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Dim fluorescence bathes the world in something almost-real. That is, the world of some random gas station off of a highway exit, contained to half-stocked shelves and walls barely keeping the cold away. There’s music somewhere in the store that adds to the unsettlingly artificial ambience, but Hinata can barely bring himself to notice it with Komaeda incessantly blathering on in front of him.
“Hinata-kun, do you think these chips actually taste American?”
“How the hell should I know?” groans Hinata, meeting Komaeda’s gaze as the other looks up from where he’s crouched on the ground, having been previously studying an array of chips. “Hurry up and buy whatever it is you wanted so I can get you home.”
“Patience is a virtue, you know,” sniffs Komaeda, his ever-peculiar eyes glimmering in the yellow light. “Though for a reserve course student, I sup-”
“It’d be virtuous,” Hinata snaps, cutting him off, “if you let me back in time to get eight hours of sleep. So hurry up.” Komaeda hums quietly and turns to look back at the shelf, fingers outstretched to just slightly graze past crinkly plastic bags. In a gratingly slow movement, he finally grabs one and rises from his crouched position, looking to Hinata with an absolutely unwarranted smug look on his face.
“So, what does Hinata-kun want?” he wonders, the hand not holding chips drifting up to toy at his bottom lip.
“To go home. C’mon.” Hinata is already turning around towards the checkout.
“Ah, but I wanted to buy you something!” Komaeda complains. Hinata begrudgingly turns back to face him, only to see a head of pale hair already spinning towards the refrigerated section. He sighs beneath his breath before following. A wry smile flashes towards him once he comes shoulder-to-shoulder with the lucky student, the both of them facing an almost nauseatingly colorful array of drinks lined up behind glass doors.
“It’s only right that I do something nice for Hinata-kun, right?” beams Komaeda, rocking slightly on the balls of his feet. “Especially with how kind he’s been recently.”
“‘S just driving you home,” Hinata mutters, leaning to grab the refrigerator door. Because really, it is. Poor luck has found the two of them leaving libraries and clubs and what have you at the same time far too often, and once Hinata realized that Komaeda on occasion hitchhiked home, he figured that offering a ride was only polite. Of course, Komaeda waited exactly two days to start taking advantage of said politeness, insisting that Hinata stop at least once every time they drive together.
Today, he insisted on a gas station, rambling on and on about how starved he was until Hinata gave in. Hinata sincerely doubts that the singular bag of chips boasting ‘Authentic American Flavor’ will do much in that regard, but he also doesn’t care enough to pester Komaeda about it. He lets the glass door fall softly onto his shoulder while his eyes skim over a selection of juices and energy drinks, pausing for a second before grabbing a can of orange soda.
“Alright, let’s go,” he says, shifting his body out of the whispering cold not too unlike the weather just outside the gas station. When he looks over, Komaeda has already turned away—irritatingly, however, not towards the checkout. “Komaeda-” Hinata grumbles as he tries and fails in snatching the other’s wrist to turn him around. Goddamnit.
Komaeda flashes him a grin with slightly narrowed eyes. “Well, we should check out the other amenities, no?”
“No, we shouldn’t,” Hinata groans, following his path towards another grouping of shelves regardless.
“Look!” Komaeda points excitedly, gesturing towards some air fresheners. “You should get one for your car so it doesn’t smell as abysmal!”
“Pardon?” grimaces Hinata. “My car smells plenty fine. I’m not buying that.”
“I’ll buy it then,” Komaeda says with a smile spanning his entire face. It looks just a tad bit ghoulish in the poor lighting, what with how pale and gaunt he already looks. “But what scent do I want to choose?”
“It’s not your car!” Hinata half-cries. Komaeda only answers by sticking his bottom lip out slightly, eyebrows creasing in some truly convoluted attempt at pouting. A barely-stifled snicker escapes Hinata’s mouth. “You’ve got some really shitty puppy dog eyes,” he says through the slight smile toying at the corners of his lips.
“Hinata-kun, I’m truly just trying to help! I know a pathetic reserve course student such as yourself probably doesn’t know the first thing ab-”
“No.”
“Hinata-kun, you’re surely too-”
“Nope.”
“Hinata-kun-”
“Stop saying my name and check. Out.”
“Hi. Na. Ta. Kun.” Komaeda’s nose is crinkled in some look of faux-disdain. He waits a second before continuing, “I’m buying one,” and snatching a bear-shaped hanger off the shelf. When he starts walking, he slips the soda out of Hinata’s hand the same.
Hinata sighs through his nose before finally following the now fast-walking boy through weaving shelves, thankfully in the direction of a bored-looking cashier. He supposes it’s worth it if it gets the two of them out of here—and besides, he can just take the creepily grinning bear down once he’s done dropping Komaeda off.
“Did you even check the scent?” Hinata hisses once he catches up to Komaeda, who has already handed everything over. Actually, more than everything, because far more than three things are laid before the checkout. Hinata’s only slightly annoyed at how irritatingly slow Komaeda had been choosing things beforehand, but his annoyance quickly fades into bemusement when grey-green eyes avert from his gaze at the realization. Almost like Komaeda is trying to pretend he didn’t hear Hinata whatsoever. “That’s what I thought. Moron.”
That comment earns Hinata an incredibly offended look, Komaeda scoffing, “That’s rich. Something like that coming from a person as awfully untalented as yourself, Hinata-kun? Honestly, to call someone like me a moron when it’s surprising enough that you can even read-”
“One thousand nine hundred yen,” the cashier interjects. Hinata shoots them a look brimming with gratitude that goes coolly ignored. Komaeda digs around in the pockets of the inexplicably massive trench coat draped over his school uniform for a moment, before emerging victorious with a wallet that he pulls two neatly folded bills out from. His face seamlessly falls into a practiced smile when he passes the money over.
The cashier hands Komaeda’s change back in what must be record time, clearly hoping to get the two bickering teenagers away from them as soon as possible. Komaeda chirps some kind of farewell as he presses his back against the door, Hinata following behind.
“Shit, I forgot how cold it was,” Hinata bites as the door shuts with a soft hiss. Outside, the gas station is almost entirely desolate, illuminated solely by neon signs advertising gas prices and the light seeping out from advertisement-plastered windows. He watches a plume of warm breath puff out from his lips before he starts to walk back over to his car.
“Hinata-kun!” calls Komaeda from a few feet away—not in the direction of Hinata’s car, Hinata notes all too duly. “Come over here!” He beckons Hinata over with the hand not holding a plastic bag.
Hinata watches his prayers for going to sleep soon drift away with his next breath. After a second, in a move completely against his better judgement, he steps slowly in Komaeda’s direction. Even in the sparse lighting, he can see the boy’s face light up in turn, eyes widening and softening a bit with the grin across his cheeks. The bright green light stemming from elsewhere in the lot almost makes Komaeda’s glimmering eyes look enchanting. Just almost.
“Follow me,” Komaeda says gleefully, and he starts guiding Hinata away from the gas station.
“Where’re we going?” Hinata sighs, careful not to let his tone betray any curiosity.
“I saw a park when you were driving here!”
“Okay, but… why?”
Komaeda shakes the plastic bag as though that’s a reasonable response. It’s not.
Did he throw some drugs in or something? Hinata wonders, half-serious. Komaeda doesn’t seem like the type, though his halfway-to-the-grave pallor and skinny frame might suggest it. In which case, Komaeda must just want to eat his array of snacks in the biting cold for some reason. It wouldn’t be the strangest thing he’s ever done, Hinata supposes.
They only walk a block or so down the road before Komaeda veers off of the sidewalk, carving a path through the ground’s thin sheet of snow and bringing the two to a park—in the barest sense of the term. It’s really just a few trees, a singular picnic bench, and a stone retaining wall. Komaeda, ever difficult, moves to clamber up and take a seat on the retaining wall. Hinata shouldn’t be surprised, honestly. He doesn’t even clear off the miniscule amount of snow on it, instead just settling the strangely-cut train of his coat beneath him. Hinata, on the other hand, does swipe away some of the snow before resignedly taking a seat.
“Couldn’t just wait till you were home?” he gripes as Komaeda starts emptying the bag out onto the small piece of wall between them. The white-haired boy merely hums quietly while he arranges the randomized assortment of snacks in as neat of a pile as he can manage with the constrained space. He looks proudly down at his work before meeting Hinata’s gaze and reaching back into the bag.
“Here you go, Hinata-kun!” Komaeda smiles as he hands over the orange soda. His nose and cheeks are already blushed with cold, and paired with his oddly genuine smile, it makes him look almost… soft? Hinata moves to open the soda before he can think too deep about wherever those thoughts are stemming from, and takes a sip as Komaeda tears open his bag of chips
“False advertising,” he sighs disappointedly after taking a bite. “I was hoping for a more robustly American flavor.”
“Yeah?” Hinata snickers. “Didja think they captured the essence of a whole country in some seasoning?”
“It wasn’t too unfair an assumption,” shrugs Komaeda. “Do you want one?”
Hinata moves his head to meet Komaeda’s eyes, planning on agreeing like a normal person, but the instant he locks onto a dim almost-green, something thin and crispy is pressed to his lips.
“Open wide!” Komaeda says with all too innocent of a smile, his fingers holding the chip with just enough pressure that if Hinata dares to open his mouth and say anything, the lucky student will succeed in his malicious attack. He shoots Komaeda a scowl fierce enough to kill, which only makes Komaeda’s smile become all the more shit-eating. Hinata’s eyes narrow.
“C’mon, Hinata-kun,” teases Komaeda. He presses the chip against Hinata’s lips yet harder, which just makes Hinata’s scowl deepen. In a desperate attempt at freedom, Hinata jerks his head back—only for Komaeda to manage to slip the chip between his lips in the flash of movement.
“Good boy,” Komaeda drawls mockingly.
“Fuck you, Komaeda,” Hinata replies with a hand over his mouth. He reluctantly eats the chip, his Komaeda-directed death glare not wavering for a second from the overly cheerful boy kicking his feet back and forth against the wall. The lack of rhythm serves to irritate Hinata more.
“See what I mean?” Komaeda hums in Hinata’s direction. “Not at all a robustly American flavor. Such a shame.”
“It doesn’t say the word ‘robust’ anywhere on that package.”
“It’s implied, though.”
“Implied robustness?”
“Mhm!” nods Komaeda while he eats another chip.
“Christ,” Hinata sighs exasperatedly. He pulls his legs into a cross-legged position while a gust of wind sends a shiver wracking up his spine. Komaeda’s hair wafts around almost like a cloud in the corner of his vision. “Ugh, it’s cold as hell. You going to finish up soon, or…?”
“Hell wouldn’t be cold like this,” Komaeda says thoughtfully. “And besides, that’s why I have a jacket!”
“Shaddup or I’m gonna leave you here and go home,” threatens Hinata.
“Facing empty threats coming from a reserve course student,” Komaeda exhales. “What has my life come to?”
“Empty my ass,” Hinata grumbles as he hops down from the wall. “Enjoy hitchhiking again.” He’s kidding, of course, but he does revel the slightest bit in the despairing look that crosses over Komaeda’s face when he spins off.
“I wasn’t serious, Hinata-kun!” Komaeda cries out, and Hinata hears the soft rustle of fabric and a plastic bag as though Komaeda is making to move. He keeps his back to Komaeda for a moment longer, purely to screw with the other, before he turns around again. The smug grin plastered across his own face rather nicely matches the annoyed look that falls over Komaeda’s.
“Were you worried I’d leave you?” he coos, voice dripping with snark. Komaeda scrunches up his eyes and huffs quietly in response, settling back to how he was seated prior.
“And here I was, about to share my jacket with Hinata-kun since he was so cold,” Komaeda sighs dramatically, still shucking one of his arms out of the coat and shifting over slightly in a silent offer. “Yet he chooses to be cruel. Could it be jealousy, perhaps, of someone having even a modicum of talent in comparison to his infinitesimal amount?”
Hinata just rolls his eyes and moves to take a seat, now on the other side of (and far closer to) Komaeda. The other drops the sleeve of his green jacket around Hinata’s shoulder before Komaeda’s arm snakes back to rest on his lap, fidgeting slightly with the other hand that must have slipped out of its sleeve at some point. Komaeda flashes a coy smile while Hinata settles into the disconcertingly not-uncomfortable seating arrangement.
“You’re cold,” Hinata breathes now that the two are shoulder-to-shoulder.
“You’re rather warm,” Komaeda replies, clearly not complaining as he practically nuzzles closer into Hinata’s side. Hinata tries unsuccessfully to ignore how that makes something almost-pleasant kick in his stomach. “I don’t know how you could be complaining so much.”
“I think I just have normal temperature regulation,” responds Hinata while he leans across Komaeda’s torso to reach over and grab the orange soda. He’s careful to place the hand bracing himself not on Komaeda’s leg, but that unfortunately doesn’t do much to negate the fact that their torsos are very much touching in this position. When his hand manages to grasp the aluminum—why was it so far?—he practically jerks himself back. Because leaning against Komaeda is slightly less weird than leaning over him, apparently.
“Can I have a sip?” Komaeda asks once Hinata takes one of his own. Which, really, he should have expected to be his funeral, especially with the sharp smile that flits across Hinata’s face.
“Open wide,” Hinata chimes in a clear mockery of Komaeda earlier. Before Komaeda can respond, he presses the can to the other’s lips, his own mouth twisting into a crooked smile when Komaeda’s eyes flash an absolutely disgusted look towards him. He starts to tip the can slightly in a silent threat, a tiny rivulet of orange slipping down Komaeda’s chin before the lucky student hurriedly parts his lips.
“What’d you say before? Good boy?” Hinata hums teasingly as he pulls the soda back. Komaeda is still staring daggers at him, eyes piercing even through the park’s utter lack of light.
“How disgusting,” Komaeda sniffs without breaking eye contact. “Having a reserve course student so desperately press an indirect kiss to my lips-”
“That was not my intention,” Hinata corrects while his ears warm.
“No, I’d bet Hinata-kun has surely dreamt about the chance to even barely touch somebody as hopeful as myself”—Hinata has to bite back the urge to point out how they’re both leaning against one another—”and yet it wasn’t even effective! I mean really, he should’ve at least done it right if that was his goal.”
And then Komaeda pauses, his lips twitching into a small smile as he blinks once, twice. His eyes shine with something unreadable. Hinata is about to try and counter whatever the hell Komaeda is talking about, but his words die in an instant when cold fingers reach for his chin.
He can’t talk anyways, because something is pressed up against his lips. Something slightly sugary and soft, adorned by flecks of salt and chapped skin. Hinata’s stomach plummets to rest someplace between hell and the center of the earth as the realization settles over him like the snow blanketing the ground. Because Komaeda is kissing him. Why…
…is Komaeda kissing him?
Pale eyelids shut as though he’s avoiding Hinata’s reaction, fluffy white hair reflecting the soft din of distant streetlamps and stars. The kiss falls somewhere between a millisecond and eternity, Hinata frozen through it all.
Rather than ask the question burning through the forefront of his mind when Komaeda pulls back and releases his slight grip, however, Hinata just stares dumbfounded. His heart staggers irregularly and far too fast, and he’s pretty sure his face is about to explode if it hasn’t already. Komaeda’s smile before him is smug, nearly a smirk, but the boy’s eyes don’t match. Something spiraling and nervous is buried deep in their barely-visible greyish irises, and a whispery laugh bubbles out from his lips that matches the look in his eyes more than it does the smile it comes from. Hinata is still left speechless.
But then again, he doesn’t really have to say anything, does he?
Komaeda's lips part like he's about to say something that will brush off whatever just happened, but Hinata doesn't let him. His hands move to grasp the sides of Komaeda’s face, fingers curling soft just below the other’s jaw, and he pulls Komaeda back before either have a chance to react. Their lips connect again, chilly noses bumping softly as they fall back into place. It’s only a moment before Komaeda is pushing again, perfectly matching the pressure Hinata jams against his thin lips. The air is cold, Komaeda is cold, and yet Hinata swears he’s never felt warmer.
The shifting of their bodies as they lean in ever-closer makes Komaeda’s jacket fall to pool down beside them, army green against a thin sheet of snow. The newfound, biting exposure to wintery wind isn’t exactly helped by icy hands looping around Hinata’s neck and sending a sharp shudder up his spine, to which Komaeda softly pulls apart.
“You know,” he murmurs, breath fanning out across Hinata’s lips, “if you’re still so cold, I’m sure we could go someplace else.”
“I’m not making out with you in my car,” Hinata interjects, though his voice is more delicate and breathless than usual. “Knowing your luck, we’ll have cops knocking on the window in two minutes.”
Komaeda flashes a thin smile. “Hinata-kun’s an exhibitionist, huh?”
“Empty park at night. Real voyeuristic.” Komaeda just hums for a moment before pulling Hinata back in with a grip on his shoulders. Hinata gladly falls back into the kiss, lips shifting against Komaeda’s with parallel twinges of sweet orange across them, slightly sticky with syrupy soda and all the more addictive for it.
A soft sigh whispers out from Hinata when Komaeda’s teeth graze barely against his bottom lip, and he can practically feel the smug look that must be flashing in the other’s eyes. As if in retaliation, he nips more fully at Komaeda’s lips, reveling in how the other boy’s breath catches and his lips part slightly. With as good an opportunity as any, Hinata slips his tongue into Komaeda’s mouth, barely stifling the high-pitched gasp that hums between their conjoined lips.
The orange flavor is stronger, Hinata notes as he drags his tongue along almost teasingly, Komaeda’s meeting his after a moment. It’s followed by a twinge of something salty from the chips. Strange as the combo is, it’s absolutely delicious to Hinata in the moment.
Without breaking the kiss, Komaeda brings his legs up, adjusting slightly so he’s practically in Hinata’s lap. His hands drag up and lace through Hinata’s hair, using that leverage to pull Hinata in even closer—and if Hinata was embarrassed by his sigh from before, then he has no words to describe the feeling in his chest as a muffled, half-whimper buzzes out of him at the tug on his hair.
Komaeda doesn’t even gloat on it, however, instead just pressing their chests further together. He kisses simultaneously desperate and delicate, breath intertwining with Hinata’s into a spindling coil that loops the two together. It remains woven tight even when Komaeda softly pulls away, eyes fluttering open to meet Hinata’s. They look at each other, flushed and quiet.
“I… We should… probably get home,” Hinata mumbles after a minute too long of the two staring at each other, still winded. It’s a second longer before Komaeda slowly, reluctantly, starts to move from Hinata’s lap, deliciously soft weight fading away that Hinata has half a mind to pull back. Still, Hinata slides down from the wall, watching as Komaeda slips back into his jacket and gathers the array of mostly unopened food back into a plastic bag.
“Luck must be on Hinata-kun’s side,” he says finally upon hopping down from the wall. “For a reserve course student to have his first kiss with-”
“That wasn’t my first kiss,” Hinata interrupts.
Komaeda’s eyes widen a little bit, and even in the nighttime, Hinata sees an extra touch of color rise to his already blushing face.
“So I was your first kiss?” asks Hinata with the smallest evil grin on his face. He’s all too happy to mess with Komaeda based on the accidental admittance. Komaeda starts to turn his face away, lips jutted in a slight grimace, but Hinata reaches for his face and moves him back before giving him a soft kiss.
“You’re good at it,” he murmurs after pulling apart, and if Komaeda wasn’t blushing before, he certainly is now, yellowish street lighting not doing much to cancel out the red dusting his cheeks. Komaeda stares wide-eyed for a second longer, head tipped slightly down to better match Hinata’s height with how close they are, before practically crashing into Hinata yet again, Hinata all-too happily pressing back into the other.
The soft “mph-!” that escapes Komaeda’s lips when Hinata jams him not-so-softly into the retaining wall sends something sharp and warm into Hinata’s heart. They gasp into each other’s air, Komaeda’s hands tight around Hinata’s waist while Hinata’s wrap into his mane of hair. Lips slide back and forth, still perfectly interlocking each time.
Slowly, Hinata starts to move his mouth, still holding Komaeda in place with the rest of his body. He plants wet kisses down the length of Komaeda’s jaw, humming at the way the other boy shivers into his touch. One of the hands tangled into Komaeda’s hair tugs ever so slightly to tip his head to the side, and its rather delicate hold still manages to make something breathy and high-pitched tumble out from Komaeda’s parted lips. The sound isn’t alone, however, as Komaeda’s breath hitches when Hinata tucks his lips just beneath Komaeda’s shirt collar.
He presses a closed kiss to the spot first, before teasing it with a tiny nip and then sucking, Komaeda’s grip around his waist tightening in response. The soft groan as Hinata trails his way to the other side of Komaeda’s neck makes his heart flutter, and it's accompanied by a deliciously needy whimper when Hinata latches onto Komaeda's pale skin again.
Hinata pulls away after leaving behind soft, twin markings on either side of Komaeda’s neck, just barely hidden beneath the collar of his uniform. A hand disentangles from Komaeda’s hair and slips down, brushing lightly against one of the rapidly purpling bruises—to which Komaeda’s breath catches yet again—and then reaching up to rest on pale cheeks painted in warm blush.
Green-grey eyes lock onto warm olive, and the two simply look at one another before Hinata kisses Komaeda yet again. Soft and chaste, speaking volumes where words fail. Their breath mixes together as the both of them delicately pull away, eyes still staring deep and piercing. One of Komaeda’s hands reaches up to meet the palm pressed against his cheek, and their fingers intertwine as one of Komaeda’s beautifully real smiles glimmers across his face. It pairs incredibly well with his mussed, shining hair and rumpled shirt.
Komaeda guides their hands down, shifting to grab the momentarily-abandoned plastic bag while Hinata retrieves his soda can. They start to walk back, slowly, Komaeda’s eyes shining with a happiness that Hinata is willing to bet he matches.
Far too many times does Hinata catch himself staring at Komaeda’s face as they head to his car. He can’t bring himself to care too much, though, especially when Komaeda meets his gaze with reddish lips stretched into a perfectly soft smile. Hinata ends up just gripping his hand tighter in response.
Their hands only reluctantly release once the two reach Hinata’s car, Komaeda sliding into the passenger seat while Hinata turns it on. As Hinata starts quietly driving, Komaeda rummages around in his bag for a moment. He pulls the ugly, bear-shaped air freshener out with a coy grin and brings it to his nose, only for his face to fall into a grimace in Hinata’s peripheral vision.
“Yuck,” he mumbles.
“Lemme smell,” Hinata beckons, though his eyes stay focused on the road. Komaeda brings the freshener up to Hinata’s nose, which crinkles up almost instantly. “God, what is that?”
“It calls itself a ‘Lovey-Dovey Tropical Island’ scent,” Komaeda reads aloud from the label.
“That’s awful,” Hinata laughs a little. “Hang it up.”
“I suppose it’s better than whatever scent you currently have going on,” Komaeda hums while he reaches for the rearview mirror. The monochromatic bear swings down, evil smile staring Hinata down for the rest of the drive—that, thankfully, ends up feeling blissfully normal despite everything. Normal aside from Hinata’s impossible-to-stifle smile, at least.
He flashes said smile to Komaeda once they arrive at the lucky student’s house, the car falling momentarily into silence. After a second, Komaeda starts to get up, stepping mostly out of the car before turning back. He grabs the can of orange soda from the cupholder and takes a quick sip, half-leaning into the car. In an instant, he reaches a hand beneath Hinata’s jaw and, with lips still wet and fizzy, pulls them together for a final, quick kiss.
“A last one for the road,” he breathes with a smile after pulling away. “And another indirect one left behind! Lucky Hinata-kun.” Hinata rolls his eyes, cheeks blushing slightly while he grins.
“Bye, Komaeda.”
“Goodnight Hinata-kun! See you later.”
“Yeah. Later.”