member of the group turning to face him, “Langa,” he addressed, and Langa hummed, “You got Reki flowers… when?”

“Today?”

“And why?”

Because Reki deserved everything. “Because Reki likes flowers.”

“I do like flowers.” Reki agreed, and Joe just hummed, a little disbelieving.

The temporary quiet (only in their circle, S was bustling around them) was broken when Shadow finally arrived, make-up fresh and grin wide. He also clamped a hand down on Langa’s shoulder, just as Joe had, and asked, “Did Reki like them?”

“He did.”

“I did!”

“What flowers were they?” Cherry asked suddenly, an odd tone to his voice that had Langa’s gaze lingering on him. The man had his face mask on that evening, but he’d left his hair down for the first time since Langa had been there — Reki had told him he’d done it in the past, as a statement that he wouldn’t be racing, but a couple times he had to steal some hair ties from Joe to put it up and race against him. His golden eyes were a little too dimmed to just be the lighting, and his hands were clasped tightly on the fabric of his kimono. 

“Uh,” Shadow returned, taking a moment to remember, “Forget me nots, sunflowers, and irises.”

“Huh.” Was all Cherry said in reply, smirk lingering for a moment before he turned and grabbed Joe’s arm, dragging the zoned-out man away. “Come on ape, let’s race.”

“But I—“

“No buts, I want to race, we’re racing.” 

It was hardly surprising how easily Cherry dragged the man along, attributed to both his strength and Joe’s blatant willingness, but they knew it looked ridiculous to onlookers who seemed to be focusing on yet another beef between two of the founders. 

Langa only saw the two of them once more that night; Cherry was leaving on his motorcycle, Carla strapped to the back of it, and Joe was watching him leave.

Any other time he had the chance to see them he’d wisely spent it watching Reki, who continued to shine and fill the night sky with the missing sun, less of a replacement and more of an inevitable fixture.

As the moon, Langa was happy to backseat for a moment if it meant he got to watch his sun shine so brightly.

Everything… odd started happening a couple nights later. They were at S once again, except this time Shadow and Miya were mid race while Langa, Reki, and Cherry stood at the megatron at the bottom of the mountain and watched. 

Joe was no where to be found.

It was obvious to Langa, from the few times he’d glanced over, that Cherry was either concerned or frustrated — he couldn’t exactly tell which one — that Joe wasn’t there. At all times, either his phone was out and he was rapidly typing or he was scowling at Carla to give him updates, but neither thing made the other man magically appear beside him. 

When Miya won the race, no one was exactly shocked (he’d won most of his beefs against Shadow, bar one when he was sleep-deprived), but they all congratulated him anyways. 

Except Miya also noticed Cherry’s mood, and the severe lack of Joe beside him.

“Where’s the other one?”

“Hm?”

“Joe.” Miya prompted as they headed back up the mountain, Langa offering a hand to an out-of-breath Reki, who took it without hesitation, squeezing it in thanks. “He’s usually here hanging over your every word.”

“He does not— Ko— Joe is god knows where, he won’t respond to any of my messages.” Cherry scowled, throwing his arms up in irritation, and Langa only then started to wonder just how serious this was. Sure, he hadn’t shown up, but Joe had never missed an S night, at least not that he was aware of. And not answering his messages? He owned a business, he always had his phone off silent, so he must know Cherry was messaging him.

So maybe there was cause for concern. 

“If he rocks up with another throw-away chick on his arm I’m going to have a stern word with him,” Cherry mumbled, still rapidly typing. “He thinks he can just— just saunter off with some fake-ass fling that, let me tell you now, cares for nothing but his—“

“Language!” Reki inerrupted, letting go of Langa’s hand to throw his own over Miya’s ears, the kid eyeing him almost boredly.

“Reki, I don’t care. I’m thirteen, not seven.”

“Cherry?” Langa dared to ask, the man whipping his head around and levelling Langa with a sharp look, almost in warning. But he kept on. “There’s a good chance he just fell asleep, or got caught up in something, I don’t think there’s reason to worry.”

It was the final word that made Cherry flinch.

And then soften.

And then bite his lip.

Langa was just glad he’d chosen the right emotion, because he almost chose frustration. 

“Yeah— you’re right, I suppose I might be making something from nothing.” Cherry huffed, tucking his phone into his pocket and finishing the trek up the hill. “I can always rip him a new one when I drop by tomorrow—“

At first, Langa was unsure why Cherry had stopped moving and talking. But then he looked up, followed his gaze, and found Joe stood at the top of the path, a sheepish look on his face as he held out a— bouquet. A bouquet of flowers. 

Joe was giving Cherry flowers.

Bundles and bundles of pink and white flowers.

Later, Langa would be told by Shadow that there were dianthuses, hibiscus, and white carnations. When Shadow would say as much, he would have a small knowing smile, and he would insist that he didn’t sell Joe the bouquet. 

But in the present, all Langa could think about was a bouquet of blue and yellow flowers, currently sat in a vase in Reki’s room. All he could think about was that off look in his eyes the other day, considering and calculating and so very distant that Langa probably should’ve noticed what it was before. 

Then Reki tugged on his hand repeatedly (when he held his hand again, Langa wasn’t entirely sure, nor did he care) and he couldn’t think about much else. Not until Reki said, “Langa, why does Joe have flowers for Cherry?”

“Hm?”

“I thought they were married.” 

And— yeah, that made sense.

Except that would make too much sense.

“Kojiro, what are you—?”

“For you.” Joe cut him off with a grin, walking those extra few steps forward that Cherry had been unable to take, holding the flowers out just enough for the pink petals to brush Cherry’s gloved hands, the man stunned into taking a hold of them. 

For a moment, it was silent.

And then they heard a slap. It was so loud that echoed off the rock walls and sent the entire place into the same silence they’d been in before, the strange bubble they’d created being effectively popped in a single motion. Though the silence was broken after a second passed. 

“You’re such a fucking idiot!” Cherry yelled, storming off with a huff. What Langa didn’t expect was for Joe to grin, bright and happy and adoring, before he followed after Cherry with a frankly excessive amount of insult-doused apologies. 

“Well,” Miya said once they were too far away to hear their conversation, the four of them watching their backs in what could only be described as uninformed confusion, “That was something.”

“I think Cherry liked them.” Langa decided to add, Reki spinning to face him with an incredulous look.

“Did you see how he reacted?! That was pure anger, Langa!”

“But he kept the flowers safe,” Langa explained, pointing vaguely in their direction again, Cherry holding the flowers up as a wall between his face and Joe’s, “And he hasn’t shoved Joe away yet.”

“Why did he even get him flowers?” Shadow asked, sounding oddly normal for the getup. “They’ve had years, why now?”

“I’m not sure.” Langa muttered in reply, but there was a needling suspicion in the back of his mind. 

A suspicion he needed to confirm.

☆☆

In all honesty, Langa forgot all about the flowers. Not the ones he got Reki, no, those were refreshed weekly to prevent them wilting too much, and Reki lit up just as much every week.

After three weeks, Langa had a new plan. 

“Langa!” Reki greeted at the door, board in hand as he grinned, rivalling the sun shining above them. Langa couldn’t help but smile back, even if it wasn’t as big. It was a Saturday, and the two of them planned to spend the day skating around Okinawa, Dope Sketch being closed for the weekend while Oka went to a big creative-arts event across the country — considering Cherry’s absence at S the night prior, Langa assumed the calligrapher had attended as well. 

(Joe had been sulking all evening, and eventually left early.)

“I got you more flowers.” Langa said, holding them out to an already-blushing Reki, who took them with a quiet ‘thank you’. 

“Come in, I’ll swap them out.” Reki quickly managed out, rushing inside the house before Langa could blink; all he could do was follow, used to Reki’s sisters running around his legs by now and greeting them with a small wave. “Nanaka! Stop hitting Langa!”

Nanaka just giggled and ran off, Chihiro hot on her heels. All Koyomi did, as usual, was peep her head out of her bedroom and wave, her smile similar to Reki’s but hardly rivalling it. 

And then Langa remembered what he wanted to do that day. “Hey, Reki?” 

The boy hummed, turning to face him with the wilting flowers in hand, a single one left on his desk while the rest fell into his bin. 

“Do you want to go to lunch?” He asked before he could lose his nerve, the boy freezing where he held the stems of the flowers, turning to face Langa with wide, unblinking eyes. 

“I— huh?”

“Well— Sia opens at one, but, um, I’m sure Joe will let us in early.” Langa explained, trying his best not to stutter over his words; he must’ve done something right because Reki grinned, placing the flowers in the vase on his windowsill. 

“Sure! I could go for some food.”

Langa grinned that bit brighter and the two left Reki’s house that bit quicker.

As predicted, Sia la Luce was closed when they arrived, but Joe— Kojiro was flitting about in the main area, adjusting tables and chairs. As usual, Reki was the first to walk in, announcing their presence with a shouted, “Morning Joe!”

Kojiro turned around, confusion on his features for only a moment before fondness concealed it, gaze flicking between the two. “Hey boys, everything alright?”

“We thought we’d get food before we skated today,” Reki explained, already making a run for their usual table before Kojiro could say anything against it (not that he would, Langa knew he would never deny them food), “Is that okay?”

“Depends what you fancy,” Kojiro replied, but he was already heading behind the counter and tying his apron into a neat bow at the bottom of his back, “I don’t think you guys have ever been here out of hours, why the change of heart?”

“I suggested it,” Langa decided to cut in, slipping into his seat opposite Reki, the boy’s feet already tapping a rhythm on top of his own, hardly felt through the material of his shoes. At his words, Kojiro paused where he stood in the doorway to the kitchen, glancing back with a curious look. “I thought it’d be nicer without all the people.”

That made Kojiro chuckle, looking around the place with a small, fond smile, a smile with so many levels that Langa’s heart hurt a little trying to dissect it. 

Later he’d realise it was because that smile wasn’t for him.

Later he’d wonder if people felt the same when they looked at Reki’s smile, confused and overwhelmed but appreciative of the beauty it held. 

But in the present, all he could wonder is what was going on in Kojiro’s brain to elicit such a look. It was gone in an instant, of course. “What would we like then?”

“Joe,” Reki replied very seriously, “Joe.”

“Pizza for Reki,” Kojiro huffed, rolling his eyes, “I swear, you remind me far too much of Kaoru these days. You’ve been hanging around him too much.”

“Says you!”

“… touché.” Kojiro returned, turning slightly to look at Langa, “And for the other gentleman?”

“Um, I don’t mind.”

“No preference?”

“Not today.”

“So, if I just do a massive pizza for you both?” Kojiro suggested, and that— well that sounded kind of nice, actually.

So, Langa nodded, and he was glad when Reki’s grin only got brighter, “Sounds good.”

“Alright, I’ll get that on for you both.”

And then he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him and leaving the two of them with only the quiet italian music playing in the background.

Of course this lapse of quiet was soon filled with Reki’s ramblings, but Langa, as he leaned his chin on his hand and listened to every word, wouldn’t want it any other way.

It was a week later that Langa saw it happen again. His mother had gotten a bonus at work due to an award she won and decided to take them out to eat. The restaurant was well-known in the area for its well-made food and reasonable prices, so to say Langa was excited would be an understatement.

He just didn’t expect, as he walked into the restaurant, to see Kojiro and Kaoru sat on a table across the way, Kaoru speaking as he held a wine glass in one hand, Kojiro looking at him with some kind of fondness infesting his gaze. 

“Honey?” Nanako asked, startling Langa out of his stupor. She had her hair up in a bun that night, makeup slight with a fancy fitted pink dress, and it only served to accentuate the worry in her eyes. “Is everything alright?”

“You know how I said I skateboard with some people?” Langa explained, his mom nodding with slight relief it wasn’t anything upsetting, “Two of them are over there, that table by the window, closest to the wall.”

She turned to find them, eyes looking over the crowd before evidently falling on them, eyes widening. “Is that Kaoru Sakurayashiki? You—“ and then her jaw dropped in full realisation, “You skateboard with Sakurayashiki-sensei?!”

“He’s very good,” was all Langa could say, knowing the man wasn’t fond of the public knowing about his hobby — once he’d explained that it wasn’t very sophisticated. “And nice, he’s been helping me with my writing.”

Nice would be an overstatement. But he cared, a whole lot, and kindness certainly ties into that.

“Is that why it’s been getting better recently?” Nanako asked, and all Langa could do was hum. It was then that Kaoru turned and met his eyes, smiling ever so slightly and waving. It was Nanako that waved back, but Kaoru didn’t seem too phased, muttering something to Kojiro before standing, making his way over. “Langa, he’s coming over, what do I say?”

“Uh… hello, maybe?”

“Evening,” Kaoru greeted, his smile small but genuine as he glanced at Langa, a questioning glint to his eyes that remained when his eyes settled on Nanako, “You must be Nanako Hasegawa, it’s a pleasure.” Kaoru said, holding a hand out which she took very happily, grinning. 

“The pleasure’s all mine, Sakurayashiki—“

“Just call me Kaoru,” the man brushed off, retrieving his hand and tucking it into his pocket (he’d spent a week designing that kimono for himself and was rather proud of it, Langa knew because he’d been there when Kaoru finished making it). “I’ve been meaning to meet you and discuss your son’s progress — he’s quite the skater, and his school work has been on the rise since we started tutoring.”

“I— well, yes I did notice— I just wasn’t aware he had someone like you teaching him—“

“I promise you, Nanako, I am just as much of a person as you,” Kaoru insisted, glancing back to the table where Kojiro remained sat, sipping his wine absentmindedly, “Well, I must be getting back—“

“No, no I get it, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your date any longer.” 

Silence filled their small bubble, as thick as oil, and Langa felt a little like he was stuck in the middle of it. 

Nanako immediately tried to fix her mistake, laughing a little awkwardly and taking a precautionary step back, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed—“

“No, it’s quite alright, it… wouldn’t be the first time.” Kaoru hummed out, but even Langa could notice that off looking in his eyes, his kimono moving oddly by his side indicating he was fidgeting with it. “Langa will give you my number so we can chat, yes?”

“I— yes, that would be great—“

“Wonderful. Have a nice meal you two.” And off he went, just as gracefully as he arrived. Thankfully, a waiter came to show them to their table, giving Nanako something to do to hide her stress, but Langa could see it easily by now; she fiddled with whatever was nearest, a kid’s menu with crayons; she avoided all eye contact; she made ‘thought noises’, as Langa liked to call them.

Basically, it was very obvious she was stressed about something, and Langa knew she wouldn’t say anything unless he asked. So, after their orders had been taken and drinks had been delivered, Langa breached the subject.

“Mom?” He tried, watching her flinch and put on a smile.

“What is it, honey?”

“You’re okay for thinking that, you know.” Langa tried, watching the gears turn in her head before she huffed out a laugh, waving a dissmissive hand.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—“

“Kaoru never shuts up about him,” Langa continued, sipping his drink as his mother blinked, processing the information, “And Joe always stares at him like…”

Like?

Was there even a word for it? A way to explain that glint, that fondness, that love?

“Well, like he’s the only thing in the world, I guess.”

“Oh.” Nanako finally returned, seeming the calmest she had all evening, tapping her glass in thought before glancing over at their table across the way. Langa didn’t need to look to be able to hear Kojiro’s laughter, to see Kaoru’s smirk, a permanent accessory to it. But it was then that his mother seemed to first see it, and something like understanding crossed her features. “So, they do love each other?”

“Probably, with how weird Joe’s been acting since the accident.”

It was obvious Nanako had more questions, but it seemed they both knew anything more would be too personal — their relationship wasn’t Langa’s to tell, especially with Kaoru and his status. 

So they moved away from the conversation. 

And, eventually, when the other two left the restaurant, Langa’s eyes followed them out the door, specifically on the hand resting on Kaoru’s lower back.

The hand he wasn’t batting away. 

Langa filed the event away into his growing pile of ‘Joe and Cherry’ interactions and focused on his dinner instead. 

Food deserved all his attention, of course.

Just… after he messaged Reki about the entire night. 

☆☆☆

Part three of Langa’s plan was ready to be put into action just a couple days after the entire debacle with Kaoru in the restaurant. 

Except the plan had been altered ever so slightly.

Because the original step would be to compliment Reki until he not only knew what Langa said was true but believed it, which is a fundamental step towards ensuring the transition into a romantic relationship was as smooth and stress-free as possible for Reki. It would also give Langa a chance to see how he reacted, both in general and to certain compliments, which he couldn’t wait for.

Except, something had to be added. Because, for step one and two, a certain someone had been copying him. A certain someone bought a certain calligrapher flowers, and took him out for a meal.

And Langa, the ever-curious teen that he was, wanted to know if the man would go as far as to compliment his rival. His rival, who only recieved harsh words and harsher names, shoves and kicks and insults. Langa wasn’t sure he’d ever heard either of them compliment each other, not properly — sometimes Cherry would analyse his skating, say he had almost-perfect form and that his muscular build made him slower than everyone else, but not much more.

Always backhanded, but always genuine.

So the plan was ever-so-slightly altered.

Continue as planned, but whenever he was around Joe watch his every reaction and see how long it took him to copy.

Simple.

Except not really. 

Because the first time he saw Joe copying had been an S night, and the second was luck. The chance he got to see Joe complimenting Cherry was, realistically, very slim, so he’d have to find some form of workaround.

But that was future Langa’s problem; current Langa had a Reki to compliment.

So he headed out the house, grabbing a snack as he left and chucking his backpack on, skateboard on the floor the moment he reached the bottom of the stairs of the apartment building. Their meetup spot before school wasn’t far, and by the time Langa got there Reki was already waiting, leaning a little too much on the lampost and looking almost asleep.

“Morning Reki!”

And he shot awake. Despite the deep eyebags and slight sunburn, Langa couldn’t help but think he was gorgeous; the sun bounced off his hair, causing it to look akin to fire; his smile rivalled the light that backlit him; his freckles danced over his cheeks in an imperfect choreography.

Always gorgeous.

“You look gorgeous.”

And then Reki woke up.

His face flushed a deep red and his tired eyes flicked to the side, a hand on the back of his likely-burned neck. “Jeez man, it’s too early for this. Did you get enough sleep?”

“Plenty.” Langa replied with a small smile, watching Reki’s blush deepen with some odd satisfaction. “Where are we headed this morning?”

“Uh, train tracks?” Reki entertained, kicking his board at his feet, still avoiding eye contact. 

“Sounds good.”

Just as Langa went to hop back on his board, a hand grabbed at his wrist, and he turned to find a still-embarrassed Reki looking at him, unsure. “You, um, look very nice today too, by the way.”

And then he skated off. 

It took the boy a second to catch up with what just happened. He glanced at his wrist, nothing holding it, but he felt the ghost of Reki’s touch against his skin, burning and wishing for more. More.

Langa wanted more. 

And maybe, just maybe, Reki did want it too.

“Langa!” Reki yelped, slapping a hand over the boy’s mouth. They were sat on the roof, the few people passing by all engrossed in their own conversations. “You need to cut that out before someone hears!”

“But your eyes are pretty,” Langa muttered through Reki’s hand, tugging it away with both of his own and cradling it, pushing a thumb up and down his callused fingertips, “They remind me of chocolate—“

“And you love chocolate, I get it.” Reki insisted, pouting, “What I don’t get is why you’re suddenly acting like— like—“

“Like?”

“Like I’m some— like I deserve a bunch of compliments,” Reki decided on with a nod, brows creased in blatant confusion, “And it’s come out of nowhere!”

“What did you think the flowers were for?”

“I— huh?”

“Nevermind.” Langa murmured, flipping Reki’s hand over to run another finger over his palm, the skin a little softer than the rest of his hand. “But you do deserve them, and I will keep saying them.”

“But why?”

“Because I want to.” Langa finished, his tone indicating it was the end of the conversation. All Reki did was continue to pout. “Your hands are so soft—“

“Oh my god!”

That afternoon was Langa’s scheduled study session with Kaoru. Of course Reki insisted on tagging along, like he did most weeks, but this time he skated notably closer to Langa on the way.

He considered it a win.

Entering the studio was muscle memory by that point, the code to the building thoroughly memorised (0707, honestly he needed a better password before someone robbed the place). And, as always, there were a few students still milling about in the main area, all of which recognised and knew Langa (most of them knew Reki, the boy couldn’t tag along every week… sadly) and greeted him as he walked past. 

When they entered Kaoru’s classroom, they found him sat at the desk, tapping the bottom of a paintbrush on the wooden desk as he stared at a frame, calculating.

“Uh, Cherry? You good dude?”

“It’s Kaoru to you,” Kaoru grumbled, but the attempt was half-hearted at best, the man sighing before standing, “What did we say we were going to work on today?”

“Um, kanji, my written Japanese test is on Friday,” Langa replied, settling onto the floor, Reki beside him, as Kaoru picked out a few supplies from his organised drawers. “Is everything okay? We don’t have to—“

“I need a distraction anyways,” Kaoru brushed off, walking back over and settling the paper and pen on the floor, turning to Reki with a small smile, “Do you want to practice or are you okay?”

“Can I just doodle?” Reki asked, and Kaoru simply shrugged and passed him paper and a pen too, settling onto his zabuton, posture perfect, eyes focused, words practiced. 

Working was muscle memory by that point, copying out the english phrases into neater and neater kanji, changing whatever mistakes Kaoru gently pointed out. It was easy, and yet.

And yet…

Langa found himself watching Reki, his tongue stuck out the right side of his mouth as his eyes almost sparkled, then at the drawing in front of him. It was a skateboard, of course, with a design that looked like a funky cat, its eyes wonky and teeth sharp. 

“You’re great at art, Reki,” Langa found himself saying before he could stop himself, Reki whipping his head up with wide eyes and Kaoru simply sighing, apparently already knowing he’d lost his attention. “Is that a board for Miya?”

“I— uh, yeah.”

“That’s so kind, you’re a great friend.” 

Reki flushed again and redirected his attention back to his drawings, the action making Langa realise that he was meant to be practicing. When he glanced back forwards, he found Kaoru watching him, that same calculating glint to his eyes he’d had when they walked in. Then he raised an eyebrow, and Langa felt strangely like he was in trouble. “Stop gawking over your boyfriend and do your work.”

“I wasn’t—!“

“We’re not—!“

“I don’t care, you have an important test and I don’t want you failing.” Kaoru insisted, pointing at the paper, smiling minutely. 

Then, in English, Kaoru said, “Now write ‘just confess already’.”

Langa froze.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Isn’t that what all of this is for?” Kaoru queried, his tone suggesting that it was not a question but an observation, and Langa couldn’t help his shrug, glancing back at Reki’s paper. A hand rested on top of his own, and Langa wasn’t sure if he should’ve been surprised by how soft Kaoru’s skin was. Probably not. “What are you waiting for?”

Langa glanced back at his paper, biting his lip before writing some random kanji in the margin, trying to look like he was doing something just in case Reki looked over. “I don’t want to… scare him off.”

Kaoru sighed, but it was fond; he squeezed Langa’s hand and leaned back, pretending he was looking over Langa’s work. “Langa, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, you are stupid.”

“Hey!”

“Don’t call him stupid!” Reki yelled immediately from beside him, sounding genuinely offended, eyes burning. Even Kaoru seemed taken aback, pressing his lips together. “Langa is awesome! And smart! And— and—“

“Slow down, I wasn’t calling him stupid.”

“You literally just—“

“I asked him to write it.” Kaoru admonished, and if Langa hadn’t just had an entire conversation with him then he’d probably believe it, with how relaxed and articulate the man was. The words made Reki falter, still unsure but evidently willing to back off a little. Thankfully, he must have not processed Langa’s response. “I used to write it in Kojiro’s books all the time.” Kaoru continued, tone softened and smile nostalgic, and Langa couldn’t help but wonder how he could say something like that with such good-meaning. 

“Well— well, teach him to write something he’ll use! Like— like—“

“Like?”

“I don’t know!”

“Alright, Langa,”

“Hm?”

“Write, ‘Reki’s great at art.’”

“What—?!”

“I don’t want to hear any more of his sappy crap out loud! You can start writing love notes to each other if you’re that committed. Now can we please get on with work?”

Sulking, Langa reluctantly carried on copying out the notes and symbols, and by Kaoru’s request did his very best to keep his focus on his work and not Reki’s perfect hands making perfect lines across the paper, every movement as spontaneous as it was calculated—

Yeah, it wasn’t easy to focus.

Langa wasn’t sure how he ended up outside Sia la Luce so late at night on a random Friday. Well. Not a random Friday, he had his written Japanese exam that day and managed to scrape a B, of which he had been excited to show Kaoru. Except he wasn’t at the studio.

And he wasn’t at home.

And Langa was hungry so he decided to go to Sia for some food, knowing, somehow, that Kojiro would still be there. 

He just didn’t expect Kaoru to be sat across from him, sipping a glass of wine. 

The bell rang to signal his entrance, Kojiro jumping. “Sorry, we’re clo— Langa?”

“Do you, um, have any food?” He dared to ask, still standing in the doorway looking between the two, trying his very best to grapple what exactly was happening. Was it a date? Or just a friendly candle-lit hangout?

Langa was betting on the latter.

“I cooked some extra carbonara, I’ll go get it.” Kojiro replied, smiling and heading into the kitchen.

The moment the door swung shut Kaoru spun to face Langa with a scowl.

“What have you done?”

“What have I done?”

“I told him about your compliments and he’s— he’s been—“

“Oh, yeah. I forgot he was doing that.”

“Forgot?”

”Well—“ Langa started, taking the seat next to Kaoru and settling his board beside it, sitting up to properly face him, “He did it before. With the flowers… and dinner.”

“Dinner? How—?”

“I brought Reki to get lunch, just the two of us, and just after I saw you guys at the restaurant.”

“You need to fix this.”

“Wh— why me?!”

“It’s your fault! You fix it.” 

“Fix what?” Kojiro asked as he came back in, a steaming bowl of carbonara placed in front of him. 

The silence was answer enough.

“Langa failed his written exam again.” Kaoru bluffed with a wave of his hand, tucking into his own food again. When Kojiro continued to eye him with suspicion, he continued. “No matter what I say he won’t take my advice.”

“Don’t be too harsh on the kid,” Kojiro sighed, sipping his glass of wine, “He’s done well for the short amount of time he’s had.”

“If no one’s harsh on him he won’t get anywhere,” Kaoru shot back, rolling his eyes, shoving another forkful of carbonara into his mouth, “Brdhsin me dgsert pe.”

“Don’t speak with your mouth full, beautiful.” Kojiro huffed, but there was something severely lacking in the last word.

That usual teasing lilt was gone and replaced with complete and utter honesty.

Kaoru was right, he’d done it again.

Kaoru himself flushed, the tips of his ears going red as he swallowed his food. “I said, bring me dessert ape.” He bristled, actively ignoring the compliment with an expectant raise of his nose. 

And Kojiro sighed, turned, and headed back into the kitchen. 

“So,” Kaoru started, tucking his hair behind his ears and turning to Langa, his smile a lot softer than it had been all night, “How did your exam actually go?”

“I got a B.” Langa replied, Kaoru’s smile softening even more as he finished off his food, actually swallowing it this time.

“It’s passable, I suppose.”

“It’s my best grade yet.”

“Then it’s adequate. Good job.”

“Thanks!”

Kojiro came back out shortly after, handing Kaoru a dessert with a small fork, smirking. And he’d said, “For the handsome gentleman.”

“I swear I will kill you.”

“You wouldn’t, you love me too much.”

With a scowl, Kaoru scooped a part of the dessert (it looked like cheesecake, though Langa wasn’t too sure) and shoved it in his mouth, hardly chewing it before swallowing. “I won’t kill you, no,” and Kojiro blinked, almost dazed, “Because who else would give me free food every day at my demand?”

“You’re smart enough to code Carla—“

“Come Langa, I’ll drop you home.”

Before he could say anything against the notion (namely that he wanted more food), Kaoru was striding off, and Langa knew he had to follow.

But, as Langa approached the swinging door, he turned to face Kojiro, who was fondly watching as Kaoru made his way down the street, cheek resting in his palm. “Joe?”

“Uh— yeah?”

“You’re going to send Cherry into a coma if you carry on.”

Kojiro grinned, it was teasing and loving and everything he knew he wanted it to be. “That’s the plan, kid.”

☆☆☆☆

It happened like this; Langa handed Reki a bouquet of new flowers, complimented his outfit, offered to go to the cinema to see a new film at the weekend, and Reki kissed him.

Langa would like to say he was shocked. He would like to say that he pulled back and asked what Reki was doing. But the truth was he forgot they weren’t dating at all.

Which sounds dumb, because they’d never kissed before, but it just—

Reki’s mouth was on his and he couldn’t think about much else.

Usually it was just his mind, reminding him of Reki’s very existence, but this time he felt him, every part of him, and he wasn’t sure it was possible to think about much else. 

In the end, Reki was the one to break away, eyes and pupils blown wide as he panted a little, his breath ghosting Langa’s lips, and all the latter could do was stare, was watch. “That’s what all this was for, wasn’t it?” He asked, and Langa couldn’t help his smile, bringing his hands up to cup Reki’s face, pulling it up slightly to plant a kiss on his nose, the boy’s face heating up even more than it had before.

“I just wanted to make you happy,” Langa fibbed, knowing Reki saw right through him, “If this counts…?”

“Of course it counts, you idiot.” Reki giggled, running a hand through Langa’s hair as he bit his lip, face and neck and ears burning but his gaze remained resolutely on Langa’s face. “You meant it?”

“Why would I lie?”

“Well… I don’t know, I just,” Reki cut himself off with a sigh, resting his forehead on Langa’s chest, red hair obscuring his vision. Not that Langa minded, of course. “I’m not— I don’t—“

“Reki, look at me,” Langa almost hummed out, delighting in how close their faces became when he looked up, eyes teary, “You’re amazing. You’re talented, and handsome, and funny—“

“Langa,” Reki bemoaned, pressing a hand to his mouth with a pout, causing him to feel as Langa smiled against his skin, “I can’t do this.”

“Tough.” Langa muttered through his hand, Reki burning that little more. 

“Can we just… stay in today?” Reki asked, dropping the hand to hold Langa’s, a pleading glint to his eyes. 

Before, it was difficult to say no. 

Now? 

“If that’s what you want to do.” 

Reki’s smile was brighter than it had ever been, and Langa was more than willing to be blinded, if it meant he could still feel the weight of Reki’s hand in his own.

Cherry approached them one S night, while Joe was beefing some bold rookie. In fact, the moment the skater shot around the corner, leaving the rookie in the dust, Cherry turned to Langa (and, by proxy, Reki) and said, “I need your help.”

“With…?”

“You know how Joe’s copying your every move?” He asked, raising an expectant eyebrow, and Langa just nodded, Reki saying a quiet ‘I knew it’ beside him. “I want to mess with him, I want to see how far he’s willing to go.”

Langa, his brain ticking far slower than usual with Reki’s hand clasped in his own, could only tilt his head in lull of a question. “What?”

Cherry groaned, pinching his nose, “I can’t believe he’s trusting you to make good relationship decisions.”

“Well, it worked.” Langa replied with a smile, holding up the hand he was holding, Reki flushing bright red again. “I’m not sure how he didn’t notice.”

“He was too busy staring at Cherry.” Reki scoffed, and— well, he wasn’t wrong.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off of him until he was challenged.

Even Cherry seemed to realise this, rolling his eyes and moving his hands to rest on his hips, eyes flicking up to the jumbotron, Joe’s zoomed in face grinning on the screen, his hair whipping in the wind. “I can’t believe I fell for an idiot.”

“Cherry—?”

“So, game plan.” The man started, spinning and levelling the two with a stern look, “Nothing too… significant, okay? At least not today.”

“We could stick with this,” Langa suggested, holding their hands up again, and Reki also seemed keen on this idea, nodding incessantly. “Hand-holding isn’t too big for you is it?” Langa asked, completely genuinely, and Cherry just scoffed, waving him off. 

“Hand-holding is child’s play, I’m not nervous. Why would I be nervous?”

“We never said you were—?”

“Miya!” Cherry called across the way, the kid spinning around from where he was chatting to some other kids in the year above him with a raised eyebrow and a small, excited smile.

That kid idolised Cherry Blossom, and for good reason. 

Which was why no one expected Cherry to say, “Let’s beef.”

“Wh— right now?”

“The moment Joe’s won yes, come on.”

And that, Langa supposed, was the end of the conversation.

Joe’s beef ended rather quickly, and he caught a lift to the top of the hill, garnet eyes already searching for Cherry, who was at the start-line with Miya. The moment he realised this, he stood and watched the two shoot off, smiling smally. And then he turned to head over to Reki and Langa—

Who were still holding hands.

Without Cherry there to distract him, Joe was actually quite observant. It took him all but three seconds to notice their hands, brows creasing as he tried to unpick what exactly had changed. Of course, Langa couldn’t tell him they were dating just yet — that would leave the possibility of Joe no longer copying.

So when he asked, “Are you two…?”

Langa replied, “Reki’s hands were cold, I’m heating them up.” 

He could almost feel Reki holding back his laughter, squeezing his hand. “Yeah, I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“Hm.” Was Joe’s reply, attention moving to the jumbotron, the video showing Miya and Cherry almost neck and neck, the latter slightly ahead. “And why is Cherry racing Miya?”

“Honestly?” Reki replied, brows furrowed, “Not a clue.”

The race was finished after a couple minutes, Cherry winning by a couple seconds, but it didn’t change the fact that Miya was hardly behind, that he’d been improving significantly recently. It was only a few more minutes before the two returned, Cherry looking rather proud of himself as Miya rambled by his side about something or other, hands flying around as he grinned. 

“Good try, kiddo,” Joe told Miya the moment they approached, ruffling his hair with a heavy hand as he squawked, “Better luck next time.”

“Don’t patronize me Joe,” Miya returned, but  he was very obviously fighting a smile. 

“And a very good win as always, chéri,” Joe complimented, and Langa watched as Cherry visibly winced and flushed at the same time, the tips of his ears a burning red, “Although next time you should go against a real challenge.” He finished, flexing his muscles as he spoke and only earning a faceplant in reply. 

“Joe?” Miya queried, the man humming and turning to face him. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re being weird.” Is what he said, face nothing but disgusted, looking between the two men with a frown.

“I race you every week, you gigolo, it was nice to race someone who deserves it.” Cherry finally cut in, waving a dismissive hand that Joe not-so-smoothly caught, fingers wrapped around his gloved wrist as he grinned. Even with the mask on, it was admirable how expressive Cherry could be when he wanted to be — his eyes shone with a mix of fury and fear, and it was the latter emotion that Langa assumed made Joe let go immediately.

It was the same fear that had Cherry taking a step back, hand cradled to his chest, his breathing growing a little more stilted. 

“Kao—“

“I think I should head home.” Cherry managed out, voice shaky, and Joe just shook his head, hands flailing at his sides, evidently unsure what to do. 

“I’ll take you, I brought my car,” Joe immediately offered, leaving no room for argument, and Cherry just nodded, walking off before anyone could say anything more.

The kids watched them leave, until the very moment they left through the gates, and all they could manage to do was silently agree to leave it up to them.

Whatever had happened, they weren’t privvy to it.

Except… 

“Hand-holding is child’s play, I’m not nervous. Why would I be nervous?”

Langa bit his lip, and wondered if, maybe, this wasn’t such a great idea.

But, just before they left the gates, he saw Joe offer a hand, highlighted by the streetlamp above their heads, and Cherry grabbed it, letting their hands hang between them.

And he smiled.

☆☆☆☆☆

Kaoru was acting weird.

Usually, during their tutoring, Cherry was the one bringing Langa back to the present, except Langa hadn’t written anything for five minutes and the man still hadn’t noticed, gaze fixed out the window. 

Reki also wasn’t able to come that day, his mother asked him to pick up his sisters from school because she had to work later than usual, which left Langa alone with Kaoru and his thoughts. 

Except this wasn’t an entirely recent development; ever since S night the other week, Kaoru’s work had been slower, he’d been more generally distant, he’d been skating way less beefs (he’d raced two — a rematch against Miya, who won, and a match against Reki, who lost) and had been leaving earlier, and now he was spacing out during their lesson. Langa would like to say he understood, but he didn’t— no, he couldn’t, not with Cherry keeping his every thought and emotion to himself.

Of course it was his choice, Langa wasn’t going to pressure him into saying anything, but he also knew that talking about feelings could help.

When his dad passed away, he spent the first few weeks locked away in his room eating only what his mother brought to him. And then, eventually, he just broke. 

And his mother was there to listen, and his therapist was there to listen, and Reki listened. 

“Cherry?” Langa found himself asking, the man jumping out of his stupor.

“Don’t call me that outside of S.” He said almost on instinct, but there was no heart to it, especially with no one around. “What?”

“Are you okay?”

The man scoffed and rolled his eyes, leaning back on his hands, forgoing his usual perfect posture. “Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’ve been spaced out for like five minutes.” Langa explained, and Kaoru seemed almost taken aback by this, frowning. But Langa continued on. “You can talk to me about it, if you want.”

“You’re a child, Langa, I can’t—“

“And you’re my friend. And I’d like to help, or at least listen.” Langa interrupted, the doodles in his book not helping his case very much. “When— when my dad, um, passed, I was also very closed off, and talking about it helped, even if there wasn’t anything they could do to, ah, bring him back.” He let his pen hit the paper, kneading his hands together on his lap and daring to look up, finding the most upset eyes he’d seen in a while. “So I’m here to listen, if you need it.”

For a moment, Kaoru was silent, considering. 

The world moved around them for that moment, as Kaoru seemed to make a decision.

“Well, you know how Adam is, right?” Kaoru started, eyes trained to his hands, and Langa couldn’t help but nod, knowing the other couldn’t see it but knowing he would understand the response either way. “I dated him, when I was your age. At the time, he was—“ Kaoru laughed, a laugh filled with years-old anguish, exhaustion sewed between every breath, “Well, he was my star, I suppose. But no one tells you stars burn. He— well, I won’t give details, but he wasn’t kind to me. And when Kojiro— when he grabbed me, it reminded me of him, and I just— I can’t do that again. I can’t go through that again.”

Silence filled the room, but this time there was a dangerous spark to it, a spark that, if accidentally lit, could set the entire atmosphere up in flames.

So Langa, slowly, carefully, said, “Joe isn’t Adam.”

And all the tension from Kaoru’s shoulders left, the spark effectively put out.

“If Adam was your star, surely that would make Joe your sun.”

“Well, who do you think designed his tattoo?” Kaoru scoffed, daring to look up with a smirk, and Langa couldn’t say he was surprised— in fact he’d assumed it. “And I know he isn’t the same as Adam— Kojiro’s good, in all ways, but what if— what if I taint him? Or what if he changes? What if he realises that I’m not good enough for him?”

It was then that Langa remembered that smile. A small, fond smile, a smile with so many levels that Langa’s heart hurt a little trying to dissect it. A smile he now knew wasn’t for him. But sometimes feelings weren’t the best approach for Kaoru Sakurayashiki, so Langa instead said, “What’s the possibility of that happening?”

“… what?”

“Calculate it. The possibility— probability? The probability of Joe loving you less if you became something more.”

“Carla?” Kaoru called to his bracelet, the tech lighting up for a moment, pulsing.

“The probability of Kojiro Nanjo loving Kaoru Sakurayashiki less, or changing, when in a romantic relationship is zero. This is due to the fact he has known every part of you, and nothing could truly change his opinion unless you acted out of character. For example—“

“Thank you, Carla.” Kaoru quickly interrupted, the light on his wrist dimming back to normal. 

“Joe loves you for who you are, not any— false idea he has of you.” Langa finished, biting his lip as he watched Kaoru, watched the gears continue to turn in his head. “But, if you need more time, he’s waited ten odd years already, what’s another few?”

Finally, Kaoru chuckled, shaking his head. “I suppose.”

They sat quietly for another moment, and Langa was glad for that lighter look in Kaoru’s eyes, the less tension in his muscles.

He was glad to know he’d helped, even if it was only a small bit.

“Thank you, Langa, for listening.”

“Any time, Cherry.”

“How many times do I have to—“

The group was having dinner at Sia la Luce to celebrate Kaoru winning an award for his calligraphy. It was, apparently, some big hot-shot award, and one that every calligrapher aspired to win. All Langa knew was that Kojiro hadn’t shaken this adoring gaze all evening, and Kaoru — who had been fidgeting under it at the start of the evening — had started to embrace it, to bask in it, and had (what Langa assumed to be subconsciously) been getting closer and closer to him as the night went on. 

“A toast,” Kojiro announced, lifting his half-full glass of wine to the centre of the table, his smile a little wobbly as he continued to watch Kaoru, the man staring right back at him, “To the talented, smart, and very cool Kaoru Sakurayashiki.”

And the group cheered their friends name, clinking their assorted glasses and taking a sip. Even Miya seemed to enjoy it, continuing to tuck into his food.

Langa turned to Reki (for possibly the millionth time that night, Langa had stopped counting) to find the boy staring back at him, not flinching or moving and instead just smiling, happy. It was impossible to not to press a kiss to his lips, the boy giggling as he did so before pulling back, his face bright red already. “You’re so sappy.”

“You’re beautiful.”

“You’re both disgusting.” Miya scowled, tugging Langa back by his collar and nodding at the boy’s plate. “Eat your food before I do.”

Begrudgingly, Langa kept eating his food, finding himself looking up at a certain green-haired chef, whose attention hadn’t moved from Kaoru, the man watching them with a fond smile.

“Thanks for dinner dude,” Hiromi chipped in, bringing Kojiro’s attention back away from the man beside him, an appreciative grin adorning his features.

“Trust me, it’s my pleasure.” 

“Langa?” Reki whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear but quiet enough for everyone to know he was trying to be inconspicuous. “Can I have some of your pasta? What is it again?”

“Orzo,” Langa explained, pushing it over slightly so he could take a bite. Reki did so without hesitation, scooping some with his own fork and immediately eating it, humming in approval. “Thoughts?”

“It’s good, my fritatta affogato is better though.”

“I told you you’d like it, kid,” Kojiro cut in with a smirk, taking a bite of his own fancy lasagne (apparently it was ‘broccoli rabe and italian sausage’, all Langa knew was that it looked oddly pale), turning to look at Langa, “You like it?”

“I’ll eat anything.” Langa replied honestly, taking another scoop of his food and not minding when Reki did the same. At first, he wondered if it would bother him, because it certainly did when anyone else did, but whenever Reki shared his food it was almost a reassurance; it left Langa waiting for his reaction, hoping for a good one and laughing when it was a bad one. “Nothing’s better than your carbonara though.”

“Kaoru agrees— ow!” Kojiro yelped, turning to scowl at Kaoru who was eating another forkful of carbonara, smirking around the utensil, “What the hell man!”

“I like the carbonara too,” Miya chipped in, his own dish being a reflection of Kaoru’s. The first time he had it, the boy had been apprehensive, but it had been offered to him because it lacked the things he disliked, like tomatoes. Plus, watching Kaoru eating it must have helped a little. After that it became one of the only things he ate at Sia, along with a variety of desserts when he didn’t have a competition coming up. 

“Kaoru,” Kojiro started, leaning his head teasingly on the man’s shoulder, blinking his eyes rapidly. It only took a moment for Kaoru to look down at him, the tips of his ears red again as he raised an unimpressed eyebrow, “Can I have some of your carbonara?”

“If you so much as try and take any, I will punch you.”

There was not a hint of doubt in Langa’s body that Kaoru would follow through.

It seemed Kojiro agreed, judging by his pout and how he pressed his face into Kaoru’s shoulder as if hiding from the world, too tipsy to care how clingy he looked. 

Not that the loving gazes helped his case much. 

And then something happened that shocked Langa.

And he was sure he was the only person to witness it.

As Reki dug into his food, and as Miya rapidly clicked buttons on the current game he was grinding, and as Hiromi looked at passersby out the window, Langa watched Kaoru sigh and stab his food, lifting the fork to a shocked Kojiro’s mouth; it opened not in welcoming but in pure shock, and the look on Kaoru’s face was a mixture of endearment and ‘hurry up before I change my mind’. Without missing a beat, Kojiro took the bite, chewing it with a considering look before nodding with a small smile, a small smile that Kaoru returned.

As Reki started talking to him, Langa decided to leave the two to it.

Because, for the first time in weeks, Kaoru seemed okay. 

And, well, Langa had a Reki to pay attention to. 

★

As it turned out, following Langa’s advice only worked for so long, Kojiro realised.

It should’ve been expected, considering he was far younger and Reki was very different to Kaoru in many different ways. But he just— sometimes you see a child do something better than you and you wonder if their tactic has much truth to it. 

Screw Kojiro for being curious.

It worked at first; Kaoru liked the flowers; Kaoru liked the dinners; Kaoru liked the compliments.

But then he forgot just who Kaoru was, what he’d been through, and he’d pushed it that bit too far. His best friend hardly spoke to him in those couple weeks, always spaced out, never fancying much food or drink when he did show up to Sia la Luce. Even Miya had asked him about it, one night at S. 

He said Cherry had been acting weird, he’d asked if it had anything to do with Joe’s terrible attempt at hand-holding the week prior. All he could say was that he wasn’t sure himself, but he was sure Kaoru would be okay eventually.

He just didn’t expect the change to be so sudden. One Tuesday evening, he showed up as normal, with a smirk demanding wine, and Kojiro couldn’t help his joy, glad his best friend was back to how he’d always been. For a moment, he wondered if it was all just a cover, a well-crafted lie to stop Kojiro from worrying, but he’d turned around one moment and found Kaoru watching him, his smile fond and happy, and he didn’t have the heart to think this was all a lie.

If it was, he wasn’t sure what he’d do with himself.

All these years, he’d waited for some kind of sign that Kaoru felt the same, he’d tried every tact and every line, every character and every face, but each attempt seemed to be met with resistance.

And now he looks at him like Kojiro always wished he would. 

That, with the lack of resistance to his recent attempts, with the food the other night, Kojiro dared to hope.

And he knew that whatever he did now was up to him, not a seventeen-year-old boy who was likely just as unsure about his own advances as Kojiro had been his entire life.

So, a couple weeks after Kaoru’s celebratory dinner, the Christmas period well under way, Kojiro closed early and began setting up a table in the restaurant, shoving the rest to the side. All in all, it wasn’t much; two candles next to a potted mini sakura tree; two wine glasses set out with an option of red and white wine beside it; carbonara cooking on the stove. 

It was away from everyone else, it was pretty, and it had wine and carbonara.

Kojiro was sure it couldn’t be any more perfect. 

So he was shocked when, out of the blue, Kaoru arrived early. 

The bell rang above the door while Kojiro was in the kitchen stirring the carbonara, and it had him walking into the main room as he wiped his hands on his apron. “Sorry, we’re closed early for today—“

“Kojiro?” Kaoru’s quiet voice came from across the room, and Kojiro quickly looked up to meet unsure eyes as they flitted between the set-up and Kojiro. “What is this?”

“Uh—“

“Are you having a date here tonight?” He asked, brows furrowed, and the wording was— well it certainly set off alarm bells in Kojiro’s head.

So, like the great and very stressed person he was, he rushed to explain, “Hopefully. If you say yes.”

“I—“ Kaoru started, pausing as the words processed in his mind, eyes widening as he gaped, “Me?”

“I thought you’d prefer this to me asking, or taking you out somewhere public.” Kojiro explained, feeling the stress wilt away as he explained it, smiling only when he saw Kaoru start to smile too. “If it’s too much I can—“

“No. No, it’s perfect Kojiro, really.” Kaoru replied, making his way over to pull Kojiro into a hug, arms wrapped around his back as he buried his face in the crook of his neck, taking a deep breath. “Kojiro?”

“Hm?”

“Did you seriously put cologne on?” He asked, pulling back to level him with an unimpressed frown.

All Kojiro could do was laugh, shaking his head. “It’s a special occassion, you know I wear it for special occassions.”

“The last special occassion was your sister’s wedding, this hardly amounts to that.” Kaoru huffed, but that rosy tint adorned his cheeks once again, golden eyes  moving from his own eyes to his hair to his nose to his mouth— “It’s nice. Suits you.”

“You think?”

The kiss was quick, light, but so genuine and so loving that Kojiro felt a little light-headed. It ended as quickly as it started, and Kaoru stepped away and towards the table, smirking as he averted his gaze. “Hurry up on the carbonara, I’m hungry.”

“Yes princess.”

“Back to insults are we?”

“Now that I’ve effectively wooed you—“

“Dear lord.”

“— I don’t need to feed your ego any more.” Then, immediately contradicting himself, Kojiro admitted, “But you do look very pretty tonight. New kimono?”

“Designed it myself.”

“I expected no less. You’ll have to design me a yukata someday.”

“Of course, with your fashion sense?” Kaoru scoffed, settling into his chair as Kojiro dished up the carbonara, leaving the kitchen with two bowls in hand, Kaoru’s eyes lighting up at the sight. “I already have a few designs, just need to make them.”

“Your carbonara, m’lady.”

“Oh. You flatter me.” Kaoru mocked in a monotone voice, rolling his eyes but tucking in before Kojiro could even sit down. “First you copy a child, then you copy sexist men from a century ago, who next?”

“Next I hope to flatter you on my own terms, with my amazing charm.”

“Oh yeah? How’s that working out for you?” Kaoru asked, and Kojiro went quiet for a moment.

He spent a moment just watching Kaoru, wondering whether he could’ve had this all along. Then he realised he didn’t entirely care.

Because Kaoru had always been there anyway. And he always would be.

It had been working out fine for years because, dating or not, Kaoru had been beside him, with him, supporting him.

Now that he had it?

Well, he supposed his charm was working quite well, if it got Kaoru smirking at him like that with not a drop of wine in his system.

“Terrible,” Kojiro replied anyway, taking a prepared corkscrew and opening the red wine, pouring Kaoru’s glass before his own, “It got you to kiss me. We should really practice it more, so you can do it better.” Kojiro teased with a grin, earning a kick under the table, but he couldn’t miss the twin smile on the other’s face.

“Idiot.”