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On the curb outside of a pizzeria sits Sakura, hungry and impatient. He checks his phone, replying to a few messages sent since he last glanced at the screen. The brightness lowers to save himself from the blinding white background of his group chat. He wants to change the theme, but he should bring it up to the others before making that executive decision. He can ask tomorrow in class. The boys will spend all night arguing over which one best represents the group otherwise.
The growl of an engine echoes down the road. Head upright, Sakura rises to meet the rider at his chosen parking spot. Endo kicks the stand and frees himself from a sleek helmet. A leg swings over the side to dismount the man who twirls on one foot. He stops upon meeting Sakura’s gaze; a grin plastered across his face like Endo just won the lottery.
With a brief greeting, Endo links their arms to walk Sakura inside. The teen allows the gesture, oblivious to its implied intimacy. This is just dinner to him. Friends go out to eat all the time! Usually in groups, but no one said two people are forbidden from doing so as friends.
“Order whatever you want. I’m paying.” Sliding into their booth, Endo lifts his menu to browse toppings and sauces. The paint is starting to crack on the divider next to him. The plastic between his fingers peels at the bottom corner. Yellowed pictures lost their finer details, but he can still make out the general idea of the options. A strip of paper is laid over a white pizza, labeled with the word “out”.
“Uh, thanks.” This is far below what Endo expected when Sakura said he wanted Italian. Checking the texted address saved him from overdressing for a run of the mill pizza shop, so he has that to be thankful for. He pins a real Italian date with candles and imported bread onto a mental cork board. Next time.
Sakura scans through his options. With Endo paying, the guilt of getting what he wants gnaws at his mind. Try as they may, his eyes can only see the price that follows each dish. That much for one serving of lasagna? He thought this pizzeria was cheap, which is why he picked it in the first place. It replicates the kind of shops found in the United States, down to tacky table covers and poorly translated quotes beneath celebrity photos. Wherever New York City is, it must have amazing pizza for so many idols to eat there.
Eyes trail to the children’s section of the menu. Everything in that corner looks to be a suitable price, if not for the minuscule portions. Scratch that idea. Sakura will starve all night long.
A decision needs to be made before Endo loses his patience despite his cheerful expression. Sakura goes back to the regular pizzas. Endo is offering to pay, and he has no issue buying things for the first year. He thinks back to their meeting in the Chinese restaurant. One pizza is merely a fraction of whatever sat at the bottom of that bill. This should be no big deal…
“Um, I want mine with sausage, if that’s okay.” A pang of guilt slaps Sakura on the back of his head. That topping is the most expensive of them all! He should have settled for plain, even if the savory protein beckons him.
“Of course it is! Anything else?” The smile on Endo’s face is genuine. To be honest, he expected Sakura to ask for an all meat pizza. If he has to wager, the boy wants one of the appetizers as well. Endo knows he has a big appetite, and a personal pizza is far from enough. Baby steps. One topping is definitely a good start. Sakura deserves the world, so a nudge in the right direction will help him ask for it.
A beat passes as Sakura peers at the listed choices. The vegetables are skipped without thought and leaves him with a row of meat options; each at an additional upcharge. Endo is offering. Wanting more is fine.
“Pepperoni?”
“Great choice. I’ll throw in mozzarella sticks for you, too.” The server is flagged with a raised hand and a shout. Sakura takes note of her pin riddled uniform. The Statue of Liberty, the Liberty Bell, an American flag, a hot dog, and a yellow taxi. None of which Sakura recognizes, but he assumes they must all be located in New York City. What a strange place.
Once the order is placed, Endo excuses himself to the men’s room. A heavy door swings shut behind him. Endo peers at his reflection, wet hands musing through curls. He pats down the frizz then checks himself in the mirror. His outfit is sleek, boots polishes and teeth white. Flexing arms are subjected to a mirror selfie that he plans to post later on that night.
Now that he thinks about it, Endo only has Sakura’s phone number! The teen must have an account somewhere, and while he could scour the digital world until he finds it, asking for it upfront is easier. Less creepy, too. He hopes that Sakura posted at least one photo of himself. A pouty selfie would be so cute.
Endo leaves the restroom and rounds a corner to return to his seat. He prepares to ask his question only to come to a sudden halt. Teal eyes narrow when they spot something repulsive sitting where an empty booth across from dearest Sakura should be. Grandpa hair, an ugly smile, and those stupid eyes that look at everyone like their very existence is one big sob story.
The teen rushes to slide in next to Sakura. His frame comes close to pinning the other against the divider as Endo curls his lip. When did this guy show up?! They were having the perfect date!
“What the hell are you doing here? Get back! Shoo! Go jump off a cliff!” Insults rattle from Endo. Great, just great! Umemiya is staring right at them, which means Sakura is being stared at! Hunched shoulders block the teen who tries to settle his rage. One guy cannot possibly have this much nerve.
Umemiya tilts his head at the man who clings to Sakura as if he were moments from being snatched away. The poor boy is doused in crimson while squirming in the booth. He smiles, happy to have Endo speak to him once more. Those icy walls are finally starting to melt!
“Hey, Endo! I came to order dinner when I spotted Sakura, so I figured I’d say hi.” He only stopped for pizza to end his patrol on a high note. It was right as Endo left that he caught sight of Sakura. Umemiya took the open seat and figured he should order his dish as well. His roots dug in before Sakura could warn of a loose snake.
Quite a convenient excuse. This game is one Endo has played for as long as he can remember. He has no doubt that Umemiya is keeping tabs on his underclassmen at all hours. Locations, activities, interactions, anything Furin’s emperor needs to maintain order.
“You said hi, now leave.” The scowl remains, even with Umemiya’s best attempt to smile and make himself welcoming. Arms are crossed firm, and shoulders form a tense square. Endo adjusts to sit next to Sakura naturally, but their proximity is still closer than most would prefer.
“Aw, but my raviolis aren’t out yet.” Of course. Of course, of course, of course. Bitch move, Umemiya. Endo grips his crossed arms then grabs his drink, which had arrived with Sakura’s during his bathroom break. His sip is slow to avoid uttering another word to the unwanted teen.
Sakura can only raise his eyebrow at the pair. They remind him of a guard dog and a mailman. He wants to scold his companion for treating him like the national reserve, but a tiny piece of his brain relishes the attention. Having one person this transfixed stirs something inside of Sakura. Something he locked away in childhood that now shakes its cage door.
The boy drinks his soda. He ignores the motion in favor of fiddling with the napkin dispenser next to him. Cup set back on the table, Sakura turns to face the tattooed boy.
“It’s fine, Endo. Thanks for ordering, by the way.” Light is no match for the speed in which Endo’s expression changes. The two now face one another, and Sakura watches a wide grin appear. Shoulders brush to taunt them. Both of their blushes are for wildly different reasons, yet the shades match down to the hex code.
Thighs sit so close that Sakura can feel the heat radiating between them. Why must people be so warm? It pokes at a tender piece inside him. He suppresses an urge to shuffle away. All that warmth, and Endo wants nothing more than to give it to him? Sakura could understand it if they were trapped in the snow and had to huddle like penguins. A burst of sweat strikes his back to cool flushing skin. So damn warm.
“No worries, Sakura! You don’t have to lift a finger when I’m around, unless it’s to fight. I won’t hold you back if that’s the case.” Eyes lower from the teen’s gaze to his pink nose. Endo resists the urge to kiss it out of the blue. His eyes shift down another inch, and he receives a new urge.
The body is rigid, but the mind is lax. A comfortable distance keeps the guy from crashing through the wall of comfort. What he cannot act on, he can at least imagine. Pressed foreheads that blend hair. Nervous hands fumbling between fingers and along clothed figures. Hesitation from a lapse in courage before lips finally introduce themselves to one another.
Endo muffles the throb in his chest with a loud sip. Sakura holds a gaze of hungry innocence when he looks towards the kitchen. Being here is enough. To feed is to love: a discovery first made by their ancestors, now woven in to human DNA.
“I’m glad to see you two getting closer. Maybe you’ll end up enrolling back into Furin.” Such an audacious suggestion! The words choke Endo out of his yearning, which he forces down after a few coughs. He sticks out a tongue, eyes squeezed to block the image from taking shape.
“No way! I’d rather die! Seeing Sakura everyday would be nice though…” The monitored halls of Furin would do little to stop Endo from delinquency. His classes skipped in favor of visiting Sakura at random hours. Perhaps he could get away with stealing him entirely!
Two teens crammed beneath stairs to hide from nosy classmates. Sakura would blush and hiss in vain attempts to return to his class that has an upcoming test. Back pressed to concrete, an outstretched hand traps his frame as Endo trades a bag of gummy worms for a moment of his time. They plan a hasty date, coordinating their patrols to end at a park for stargazing. Their kiss breaks with the stomp of sneakers and a rush to hide from disciplinary action.
“Y-You don’t need school just to see me.” What chaos it would bring! Endo of all people making a return so brief to Furin, most would think he only came for his graduation ceremony. That would not be the end of his time at Furin, either. Sakura may not realize it, but Endo is a romantic fitting the most classic of novels.
He arrives to a dilapidated apartment right as Sakura steps out to walk to school. From there, he reveals a lunch packed with love and an offer to drive the man. A reluctant acceptance stumbles out as Sakura swipes the spare helmet because of the unfairness in making Endo drive all the way back home. Oh, the looks they would get!
Rumors fluttering in the wind, gossip positioning Sakura as the one who tamed The Viper of Furin. Their biggest threat, the legend himself, at Sakura’s hand and foot. Relentless praise would be bestowed upon him as the crowd of boys carry him away into the sunset, or math class, whichever comes first.
“Does that mean you wanna hang out more? I’m only one call away. We’ll do whatever you want.” Another squish against the divider. Eyes sparkle from Endo’s outrageous fantasies. Swimming dates, park dates, dinner dates—the endless possibilities sing to him!
Phone in hand, his calendar is selected. Tomorrow, 8:00am to 8:30am: kill a guy. Wednesday, 11am to 2pm: take Takiishi shopping. He could try to squeeze Sakura in after that but before he has to make dinner. A movie date should work for that time slot.
“U-Uh! Wa-Wait, I meant—“ Right as the boy jumps to correct himself, dinner arrives. The mozzarella sticks are sat in the center with two personal pizzas in front of Sakura and Endo. Forget whatever he was saying. Food is more important.
Sakura tries the mozzarella first, dipping it in the provided marinara sauce. His eyes light with gluttony, and several more sticks are devoured before he chomps down on the pizza. This tastes even better! Savory meat juices blend into the homemade sauce. He almost denied himself this pleasure.
“Hehe, must be good!” Endo eats once Sakura shows his content face. Bite after bite, the pair rip through warm cheese and crispy dough. Only when they reach their last few pieces does Umemiya receive his dish. He thanks the server, quick to halve that pasta with a fork.
“He eats like a wild dog most of the time. It’s impressive.” The pair top off dinner with a final gulp of their drinks. Umemiya blows onto a ravioli section, biting with care as to not burn his tongue. Sakura slouches in the booth, stuffed and now dealing with a stomachache. Damnit, he should have paced himself better. This always happens, yet he never learns his lesson.
Endo, on the other hand, looks fine as ever. He rests an arm behind Sakura, not quite holding his shoulder, but close enough for it to seem that way. While Sakura wipes himself with a napkin, the older teen picks up a smaller menu sat in front of the peeling wall. He skims over a liquor page, eyeing another section towards the bottom.
“You want dessert?” Only five options are available, but they all sound enticing. Endo is a sucker for sweets. Ice cream, marshmallows, fudge, he never turns them down. As long as he brushes for an extra 15 seconds, then he has nothing to worry about.
Ears twitch like that of a kitten who heard the chime of an automatic feeder. Sakura turns to eye the selection that Endo browses. How terrible he is at resisting temptation.
“Maybe. Is there something we can share?” With only enough room for a few bites before Sakura bursts, sharing makes more sense than individual orders.
Endo, however, has a different mentality. He beams at the very suggestion. Sharing food means indirect kissing! You know, because their spit would be on the food, and eating the food means their spit mixes. Most love stories begin this way. An innocent gesture, binding them to one another. This leaves them only one step away from an actual kiss.
Oh, to kiss Sakura… Where would it be? The cheek? On the forehead? Wait, what if their first kiss is on the lips? Accidental or intentional, the thought leaves Endo with a bashful hue. It has to be perfect! Hooded eyes with longing gazes held seconds more than necessary. Warmth that jumps from their stomachs to their ears, exploding across faces once lips meet. He really, really wants to kiss Sakura!
“Ice cream? Or what about a cake slice? We can play the pocky game with a cannoli.” What will he pick? The anticipation eats at Endo’s throbbing heart. Screw the fact that Umemiya is watching them right now. This gives him a shot at kissing the cutest boy in the whole world. His arm swings around Sakura to reel him in, menu on full display. Please, please, please, pick the cannoli!
Sakura fumbles over sounds in a struggle to remember actual words. Being held like this while having his ear talked off sends his head into a spiral. The boy drops his gaze, picking it back up after a gulp. Eye contact, Sakura.
“Huh? What game?” He never knew that Pocky came with a game. It must be on the back of the boxes or hidden somewhere inside. Sakura only had it once when Kiryu offered him a strawberry dipped stick. While he may have nibbled three more after that, it still only counts as the one time he ate Pocky.
Umemiya sets down his fork. Plate emptied, he takes a sip of tea while looking around the restaurant. Blue eyes befall a posted menu on the wall, where he finds the desserts printed at the bottom right corner.
“They have fried donuts. You guys can share that.” The suggestion turns Endo ice cold. His frame is rigid, side eyeing the bastard for ruining the moment. Endo tries to explode Umemiya with his mind while unbridled fury swells. Fried donuts are eaten one by one, jackass! How can he get an indirect kiss now?!
Unfortunately for Endo, those are exactly what Sakura craves. He orders with a smile, but beneath it, he curses the Umemiya bloodline. May his crops wither! May his throat gargle from black bile! How dare he act innocent, knowing exactly what he did?! Kiss-blocking idiot!
Minutes go by until a metal basket lined with parchment paper is placed onto their table. The donuts are fresh, dusted with sugar and cinnamon. Sakura enjoys his dessert without waiting for the temperature to cool. Despite the burst of heat on the roof of his mouth, he toughs it out to not look foolish.
Endo ignores the basket and all that it represents. The soured mood morphs to curiosity when he notes a shift in Sakura’s behavior. So quick he was to scarf down his first donut, yet now he sits frozen. No doubt he salivates at the very sight of fried sugar, so why...?
A theory sprouts. To test it, the older teen places his hand in the basket. Only when his fingers leave, donut gripped like a claw machine, does Sakura swipe his second helping. Could this be a show of selflessness? A rule on sharing instilled since childhood? An inexplicable “thing” developed at some point in life? It should sicken Endo how he aches to pry Sakura open. Too bad he lost all sense of shame in childhood.
The boy is a collection of books. His body sectioned into volumes one through ten. Endo will study until he commits every sentence to memory. His fingers graze the edge of a leather cover. He peels it back, pages of viscera fluttering before his very eyes. Words printed onto flesh and bone present ugly truths once left to rot beneath the surface. For each that he reads, Endo stumbles further into love.
The bills are paid with Umemiya’s split off from the main check. Nothing in this world, or the next, can convince the lavish boy to throw a pittance towards his rival. Endo falls in line with Sakura as the teenagers step outside. The air cooled while they ate. Above them, a waxing moon nestles in a dim speckle of stars. He should take Sakura camping one day. Seeing the stars away from the city is a spectacle on its own.
“Italian always hits the spot. That was the first meal we had together, you know.” Umemiya looks back at Endo, who gags towards him.
“Idiot, that doesn’t count! Sakura and I were having a private dinner until you barged in.” His date was Sakura! No one says they shared a meal with their dog just because it sat next to them. The only time Endo plans to eat with Umemiya is when he stands over the jerk’s grave.
Sakura is left beneath a streetlight while the two prattle near the parking lot. Their debate over the logistics of meal sharing is a surprising form of entertainment for the teen. A small chuckle escapes. Night and day, they are.
“Sakura?” From behind, a man’s voice overrides the nearby argument. Odd, it sounds familiar, but no one at Furin is the owner. One of the residents? No, the pitch is too high. This guy sounds to be around Sakura’s age. Someone from Shishitoren then?
When Sakura turns, the face he meets is new, and the clothes hold no symbol or color scheme to denote gang affiliation. Black hair stops flat against the ears. Tall and lanky, the teen raises a hand to wave. Had it not been for gray eyes, Sakura would say the stranger is completely unfamiliar. His brain bends over backwards to search in dusty nooks and forgotten crannies. Gray eyes…
“It’s me, Nisekawa! We went to middle school together.” At the edge of the lamp’s glow, he stands. Green sneakers toe the light until one foot curls back to twist against the cement. What a surprise.
“Oh…um…” Hair stands on end as the memories play behind unmatched eyes. Muddled by repression, all that Sakura can recall are a gray glare and the pain that followed meeting them.
He steps back. Fighting with a full stomach sucks, but he has no choice. How did Nisekawa track him down? Sakura left everything behind when he moved. People, places, even parts of himself. Ones he never wants to see again, yet here comes the past on a silver platter.
“Listen, I know it’s been a while, but I wanna apologize.” Nisekawa rubs the back of his neck. He looks to the sidewalk then towards a building across the street. Man, this feels weird. Public confrontation is cliché these days. A text would have been way easier for both of them.
“You…what?” Eyebrows stitch together. Every nerve screams that something is wrong. A knot twists in Sakura’s stomach. No one ever apologizes to him. Not from back then. Hope and skepticism wrestle for control over his racing mind.
Nisekawa intends to speak again when he notices two guys in the background. He chalks them up as a pair of drunks who caught wind of the conversation. Nothing to worry about. His head raises, eyes shut with a half smile towards Sakura.
“Yeah, I messed with you a lot, and seeing you tonight must be a sign to make amends.” The silence is vicious. Sakura tries for words, but nothing comes out. Confusion rocks through him. Without a doubt, this is a trick. Eyes flicker in search of a hidden phone or carefully positioned camera. Pulse unsteady, blood struggles to make its way through Sakura.
In actuality, Nisekawa is no more than a delivery man. One caught up in a late night run his supervisor urged him to fulfill. His truck sits behind the buildings, emptied of its last package. He only came to the front in search of an owner to sign off on paperwork. When Nisekawa emerged from the alleyway and spotted his former classmate, realization dawned upon him.
“So… you forgive me, right?” He should really be thankful that Sakura is alive and well. With how depressed he looked back then, Nisekawa half expected him to jump off a bridge mid year. No need to worry now! That alone shaves off a chunk of guilt.
When he looks over the boy, Nisekawa sees how little Sakura has changed. He grew a tiny bit, but his face remains. Well, now he tries to make eye contact. A new development for the kid who ate lunch by himself everyday.
This is going to be good for the both of them. They might not be best friends right away, but they can go out for drinks maybe. Worst case scenario, they part on neutral terms. Nisekawa can go home, head high and hands washed of—
“No.”
A sudden snip. Confusion plasters itself onto both teens. Their eyes meet, causing phantom pains to shoot across Sakura. He refuses to let go of that anger. No longer is he the boy who cowered in corners, backpack clutched to shield himself from abuse.
Umemiya steps forward. He has to intervene. Now. The play is going off script, and he needs to direct them back to the right lines.
“Sakura—“ An arm presses against his chest. Its curled fist lays atop Umemiya’s pectoral as the man stops in his tracks. The owner is Endo, and his eyes say all that can be said between them.
“I don’t forgive you.” How could he? Long healed bruises ache on his arms and stomach. Memories flood, and he struggles to keep his head above water. From morning to afternoon, torment was relentless. Even on Sakura’s last day at that middle school, Nisekawa threw his shoes into a trash can. No remorse, no regret. Just another beating at school. Leaving that hell for the next fueled the worst of Sakura’s ideations.
Nisekawa snapped from his shock when Sakura spoke a second time. He scoffs, eyes darting to ensure that this is reality. Really, nothing he did was that bad. Sure, maybe there was a scuffed knee or a messed up drawing, but who cares? Middle schoolers always act like that.
“Come on, it was ages ago! Holding a grudge is lame.” Guess the attitude stayed too. Sakura always had an issue with that. A sour face that dipped every word in misery. And here Nisekawa thought they could act like adults.
For Sakura, rage boils inside of him. Fists clench at his sides, desperate to leave a fresh indent on the other’s face. Teeth grit, and his face scrunches with anger. Nisekawa must have forgotten what happened if he can only provide that half baked apology.
“Are you serious? You always yanked my hair, and you punched me until I cried!” The worst of his treatment. Prior to that tipping point, Nisekawa acted just like everyone else. Cold glares pierced Sakura at every turn. Gray eyes cheering when the boy was left sniveling behind their school. Out of sight from the teachers who did little more than blame both parties or wave them off.
Sakura bites back what might have been a sob. Rotten, rotten memories remind him of the nothingness he lived through. Not anymore. Not in Makochi. A heavy sigh rolls out. Hands weigh on his tense back and shoulders.
Nirei supports him. Kiryu unwinds him. Sugishita grounds him. For the first time in Sakura’s life, he actually forgot what it felt like to be alone. His lunches are taken next to classmates, fingers and chopsticks sniping food with abundant laughter. He built a community, even if it had to be forced onto him.
“Please, go away, Nisekawa. I don’t wanna be around you.” This is how their story ends. Blunt and abrupt, just like Sakura. He turns from the retired bully. Umemiya and Endo stand by a chainlink fence that separates the main road from parking spaces. He should bid them goodnight.
Traces of lamplight crawl from Sakura’s departing frame. His three steps forward are halted by a hand that clamps his shoulder. Fingers dig into skin, circular bruises sure to take form. No, no, not again. Not in front of them.
“All kids are rotten at that age! It’s not my fault! Just let me make it up to—!” Nisekawa’s next word is garbled with blood from the heavy punch landing on his cheek. Sakura fully turns now, fists bombarding the man in a vengeful storm. Hooked arms break nasal passages and bust lips. Grunts emit when Nisekawa falls to his knees, hands raising in a pitiful defense.
Is it Sakura’s fault for being born? Had he known what suffering awaited outside the womb, without haste he would have miscarried himself. He was an infant! A child! A boy who knew naught of the world, yet upon his first breath, misery nestled within Sakura.
Why is this caste inescapable? Why is he marked by a scarlet letter? Why is relief still absent? Sakura entered Makochi to leave everyone behind, not to hold a beacon for them to come flocking. The onslaught only ends when a pair of hands grip his forearms, yanking the teen away.
“Sakura, that’s enough!” Umemiya…? He looks down at the battered mess. Blood paints the sidewalk in crimson raindrops. Violet hues plot impact points. Nisekawa coughs out a grunt with his left eye swelling shut. While not able to confirm, it appears that one of his molars may have come loose.
Huffs escape Sakura. His mental fog dissipates, widening the visual tunnel. When Endo arrived he is unsure, but the boy grins. His eyes dare to spill euphoric tears. Hands twitch, but he clenches to steady them. Another revelation.
“You made yourself clear. Let’s go.” A tug drags Sakura from the scene. Flat lips and dull eyes swim with disappointment. Umemiya looks for an alley to speak to his kohai. By technicality, Sakura did not violate Furin rules. That saves him a meeting with the other kings.
Endo jumps to Sakura’s side, opposite of Umemiya. He steals the unbound arm with a cheshire smile. What rage. What beauty! One hand trails to the elbow and dares to squeeze the teasing bicep that peeks from his shirt sleeve. A centimeter is all that separates him from the gorgeous muscle.
“What you did there, Sakura, was absolutely incredible.” Words steady by the second syllable, but a shake persists when Endo speaks Sakura’s name. Eyes flick back to the pile of filth that stumbles to its feet. The rodent scurries back into the alley it came from.
“No, it wasn’t. You should’ve accepted his apology.” Glares shoot to Umemiya, yet he walks unfazed by them. Sakura yanks himself from both men, now standing before them. Wild eyes and tight teeth pair with hair that stands on end.
The words make such little sense that Sakura half expects Umemiya to chuckle and wave his hand. Kidding, Sakura! Let him burn! When the teen does neither, nor speaks, the boy growls his frustration.
“Are you insane?! He made my life a living hell, and you want me to forgive him?”
“I know you’re angry, but when someone wants to make amends, you can’t turn them away. People deserve second chances.” Everyone does, no matter what. A hand places itself on Sakura’s shoulder, which falls from its wound state. Even after a frazzled arrival full of scoffs and pouty behavior, Makochi still welcomed Sakura.
The boy looks down to the sidewalk. Shishitoren got a second chance, but Sakura had no history with them. The same goes for Endo, too. This is different…! Right? Does he really have to chase after Nisekawa and grit his teeth through their apologies?
Endo rounds the walkway to stand at Sakura’s side. With his height, he raises an elbow to plant it on the other’s shoulder. His head lays on it, their contrasting hair curling together. Sakura raises a brow until his friend speaks.
“Is that really the message you wanna send, Umemiya?” Head tilted, Endo tickles Sakura’s ear. The boy twitches, but he leaves Endo where he stands. Their temples are laid together, adding an extra layer of contact. Love sensors would have exploded under normal circumstances, but Sakura is too confused for them to kick on right now.
“That guy only said sorry because he wanted to feel good about himself. Sakura was completely justified. Eye for an eye as they say.” His hand raises to emphasize the statement. Always with the forgiveness and friendship crap. Right when someone reaches their melting point, Umemiya runs in with a fire extinguisher.
Silence stretches between them. Sakura keeps his focus on the senior’s face. Umemiya closes his eyes, gaze shifting from Endo to Sakura. Wheels turn to formulate his next sentence. A moment passes, then they clack to a stop.
“It’s late. Why don’t I walk you home?” Devoid of a certain someone who needs to hurry back to his roommate. Takiishi probably needs his laundry folded.
Umemiya holds out a hand. Mixed eyes plant themselves onto the palm. Sakura shifts on his feet. Fingers twitch, and he raises it, but the hand freezes midair. Back to his side it falls. Umemiya tries to step closer. Talking can solve this. It always does. He can turn the ship around and steer it from the rocky shores.
A wicked serpent bumps the hull. Umemiya is flung sideways, leaving an unmanned wheel to forge its own path. Desperate crawling is in vain, for a swell knocks him into the abyss.
“You… don’t have to. Endo said he could drop me off.” In their initial texts, the offer was made. For safety, of course. Sakura may be strong, but how could Endo live with himself if the boy was attacked during his walk home?
Speaking of Endo, the boy is shocked by the words. Sakura wants a ride home! Oh, joy! Having his bike cleaned that morning is already paying off. He also polished the helmets with the spare nestled inside his seat. The stars are aligning; he can feel it in his bones.
“Be careful, then. I’ll see you at school.” The pair turn from the king. Umemiya watches every step, mind juggling endless thoughts. He should text the others. Mizuki and Hiragi are rational choices. Tsubaki knows Sakura on a more personal level, so maybe he needs to weigh in as well. Nirei has the most information on Sakura though.
Endo moves his arm to fully stretch it across Sakura’s shoulders. He turns to glance one last time at his rival. The hand that dangles over the boy’s chest raises to offer a dismissive peace sign. White hair and a thick bicep obscure the smirk that curls onto Endo. That ugly face looks best when it hates his guts.
Balance is something all cats are born with. Sakura’s ability to stay upright on the motorcycle came at no surprise. He only swayed when Endo guided sweaty palms to rest on his chest. His unabashed expression is soothed by a quick explanation. Unless he holds on tight, the poor teen will be another skid mark on the road.
Sakura hesitates, but he decides being alive matters just a little more than being weird about touch. They settle for a mid torso hug, which means this cutie has to rest his head onto Endo’s shoulder. Despite their clunky helmets, the contact is that of Adam’s creation. More, he needs more of it. If only flesh could melt together. Never to separate, beginning and end blurred beyond recognition.
From the restaurant, the ride is no more than a few minutes. Thank the heavens for red lights. At the current one, Endo can feel Sakura adjust against him. Oh, what torture! How close he is to spinning around, throwing off helmets, and capturing the other in a sweet kiss. Baby steps. This night is already full of crazy luck.
Parked at the curb, Endo voices his concerns over the dilapidated hovel. Sakura lives here? This feels like stumbling upon a forgotten spirit at an abandoned shrine. He needs an elevator, first off. A new mailbox, too. Actually, knock the whole place down and put a manor in its place. That would be a decent enough starter home until he can take Sakura mansion hunting.
The boy hushes his companion, reminding him that neighbors exist, and that they can go without Endo calling the place a glorified shack. Sakura returns the helmet, dismounting from the bike. Without a doubt the coolest thing he ever rode on, but he wants to keep that a secret.
“I meant what I said back at the restaurant. That jerk needed to see some consequences.” Endo chimes, helmet sat in his lap as the kick keeps him balanced. His hair was flattened during the ride, so he runs a hand through it.
“Oh, thanks. I’m the one who decides if I forgive Nisekawa or not.” Sakura planned to say goodnight and move on from what happened. He contemplates a brief musing in the shower, and maybe a few thoughts before bed if sleep took longer than usual to arrive.
The smile on Endo’s face sweeps those thoughts away. He did make the right choice in the end. Walking home with Umemiya would have been a lecture on emotional freedom and olive branches. All the same garbage that he spouts at school for the sake of being everyone’s big brother.
Well, not all of it is bad, per se. He can give credit where credit is due.
“There ya go! I’m always on your side, Sakura. What you want is what you get.” Is it wrong that Endo hopes to be invited inside? Not that he would ever pressure Sakura to do so! He…just needs an idea of what his crush lacks at home. Maybe the guy is in the market for a new ironing board or a better mattress. He can replace some old appliances, too, if Sakura asks.
Endo can accept never entering Sakura’s home, too. Admiring his lovers behind a one way mirror is yet another thing he excels at. The embrace on his back may be fading, but he adores that it existed in the first place. Nothing can take this from him.
“Before…you said you’d do whatever I wanted, didn’t you?” Grounded where he stands, Sakura brings his fingers to his face. Curled inward, they rest atop lips as he looks away from the older teen.
Endo confirms those words, planning to live by them for the rest of his life. He must want his apartment renovated. Still not a crazy thing to ask in his eyes, but hey, it means he can take the guy shopping.
“What…what do you want me to do for you?” Eyes meet, and Sakura can see the defenses going up. Can anyone blame him for asking though? A life of bare minimums would leave anyone like this.
A cheap pillow on the floor, an old futon, leftover dinner tossed onto a plate and sat before his door. That was the life of Haruka Sakura before his arrival. Even now, he justifies accepting a cake slice or a free sandwich by beating down rogue gang members. He earns his keep like everyone else at Furin.
Yet in walks Endo, gifts abundant for no reason other than because he wants to spoil Sakura. The cage rattles, requiring a mental smack to silence the beast. Everything about this boggles his mind and rips apart all sense of logic. Endo offered to get him a car! Who just hands those out like candy?
Of course, those words send the man into a frenzy. Endo waves his arms in the air as if to shove them away by force. Charging Sakura for his services? Making him return favors? No! Way! In! Hell!
“Huh? I told you! No payments allowed! I’d never—“
“Knock it off!”
The rambling is cut short, hands midair for the moment. Sakura winces, embarrassed that he violated his own rule on being noisy. He plans to give back to Endo one way or another. Not because he feels crushed under some arbitrary obligation, but because he wants to. Deal with it.
“If there’s anything you want, just freaking tell me! I’ll give it! Stop acting like I’m a charity case.” Sakura pouts, refusing to back down. His pockets might be shallow, and life skills lackluster, but he has pride! That has to count for something. He continues to rationalize this thought while Endo stares for a breath too long.
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
“No backsies?”
“Endo.”
He takes that as a yes. Right, whatever he wants. When in Rome, as they say. Is he always this nervous? Maybe, but this is probably a normal nervous. The very normal nervous anyone would feel when the love of their life grants them a free pass. Does Sakura realize that? Endo hopes he does, or this is gonna be awkward.
His helmet hangs on a handlebar. Clothes dusted, he breathes in slowly. When God sends a miracle, never turn it down. Jump head first into it, actually. He can do that despite the blush on his face. He looks down at Sakura once the two are close enough. Endo takes a few seconds to admire the pretty boy. His bangs look a little longer today. He should invite him to a salon trip.
A hand brushes black strands aside. One last breath gives Endo the confidence to dive in for a kiss. So damn warm. And soft! Their lips are a perfect fit, even after he deepens the embrace. His nose brushes Sakura’s cheek, catching the scent of sweat and natural musk. He should pay someone to turn it into a cologne.
As romantic as Endo makes the kiss sound, Sakura acts like a drenched feline. He flops from stiff to flailing, completely unsure of what he should do. His hands scramble for purchase on broad shoulders. Nails claw at tattooed skin, which tells Endo to break away. Panting breaths mix until the older boy hugs his crush.
“Sakura~! That went exactly how I imagined it!” Minus the fireworks and all inclusive trip to Tokyo. Endo sings the lovely name into the owner’s hot skin. Endo rubs his face against Sakura’s chest in hopes that they can smell like each other. Sakura’s heart is so fast right now! Those beats are for his ears only, too. Such a beautiful song.
“You-You—what?! Huh?!” What the fuck just happened?! Sakura takes rapid breaths while staring at the road. No one saw that, right? What if they did? Is someone gonna tell his friends?! Hiragi is gonna kill him! Tsubaki will be merciless too. His dramatics will go as far as an exorcism, and a public stoning for Endo.
Sakura looks around to ensure that no one was watching them. Empty streets. Good. That solves one issue. The other is the fact that Endo kissed him! It lingers on his mouth like pins and needles, but not in a bad way. This is way too confusing. Can he melt into the sidewalk to escape? Melting would make life way easier.
“Sorry, was that too much?” Endo turns his head, cheek now flat on Sakura’s chest. His bent knees groan from crouching, but he can put up with it. The more time he has like this, the more he gets to memorize the details of Sakura. His cologne is nice. Not his shirt though. Kinda scratchy. Endo can buy him a better one. Something that glides against the skin and makes Sakura look even more adorable.
A hand lays on his black hair. Head pats? Head pats! This is the best night of his life! Endo shoves himself into the palm, seeking the body heat. Since they kissed, that makes them a couple. He should start editing their wedding plans. A rough idea resides in his diary, but it needs fine tuning. Flower choices, seating arrangements, all the specifics that come with falling in love all over again.
“J-Just shut up, Endo.” Sakura says nothing when the man moves to nuzzle against his ear. He also says nothing when the rattling door in his core falls off the hinges to expose the beast inside. It scales his intestines and stomach, bouncing from rib to rib until it penetrates his heart.
From there, it flicks a nimble tail. A raised head sniffs, ears twitching in time with his heartbeat. Paws knead the tissue. It circles once, twice, thrice then throws itself against the floor on its back. The feline purrs at the sound of Endo’s voice when he asks for Sakura’s social media. His head rubs against inner walls to send a skip in the tempo. He nuzzles various areas to reclaim lost territory. It feels good to be working again.