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Aira doesn't like being stationary. There's a difference between taking breaks and being quite literally confined to his bed—and unfortunately, as he tries turning on his side, he's reminded of exactly which scenario he's facing. He hisses in pain, trying to gingerly readjust his ankle on the pillow before falling on his back, defeated.
What a drag.
It's bad enough that he's missed practice this past week, even though Tatsumi assures him that it's not his fault. The rest of ALKALOID make it a point to visit him before they head off for practice, and of course Aira's thankful, but it just reminds him that he's effectively useless until his ankle heals. That'll take at least a few more days.
He can't afford to let them down. He'll work extra hard this winter to make up for it.
Pathetically, Aira finds his eyes trailing to the window across the room. It's that time of year where the sky darkens earlier, and he thinks he can see snowfall. It'd be nice to go outside and take pictures, especially at a place like Ensemble Square…
Suddenly, he's acutely aware of how empty the room is. He hasn't had many visitors outside of ALKALOID, and though occasionally Hajime or Keito checks up on him—he honestly suspects his roommates of putting them up to it while they're away—everyone's busy. And Aira understands, of course. The holidays are a hectic time for everyone, so he can't fault them.
But Aira's backlog of idol variety shows and radio programmes can only keep him for so long. The timing is awful, and he just wants to go stretch his legs.
And besides, there is one person he wishes he could see.
Kohaku isn't heartless. He's just one text away, like he's been for the past few years, but Crazy:B has been unusually busy as of late. Aira thinks they might have a new release in the works, maybe some for some kind of ES-wide winter event, but it means Kohaku hasn't had much time to drop by. Last time he saw him, Kohaku was helping him home from the ice rink.
It…sucks. Aira knows he can't complain about success, not with how either of them started out. And it's not like they don't see each other, the sprained ankle is a reminder of that. But Aira finds himself missing the sound of his voice.
So he looks at his abandoned phone, interface flat on the bed. He's done little aside from being glued to either sleep or his screen all day, but…he switches it on, and immediately opens his contacts.
He stares down Kohaku's contact photo, a photobooth shot they'd taken last year, and hovers over the call button.
No, no good. He probably can't answer.
But he misses him, so Aira decides to start typing instead. He tries an apology first, but there's a voice nagging him from the back of his head. It sounds suspiciously like Kohaku—don't apologize. So he shakes his head, and starts over.
hey, he starts, are you busy?
To his surprise, though, it takes only a minute of staring for the typing icon to appear.
Not right now, the new message reads. Everything ok?
Aira cracks a smile at his worrying. He wants to tell him that yes, he's fine, but the typing bubble hasn't stopped yet.
D'you want to call?
The new words light up his screen, and Aira pauses. There's something nostalgic about that, but this time, it's Aira who's stuck at home and Kohaku who always, always comes back to him. It's…strangely touching.
His fingers fumble, and he types out an affirmative text at a speed that would've been embarassingly fast with anyone else. He picks up the call on the first ring.
There's the crunch of snow, and a muffled voice from the other end.
"Love-han?"
Aira isn't responsible for how relieved he sounds. "Kohakucchi!"
"I, uh, just wanted to check on ya—not doin' anythin'?"
There's the barely-audible sound of wind in the background. Kohaku must be headed home, or in between plans. Aira huffs good-naturedly. "I ran through half my old variety show catalogue, but I don't think that counts."
That familiar kokoko crackles from the speaker. "Oh! But Mayo-san dropped by earlier! He made sweets, but there were so many I couldn't finish them myself…"
"Been feelin' that bad, huh…" The wind whistles a little louder. "Then, mind if I drop by?"
There's a playful lilt at the end of his voice, and Aira feels the tips of his ears warm. At least Kohaku's in a good mood.
"Of co—" Aira's voice comes out louder than he'd anticipated, and he cringes. "—sure! I could use some help! But uh, I won't be very good company…"
That last addition is mainly directed at himself, but as soon as he says it, he imagines the dismaying shake of Kohaku's head. "Don't say that, Love-han," his muffled voice says. "I know ya might be bored right now, but yer never borin'."
The laugh that escapes Aira's lips is too nervous, even to his own ears, which is ridiculous. It's just Kohakucchi. "What were ya watchin', anyway?"
"Just a bunch of old, pre-recorded stuff I didn't have the time to watch." Somehow, saying that feels like a privilege these days. It's only recently that Aira realizes just how much work he and ALKALOID have gotten as of late—maybe that's just what years of idol work does to you? "Oh! Actually, I think one program hosted you and Shiina-senpai…"
Aira trails off, recounting some show from last year with a spring sweets segment. He still hears shuffling from Kohaku's end, but he doesn't think much of it. "Hey, do you ever read the comments under your own videos?"
There's an attentive hum. "Only when Rinne-han's not in 'em," answers Kohaku, truthfully. And Aira laughs, a real one this time.
"Well," Aira starts, fiddling with his sleeve. "I expected most of the comments to be about Shiina-senpai, because that's his thing? But a lot of them were about you."
"That's…surprisin', actually. Can't have been because of my bakin' skills, then."
"It's because most of them think you're cute!" Aira chirps, recalling pre-recorded-Kohaku's focused face. "And spring is like, your season, too. And you get this stuffed hamster look when you chew."
There's a gawk at the end of the line. "I've no idea where yer seein' that. Aren't ya the hamster between us?"
"So you do know about the whole animal thing…if you don't believe me, I'll have to show you myself!"
They continue like that for a while. To be honest, Aira misses this. He hadn't really heard from Kohaku since last week, since the skating incident, but he'd chalked it up to his schedule. And isn't a busy schedule a good thing?
Kohaku's being oddly silent right now, though. That old worry of having talked too much resurfaces, and Aira's ready to ask about it when he realizes he hears the sound of footsteps is a little clearer from the speaker. "Love-han? Is your door unlocked?"
"Oh, yeah, just in case of emergency—"
The door pushes open. In the doorway stands a boy, pink hair strewn with snow and a bag in hand. Aira sits up almost comically fast.
"Kohakucchi—ow, sorry, hold on." Aira must've sat up too fast, or something to that effect, because then his head spins for a moment. He hears more footsteps, and suddenly, Kohaku's standing by his bedside. "Sorry, I must've gotten too excited or something…"
And then there's a hand pressed on his forehead, cold and a little clammy. There's the sound of a bag being dropped on the floor, however lightly, and Aira looks up. Kohaku's brows are furrowed in soft worry, and Aira briefly registers that he's here.
"Temperature's normal," Kohaku says, withdrawing his hand. Aira feels its absence immediately. Kohaku sighs a little, taking a seat on the foot of the bed. He's careful not to prod near his leg. "How's yer ankle?"
"Better than it was a few days ago," Aira admits. He tries to move and afford Kohaku extra space, but Kohaku shoots him a pointed look, and he stops. "And, um, I know I said this last week but…I'm still sorry about the whole skating thing."
It takes Kohaku a moment to register what Aira means, and he blinks. "Isn't fallin' on the ice normal? And 's not yer fault, I wasn't even close enough to catch ya."
"Because you were shaking in your skates," Aira reminds him, already smiling before he can stop himself. Kohaku's look softens. "But you've never gone skating before, right? So I guess I just wanted to apologize for…botching that."
Truthfully, it's a little more than that. Aira thinks he knows better than to get his hopes too high about plans now, in case something goes wrong, but he couldn't help it. He's seeing people less and less these days, and he knows it's probably just a byproduct of growing older. And he knows he shouldn't be complaining about success. But he just…misses Kohaku.
"I mean, I think ya can let that go," says Kohaku with a shrug. He leans over, ruffling through the bag on the floor. He brings out a wrapped container of something, and Kohaku hands him a warm can. Aira accepts it gratefully. "There's always next time. I mean, I think we got plenty of years ahead of us 'nyway."
The drink sits warm between his palms. Aira hadn't noticed just how cold the room was until now, and he wraps his hands around it in relief. "Yeah, I guess that's right…" he trails off, suddenly taken by the mysterious container.
It looks like it's for food. And there's a small, recognizable sticker in the corner of the box. "Wait, is that from Cinnamon?"
An affirmative hum. "Niki-han doesn't like food to go to waste, so I stopped by before callin' ya," answers Kohaku. He places a bag underneath the box, in case of spillage. "Figured ya might be hungry for somethin' other than sweets."
Then Aira cracks open the drink, and immediately catches the unmistakable scent of hot chocolate. "Oh my god," he says, "you're too nice to me." Aira's sure his face must've lit up, because Kohaku lets out an almost choked-sounding laugh, and it's such a relief to hear that little kokoko in person again. "Mayo-san made plenty extra, so you can help yourself!"
Aira makes a little gesture to a container on his bedside table, and Kohaku cracks open the lid. He's not pressed for choice—Aira can't see exactly what Kohaku takes, but he takes a bite. Kohaku's cheeks really do puff up, and Aira has the sudden urge to poke them. He almost wants to pull his phone out and show Kohaku, just like he'd promised, but Aira only keeps looking.
It's funny to try and reconcile the boy in front of him to the one he sees on a screen—not just his idol persona, no, because even Kohaku's image is starkly genuine. But his voice through a speaker is different. His words on a screen are different.
Having Kohaku here makes it hard to go back.
But then Kohaku looks up, and Aira becomes acutely aware that he's staring. He turns away before he has to comment on it. "You didn't have to do any of this, y'know," Aira says instead, trying to keep his tone casual.
"I wanted to," shrugs Kohaku. He checks the mostly-softened icepack at Aira's ankle, careful. "Do ya need that replaced?"
Aira's swelling has gone done in the week or so he's been confined to his bed. He can't afford to spend longer here, and he feels near useless stuck inside all day, so he nods sheepishly. "Only in a bit, though. Tenshouin-senpai lent me these ones that last almost all day, so they can last a little longer…" He fiddles with the can in his hands. "How long can you stay?"
"Got somethin' early next mornin', so not long…but I've a few hours to spare." There's something like a smile in his voice, and Aira can't help how he visibly perks up. Kohaku settles in, still careful not to agitate anywhere near Aira's ankle. "Ya had a couple things ya wanted to show me, right?"
Aira takes his chance gratefully. He plucks his abandoned phone off the bed, earlier agony forgotten. "That I do!"
And as Aira leans in to show Kohaku something, he realizes that the snow in Kohaku's hair has started to melt.
Aira hadn't had much time between ankle recovery and holiday shopping.
The one positive of being bedridden was the amount of sudden free time he found on his hands. He'd already thought about what he'd get everyone, and most importantly, he's just finished checking out the final items for the rest of ALKALOID and Anzu. Lucky, too—he's on a bit of a time crunch. ALKALOID has an evening radio show appearance tonight, but Aira's fairly confident he can manage.
He's just…got to get something for Kohaku, now.
Aira pulls up his face mask. While it's always nice to be stopped by fans—he gets stopped by fans now—he really shouldn't waste too much time.
Though, shopping isn't a very daunting task, Aira finds himself a little overwhelmed. Walking down the shopping centre, he quickly realizes just how much he feels Kohaku's presence even when he's not there. Everything reminds Aira of him, so while he's not exactly short on options…he's indecisive.
Part of him knows he could take the easy way out and just call or text Kohaku. But the holiday season is going to be packed for most every unit, so Aira's not even sure he'll reach him in time. And while Kohaku would be happy with anything Aira gives him, Aira wants it to be special.
Because it's Kohakucchi.
At least they'll probably see each other during ES's Christmas event. It's a stressful time of year, and Aira is reminded of that as he wanders down the shopping centre. There are lone shoppers, sure, but there are just as many groups of what he assumes are friends or lovers. He walks past a pair of friends, still in school uniform, just outside the idol merch store he used to visit with Kohaku.
Aira wonders if that's what they looked like back then. Maybe in a different world, if they'd met normally.
It's like that for a while, though. The Japanese sweets shop near the entrance, the overpriced carp print Kohaku'd pointed out once, the traditional crafts stall further down the hall, the café down the way—because Kohaku is everywhere, even when he's not here.
Aira's preoccupied with staring daggers into a travel voucher raffle when there's a tap at his shoulder. And he shrieks.
"Woah, woah!" Oh, nevermind. He knows that voice. "It's just Mama, you know?"
To be honest, Aira hasn't seem much of Madara this past year. He'd been following his idol activities, sure, but as expected of someone like him, he's slippery. And while they're not particularly close, he's a friend-of-a-friend.
Even though he's everywhere-all-at-once, Aira hopes they're at least passing friends.
"Mikejima-senpai! You can't just jump people like that!" Aira pauses, suddenly aware that he's caught passerbys' attention. He ducks his head in a quick apology, before whirling back around. He lowers his voice. "Wait—how did you even recognize me? My disguise isn't that bad, is it? I thought this was what all idols wear incognito…"
Madara just laughs, loud and boisterous as ever, but he's tactful enough to at least lower his speaking voice. "Haha, I just saw a shock of blond hair in the crowd! And I thought, 'Hey, isn't that Aira-san's jacket?'" Aira looks down to his own outfit instinctively. But Madara's not even really disguised, now that he thinks about it. "So, last-minute shopping?"
It's almost embarassing to be caught red-handed, but Aira figures this might be his best shot.
"Euhh…yes, actually," Aira admits, grumbling in defeat. "I just need to buy something for Kohakucchi now—well, it's not like I'm low on options or anything." He readjusts his hat, trying to hide more of his apparently incriminating blond hair. "Um, but he's been busy lately, so we haven't been talking as much as I'd like. And while I still know his tastes, I don't know if there's anything he wants…"
There's only so much internet stalking he can do on his own best friend before he hits a wall.
Madara seems to invite himself into Aira's party of one, and pushes him forward with both his palms, into stride with him. He hums. "I don't know if I'm the one to comment on Kohaku-san right now," he starts, "but I could give you a little push in the right direction!"
The joke is a little unfunny. Madara is a little unfunny, but Aira respects him, so he doesn't comment on it. But he blinks, perhaps a little in disbelief—somehow, he doubts Madara knows more about present-day Kohaku than Aira does. But Aira doesn't know much about their friendship these days, and they were an idol unit once upon a time. He shouldn't get too ahead of himself.
If Madara picks up on Aira's skepticism, he doesn't point it out. But Aira tilts his head around just a bit, to try and gauge what he's thinking. "How about a little hint?"
"Huh?"
Madara continues. "Say, did you know Kohaku-san has a license now?"
Aira's eyebrows raise. "I—does he?" And as an afterthought, "Wait, does that mean I have commute option outside of Tattsun-senpai now? But I didn't know about that?"
This illicits a one-off laugh from Madara. Aira wonders again how strange they must look to passerbys. "That boy's full of surprises," he muses, almost cryptically. "It's a motorcycle, by the way. So I'd get him something like a helmet if I were you."
Aira almost stops walking, but Madara's pushing keeps him moving forward. He really is weirdly strong. But Aira doesn't ruminate on that for long, because since when does Kohaku drive? But is that a surprise, really, for a boy who wants to experience everything?
And all Aira can muster is, "He didn't tell me."
It's stupid, because Kohaku is under no obligation to tell him anything—but historically, that's what they do. They've been best friends for years. And Kohaku is just like him. If he'd accomplished something, he'd tell him right away.
Or maybe he just lets Aira do that, because now he's wondering when the last time was that he'd shared something with Aira, instead of the other way around. Has he really forgotten, or was Aira just not supposed to know?
…It's not even that serious. He shouldn't be overthinking.
"If he asks you about it, don't tell him I told you," is all Madara says. At some point, in the lull of conversation where Aira'd spaced out, they'd arrived at the escalator. Aira takes it as a sign to head down a floor. "That's all I can say! Now just keep an eye out for any places that sell gear and apparel. Good luck, Aira-san!"
And Madara slinks away, just as suddenly as he appeared, the ending syllable of his sentence ringing out in that elongated way it always does. Really, Aira can wonder about his mysteriously good timing later, but he can't help but stare dumbfoundedly at Madara's retreating figure.
Kohaku can drive—can drive a motorcycle, apparantly, and he had no clue.
Eventually, Aira realizes he's blocking the way for a very bustling crowd of shoppers, and excuses himself. He's on the escalator now, descending down, and thinking a little too much. Kohaku's only got one unit now, instead of two, but it's as if he's gotten busier over time. Was this a part of it?
He wanders down the ground floor in something like a daze. Kohaku isn't much the type to mention things he wants, unless specifically asked, and Aira's internet sleuthing only conjours up things he already knows. But Aira's sure it's normal to get tip-offs from friends this season, so it's not like that's what he's worried about.
There's that nagging again, like an itch. Why didn't Kohakucchi tell me?
It's not that big of a deal, but isn't that sort of thing a milestone of sorts? That's the type of thing Kohaku's ecstatic over, usually. Maybe it's just meant to be a surprise, though. He wouldn't put it past Kohaku, and Aira supposes he doesn't need to know everything.
Still…he misses him. It'd mean a lot more if he'd heard it from Kohaku.
Credit where it's due, Madara's hint was nice. Aira finds the gear and apparel store without a hitch, after just a few minutes of wandering down. He readjusts his face mask and bucket hat again, just in case anyone else recognizes him.
He takes his time browsing. But even if there are things he doesn't know about Kohaku as of late, Aira can still say he knows his style well. If their past few years of exploring together were anything to go by, if seeing him in every corner turned meant anything, then he'd chosen well. The sturdy, subtly-styled helmet in his bag should be perfect.
Aira walks out, left hand straining with the few bags he's balancing. He checks the time. There's just about an hour left until his radio show appearance. Ah, whatever. He'll make it if he runs.
Ensemble Square's holiday celebrations are plenty lively this year. Aira figures it'll go on for a while, as it usually does, so he doesn't feel much urgency as he steps outside. The food's great and he loves the atmosphere, but even Aira needs a breather. Being swarmed by idols isn't good for his heart anyway, even if most of them are colleagues and friends. He'd only have dreamed of this when he was younger.
And, as if it's natural, Kohaku trails beside him. As it turns out, he really did have a license—his own idea, but the motorbike was entirely Madara's doing. "He doesn't owe me anythin'," mentions Kohaku, offhandedly. "But he was weirdly insistent on it, after he'd found out I was already learnin'. And ya can never really stop that guy."
And while Kohaku seems surprised that Aira'd found out, he's too smart not to immediately tell whose doing it was.
"But 'm sorry I didn't tell ya," says Kohaku, eyes softening. "Guess I thought it'd be a fun surprise. Kept me busy for a while."
Aira knows that to be true, at least. But it makes him wonder how easy that was to keep from him. It's not like they never talk these days, but it's harder to meet up.
What an absurd train of thought, Aira thinks. They've spent years without knowing each other's names, much less faces. But he guesses it's once you know what you've been missing, it's hard to go without. He tries not to think about how that sounds.
"Keeping secrets!" Aira chimes, playful lilt in his voice. "If you really want to make it up to me, you can let me join you some time. Unless you drive like Tattsun-senpai."
Kohaku cracks a smile. "That's a promise, then. I'll try not to send ya flyin'."
Like Kohaku'd ever do anything like that. Or, not to Aira, anyway.
They end up not far from the building, just barely outside and in view of the celebration. It's a nice night, honestly, even if it's cold out—Aira had actually taken the time to bundle up extra, he's not going to risk getting sick after being bedridden once this season. "Oh, but I was wondering. Shouldn't a helmet come with the motorcycle? Or does it not?"
Kohaku shrugs. "I don't think mine did, but Madara-han must'a thrown in a spare with the purchase. 's not nearly as nice as the one ya got me, though." He pauses. "Maybe he did that on purpose. Gettin' me an extra. He was the one who tipped ya off, wasn't he?"
Aira makes a show of averting his eyes and whistling absentmindedly. But he severely misjudges how difficult it is to do in the frostbitten air, and immediately purses his lips. Kohaku lets out a laugh, and Aira pouts. "He told me not to say!"
"That's already a confession, Love-han."
In response, Aira sticks his tongue out playfully. But the air is still cold, and he retracts it in record time. He pretends he doesn't see the dumb grin on Kohaku's face.
"But you should probably hold off of that this time of year. The roads are still icy, and I don't think just a helmet can save you if anything happens." It's a bit of a shame, even if Aira's willing to wait. He lets himself look forward to that promise. They'll have plenty of time in the future, surely. "Anything else you've been keeping from me?"
Aira's tone is good-natured, but Kohaku suddenly looks a little sheepish.
"Not that I can think of," he says with that apologetic smile of his. There's something soft about his features tonight. "But I can catch ya up with things, if ya want."
And as Kohaku talks, it strikes Aira again that he doesn't often do that. They're not quite who they were when they'd first met, but Kohaku has always been the slightly less talkative one between them. Aira's still a little conscious of his own tendency to ramble. But Kohaku just makes it so easy, as if he could tell him anything.
Aira's always happy to listen to Kohaku, not just for a change of pace. He's missed this. Kohaku walks with his hands in his pocket, but his head moves with the motions of his voice. So Aira stares, watching him animated in the golden glow of the building light. His nose scrunches a little, either at the cold or at his own storytelling, cheeks slightly pink from the winter.
Kohaku's eyes squint a little, and Aira notices how violet they are. It looks like the evening sky, but brighter purple. A flake of snow falls on his lashes, a speck of light. Cosmos-violet and starry.
"So we had to cut that part from air, lucky enough that no on—Love-han? Are ya alright?"
Ah, shit. Aira pretends like he hadn't been losing himself in his eyes, starstruck. "Yeah! Yeah, I'm fine." He doesn't sound very fine. "I just noticed it's snowing again. Um, just a little though."
And like clockwork, Kohaku looks upward. It's not very perceptible, and it's nowhere near how it was when Aira was stuck indoors. But in an otherwise blank, dark sky, the white snowfall stands out. Kohaku's face shifts, softens like it always does when something small and mundane like this happens. Like he's learned how to be alive for the first time all over again.
Aira clears his throat, steering the conversation back on track. "That's really lucky though, yeah," he says. "Relationship scandals are kind of stupid, but they're a pain to deal with…"
"We were lucky no one tried to pry afterwards," Kohaku continues, softly, as if entranced by the sky. It really does match his eyes. "'m sure they thought Niki-han was just playin' it up to do a bit."
Aira's keeping up with what Kohaku's saying, but it takes him a moment to process it. He hasn't bothered tearing his gaze from his eyes. "But if anyone could make it work, it'd be him, right? He's a really…warm person."
A quiet hum. "Somethin' like that, yeah. He's lucky his partner's the mysterious type. No one really questions them 'cause of it." Aira feels the golden light from the lobby, the glow at his back, but Kohaku sits down on the steps, just barely out of arm's reach. "HiMERU-han's real good at dodgin' the topic."
Aira stays standing, watching Kohaku revel in the calm night. "Do you ever think about that, though?" he asks, before he can stop himself. "The whole—the whole being in a relationship thing. As an idol?"
The answer comes slow, but Kohaku sounds too assured to be someone who'd never considered it before. "I might'a, yeah." The admission sounds a little faraway, even though he's just a few steps apart. "What about you, Love?"
The lack of honorific snaps Aira out of his haze, if only for a second. He wonders if he'd misheard, or if it was just a slip of the tongue—but he doesn't say anything about it. Maybe he'd been imagining things, starstruck. Lovestruck. "I mean," he almost stammers, "I think it's normal to wonder about! Not like I have one right now, or anything."
"Yeah…" Kohaku shakes his head, gentle as the evening. Aira can't see his face as well anymore, but he wonders if the dusting of pink on his face is still from the cold. "Well, that was 'bout all the interestin' stories I had to share."
Aira can't meet Kohaku's gaze anymore, so he looks at the next best thing—the sky. It's not as vibrant as Kohaku's eyes, but it's less daunting. There are less stars in the city. "Do you have anything lined up next week?" he asks instead, because it's easier than continuing. Because saying you miss someone is easier to parse than saying you love them.
"Just a New Year's collab shoot," replies Kohaku. Frost bites at Aira's cheeks, after having been outside for so long, and he wonders if it's anything like the petal-pink of Kohaku's hair. "After that, 'm all yours." He's sure it is.
What a strange feeling. Kohaku is right here, right in front of him, but Aira misses him already.
The passage of time reveals itself in the thawed snow. In how the streets aren't as much of an icy hazard anymore. Time also reveals itself in the few-centimetre difference between him and Kohaku now, Aira discovers. He's not sure exactly who is taller this time, and though it might just be the helmet, he makes a note to check with Kohaku later.
The moon sits in the sky, full and familiar and so wholly nostalgic, and the sound of a motorcycle engine breaks through the quiet evening. Aira's arms are clasped around Kohaku's torso, and he feels a gentle tap on one of his wrists.
"Hold on tight," chides Kohaku, soft and warm and stern. That, too, is familiar—so Aira gives a harmless little laugh and nestles closer to him.
Maybe it's because Aira's metric for what makes a safe driver has been skewed, but Kohaku's not bad. The late-winter wind falls behind them, along with the rest of the world, and Aira keeps his head up in wonder. The city lights trail alongside them and he's reminded of how full their world really is.
The wind bristles through his open visor, and he hears his heartbeat rush with the breeze. Steady, steady in his ears. He gets the feeling that under his helmet, Kohaku too is smiling. The thought brings a welcome rush of warmth against the cold night.
There's no set destination in mind. It was a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing—even after a few years, Aira's still getting used to how they can just do that now—when he'd caught Kohaku outside of Seisoukan in a weird stroke of luck. The whole thing felt like deja vu, for some different place and time, and Aira's thinking it's one of those sappy moods where he wonders again about how far they've come.
The helmet makes it a bit difficult of an arrangement, but Aira's head comes to rest at the crook of Kohaku's neck. His eyes continue taking in the view around him. Kohaku's not driving particularly fast, but Aira hangs on tight anyway. He tells himself it's because Kohaku told him so, but he knows that's not true.
This is the closest they've been for a while. Back then, Kohaku'd been so accidentally stiff with so much as a handshake event, but now, Aira's arms link around him with safe ease. He knows, growing up together means they'll have to make time for each other. That what they have takes effort. So he holds on to him, closer, dreading the moment he has to let go.
Aira doesn't acually doesn't know how long they've been driving for, but he finds he doesn't mind. Kohaku clearly doesn't either, and it dawns on Aira how it is Kohaku must feel. The closeness of a friend, the winds of freedom whistling past him.
At some point, though, they have to stop. But as the fluorescent convenience store lights come into view, Aira realizes he recognizes this place. There's a few benches, and a railing that overlooks the water. Kohaku slides his helmet off, hair slightly frizzy before he brushes it out. Aira follows suit and loosens his grip, already missing the contact, and Kohaku locks the motorcycle in place.
"C'mon," he says. He tugs Aira's hand gently. "Ya want anythin'?"
No, Aira wants to say. Just you. But he can't, so he just shrugs.
"We can get snacks! I'll pay."
There are sounds of protest from Kohaku's end, but Aira's laugh chimes with the door's opening bell as he pushes Kohaku along. They end up with just a small bag—mostly sweet things, in a moment of indulgence for them both, and Aira spies a bottle of some warm chocolate drink. His eyes soften as he notices it; Kohaku must've snuck it in when he wasn't looking.
They make their way outside to a nearby bench. Aira knows this place to be a popular hangout spot, but at this time of night, not many people are about. He can't see anyone other than them, and it's nice. It's a beautiful sight, too, Aira notes, the chill of the wind warmed by the new drink in his hand.
"Lucky that I have more commute options now," Aira cheers, happily setting down the bag. He rustles through its contents.
"Hope that's not all I am to ya," he hears Kohaku say, but there's a very cute smile audible in his voice.
"Of course not!" Aira tosses him a candy, which Kohaku catches in his free hand. There's a sing-song quality to his voice, he knows. "This just means we save time when we're out now. Thanks, Kohakucchi!"
Because there will be more time, just like there has always been, lies an unspoken promise.
The drink is, in fact, some sort of hot chocolate. It reminds Aira vaguely of earlier that winter, his ankle elevated to heart-level and a pink boy with snow-strewn hair. It tastes nostalgic for something that he still has, right here, right now.
Aira sits on the bench, too, and passes Kohaku his own drink. Kohaku gets something new each time, he's learned over the years, and tonight, it's a warm hojicha-flavoured item. Kohaku takes the drink, but doesn't actually take a seat. He thanks Aira and uncaps his drink too, taking a sip. His eyes light up in pleasant surprise. Nebula-bright again.
"Wait, 's one's real good," he says, immediately pushing the bottle towards Aira. "Try it."
Without thinking, Aira accepts the offer and takes a sip himself. His own eyes widen. "I should get this next time."
Kohaku laughs, kokoko again, and takes back his drink. It's only when he puts the bottle back to his lips that Aira registers what he'd just done. It's not like he's never shared food, or even a drink before, but—he tries not to think about it too hard. He pointedly looks away from Kohaku's lips and instead, back to his eyes. They're alight with the streetlamps, veil gold like that night on the stairs. The moon is still full.
He's been staring at Kohaku a lot, Aira realizes. On the occasions they can still see each other. It's a little silly, because just like how it was when they first met, before they'd realized who the other was, Aira still thought he was beautiful. The realization dawns on him that it's been years—three, four with the new year—and for a second, he's stunned.
"Kohakucchi," Aira starts, unsure of where he's headed. "I—thanks."
Kohaku blinks, and Aira thinks he sees the light reflect off his lashes. "Huh? Fer what exactly?"
"I was just thinking, like, it's been…three or four years since we met in person," tries Aira. He caps his drink, already too far in to stop talking.
"I still think it was a miracle. And—I didn't really have many friends in person before, so I didn't want to let you down. So…thank you for always making time for me."
Kohaku, actually, is the one to look away first. And for a terrible second, Aira's afraid he'd made it awkward and accidentally sentimental. An apology readies itself at the tip of his tongue, but he stops himself. Kohaku still looks like he wants to say something.
"Actually…I wanted ta apologize." Kohaku walks up to the railing. Aira can't see his expression anymore. "I get we're both busy, 'n that's not our fault. Funny that yer afraid of lettin' me down, because I feel like I've been doin' that to ya."
Aira blinks. "You could never!"
Kohaku shakes his head. "I never would'a done anything like this if I hadn't met ya." Kohaku rests his elbow on the railing, leaning his head against the palm of his hand. He seems to brush off the topic, and although he doesn't seemed particularly weighed down, something still doesn't feel right. "I don't think I would be here at all, actually. Thanks fer makin' the past few years the best, Love-han."
And it's the way he says it—dismissively, not out of carelessness, but like there's something he wants to say but can't—that Aira recognizes. He really doesn't like what that implies.
"Dummy."
"Huh?"
For some stupid reason, Aira sniffles. He blames it on the cold night. "You're saying that like we don't have years and years ahead of us." At least, that's what he hopes. That's what Kohaku's always told him.
"It's just…I've had lots of friends come and go, and that's normal, you know. But the way you're saying it is…"
Aira is not crying. He's not, but something catches in his throat, and he downs his drink to chase it away. He hopes the hot chocolate stops him before he starts sounding strangled, lightly burning the sound from his tongue. But whatever effect it might've had is neutralized, because Kohaku's hearing is stupidly sharp. His head turns to look at Aira.
It's not anything Kohaku said, or did, really. Maybe it's just something about this time of year, or maybe it's the nostalgia getting to him. Or maybe it's the thought of them drifting apart, or that time slips from his fingers again, that Aira misses Kohaku so terribly just because he loves him.
"Love-han…" is all he hears, but Aira pointedly looks away the moment his gaze meets Kohaku's again. In lieu of sitting around and making him worry, Aira makes his way next to Kohaku, though refusing to meet his eye. He leans his elbows on the railing, arms close to himself. The water is nice tonight, tinged violet and sparkling with distant city light. He tries not to think about who that reminds him of.
"Just, don't say things like that." Aira's voice comes quietly to even his own ears, because if it gets any louder, he really will be in danger of crying. He swats a hand lightly in the air, as if trying to dispel the veil of sentimentality that's draped between them. An arm's reach apart. "Sorry, just—you're my longest friend, you know? But that kind of talk just scares me…"
"Love-han."
Kohaku's voice is closer now, and it makes Aira turn for just a second. They're almost shoulder-to-shoulder, just a small step apart now. It's like that distance is closing, and Aira feels the urge to hold onto him just like he did earlier. Like he'd slip away at any moment. But more pressingly, there's something in Kohaku's expression, frowning eyes soft with worry, almost crestfallen.
Aira looks away again. So Kohaku dispels the silence, again.
"There's…actually somethin' I should be tellin' ya," he starts, honestly. His tone is unreadable. "There's a lot, actually. But 's just not the time, at least for a good while. But ya probably deserve to know that yer…probably the best thing that's ever happened to me."
And Kohaku keeps secrets, has always kept them. Aira knows he shouldn't pry, especially when he thinks he might know a hint or two about them, and he won't. But shouldn't Kohaku know by now that Aira could never think any less of him? That he trusts him? Loves him?
But every single word that leaves Kohaku's mouth sounds like finality, the end of the line, parting, whether he means it that way or not. "Ya were my first friend, Love-han. I don't know if I have it in me to let that go."
There's this saying, that Aira heard from somewhere. Maybe it was from Tatsumi, or even Rei, he can't remember—but for some reason, it comes to mind now.
If you love something, set it free, it said. If it comes back to you, it's yours. If not, it was never meant to be.
So Aira steels himself. He lets go. "You were my first love, Kohakucchi. I don't…I don't think I can let that go, either."
There's a sudden silence, compounded only by the rush of Aira's own heartbeat in his ears. The breeze brushes past, whistling in the minute distance between them, and Aira fixates on the horizon.
It's purple, violet, twinkling like the unreachable cosmos.
And Aira can't look Kohaku in the eye, into the nebulae that stare back at him, afraid of what he might find.
Please come back to me, he begs. Please, please come back to me.
But it's Kohaku's cold hand on Aira's burning skin that brings him back to himself again. Back to earth. Back to Kohaku.
"…Do ya really mean that?"
His palm rests on Aira's wrist, and Aira's gaze trails up his arm and slowly towards Kohaku himself. And he's not sure if he's making it up, if it's wishful thinking, but there's a light dusting of colour on his cheeks. Pink, carnation and petals and cherry blossom, and just like him.
There's an unabashed gentleness in how he's looking at Aira, tender and careful like he's also afraid. Aira feels Kohaku clasp his hand.
And it's that hold, cool against warm, solid and real, that makes Aira brave. He takes a breath in, shaky but stabilizing, and places his other hand behind Kohaku's neck. He leans in.
For a second, Kohaku looks a bit startled, as slightly scared as Aira feels, but he moves to cup Aira's cheek before closing the distance. And Aira's eyes slide shut. Kohaku is still holding his other hand, clinging to it like it's life, and it reminds Aira that he's here.
It's apparent that neither of them have any experience, but between the gentle and firm press of Aira's lips is a message. Please come back to me. He's not really sure if it's a particularly short or long kiss, but when Aira pulls away, his eyes flutter open slightly dazed, slightly brave.
Kohaku is staring at him again, and Aira finds himself starry-eyed like the sky. They should probably say something, maybe talk about it, but right now Aira's too entranced by violet and pink and the nebula of a boy in front of him.
If it comes back to you, it's yours.
"'m sorry," Kohaku begins, before realizing how that must sound. "Not for, uh, kissin' ya though. Just that I have…no idea how to do it."
Kohaku sounds shy, and there's a sudden rush of fear and courage and affection in Aira's chest. Maybe his face is alight, with a pink as pretty as Kohaku.
So Aira laughs, really laughs, before drawing him back in. "In that case, we can try again until we can get it right," he says, voice a little shaky. His neck creeps with warmth at his own words. "If that's—if that's okay with you."
Kohaku laughs with him, that kokoko, close and familiar and not going anywhere. He presses his lips back to Aira's for a few seconds, once, and then twice for a few more. Because he can.
"Ya were my first love too, by the way," Kohaku says as they pull apart. His breath tastes like roasted tea. "I just hope 'm worth the trouble, because now I really don't feel like lettin' go."
There's so much Aira needs to say. Even more, probably, that Kohaku should tell him one day. But instead, he holds onto him, captivated by the nebula of a boy in his arms. He's solid, and real, and right here.
So all Aira says is, "Me too."