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Sakura sits on the roof of Cafe Pothos with his head down, aching feet kicking at gusts of summer wind.
The dogwoods bloomed late this year. The thick scent of their blossoms wafts in the breeze, only ever close enough to linger in Sakura’s nose for a fleeting moment before falling away. It’s never close enough to remind him of home, where the trees outnumbered the skyscrapers.
It’s not like ‘home’ ever meant much to Sakura anyway. It was only a place to live with his distant relatives and their big expectations. He prefers it here, where the expectation is warranted. Despite his initial wishes, the guys at Furin are more like ‘home’ than he’s ever experienced before.
It’s taken three years, but he’s finally become acquainted with their consistent praise. He’s even come to like hearing Suo’s voice dancing in his ears, singing, “Good job, Sakura-san,” after every street bully they’ve decimated. He likes the feeling of hands slapping his back every morning when he enters the classroom. He likes living in the raucous laughter of his friends and his underclassmen.
His life now is nothing like it was when he grew up in a quiet house, accompanied only by the sound of his mother running the sink and his father watching the news on a hushed TV. Even his action figures played in quiet, their plastic fists clicking with practiced silence.
Isolation was a family virtue. And by flying away from the nest as soon as the opportunity struck, Sakura had become the most righteous of the flock.
He didn’t feel righteous now, sitting by himself on the sloped, metal roof after walking away from a fight. He went wandering town after midnight to assuage some foreign feeling that had been throbbing in his soul for the past few weeks and came across some gang bum on his turf.
It’s only expected that the leader of Bofurin would fight back after some snot-nosed rookie threw a hard fist. But Sakura didn’t. He couldn’t will himself to do it. Instead, he split off and ended up here, watching from the sky as that helpless kid searched for him.
It was as if something inside of him just gave out. He knows what that sinking feeling in his soul is; it’s fear. And it has yet to go away.
“Maybe one day I won’t win,” Sakura murmurs to himself, pulling his legs to his chest. His knees are still sore from a hard fall, his shins are battered with bruises, and his left foot aches from a deflected kick some weeks ago. The torture has been never-ending. He doesn’t know how Umemiya did it back when Sakura was a first-year, still naive and proud.
Protecting himself was one thing. The weight of others relying on him, being the one designated to protect them, too... it was becoming difficult to handle.
A soothing voice tells him, “That’s impossible. Sakura-san always wins,” in that familiar playful tone. Sakura grimaces, the memory of Suo perches in his mind’s eye. He remembers the two of them eating outside Cafe Pothos earlier, basking in the sunset and the light draft, sitting with their legs crossed. Suo smiled so sweetly, all soft lips and no teeth. He was the last one Sakura talked to before running off.
Sakura had asked, “What do you think about when you fight?”
Suo’s response was, “How I plan to win.”
Sakura said, “I think about going home.”
He’s still unsure of where ‘home’ is. Is it the apartment he shares with Nirei, Kiryu, Tsugeura, and Suo? The place where sleep is nonexistent—with Tsugeura’s laughter and Kiryu’s loud music constantly rattling the walls? The place where he can’t shower for more than ten minutes without someone slamming on the door, begging to use the toilet? The place where he falls asleep watching Suo across the room, nuzzled into his pillow, quilt tucked so perfectly under his chin, with his eyepatch hanging from the bedpost…
Sakura asks no one, “Would Suo-san still like me if I never won again?”
The sky answers with a warm breeze slipping its long fingers through Sakura’s sweat-matted hair. Then the ground answers with the sound of little steps coming closer.
Then he answers with the clarity of a blue night sky, illuminated by full moonlight. “Why wouldn’t I, Sakura-kun?”
Sakura’s head jerks back to see Suo squatting over his shoulder, harboring that curt smile.
“You didn’t come home,” Suo says. “So I came looking for you.”
Sakura scoffs and turns away, slumping his chin in his knees.
“Nirei-kun was worried,” Suo says, almost taunting. He leans in so close that Sakura can hear the wind rustling in his jacket.
Sakura refuses to admit how badly he longs to wrap himself up in that jacket. If anyone can protect him, it’s Suo. And that’s all Sakura wants. It's been on his mind ever since he became the leader of Bofurin.
It’s been lonely at the top.
“What about you?” Sakura asks.
“Was I worried?” Suo replies, putting his pointer finger to his lips to feign deep thought. “Well, I can’t fall asleep without your snoring to lull me. And I’m about ready for bed!”
Suo kneels on the roof and settles down beside his classmate and roommate. It’s their last year of high school, and all Sakura can think about is his childhood.
“I got into a fight,” Sakura says. He doesn’t know why he says it; the split lip and bruised jaw are proof enough of an altercation.
“Oh, I’m so tired, I could just fall asleep right here,” Suo says. He stretches his arms out and yawns, then grins. “Will you snore for me, Haruka-kun?”
The use of his formal name makes Sakura blush. When Suo falls into Sakura’s shoulder, Sakura shoves him off. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Suo giggles. He’s always smiling, but giggling? That’s new to Sakura. And... nice.
Sakura realizes he must be staring when Suo stops laughing and assumes an all-knowing gaze, accompanied by a twist of his lips.
“Now we both know each other’s secrets,” Suo says.
Sakura scoffs again, a common response in his consistent state of confusion. “What?”
“You know that I like hearing you snore. And I know that you are scared of fighting.”
Sakura shoots to his feet and frowns, placing some distance between them. He spits back at Suo, “Were you here the whole time?”
Suo doesn’t move. “I did see you walk away, Haruka-kun.”
“Stop calling me that,” Sakura grumbles, voice crumbling in his heavy chest.
Suo was there. Suo saw. Suo didn’t step in.
Sakura shakes his head, willing himself not to cry. His voice cracks when he asks, “You just let me give up?”
Suo doesn’t respond for a few painful minutes, the revelation between them raw like a fresh wound. Sakura doesn’t say anything either. He paces the metal roof and listens to it creak beneath his bloody shoes.
Finally, Suo pats the ground next to him.
“Come watch the sky with me.”
Sakura shakes his head violently. His voice trembles, “No, I--”
“Sit, Haruka,” Suo demands. His voice is bone-chilling.
It pierces Sakura’s heart—the same little bird that flailed in his chest in the same way when his mother scolded him in his youth. Her hands were always so cold. She was an unforgiving woman.
He limps over to Suo and sits down a few feet away. He folds his arms over his knees and tucks his head into his jacket when his eyes start to prickle with tears.
“I like you,” Suo says.
Sakura rolls his eyes, memories of his mother and her restrained affection hovering in his mind. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Suo watches the moon, duller than the sun but large and present, hanging just out of reach. His stare is so tense, so reverential that Sakura can’t help but let his eyes drift to the night sky, too.
“You don’t understand. I like you so much. I like our friends, but I wouldn’t get out of bed to go search for them in the middle of the night.” Suo clenches his hands into fists in his lap. His stare breaks and drifts to the ground far below them. “I like you so much that I worry about you until I’m sick. I don’t know what to do with myself when you aren’t around, Sakura-kun.”
Sakura’s heart crawls into his throat, prohibiting his words from escaping. He squeaks. He inches close enough to clasp the hem of Suo’s jacket and hopes that Suo will respond with tenderness.
“I want you to protect me,” Sakura croaks. He’s smaller than he’s ever been, smaller than the little boy who had to fight to garner any of his mother’s attention.
Suo shifts his gaze to fall over Sakura’s shivering body. The pure devotion makes Sakura feel whole.
“I can do that for you,” Suo says, holding out his arms. In a whisper, he soothes Sakura’s aching heart. “Come here.”
Sakura barrels into Suo’s arms, stifling an ugly sob.
“You won’t always win, Sakura-kun,” Suo says. He combs a hand through Sakura’s messy hair while Sakura wipes his nose on Suo’s shirt. “You’re still human.”
Suo smells overwhelmingly like dogwood blossoms. Like home, if there ever was one waiting for Sakura to come.
“Do you ever get scared?” Sakura sniffles and rubs his face into Suo’s strong shoulder.
“I am scared,” Suo laughs. “Confessing is harder than fighting. Feel this.”
Suo guides Sakura’s hand to his racing heart and holds it there, intertwining their fingers.
“Oh,” Sakura says. He squeezes his eyes shut and feels Suo all around him. Warm, fluttering chest and unwavering arms. Delicate hands caress Sakura’s scalp.
He feels safe with Suo.
He’s never felt safe before.
“Sakura-kun?” Suo asks after a few quiet moments of cuddling.
Sakura wraps his arms around Suo’s body, albeit with hesitation. Suo accepts him completely.
“Hmm?” Sakura hums.
“I think I have loved you for a long time,” Suo whispers, hands shaking in Sakura’s hair.
Sakura clenches onto Suo’s jacket. “Really?”
Suo nods. “Does that scare you?”
Sakura bites his split lip, tasting the dried blood in his mouth. He focuses on the throbbing. The familiarity of pain grounds him while a new feeling coos in his chest. Sakura admits, “I don’t know what you mean when you say that.”
Suo smiles, utterly accepting of Sakura’s naivety. “It means that I want to protect you. I want to be with you all the time. I want to kiss you and know every single part of you.”
Sakura imagines the prospect of being protected and wanted. He imagines being kissed and squirms in his spot, warmth searing through his body. “Is that what it means to love someone?”
He asks earnestly. Quietly.
“For me, it is,” Suo says. He gently pushes Sakura away to look at his puffy, red eyes and tear-stained cheeks.
“Maybe I love you too, then,” Sakura whispers. He nuzzles into Suo’s palm when Suo brushes the tears from his cheeks.
“Are you sure?”
Wings flap in Sakura’s chest, threatening to fly right from his mouth. He closes his eyes, overwhelmed with feeling, and shows his love by pressing his lips to Suo’s palm. His palm is calloused, much like Sakura’s.
Suo curls his long, dainty fingers around Sakura’s face. Sakura whines into the comforting feeling, but then Suo takes his hand back with a smile.
Sakura opens his mouth to contest until he sees Suo start to lean forward and cock his head, pursing his lips to give Sakura a real kiss.
Suo tastes like the wind. Like a warm breeze, a trail of jasmine intermingled with the ghosts of their pasts. A long hug between two scared little boys; a deep kiss between two boys coming of age.
Sakura kisses back, opening his mouth wider with a, “Haaaaah,” to brush his tongue against Suo’s. His body quivers when Suo gently shoves Sakura onto his back and straddles him to kiss him harder and closer.
“Do you like this, Haruka-kun?” Suo whispers into Sakura’s ear, dipping down to slather Sakura’s neck in long, wet kisses.
Sakura hums, stretching to give Suo more canvas to paint with his tongue, so expertly swirling around Sakura’s sensitive skin.
“I don’t know,” Sakura breathes. He twitches. “Feels weird.”
Suo grins into Sakura’s skin. “I like you like this,” Suo says. “Soft… and so mellow.”
Sakura blushes and wrenches his head away. “I’m not mellow .”
He fights to push Suo off, but Suo just laughs. “Right, right, I’m so sorry, my leader.”
He wraps his arms around Sakura to keep him in place. “S-Suo-san–”
“You’re so flustered, Haruka-kun,” Suo says, squeezing Sakura close. “I’m just protecting you, like you said.”
It’s almost too much. It starts festering in Sakura’s groin.
“You’re really close…,” Sakura says, his voice trembling. He grabs Suo’s shirt and takes his turn kissing Suo’s neck, suckling on the skin like a newborn.
“Don’t leave any marks.”
Sakura stops kissing, embarrassed. “Is that too much?”
“Be gentle with me. It’s my first time, too,”
“O-oh,” Sakura breathes. “What do I do, then?”
“Kiss me again. Softly,” Suo says. He guides Sakura back to his neck. “We’re not fighting, we’re loving.”
Sakura ponders the thought. He’s loving another boy. He’s never loved anyone before. Sure, he revered his parents. But did he love them?
Surely, he has never felt so loved before now.
He kisses Suo’s neck. Gently. Feathery and soft as he touches Suo’s hair, then draws his thumb over Suo’s eyepatch.
“You know, Sakura-kun, no one else has seen me without this,” Suo says, tapping on the eyepatch. He tugs it off with a smile.
It blooms into a toothy grin when Sakura kisses the scar. “I like how you look without it.”
Suo says, “Ah, that’s good. I don’t.” He laughs, almost nervously.
It chills Sakura like a cold draft to know that Suo is insecure, too. They’re the same, in some ways. Two boys searching for themselves, only to find each other.
Sakura rests his head on Suo’s chest and says, “What now?”
Suo stares up at the sky and says, “I don’t know.”
Sakura stares at Suo, the kisses swarming in his mind.
Someday they’ll be past memories. Someday they will dull and lose their scent. The dogwood trees will stop smelling like home and start smelling like love, growing up, and growing old. But not tonight.
Sakura sighs. His breath trembles. “I don’t know if I like fighting anymore.”
Suo takes Sakura’s hand and rubs his palm. “You don’t have to.”
“Fighting is all I have,” Sakura says. “Suo-san, what do I do now?”
“I said, ‘I don’t know,’” Suo repeats. He rubs Sakura’s head. “But you have all of us. You don’t have to know. We’ll help you figure it out.”
Sakura stills.
After a few moments, Suo whispers, “We’ll figure it all out together, just me and you. Okay?”
“Alright.” It’s enough to appease Sakura for the moment, so he closes his eyes and waits.
Tonight, Suo is the wind that flows through Sakura’s ruffled feathers and carries him home.