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It was 2 in the afternoon, Kyohei had only gotten out of bed an hour ago, and Nagao Kento was already charming women in the studio.
The group was gathered together for a Gyakuten Danshi shoot—they were filming another fashion competition today, Kyohei could remember that much from his cursory glance of the schedule—and while loitering around the narrow hallways of the dressing rooms, Kyohei had watched as Kento smiled cutely at an older stylist.
The sight never shocked him anymore. Women seemed to like Kento without him even trying, no matter if they happened to be three times his age. Kyohei had long since memorized every detail they'd latch onto.
It always began with a look from across the room. Kento would glance up from whatever he'd been doing—maybe fiddling with the bulky rings around his fingers or listening to rap on his AirPods—and make a moment of eye contact.
He always made it seem like it was a fluke; eyes just happening to meet in a crowd of technical staff and makeup artists. He would wander over, looking slightly downwards, letting his hair fall into his eyes, before flicking his gaze upwards with a shy, almost humble smile.
This led into greetings. Meandering leisurely from topic to topic, pleasantries about the weather or the latest happenings at work. Whatever seemed to suit the situation best.
Then, Kento would hit the jugular. Offer a compliment that seemed to hit right where it was needed most.
He was about to do this now, Kyohei could tell. Kento and the stylist were tucked into a more secluded corner of the studio, leaning comfortably against the wall as they chatted unhurriedly.
The woman couldn't be much older than Jo, dressed in a neutral-toned white blouse and slender black dress pants. She towered over Kento—both in years and height—but Kento was so relaxed that any awkward barrier seemed to collapse around them.
She was laughing now, her hand raised delicately towards her mouth, and her eyes politely averted. Kento must have said something about her hair. Or her eyes.
Kyohei frowned.
Her phone was already making its way into Kento's hands, fingers brushing against each other's knuckles.
Kyohei would never be on the receiving end of that.
Kento liked women.
-
"So, how did that date go?" Kyohei asked.
It had been three days since the shoot. Kyohei had lost miserably in the fashion competition—he still firmly believed that sandals deserved respect, even in formal wear—but his mind hadn't left the sight of Kento and that woman exchanging their phone numbers.
"What date?" Kento finally replied.
He wasn't looking at Kyohei. They had just finished watching a movie at the Toho Cinema across from TV Asahi, and were comfortably seated at a yakiniku grill Kento had seen on TikTok. He was squinting at the screen of his phone, carefully aiming it at the food on his plate, and every once in a while, Kyohei heard the shutter go off five times in succession.
Kyohei was sure that girls found that charming, too. How could they not? Dark eyebrows furrowed together, pink tongue peeking out from glossy lips.
The mole on his cheek was nowhere to be seen. Kyohei distantly wished Kento wouldn’t cover it up so often with makeup. He was sure that women would find it even more attractive exposed.
"You know… The date with that girl. The one you were talking to a few days ago," Kyohei said, gesturing to Kento with his chopsticks.
Kento hummed, placing his phone down and popping a crispy cut of garlic pork into his mouth.
"She's just a friend," he shrugged.
Kyohei raised his eyebrows.
"Yeah, I'm sure every other girl was just a friend too."
He knew Kento was skirting around the question. It wasn't a secret to anyone that he had a recurring habit of picking up older women. Kento might be careful about it, but there were only so many times Kyohei could witness it before denial seemed a tad absurd.
At Kyohei's skeptical look, Kento bashfully rescinded his answer.
"She came over to my place yesterday."
"I knew it!" Kyohei exclaimed, suddenly leaning forward in his seat. The table jostled forward from the force of it, and Kento had to rush to steady the beer glasses and bowls of tare.
"You can't hide these things from me! I notice everything."
"Kyohei, I've seen you turn a dressing upside down looking for headphones that were around your neck. You don't notice everything."
"I notice love— love?" Kyohei thought for a moment, "Romantic things!"
Kento shook his head with an amused huff of air from his nose.
"And what has that gotten you? Where's your girlfriend?"
Kyohei grimaced. He wasn’t sure if Kento would understand what he was really interested in.
"It's complicated," Kyohei grumbled.
“Oh c'mon, it’s not as hard as you’re making it out to be.”
“It’s even harder than I’m making it out to be.”
“I can teach you then.”
“Huh? Teach me what?”
Kento rolled his eyes and poked Kyohei in the head, right between his eyebrows.
"I'll teach you how to get a girlfriend."
Kyohei couldn't help but laugh—maybe a bit too loud, considering the environment; he definitely noticed a family give them some glances—but Kento didn't know the proposition was nowhere near the mark he thought it was.
When Kento didn't laugh with him, Kyohei furrowed a brow.
"Are you serious?"
"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"
Kyohei hesitated.
"I— Yeah, no. Teach me," he breathed.
Kento lightly kicked Kyohei's foot in response and scooped the last tender piece of meat from his plate into his mouth.
"I'll pay the bill," Kento said, and with a light dab of a napkin against his lips, he headed over to the front desk with his wallet.
What was going on?
Kyohei stared at Kento as he slid his credit card into the payment machine.
Their gazes met from across the room, almost unwittingly, and Kento smiled as he meddled with the spiky ring snug on his index finger.
Kyohei couldn't help the squirming feeling travelling from his chest into his stomach.
They wandered over to the exit together, Kento's shoulder closer than usual, and before Kyohei could blink, their hands were intertwined at their sides, and Kento had given him a peck on his cheek.
Kyohei immediately pulled away, his hand flying to where the kiss still lingered on his skin. It had happened so quickly, he still wasn't quite sure he had processed the moment correctly.
"Dude, what are you doing?" he yelped.
"Hey, I'm just offering a hands-on demonstration," Kento replied simply, "Always give a girl a kiss at the end of a date."
Kyohei gawked.
Did Kento understand what he was doing?
Someone as straight as Kento shouldn't be caught kissing a guy's cheek in public.
"Let's go to my apartment," Kento said with a grin.
Kyohei nodded weakly.
-
Kento's flat was on the fifth floor of a high-rise apartment complex.
Kyohei had only been there a few times. Certainly not under the context of getting hands-on romantic advice from Kento.
The front entryway was tastefully sparse. Designer shoes were lined up in a careful row—some resting at crooked angles, lazily thrown off after a long day. Kyohei knew Kento's real shoe collection was being displayed further into the apartment, sat on pristinely dusted Adidas and Skechers boxes.
He tentatively toed off his sandals, stepping gingerly onto the wooden flooring, before jolting when he felt a warm hand at his back.
Kento's fingers were splayed across the fabric of Kyohei’s sweater, playing with the baggy folds of the material. He guided Kyohei into his apartment, past the bathroom and the kitchen, then separated in the living room.
"You want tea?" Kento offered.
"I'm alright," Kyohei said quickly.
He swallowed harshly, trying to work through the growing tension in the room.
Kento looked normal enough, but Kyohei had never been on the other end of his advances. Tea started sounding like a euphemism he couldn't even explain.
"Are we— when do we start?" he asked.
"You're impatient," Kento teased.
"Well, you offered. What else am I supposed to think?" he said petulantly.
Kento laughed, then backed up against the wall, looking downwards as if he was taking a moment to decide where to start.
His bangs shielded the space around his eyes—only scarcely visible—and Kyohei's pulse stuttered when Kento finally raised his gaze, his lips turning upwards into a timid grin.
"You've already done 99% of the work by being naturally handsome—" Kento started, drawing in closer, "—anyone would be lucky to be with you."
He continued to push in, taking careful steps forward until he was pressing Kyohei right up against the wall. His fingers trailed along the length of Kyohei’s collarbone, sending pin prickles in their wake, before hooking into the chain of his necklace.
For a moment, Kyohei thought he’d use it as leverage and yank their faces close. Kento smirked.
“Rule number one: you can’t treat a lady roughly,” Kento said, as if reading Kyohei's mind.
He gently shifted his fingers to the back of Kyohei’s neck and played with the necklace’s clasp.
"You need to make sure she feels appreciated. Bring her flowers. Take her to the café she's been talking about."
Kento's fingernails dragged along the skin of Kyohei's neck, sending shivers down his spine.
"Have you ever kissed anyone before?" Kento whispered.
The topic sent Kyohei's vision straight to Kento's lips.
When his mind started to wander, he had to pause and actually think about his answer.
"Only for dramas," he finally said sheepishly.
Was Kento about to kiss him?
Kyohei watched as Kento's tongue peeked out and traced along the lower half of his lip, leaving a thin trail of saliva in its wake.
He was about to kiss him, wasn't he?
"How many… how many girls have you kissed?" Kyohei asked.
Kento's hand dragged past the back of Kyohei's neck and settled on his cheek, warm palm burning against the rising flush on his face.
"Enough that I'll be good practice," Kento said cheekily.
Their lips collided.
For the first few seconds of the kiss, Kyohei stood frozen against the wall.
Kento was kissing him.
Kento was kissing him.
Feeling rushed into his face, tingles running along his lips, and his heart beat pounding so hard he could feel it in his head.
When Kyohei finally gained some semblance of control over himself, he raised an arm and wrapped it around Kento's waist, bringing his other hand up to the edge of Kento's jawline.
The kiss was never-ending. Every time they pulled apart, Kyohei would gasp in a sharp breath before being drawn back in by Kento’s hand at his neck.
He felt his lower lip get pulled on gently, nipped at with Kento’s incisors. Kyohei imitated the action, sinking his teeth into the border of Kento's mouth.
Kento suddenly withdrew from the kiss and tucked his face into the sensitive space under Kyohei's ear.
"You're good at kissing," Kento breathed, hot air fanning from his mouth and sending pin prickles of sensation down Kyohei's body.
"I'm only copying what you're doing," Kyohei said.
"You're a quick learner," Kento laughed.
It was incredible how Kento could go from kissing Kyohei crazy to giggling like Kyohei had just woken up and he was waiting for him to notice a Sharpie'd mustache on his face.
"Kisses are too simple. Show me something complicated," Kyohei insisted, tugging on the sleeve of Kento's hoodie.
He didn't miss Kento's smug smile before his lips made their way to Kyohei's collarbone, pursing against the expanse of skin and pinching at it with his teeth.
"Oi, that hurts! Watch what you're doing," Kyohei grumbled.
Kento didn't respond, just continued to work gentle bites into his skin. Every so often, he strayed upwards and pressed the surface of his tongue flat against the thin rise of Kyohei's throat. Kyohei could feel Kento's lips following the arch of his Adam's apple every time he had to swallow from the sensation.
When Kento sucked particularly hard on the crook between Kyohei's neck and shoulder, Kyohei had to hastily pull on the tip of Kento's hood.
"You can't— not there. Everyone's going to see," Kyohei hissed.
"Mm, got carried away," Kento mumbled, the words muffled by Kyohei's chest.
Kento pulled on the collar of Kyohei's sweater, exposing the space normally concealed by his clothes, and enthusiastically continued his efforts to mark him.
A ruddy hickey bloomed on the surface of his skin, and Kyohei knocked his head back against the wall the moment he noticed the lingering outline of Kento's canines.
Kyohei spoke raspily.
"If you're leaving marks like this on girls, I don't think you're treating them very carefully—"
Suddenly, Kento grasped some of Kyohei’s hair—Kyohei distantly felt some annoyance, didn’t Kento know he’d styled it that morning?—but the thought quickly dissipated as Kento pulled and a mortifying whimper slipped past his lips.
“Hm? What were you saying?” Kento said innocently.
"That you don't play fair," Kyohei huffed.
"It's alright, you liked that, didn’t you?" Kento taunted.
Kyohei hesitated. His lips were still so close to Kento’s. He could feel their breaths intermingling between their mouths.
When Kyohei took too long to respond, Kento pulled again, this time more harshly, and drew out another moan from Kyohei.
“Mm, yeah. I liked that,” Kyohei admitted reluctantly.
Kento smirked.
He reached for Kyohei’s hand and drew it into his hoodie, guiding the way past his stomach, up to his chest.
"Love is a game for two, Kyohei. I can't be doing this alone," he whispered.
Kyohei let his hands explore Kento's skin, fingers sliding over his ribs and snaking along his sides. He could feel the shift of Kento's muscles from underneath his palms, and Kyohei couldn't help but shake from nerves.
This was getting to be too much.
Nothing about this made sense.
Kento had just pulled Kyohei's hands under his clothes and acted like this was something more than just advice from a friend.
It was wrong. He had no idea how much Kyohei was enjoying this.
Kyohei let out a suffering sigh and dropped his forehead against Kento's.
"I can't… Kento, you need to know something," he said.
Kento looked up at him curiously. Kyohei cursed their height difference. How was he supposed to say this when Kento was right there, looking up at him with those eyes?
"I like you. A lot."
There was a moment of silence. Kento's fingers were moving absentmindedly against Kyohei's elbow.
"I know," Kento hummed. "Me too."
What?
Huh?
How?
Why?
"Eh— come again?" Kyohei sputtered.
"I like you too," Kento shrugged.
"What was all this about then?! You were setting me up for a girlfriend!"
Kento gave him a gentle peck on the cheek. Unlike the one at the yakiniku grill, this time Kento's lips stayed hovering near Kyohei's face.
"They're transferable skills. A boyfriend would be no biggie too."
Kyohei shook his head at the words.
"But you're straight. You've always been straight. There was— you were— the girl! You were talking with that girl!" Kyohei exclaimed, his hands flying to Kento's shoulders, shaking him to make a point.
"Well, maybe you don't notice everything about love, do you? I've been dropping hints for months. I almost thought you weren't interested," Kento said with a grimace.
"Is that… that's why you were picking up women?"
"You weren't making any moves. I guess the only way to get you was by being less obvious. Why did I have to act like you're my girlfriend for us to kiss?" Kento snickered.
"I'm so stupid," Kyohei mumbled.
Kento rolled his eyes and pulled on Kyohei's collar again, thumb tracing the slowly darkening love bite.
"I think that was already common knowledge."
Their mouths pressed together, more firmly than before. Kyohei moaned as Kento's tongue ran across the seam of his lips.
"My bedroom is open," Kento said, pointing back with his thumb.
They pulled apart, stumbling through the hallway.
"Just to be clear, this isn't just a demonstration, right?" Kyohei asked.
"Kyohei," Kento groaned.
The next kiss made everything clear enough.