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“move that any lower, and you’re dead,” ryousuke says sweetly.
they’re sitting on the edge of the lake, listening to splashes and shouts arcing over the water’s surface. on the diving dock stretching in the distance, jun lets out a roar and jumps, a plunge no more dangerous than his own. a week ago, kuramochi would have trembled in his old, worn sneakers, a rip in the left shoelace holes, the tongue on the right looking as if it’s been dragged through a shredder, but friendships happen fast at summer camp. as do other things.
so instead he just laughs, a loud hyahaha! but not loud enough to draw the attention of the other kids.
“the policy only says ‘one face per face, one butt per seat,’ ryou-san,” he points out. “nothing about hands.”
even so, he pauses before dipping his hand lower. friendships happen fast at camp, but kuramochi still values his life.
he’s rewarded when ryousuke lets out his breath, the motion vibrating through his fingertips. it makes kuramochi want to shiver despite the heat. “fair point,” he hums, squinting into the distance, and kuramochi exhales and thanks his lucky stars or whatever the hell else is out there looking after him and his poor, hydroplaning heart.
sometimes it still amazes him that they ended up at the same summer camp, ryousuke pulling up in his nice car and hugging his family goodbye in the parking lot. orange sunlight skitters off the ski slope of his nose, and kuramochi tries not to stare like he did then, first because of the car, then because of the way ryousuke slung his duffel bag over his shoulder.
he keeps his hand on his bare back, registering the coolness of his skin, the brief emergence of shoulder blades and spine when ryousuke shifts on the rock, which happens fairly often on the uneven surface digging into their tailbones, the imperfections of nature. they sit on a balance beam, tipping close, and kuramochi tries not to feel lightheaded. his fingers are learning truths that used to be just guesses, like the fact that ryousuke’s slender but more muscular than he looks, enough to give kuramochi and all his moves a run for his money if he ever called him that, even though he’d mean it as a compliment. definitely a compliment.
“besides,” ryousuke adds a moment later, “what we’re sitting on technically can’t even be called a seat.”
kuramochi blinks at him before bursting into raucous laughter. “got ‘em on a technicality, ha! you’d make a great lawyer.”
“mmm, prosecution or defense, do you think?”
“prosecution, definitely.” kuramochi slips his hand an inch lower and grins as he feels ryousuke shift in response, settling into the small of his back. “but then again, we’re gonna need a good defense attorney if any of the counselors catches us.”
that earns him a laugh, and his heart somersaults as ryousuke leans a little closer. “well, better not get caught then,” he whispers, low and velvety.
there are woods behind them, and the path from the cabins is on the other side of the lake. sawamura’s screaming at the top of the lungs in front of them, a bug in the water or something, so all eyes are on him. normally kuramochi would tell him to shut up, but he’s actually grateful this time. he can’t believe his luck, lets his luck make him brave. a week ago, ryousuke wouldn’t even look at him except down his nose, which was, to say the least, a feat from the other side of the four inches between them.
he chuckles into ryousuke’s ear. “and here i thought you were kind of a square the first time i saw you, to be honest.”
“that’s your flaw,” ryousuke answers promptly, “honesty.”
“harsh as always, ryou-san,” kuramochi says, wincing for the hell of it, and kisses him.
it’s fast, of course, nothing more than a peck with a promise of something more, opening and closing with a slight tug. kuramochi whips forward quickly, scanning the figures dotting the lake. sawamura’s still shouting, now jun’s shouting too, miyuki’s skipping rocks on the far curve of the shore, his obnoxious laugh swelling in the air, and the coast is clear. he heaves a sigh.
“hmmm,” ryousuke murmurs thoughtfully, “now who’s the square here.”
it takes kuramochi a moment. his eyes widen. “ryou-san, you realize you’ll get in trouble too, right?”
“but that’s how it is, right?” expression unreadable, ryousuke tilts his head in a way kuramochi knows is purposefully coy and maybe a little ironic but falls for anyway, heart lodged in his throat. “when you’re partners.”
i’ve known you for a week, kuramochi doesn’t say, even though he can’t argue; they’ve forged quite the solid partnership in capture the flag, and kickball, and even fucking red rover. his wrist still hurts from the last time, though he can also still feel the imprint of ryousuke’s fingers curled sharp and stubborn in his own, and maybe that makes it worth it.
he swallows instead, tries not to show how much the words affect him, but his fingers twitch against ryousuke’s back, and he remembers too late that touch is a two-way street. maybe ryousuke is right; honesty is his downfall. lawbreaking aside, they’re kind of the opposite that way.
“fair enough,” he says instead, proud his voice doesn’t crack. “partners. you jump, i jump.”
“how dramatic,” ryousuke remarks, leaning in, and makes a show out of just how well he can break a law.
(even though miyuki calls in a favor for it later, kuramochi can’t bring himself to regret a thing.)