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The club was, for the most part, how Kenma had expected it to be. The air was heavy with the scent of sweat and perfume, filled with the throb of bass and the loud call of voices overtop the music that thrummed so loud it shook Kenma to the inside. But Keiji’s hand gripped him tight, grounded him to the floor, even as bodies jostled against him. Even as lights flashed overhead. Their gray eyes were locked on him, bright in the dark. Their lips curled into a smile and they dragged a hand through their hair, so sweaty that the curls stuck to their forehead.
“Having fun?”
Kenma nodded, breathless, and Keiji smiled. Kenma’s gut twisted and he squeezed their hand tighter as he pressed closer into Keiji’s side. “Where did Tetsuro and Koutarou go?”
Keiji snorted and shook their head. “I don’t know at this point. Last I saw they were dry humping on the dance floor.” Kenma groaned quietly and Keiji giggled, so soft that he was barely able to hear. But he did, and it made Kenma’s insides warm as he smiled faintly. “Do you wanna get out of here then?”
It was already almost one in the morning. They had been there since nine, chased by the last trails of sunlight and a crowd practically pulsing with excitement. He’d danced for a large majority of the time - more than he’d expected honestly. It had left his limbs weak and heavy, shaky even after all the water he’d drunk and the last half hour of rest. But he couldn’t complain, even if the loud noise had made a headache slip in, faint but there, even if he could barely feel his feet. Not with the way Keiji’s fingers were twined with his, the way Keiji pressed a soft kiss to Kenma’s hair, finally back to black and shorn short. Kenma curled fingers over his mouth and yawned as he pressed a little closer.
Keiji squeezed his hand. “Let’s go find them then.”
Kenma nodded and wordlessly Keiji led them through the crowd. They parted people like no one else could - Tetsuro always joked that it was Keiji’s expression, because they had a “killer bitch face”. But Kenma liked to think that it was because Keiji had confidence, and they certainly showed it as they worked their way through the crowd, hand tight on Kenma’s. Hands whispered across his arms and shoulders, and occasionally a thrashing body part hit him, but Kenma brushed it off, pressed close to Keiji’s back as they made their way through the club, past drag queens and kings in thick, pretty makeup and boys in chunky heels and girls in short shorts and so much more.
They found Tetsuro and Koutarou after a few minutes of searching, Tetsuro plastered against the brick wall in the back with Koutarou pressed close, their mouths crushed together and fingers in each other’s hair. Keiji just snorted and reached forward, tugged on Koutarou’s hair until he managed to realize that it wasn’t Tetsuro’s hand doing the tugging. The man twisted around, a dazed and loose grin on his lips. “Keiji! There you are! We’ve been lookin’ for you for ages!”
“Mm,” they hummed, “Sure looks like it. Are you two done playing tonsil hockey?”
“No,” Tetsuro butted in with a little pout, eyes wide and pleading. “Five more minutes?” The begging look was one Kenma had seen countless times - one he had become immune to years ago. Thankfully so had Keiji, though anyone else would have been swayed beneath the stare of those kitten-innocent eyes, even if he was a little intoxicated.
Keiji just tutted their tongue and tugged on the back of Koutarou’s shirt. “Come on. We want to go home. Preferably to separate ones so you two can…” Keiji’s lip curled in a playful sneer as they flicked their fingers, and Koutarou slumped against them with a giggle.
“ Keiji , the walls are thick!”
“Not thick enough with Tetsuro…” Kenma murmured, and Keiji snorted.
Tetsuro at least flushed - though Kenma wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or actual embarrassment. But Tetsuro still peeled himself off the wall and draped himself across Koutarou’s back with a soft sigh. “Carry me.”
Kenma thumped his head against Keiji’s shoulder. They twisted around, a tiny smile on their lips, and it only expanded when Koutarou actually hitched Tetsuro up onto his back with a soft grunt. They made quite the parade heading out, but not many heads turned - most of the people were too busy grinding against each other and trying not to keep their drinks from spilling to focus, and, from what little Kenma had seen of the local gay clubs, it wasn’t that unusual.
They piled into his car and Kenma sent a short prayer to any higher deity bothering to listen to please don’t let Tetsuro puke in my care before he started it and pulled out. Aside from Tetsuro and Koutarou’s mumbling and the soft hum from the stereo the ride was quiet and quick, though more than a few times Kenma felt Keiji’s eyes on him, their stare heavy, but not unwelcome. It stirred up the lingering heat in his stomach from where they’d danced, bodies pressed so close that Kenma’s body had pulsed with warmth and foreign things. But he kept his eyes forward and drove until he pulled into their apartment complex.
Getting Koutarou and Tetsuro out of the car was more of a hassle, but he and Keiji managed to get them to stagger along to his apartment and, once the door was securely shut behind them, he pressed into Keiji’s side with a smile as they slipped off to the apartment he and Koutarou shared. It was an amusing coincidence how they’d met, chasing after Kenma’s cat, and that had led to their strange pairing and arrangement. We should just swap apartments at this point . But six months was too soon, far too soon, and Kenma was more than content enough to walk three doors down, his and Keiji’s hands clasped tight.
They didn’t go straight to their room. Instead Keiji went to the kitchen and Kenma drifted over to the TV. His fingers slid over CDs, tapped at them as Keiji hummed and rustled in the kitchen. “Do you want some tea?”
“Please.”
Down and down the stacks of CDs until his finger paused. His lips curled into a smile. He slid it out carefully as Keiji hummed quietly. “Keiji?”
“Yeah?”
He tapped the case of the CD and glanced over at his partner. “Can I put this in?”
“Yeah, sure.”
With a smile he flicked the stereo system on and swapped the CD in his hand for the one inside. The soft strum of a guitar filtered through the apartment, and as Kenma turned Keiji’s shoulders fell, the lines of their body softening at the familiar tune. They twisted around with a tiny smile, two cups of tea in hand, and Kenma made his way over, took one with a soft kiss overtop. “Thank you.”
Keiji just hummed and pressed close as they settled with their backs to the counter and their bodies pressed close. The tea worked through Kenma’s body, dripped warmth into him, and the feel of Keiji stole in behind, dripping into the cracks and crevices until Kenma was left in a golden daze of warmth as steam curled across his cheeks while he peeked up at Keiji. Those gray eyes flicked down, worked across his face. The smile that curled Keiji’s lips around the lip of their cup made Kenma’s chest throb and his heart swim as his fingers clutched his cup a little tighter. I love you . Even though he didn’t say it the little furrow of Keiji’s brow softened and they flashed a tiny smile at him. “Did you have fun tonight?”
“Mm. I liked dancing.” He hadn’t done it much, and certainly not with someone he genuinely cared for. There had been girls that had stifled him with the scent of perfume and makeup, ones he’d had to be stiff with and force a smile for his parents. Keiji had had to do the same. But late at night, at clubs that swallowed them up and erased who they were in the day, it was so easy to be happy . Smiles came easy. His stomach bubbled ferociously. And Keiji’s hand fit so well in his whenever he reached for it.
He reached over, slipped their fingers together. Keiji squeezed his hand. He squeezed back. When his mug emptied he let his head tip over and settle on Keiji’ shoulder. It only took a moment for Keiji’s slender fingers to rise and settle in his hair. Kenma hummed quietly, a veritable purr, and Keiji’s shoulders hitched with a soft laugh. “Tired?”
“No. I just wanna touch you.”
Keiji scratched at Kenma’s scalp, their fingers gentle. They were quiet, only their soft breaths filling the silence, and then their fingers stilled. “Do you want to dance some more?”
Kenma swallowed hard, let his fingers twitch. I do . He could still feel the ghost of Keiji’s touch on his skin, their palms hot on his waist as they’d ground together in a way that had left Kenma flustered and aching. Could still feel the phantom rasps of their breath on his neck, the whisper of their lips on the lobe of his ear. The potential for more. “Yes,” Kenma whispered.
Keiji smiled as they set their cup down, then did the same with Kenma’s. Their fingers curled, and Kenma let them tug him back into the living room. For a moment their hands fell apart as Keiji slipped over to the stereo and tapped it a few times, and then they stepped back over. They stepped close and bumped their foreheads together as they clasped his hand and settled the other on the small of his back, and smiled softly. “Come on, little kitty.”
Kenma’s cheeks burned as he ducked his head, but he set his hand on Keiji’s hip hesitantly. It felt different from the club. More intimate. And Kenma’s cheeks were on fire as his fingers twitched in Keiji’s grasp and a shiver of warmth ran down his spine. Maybe it was the remnants of alcohol in his system. Maybe it was the sweet freedom he’d let himself get drunk on all night, the feeling of simply letting go and finally relaxing, of being at home. Maybe it was just how high he was on everything that was Keiji . But he didn’t really care. He just squeezed their hand and cautiously raised his head until their eyes met, golds and grays, and Kenma swallowed hard.
The soft beat of a drum and the twang of a guitar filled the quiet between them, and as Keiji started to move their feet the lyrics slipped in, honey sweet and soft in a way that made Kenma’s chest clench. Even more so when Keiji started to whisper along to it, their voice a little higher, a little sweeter. “And your heart’s against my chest, your lips pressed to my neck, I’m falling for your eyes, but they don’t know me yet… And with a feeling I’ll forget, I’m in love now…”
Kenma bit his lip, eyes burning, and clutched at Keiji’s hand like a lifeline. And it was. It kept him steady as the world blurred around him, as soft golds of raw happiness leaked in and tinged the world from the pale hue of Keiji’s skin to the whites of their teeth and the soft grays of their eyes. And when Keiji swooped in and kissed him he didn’t even care that they’d ceased to move, that the hand that had been on his back was on his neck. He just shook, a thousand tones of joy tossing in his stomach as he pressed closer and squeezed Keiji’s hand with a thin-lipped smile.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, dear.”