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When Kojiro was younger, he never saw himself as the type to settle down. He had always been a wanderer, even when he was six years old and would ride his bike out for hours at a time, never thinking that maybe he should have told his parents where he was going before they called the police to report him missing. As a teenager, his home felt like a prison, and as soon as the stars went up, he’d make a daring escape through his window and meet up with Kaoru and Adam. They’d tour the city, making messes wherever they went, and he felt so free that it didn’t matter how Kaoru looked at Adam when he thought Kojiro wasn’t looking. When Adam left with barely a word, Kaoru went back to his roots, but Kojiro couldn’t get further away. It was selfish, but he wasn’t sure he could stand to look at Kaoru’s forlorn expression any longer, how he saved every letter Adam had ever written him, and had polished the skateboard he left behind to a mirror shine. Italy was a haven, a place he could thrive without any chains, where he could flirt with whoever without thinking of betrayed golden eyes. There was a time where he wondered if he would ever come back to Okinawa.
But he did, returning to old roots and setting up new ones, and when he saw that smirk framed by sakura pink tresses, he thought how could I ever leave this?
“You have those T.V. dinners on the list, don’t you?”
Kojiro looked over his shoulder to find Kaoru staring between two boxes of cereal like he was choosing whether or not to send out a nuke. “Why? I thought you hated those things.”
Kaoru didn’t look up. “We need something to feed the kids, and we both know it’s not going to be my cooking.”
“Uh, hello?” Kojiro scoffed. “Professional chef here? Just because you’re helpless in the kitchen doesn’t mean I am. I can whip up something that’ll make them want to come over every weekend.”
This time Kaoru tore his eyes away from the cereal boxes to fix him with an unimpressed look. “I know you can. But you won’t. Because Miya will want to show you a new trick he learned at the skate park, and then Reki will dare you to do something stupid and dangerous, and Langa will want to film it, and then you’ll come back with a sprained ankle just in time for me to order takeout. Sound familiar at all?”
He blushed then, knowing damn well Kaoru was right. So what if he had no willpower and wanted to impress the kids a bit? “Maybe a little.” He slung an arm around Kaoru’s shoulders, making him jolt. “I think you’re forgetting the part where you’re crying laughing as I sprain my ankle, and Miya pays you 3000 yen because you betted against whether or not I could do it.”
At first, Kaoru balked like Kojiro had accused him of murder, then his face softened into that smile he loved. “It was pretty funny.”
“I was in pain!”
“And your pain made me a wealthy, wealthy man.” He finally chose between the two cereals, settling on some sugary marshmallow kind that probably caused diabetes in every serving.
“Huh. I definitely thought you would have gone for some whole grain, all natural bullshit instead.”
“Rude.” Kaoru started pushing the cart through the aisle, not meeting Kojiro’s gaze. “Miya likes it, and I figure it might be okay just for a little while.”
Oh, how he loved this man. He pressed a kiss to his cheek, watching with satisfaction as his face turned as pink as his hair. “Who knew, you are sweet. I thought all the raisin bran and greens had shriveled up your heart completely.”
He saw it coming before it happened, but he still let Kaoru’s hand hit the nape of his neck. “And I thought all that pasta would’ve clogged up your arteries by now. Shut up and help me find the pancake mix.”
As Kaoru studied all the bottles of mix like he was a health inspector, Kojiro studied the love of his life. There was a part of him that missed the eyeliner and piercings, but he was happy to trade those for the glasses Kaoru would push back up whenever he got frustrated, the yukatas that would stain with ink at the hem, the ponytails that would whip by him as he got his ass kicked at S, the fingertips singed brown from Carla’s electrical wiring.
“I know you’re staring.”
Kojiro blinked. Kaoru wasn’t looking at the pancake mix anymore, and was giving him his best deadpan face. It was only slightly ruined by the faint blush on his cheeks. Kojiro smirked. “Don’t mind me. Just watching a pancake connoisseur in action.”
He wasn’t at all ready for the pen that came flying at his nose. “Hey!”
Kaoru just smirked. Little shit. “Sorry, I thought you asked me for a pen. Did I mishear you?”
“How many of those do you have?”
“About a dozen or so.”
“A doz-what in god’s name do you need a dozen pens for?”
Kaoru flipped his hair, nearly hitting him in the face. “For showing gorillas where they can shove their opinions.”
How Kaoru’s fans at S thought he was all elegant and dignified he’d never know. Dignified my ass.
Once the exhaustive and incredibly detailed shopping list had been paid for, the two of them settled into Kaoru’s glossy black car and stared at the amount of bags they’d accumulated.
Kaoru pursed his lips. “Do you think we bought too much?”
You made the list. “Nah, I’m sure it’ll be fine. At their ages, they’ll probably eat us out of house and home.”
“If you say so.” A smile, the one as soft as goose down, graced those lips. “What do you say to dinner at Sia la Luce? Our last quiet night before they arrive?”
Kojiro let himself get lost in eyes of molten gold, relishing how they melted just for him. Once upon a time, the pain he saw in them had driven him away, but now they had all but leashed him to the spot, burying his feet in the earth and calling it home. Home is here, they said. Home is where I am.
He smiled back. “Of course. Food’s on me.”
When your home is a person, there’s no need to wander ever again.