Work Text:
Kenta had known from the minute Pete had foisted him onto Kim, like an unwanted stray dog, that eventually, it would come to this.
Not the dirty, dingy roadside motel with one questionable-looking bed or the rain pouring outside that made it impossible to leave. But Kim shucking off his dripping jacket with an angry huff, his shoes kicked off and thudding against the paper-thin walls.
Kenta felt the water seeping into his shirt, dripping from the ends of his hair, soaked in just the short run from the car to the door. He didn’t move to take it off—it wasn’t like he had a change of clothes. He’d just have to be wet as his eyes followed Kim to the window as he peered into the darkness.
Kim didn’t even say anything, which might have been the worst part of all of this. At least before he would have scolded Kenta, reprimanded him for doing something so stupid by himself, but this time, nothing.
“No one’s coming,” Kim said finally, and Kenta should have felt relieved, but he didn’t. He didn’t exhale as Kim retreated from the window, careful to pull the curtain closed behind him, a stiffness to his shoulders that Kenta wasn’t used to seeing.
Standing by the wall, Kenta hadn’t moved since Kim had rushed him inside, slammed the door behind them. Now, he crossed his arms, resorting to something familiar as the air fell thick with tension.
He hadn’t asked Kim to come rescue him. Kim had come on his own, because he had some sick sense of duty that taking care of Kenta was his job, as if Kenta needed to be watched and controlled, as if he couldn’t be trusted.
Kim sighed, a heavy, frustrated kind of breath as he glanced at Kenta finally, a frown twisting his mouth where there was usually a smile. Kenta looked away.
He had known this would come—that some day, Kim would get tired of him, tired of stopping him from doing stupid shit, tired of having to help, tired of giving him the benefit of the doubt. He’d known whatever safety Pete had thought he was giving him wouldn’t last, that no matter what anyone said, this was only temporary. He’d fuck up one too many times, make another mistake, and any grace he’d been given would be taken away.
Kenta could see it in the way Kim watched him, that he was done. Done trying. Done caring. And Kenta had never asked him to, which was what pissed him off the most. Kim couldn’t be mad at him for something he’d chosen to do.
Kenta wasn’t going to say it, though, pressing his arms tighter across his chest, his damp shirt leaching into his skin. He hadn’t asked for any of this.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Kim asked finally where he leaned himself against the outer wall. From there, he still had a glimpse out the curtain but faced Kenta head-on across the room.
Kenta didn’t know why Kim bothered asking. It was a question he’d heard so many times in the last month that he’d been stuck with Kim. Stuck in that apartment with nothing to do, feeling useless, like a trapped rat in a maze, chasing his own tail while everyone else went on with their lives. While Pete ignored him and Kim took it upon himself to be Kenta’s keeper.
“I was thinking it was about time someone did something.” Kenta snapped his reply, wondering why Kim was still there. This was about the time he should wash his hands of the whole situation. Go back to Korea where none of these problems existed. Stop making Kenta feel like he was such a burden to these people who didn’t even want him around.
“Pete’s working on it,” Kim said, that hard edge to his voice he only seemed to get when he was angry with Kenta.
Kenta scowled. “Pete’s too busy fucking Way’s clone. I don’t have time to wait on him.”
“And what about me?”
Kenta glanced up, eyeing Kim across the room. His hair was drying slowly, frizzy and messy, unstyled. He could see the line of the water where the rain had dripped under his jacket collar, a damp ring around his neck.
“What about you?”
Kenta hadn’t expected to wind up here when he had sneaked out of Kim’s apartment this afternoon—had just planned to sniff around some of Tony’s old buildings, just wanted to do something useful for once instead of being told to sit and stay like a good dog.
He should have expected the men who emerged from the shadows only a few blocks from Kim’s apartment. He hadn’t thought they would be tracking him, which was stupid in retrospect, considering what he’d already done to disrupt Tony’s organization. Tony always knew everything, even if he didn’t act on it.
Gun shots still echoed in his head, whizzing past as he ran away, darting between parked cars underneath the heavy, cloudy sky. He hadn’t been thinking, adrenaline pumping, hadn’t even noticed the sleek black car roaring past the men, screeching to a halt as it skidded in front of Kenta.
“Get in!” Kim had shouted at him, and whatever anger Kenta had felt in the moment, at being rescued yet again, it vanished as another bullet glanced off the pavement.
They couldn’t go back to Kim’s apartment, not now that Tony’s goons knew where he was, so they’d driven. In silence and at length, until the rain had started coming down in thick sheets and Kim finally pulled over at a plain motel with a faded sign.
Kenta had felt it, the entire way there—Kim’s anger and frustration bubbling just below the surface, and while his stomach had curled in on itself with each minute they drove, he told himself he shouldn’t have been surprised.
He’d always known there would be a breaking point.
Kim blinked at Kenta’s question, thrown back at him so easily. His gaze wasn’t on the window anymore, though they couldn’t be sure they had lost Tony’s men in the maze of Bangkok.
“Why do you insist on being so stupid?” Kim demanded, glaring at Kenta as if this was all his fault. And maybe it was. If Kenta had just run the minute he’d walked away from Tony, just disappeared like he should have, started a new life in a foreign country, they wouldn’t be stuck in a shack of a motel room, hiding out from men who wanted to kill him, unable to even go back to Kim’s apartment. But Kim’s next words crumpled Kenta’s resolve. “I said I’d come with you.”
“And I said I don’t need your help,” Kenta shot back, pressing his arms tightly across his chest. Why did Kim have to be so fucking nice all the time? He had nothing to gain from it. “Pete gave me to you to look after like some kind of pet. So stop pretending that you care.”
Kenta knew exactly how this situation ended. If they managed to get rid of Tony for good, if they managed to find a way to have peace, Kim wouldn’t have to keep him anymore. Kim would be free to live his life how he wanted, and Kenta would be alone again.
Kenta was used to being on his own, used to no one needing him, and that had made the past month with Kim such a struggle. Whenever Kim made him tea without asking or sat down to eat dinner with him even though Kenta very clearly did not invite him, his mind went to suspicious places. It just didn’t make any sense. He didn’t understand why Kim was so deadset on helping, on sticking his nose into Kenta’s business. No one else cared whether he lived or died so why should Kim?
Across the room, Kim didn’t answer, but Kenta saw the way he took a deep breath, mouth tight, eyebrows furrowed.
Looking away, Kenta focused on the dirty wall, some kind of stain at the baseboard that should have disgusted him, but he was more concerned with what he knew was coming. He’d pushed Kim far enough. Now was the time he finally gave up the act and left Kenta, just like everybody else.
“You think you’re all alone, don’t you?”
Kenta looked up at Kim’s words, watching warily as Kim stepped away from the window. It wasn’t a big room—just large enough for a queen-size bed with an old comforter that Kenta wouldn’t dare to touch and a rickety table with a lamp providing the only light in the room.
“You think you have to prove something, so you run off with no regard for your own safety,” Kim said, a hard, angry look on his face that Kenta frowned at. “You’re reckless and impulsive and it’s going to get you killed.”
“What do you care if it does?” Kenta snapped in between the noise of rain beating the windowpane. “At least you’d get your life back.”
This was it, he thought, as Kim stared at him, only a few feet away, his heart hammering. This was the moment Kim said, fuck it, and left Kenta to fend for himself. The moment he decided it wasn’t worth the hassle, trying to keep him alive. Kenta could feel the tightening in his chest, his fingernails digging into his arms as he waited. If Kim would just say it, it would be over. Kim could storm off and leave Kenta here in this gross motel and rid himself of all the problems that came with him.
Kenta wouldn’t blame him at all.
Kim shook his head, and Kenta could hear it coming. Words he’d always known Kim would say eventually. Something they all did.
I’m done trying to help you. You’re not worth my time.
Bracing himself, Kenta kept his face neutral as Kim took a step forward. He wouldn’t give Kim the satisfaction of a reaction. He avoided Kim’s gaze, staring over his shoulder at the curtains fluttering in the air conditioning instead. They could do this quick, like ripping off a bandaid, and then Kenta could get on with his life.
“I just want you to think before you run headfirst into danger.”
Kenta’s eyes darted back to Kim, confusion marring his features as he took in Kim’s words. Kim still sounded mad, an edge to his voice that wasn’t usually there, but it had softened, almost as if concerned. The look Kim gave him echoed his voice—brows furrowed, a line where he pressed his lips together, but his eyes were big and open.
It wasn’t at all what Kenta had expected, and it threw him. Much the way Kim always seemed to, with his interminable kindness, always pushing back when Kenta didn’t want him to, always insisting on coming along instead of letting Kenta go alone. When was he going to get tired of it? When was Kenta going to finally push too far and prove himself right?
Kim shook his head again when Kenta just stood there like an idiot, trying to work out why Kim was so goddamn nice. “You don’t seem to care at all about what happens to you,” he said with a sharp shrug, staring at Kenta as if daring him to contradict it. “Or what that could mean for other people.”
Kenta scoffed despite himself. “No one would care if I died.” The words rolled off his tongue before he even thought about it, but it was true. To Tony, he was just a plaything, something to use and abuse to pass the time. To Pete, he was another tool to bring down Tony. And Kenta had never really been useful to either one.
He caught the glint in Kim’s eye a second before Kim moved, swift and sure, pinning Kenta to the wall as Kenta’s eyes went wide, taken aback at Kim’s hands boxing him in, Kim in his space as he tried to shove him away. But Kim was strong as he pushed Kenta back until there was nowhere to go, a hand tight on his shoulder to hold him in place despite Kenta trying to break free.
“Get off me,” Kenta commanded, but Kim held on, crowding Kenta against the wall. They were too close—he could feel Kim’s chest against his, wondered if that was his heart racing or Kim’s. He was really only trapped by Kim’s body, the strong grip of his hand on Kenta’s shoulder, shoving him back when he tried to push.
The whole thing happened so fast, and Kenta didn’t know what Kim was playing at as he narrowed his eyes.
“What do I have to do to get it through your thick head?” Kim hissed, and Kenta stopped struggling to frown, confused what that even meant.
Kim’s hand left Kenta’s shoulder, and it moved just as quickly to the back of his neck, jerking him forward. Kenta didn’t even have time to react, eyes wide, taking a sharp breath milliseconds before Kim’s lips met his own.
Kenta hadn’t kissed a lot of people, but he knew it wasn’t supposed to be like this. His heart pounding, eyes open, staring at Kim’s face pushed against his, Kim’s lips hard and unyielding, fingers gripping the back of his neck as Kenta’s mind raced to catch up. What the fuck.
“What are you doing?” Kenta spit the second he got his hands between them and shoved Kim back, ripping him away from his mouth, panting as if he’d just run a marathon when it had been one tiny kiss.
He wasn’t sure what he expected from Kim—for him to back away and apologize, to shake his head as if he’d been lost in some sort of daze and acted without thinking—but he was still surprised when Kim exhaled a breath and pressed close again, hands coming to either side of Kenta’s face as Kenta reeled back.
“Proving that I would care if you died,” Kim breathed, and something painful clenched in Kenta’s chest as he stumbled, back against the wall with nowhere to go, Kim’s fingers stroking over the shell of his ear, something soft in his gaze that made Kenta’s stomach turn over.
Was it fear he felt as he searched Kim’s face for the lie he knew was there? Or was it hope that would only hurt more if it wasn’t true?
He didn’t try to slip away, even though he could now, with Kim’s gaze intent upon him, gentle hands cradling his face, so different than just a few seconds ago, and Kenta couldn’t help frowning as Kim leaned in again.
Kim’s lips were light this time, a fluttering pressure that made Kenta blink, fighting the urge to give in, to melt like a puddle under Kim’s tender touch—lips brushing over his own, fingers stroking his cheeks. He shouldn’t let it happen, let Kim kiss him in this dirty hotel room, with the pouring rain thundering outside, when he knew it wasn’t real.
He meant to stop it, a hand curling into Kim’s shoulder to shove him away, the other pressed to his stomach for extra force, but then Kim opened his mouth and all thoughts of anything but Kim’s tongue in his mouth were lost.
Kenta’s eyes closed, despite what he knew. His hand flexed and gripped at Kim’s shirt, still damp from the rain. He even felt his head tilt for Kim, kissing him back even though he shouldn’t. Even though a million thoughts ran through his brain with each sweep of Kim’s tongue, each brush of their mouths, each second Kim sucked on his bottom lip and chased after him when he pulled away.
“This isn’t how it’s supposed to go,” Kenta breathed out in a huff once he got some space between them finally, a momentary pause as he tried not to look at Kim’s kiss-stained lips, the pretty flush high on his cheeks, how Kim had to drag his gaze up to Kenta when he spoke.
“Then tell me how it’s supposed to go,” Kim said, voice quiet under the hum of the air conditioner, the patter of the rain outside, the muffled sounds of a television through the wall. He was still too close, and Kenta felt the warmth of his chest, how Kim rose on his toes to be at eye-level, hands on Kenta’s neck to keep him steady.
The room was sticky, humid, and Kenta’s wet shirt wasn’t helping. But he wasn’t thinking about that as he stared at Kim, his heart pounding in his chest. He had known, from the minute Pete dumped him in Kim’s lap, how this was supposed to go. A begrudging care-taker, a refugee in a stranger’s home—awkward and uncomfortable and easily ignored. And one day it would end and neither of them would feel bad about going their separate ways. But that wasn’t what was happening and Kenta didn’t know what that meant.
“You’re not supposed to care,” he said simply, barely able to keep the scorn out of his voice as Kim watched him. “You’re not supposed to come after me or try to save me.”
He didn’t say it but he thought the implication was clear—he wasn’t worth being saved. Tony knew it. Pete knew it. Even Babe knew it. Why didn’t Kim?
He felt the breath Kim took in response, pressed against his own lungs, the exhaled breath sharp on his chin, and Kenta looked away. Kim would figure it out sooner or later, so why bother even going there?
“Well, I do,” Kim said after a second, serious even when Kenta didn’t glance back. “And I’m going to. You can’t stop me, Kenta, no matter how much you think you don’t deserve it.”
Kim was just as stupid as he was, Kenta thought, and just as stubborn too when Kim’s fingers closed around his chin and guided Kenta back to face him.
“Now who’s reckless,” Kenta muttered as Kim held his gaze, but he was surprised by the smile that twitched at the edges of his mouth, as if Kenta had said something amusing.
“Still you,” he answered simply, ignoring Kenta’s scowl. Kenta opened his mouth to argue again, but he was cut off by Kim’s lips, a kiss that vibrated all the way down to his toes, that leached the remaining tension right out of his body, leaving him dumbfounded and dazed when Kim pulled back.
Kenta hadn’t kissed a lot of people, but he thought this was exactly how it was supposed to feel—the tingle on his lips, the goosebumps on his skin, flushed and breathless as Kim smiled at him, jittery as he pressed his nails into his palm.
“Come on. We still need to figure out what our next move is,” Kim said, though, still too close, and Kenta stood there like a stone, trying to work out what any of this meant.
Work. Kenta could do that, he thought, taking a breath as Kim stepped away. He could focus on making a plan.
As Kim sat down on the creaky mattress, Kenta felt an unfamiliar twinge in his stomach—something warm and comforting he hadn’t felt before, especially when Kim looked up at him expectantly. Yes, he could work on making a plan, and this time, maybe he’d let Kim in on it
*
FIN.