Chapter Text
The airport smelled like rain. Summer storms always arrived dramatically in Okinawa, as if the weather enjoyed making scenes.
Kaoru Sakurayashiki hated scenes. Which was probably why he found himself standing alone at the far end of the observation deck, gripping the metal railing so tightly his knuckles ached.
Below him, planes crawled across the runway like giant insects. One of them would carry Ainosuke away.
America. The word felt stupid now. For months it had sounded exciting whenever Ainosuke said it.
"I'm going to leave one day."
"I'm going to see everything."
"We'll all travel together."
"Just imagine it, Kaoru."
Back then, Kaoru had imagined it. Now all he could imagine was the expression on Ainosuke's face less than an hour ago. Cold. Detached. Finished. Like Kaoru had been the one holding onto something that had died days ago Months ago, maybe.
The wind tugged at his pink hair. He ignored it. Ignored the sting in his eyes. Ignored the ache in his chest. Ignored everything except the distant aircraft. Because if he thought about the conversation…
No. He wasn't going to think about it. Not here. Not now. Not ever.
Footsteps approached behind him. Heavy. Unsubtle. Familiar. Kaoru didn't turn around.
"Go away, Kojiro."
The footsteps stopped. For a moment there was only the sound of wind and distant engines.
"No."
Kaoru closed his eyes. Of course not. Kojiro Nanjo had never understood the meaning of the phrase go away. Especially when it mattered. Especially when Kaoru needed him to.
"You should be downstairs," Kaoru said.
"So should you."
"I don't want to be."
"Me neighter."
The answer came too quickly. Too gently. Kaoru hated that most of all. If Kojiro had laughed, teased him, called him dramatic, that would have been manageable. Normal. Instead there was this careful voice. This cautious voice. The one Kojiro only used when somebody was hurt.
Kaoru's jaw tightened. "I'm fine."
"Bullshit."
"I'm serious."
"That's bullshit too."
Kaoru laughed. A sharp, ugly sound. Not because it was funny. Because otherwise he might scream.
"You know," he said quietly, "normally when people get dumped, their friends at least pretend to believe them."
Kojiro didn't answer immediately. The silence stretched. Too long. Far too long.
Finally: "So that's what happened."
Kaoru froze.
Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.
He hadn't meant to say that. Not out loud. Not to Kojiro. Anyone but Kojiro. Because Kojiro noticed things. Far more than people gave him credit for.
For months Kaoru had convinced himself their secret was safe. That nobody knew. Not the late-night meetings. Not the stolen moments. Not the way Ainosuke's hand always found his. Not the promises. Not the kisses. Not the dreams. Nobody knew. Except apparently Kojiro. Who sighed heavily.
"Kaoru."
"Don't."
"You think I didn't know?"
Kaoru stared at the runway. The aircraft blurred. He couldn't tell if it was because of distance or because his vision was suddenly unreliable.
"We weren't—"
"You were."
"No."
"You were."
"We weren't… official."
"Kaoru."
"We never said—"
"Kaoru."
His name came out firmer that time. Not harsh. Not angry. Just enough to stop him.
Kaoru swallowed. Something painful lodged itself in his throat. "He never said it." The confession barely made it out.
"He never said what?"
"That he loved me." The words vanished into the wind.
For a moment neither of them spoke. Then Kojiro moved beside him. Close enough that their shoulders almost touched. Not touching. Never pushing. Just there. Like he always was.
Below them, a plane began turning toward the runway. The engines whined louder. Kaoru stared at it. Anything except Kojiro.Anything except the pity he was certain would be on his face.
"I wasn't enough." The words escaped before he could stop them. And immediately he regretted them. Because now they were real. Now they existed. Out in the open. A truth too ugly to take back.
Kojiro's expression changed. Something dangerous flickered behind his eyes. Not anger at Kaoru. Never at Kaoru. Anger at someone else. "Ainosuke's an idiot."
Kaoru barked out a laugh.
"There he is."
"Good."
"Thought I'd lost you."
"You wish."
That managed to earn the smallest smile. Kojiro noticed. Of course he did. His shoulders relaxed a fraction. Like seeing Kaoru smile was somehow a victory.
Idiot. Complete idiot.
The loudspeaker announced boarding. Kaoru's smile vanished instantly. Down below, movement began around the terminal gates. People walking. Suitcases rolling. Lives continuing. Ainosuke leaving. The finality of it crashed into him all at once. Not tomorrow. Not next month. Now. This was happening now.
All night Kaoru had imagined impossible futures. Ainosuke returning. Ainosuke changing. Ainosuke choosing him.
Instead, he got nothing. Just an airplane. A departure gate. And a boy he loved deciding he wasn't worth staying for.
His eyes burned.
Damn it. Damn it. Not here. Not in front of Kojiro.
A hand landed on the railing beside his. Large. Warm. Steady. Not touching him. Just there. An offering. An anchor.
Kaoru stared at it. Then at the runway. Then back at the hand. Kojiro said nothing. Didn't push. Didn't demand. Didn't ask. Just waited. As if he knew that if he gave Kaoru enough silence, eventually the truth would crawl out on its own.
The worst part was that he was right. Because after several minutes Kaoru heard himself whisper: "I thought he'd ask me to come with him."
The words shattered something inside him. Inside his heart. Inside whatever remained of his dignity. And for the first time since Ainosuke had walked away, for the first time since his heart had broken, Kaoru felt his composure finally start to crack.
Beside him, Kojiro went utterly still. As though hearing the exact shape of Kaoru's heartbreak had hurt him too.
The rain became a downpour before either of them moved. By the time they finally left the observation deck, the airport roof sounded like it was being pelted with stones.
Kaoru walked half a step ahead. Not because he wanted to lead. Because he didn't want Kojiro seeing his face.
The departure board flashed behind them. Flights. Destinations. Schedules. Life continuing as though nothing had happened. As though somebody hadn't just taken Kaoru's heart, folded it neatly into a suitcase, and boarded a plane. The thought made his stomach twist. He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked faster.
Unfortunately, Kojiro had longer legs. He kept pace effortlessly. Neither of them spoke. Past the ticket counters. Past the convenience stores. Past families huddled beneath umbrellas.
The automatic doors slid open. Humid air rushed toward them. Rain hammered the pavement outside. For several seconds they simply stood beneath the overhang. Watching. Listening. Avoiding the obvious.
Kaoru knew what happened next. He would get on the skate. Go home. Lock himself in his room. Ignore Kojiro's calls. Spend the night staring at the ceiling. Maybe cry. Maybe not. He hadn't decided yet. Then tomorrow he would wake up and pretend none of this mattered. The plan sounded miserable. Which was unfortunate because it was also the only one he had.
"You shouldn't be alone tonight."
Kaoru groaned immediately. "There it is."
"There what is?"
"The concern."
Kojiro folded his arms. "The concern?"
"You're doing that thing."
"What thing?"
"The thing where you act like a reasonable human being."
Kojiro stared. Then he snorted. "You're unbelievable."
"I know."
"No, seriously."
Kaoru glanced sideways. Kojiro was looking at him with an expression somewhere between irritation and concern. The combination was oddly familiar. Comfortingly familiar. Which was dangerous. Because Kaoru didn't want comfort. Comfort meant acknowledging he was hurt. And he wasn't ready to do that. Not completely. At least, not yet.
"I'm going home."
"No."
"I'm literally going home."
"Not by yourself."
"I live by myself."
"You know what I mean."
Kaoru rolled his eyes. The motion felt exhausting. Everything felt exhausting. Even standing. Especially standing. The last few hours seemed to have drained something fundamental out of him. Like he'd been hollowed out. "I'll survive."
"Probably."
"Thank you for the confidence."
"You'll survive," Kojiro repeated. "But you're still not spending tonight alone."
Kaoru looked at him. Rain reflected in his eyes. Broad shoulders. Damp hair curling slightly from the humidity. The same idiot he'd known since childhood. The same idiot who had followed him around skate parks. Started fights with bullies. Shared food, victories and losses. The same idiot who had somehow stayed. Even now. Especially now.
The realization hurt in a way Kaoru couldn't explain. Because Ainosuke had always felt like the future. Brilliant. Beautiful. Impossible. Kojiro felt like something else. Something steadier. Something he'd never had to question. Which meant he'd never appreciated it properly.
"Your place?" Kaoru asked.
Kojiro blinked. Apparently he hadn't expected surrender so quickly. "Yeah."
"You sure?"
"Obviously."
"Your parents won't care?"
"My parents adore you."
"Your mother adores me. Your father thinks I'm a bad influence."
"That's because you're a bad influence."
Kaoru almost smiled. Almost. The corner of his mouth twitched before collapsing again.
Kojiro noticed. Of course. Always. "Come on." The words were gentle. Dangerously gentle. "We'll get dinner."
"I'm not hungry."
"You haven't eaten."
"I'll survive."
"You use that phrase a lot."
"Because it's true."
Kojiro sighed. "Fine. Then you'll survive while eating dinner."
Kaoru groaned.
"There he is."
"Shut up."
"No, seriously. Thank God."
"What?"
"The sarcasm."
Kojiro nudged his shoulder. Lightly. The contact lasted less than a second. Yet somehow it startled Kaoru more than if he'd grabbed him.
"You were getting depressing."
"I just got dumped."
"Fair."
For the first time all day, a genuine laugh escaped him. Small. Weak. But real.
Kojiro's expression immediately brightened. Which was ridiculous. It was one laugh. One stupid laugh. Yet he looked absurdly relieved. As though Kaoru had returned from somewhere dangerous. As though he'd been holding his breath.
The sight made warmth bloom somewhere deep in Kaoru's chest. A tiny warmth. Fragile. Confusing. He ignored it.
Rain continued crashing around them. People hurried past carrying umbrellas. Taxis arrived and departed. Life moved forward. Relentlessly. Without permission. Without waiting for broken hearts.
Kojiro stepped out beneath the storm first. "Come on." Water soaked him instantly.
Kaoru stared. "You don't have an umbrella."
"Nope."
"You're an idiot."
"Yep."
"You own umbrellas."
"Several."
"Then why didn't you bring one?"
Kojiro glanced back over his shoulder. Rain dripping from his hair. Grinning. "I forgot it. You looked like you were having a crisis."
For a second Kaoru couldn't breathe. The answer had been so immediate. So honest. No hesitation. No embarrassment. Just truth.
You looked like you were having a crisis.
As though that explained everything. As though, naturally, Kojiro had dropped whatever he was doing and run after him. As though there had never been another option.
Something twisted painfully inside Kaoru's chest. Not the sharp agony Ainosuke had left behind. Something quieter. Softer. More dangerous. Because it felt suspiciously like gratitude. And Kaoru wasn't sure he could survive feeling grateful today. Especially not toward someone who had done absolutely nothing wrong.
Kojiro tilted his head. "You coming?"
Kaoru stared at him. At the rain. At the road beyond the airport. At the uncertain future waiting somewhere ahead. Then he exhaled slowly. And stepped into the storm beside him.
The taxi ride was miserable. Not because of the rain. Not because of the crowded seats. Not even because every part of Kaoru's body felt exhausted. It was miserable because he couldn't stop thinking. The airport had been easier. There had been noise. Movement. Distractions. Now there was only the rhythmic drumming of rain against the windows and the horrifying amount of time his own thoughts had to speak. Ainosuke leaving. Ainosuke's expression. Ainosuke's voice.
"You knew this wasn't forever."
The memory hit like a knife. Kaoru immediately looked out the window. The city blurred past. Streetlights smeared across wet glass. Beside him, Kojiro pretended not to notice. Which meant he definitely noticed. The idiot was annoyingly observant when he wanted to be.
For almost twenty minutes neither of them spoke. Then: "You can take my bed."
Kaoru turned. "What?"
"My bed."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because it's your bed."
"So?"
"So I'm not stealing your bed."
"You're not stealing it."
"Yes I am."
"You literally aren't."
Kaoru rubbed his forehead. "I'm not sleeping in your bed."
Kojiro looked genuinely confused. "Then where are you sleeping?"
"The floor."
"The floor?"
"Yes."
"No."
"Kojiro."
"No."
"Kojiro."
"No."
"You're impossible."
"So I've been told."
The corner of Kaoru's mouth twitched. Again. That tiny almost-smile. And again Kojiro noticed. The idiot looked absurdly pleased with himself. As if earning a reaction from Kaoru was some kind of personal achievement. Maybe it was. Most people gave up after a few minutes. Kojiro had spent years learning how to drag expressions out of him. Sometimes against his will.
The thought should have annoyed him. Instead it made something ache. Because Ainosuke had always chased excitement. The next thrill. The next challenge. The next impossible thing. Kojiro stayed. Even when things weren't exciting. Even when they were difficult. Even when Kaoru was being insufferable. Especially then. The realization settled heavily in his chest. He looked away before it could become something he needed to examine.
The bus continued through the rain. Eventually the city gave way to familiar streets. Neighborhoods. Stores. Homes. Normal things. Ordinary things. The kind of things that felt impossibly distant now.
When they finally stepped off the bus, the storm had weakened into a steady drizzle. They walked the remaining distance in comfortable silence.
Eventually familiar lights appeared ahead. Kojiro's house. A two-story building with warm yellow windows glowing against the rainy evening. Home. Not Kaoru's home. But close enough.
His chest tightened unexpectedly. For years he had spent more time here than almost anywhere else. Movie nights. Study sessions. Arguments. Sleepovers. Skateboard repairs. Endless meals courtesy of Kojiro's mother.
The place held hundreds of memories. Most of them good. Which somehow made tonight harder. Because tonight he felt eighteen years old and heartbreakingly young. Not the composed future professional everyone expected him to become. Not the talented skater. Not the prodigy. Just a kid whose first love had gotten on a plane and left, probably forever.
The front door opened before they even reached it.
"Kojiro!" His mother's voice carried across the yard. "Oh good, you're finally home."
She paused. Her gaze landed on Kaoru.One look. That was all it took. One look at his face. The smile disappeared immediately. Not completely. Just enough. Softening. Changing. Becoming concern.
Kaoru wanted to vanish. Adults always noticed. He hated that. Especially kind adults. And Kojiro's mother was one of the kindest people he'd ever met.
"Kaoru." Her voice was gentle. Far too gentle. "You staying tonight?"
He nodded. Unable to trust himself to speak.
Understanding flickered across her face. Not complete understanding. But enough. Enough to recognize pain when she saw it. Enough to know not to ask questions.
"Oh good." She smiled. Warm. Safe. The kind of smile mothers perfected. "I made too much food."
Kojiro immediately snorted. "You always make too much food."
"I have a growing teenage boy."
"I'm literally nearly done growing."
"You eat like you're preparing for winter."
"That's because I skate."
"You use that excuse for everything."
Kaoru watched them. The familiar argument. The practiced rhythm. And suddenly something inside him cracked, just a little. Because it was so normal. So painfully normal. The world hadn't ended. The sky hadn't fallen. Life continued. Families ate dinner. People laughed. Rain fell. And somehow Ainosuke was gone. How could both things be true? How could everything feel broken when the world looked exactly the same?
A hand touched the middle of his back. Brief. Light. Kojiro. Grounding him before he drifted too far. Kaoru hadn't even realized he'd stopped walking. Their eyes met. Just for a second. Kojiro didn't say anything. Didn't need to. The message was obvious.
I've got you.
Simple. Wordless. Certain. And for some reason that nearly broke Kaoru more than anything else had all day. Dinner was exactly as awful as he'd expected. Because Kojiro's mother kept putting food on his plate. And because it tasted good. And because every few minutes somebody would make him laugh despite his best efforts.
By the time they escaped upstairs, Kaoru felt exhausted in a completely different way. The kind of exhaustion that arrived after emotional survival.
Kojiro kicked his bedroom door shut behind them. The familiar room greeted them immediately. Skateboards. Posters. Clothes thrown absolutely everywhere.
"Your room is disgusting."
"Welcome back."
"You live like an animal."
"You've said that since middle school."
"Because it's true."
Kojiro grinned. There it was again. That relieved expression. Like every sarcastic comment from Kaoru was proof that he was still functioning.
The idiot. The complete and utter idiot.
Kaoru set his bag down beside the wall. Suddenly he didn't know what to do. The distraction of dinner was gone. The conversation was gone. The noise was gone. Now there was only silence. And silence meant thoughts. Dangerous thoughts. Ainosuke-shaped thoughts.
Kojiro seemed to realize it at the same moment. His grin faded. The room grew quiet. Rain tapped softly against the window.
Neither of them moved. For several long seconds. Then Kojiro spoke. Carefully. Like someone approaching a wounded animal. "You don't have to talk about it."
Kaoru stared at the floor. His throat tightened immediately.
Damn it.
"Okay."
"But if you want to—"
"I don't."
"Okay. But you can if you change your mind."
"Kojiro."
"Yeah?"
"Please stop being emotionally available."
The laugh that escaped Kojiro startled both of them. Loud. Real. Uncontrolled. The kind of laugh that bent him forward slightly.
Kaoru couldn't help it. A tiny smile appeared. A genuine one. For perhaps two seconds. Then it vanished. And suddenly everything hurt again. The smile. The laugh. The relief. All of it. Because for one brief moment he'd forgotten. And now he remembered. The memory hit so hard his eyes burned. His chest tightened. His breathing caught.
No. No, not now. Not here.
"Kaoru?" The concern in Kojiro's voice made it worse. Far worse. Because suddenly he wasn't alone. And somehow that made holding himself together impossible.
He looked away immediately. Too late. Kojiro had already seen. The shaking breath. The red eyes. The desperate attempt to keep control.
The battle ended quietly. Not with a dramatic breakdown. Not with shouting. Not with anger. Just exhaustion. Pure, overwhelming exhaustion.
Kaoru looked at the floor. Then at the wall. Then at nothing at all. And suddenly his vision blurred. His chest hurt. His throat hurt. Everything hurt. A single tear slipped free. He wiped it away immediately. Another followed. Then another. And another.
Damn it. No. Not here.
"Kaoru."
His name broke something. The careful control he'd maintained all day shattered. A sound escaped him. Small. Broken. Humiliating.
And before he could stop himself, before pride could intervene, before dignity could remind him who he was, he folded. Not physically. Emotionally. Completely. The room tilted. The tears wouldn't stop.
Months. Months of pretending. Months of hoping. Months of waiting for Ainosuke to choose him. And in the end… nothing.
"He left." The words came out strangled. "He left."
Kojiro was already moving. Kaoru didn't even see it happen. One second he was standing there. The next he was being pulled forward. Strong arms. Warmth. A familiar scent. Soap. Rain. Kojiro.
And suddenly Kaoru was crying against his shoulder. Actually crying. Not elegant tears. Not quiet sadness. The ugly kind. The humiliating kind. The kind that left your chest aching. The kind that stole your breath.
Kojiro held him. That's all. No speeches. No advice. No attempts to fix anything. Just held him. One hand between his shoulders. The other resting carefully against the back of his head. Steady. Certain. Present. And somehow that made everything worse.
Because Ainosuke had always burned. Like fire. Like lightning. Like something impossible to hold. Kojiro felt like shelter. And Kaoru hadn't realized how desperately he needed shelter until this exact moment.
"He didn't even look back." The confession came out against Kojiro's shirt. Barely understandable. But Kojiro heard it. Of course he did.
The hand on his back tightened. Just slightly. "I know."
"I waited." Another shaky breath. "I waited for him to look back."
"I know."
The words were so gentle that Kaoru nearly cried harder. He hated gentle. Especially tonight. Especially from Kojiro. Because every kindness felt like another crack forming inside his chest.
Minutes passed. Or maybe hours. Time stopped making sense. Eventually the crying eased. Not because he felt better. Simply because he was exhausted. Emotionally drained. Empty.
He remained where he was. Forehead pressed against Kojiro's shoulder. Eyes closed. Breathing uneven.
Embarrassment began creeping in. Slowly. Inevitably. The horror of what had just happened. He had cried. Actually cried. On Kojiro. For what felt like forever.
Wonderful. Perfect.
He was going to move. Any second now. Any second.
… He didn't. Because moving would mean letting go. And unexpectedly, terrifyingly, he didn't want to.
The realization startled him. Not because of what it meant. Because he wasn't stupid enough to examine that tonight. But because of how safe he felt. Safe enough to stop pretending. Safe enough to stop performing. Safe enough to simply exist.
Kaoru's hands had somehow ended up clutching the back of his shirt. He hadn't meant to grab him. Hadn't meant to hold on. But if he let go right now, he thought he might fall apart completely. So he stayed exactly where he was. And Kojiro let him.
The room blurred through tears. Everything hurt. His chest. His throat. His pride. Most of all his pride. Because this was pathetic. He knew it was pathetic. Crying over someone who had chosen to leave. Crying over someone who had looked him in the eye and effectively said “you were never enough reason to stay”.
"He promised." Kaoru's voice cracked. "He promised we'd stay together." The words escaped before he could stop them.
Kojiro froze. Not visibly. Most people wouldn't have noticed. But Kaoru knew him. Knew every shift in posture. Every change in breathing. Every tiny reaction. And Kojiro had gone completely still. Not because Kaoru was crying. Not because Kaoru was heartbroken. Because of the word.
Together.
"I know."
Kaoru shut his eyes. Of course he knew. Of course. The realization made fresh tears sting.
"You really knew." It wasn't a question.
Kojiro hesitated. Only for a second. "Yeah."
For some reason that hurt. Not because Kojiro knew. Because he'd never judged him for it. Never looked at him differently. Never acted strange. Never treated him like some secret. The idiot had simply known. And stayed.
The thought made his chest ache. "I never told you."
"No."
"Then how?"
A strange sound escaped Kojiro. Half laugh. Half sigh. "Kaoru."
"What?"
"You looked at him like he hung the moon."
Kaoru immediately wanted the floor to open beneath him. "Oh my god."
"I'm serious."
"Stop talking."
"You thought nobody noticed?"
"Kojiro."
"Seriously?"
"Kojiro."
"You followed him around for months."
"I did not."
"You absolutely did."
"I had dignity."
"Maybe before him."
Despite everything, a tiny laugh escaped Kaoru. A wet, miserable laugh. Kojiro's hand rubbed slowly across his back. The gesture should have been comforting. Instead it made something tighten painfully in Kaoru's chest. Because Ainosuke had never done this. Never sat with him when he was upset. Never stayed through the ugly parts. Never held him together.
Ainosuke had always wanted the best version of him. The brilliant version. The talented version. The composed version. Kojiro was currently getting tears on his shirt and didn't seem remotely bothered.
The comparison arrived before Kaoru could stop it. And once it arrived, it refused to leave. He tried to ignore it. Failed. Spectacularly.
"Why are you still here?" The question slipped out.
Kojiro blinked. "What?"
"Why are you still here?" Kaoru finally pulled back enough to look at him. Red eyes. Wet cheeks. Zero dignity remaining. "Everybody leaves eventually." The words sounded ridiculous the moment they left his mouth. Too dramatic. Too honest. Too vulnerable. Yet he couldn't take them back.
For a second something changed in Kojiro's expression. Something Kaoru couldn't identify. Gone almost immediately. Replaced by something softer. Something sadder. "Not everybody."
Kaoru laughed bitterly. "Ainosuke did."
The name settled heavily between them. Neither moved. Neither looked away. Then Kojiro said something completely unexpected. Something that seemed to surprise him as much as it surprised Kaoru. "I almost did too."
Kaoru stared. "What?" The word barely came out.
Kojiro looked like he regretted speaking immediately.
Damn.
Kaoru knew that look. "Kojiro."
Nothing.
"Kojiro."
A sigh. A long one. The kind people made when they realized escape was impossible. "A month ago."
Kaoru frowned. "What happened a month ago?"
Kojiro looked away. And suddenly he seemed uncomfortable. Actually uncomfortable. Which was strange. Kojiro never got uncomfortable. Not around him.
"I got accepted."
"What?"
"The Academy of Culinary Arts."
Kaoru blinked. Then blinked again. Memory surfaced. A letter. An application. Something Kojiro had mentioned once. Months ago. Briefly. Before dropping the subject.
"You never got accepted."
"I did."
The room went completely silent.
"What?"
Kojiro rubbed the back of his neck. Looking vaguely embarrassed. "I did."
Kaoru stared. The pieces slowly clicked together. "You turned it down."
No answer. Which was answer enough.
His heartbeat slowed. Then sped up. Then did something strange entirely. "Why?"
The question came out automatically. Kojiro shrugged. An obviously fake shrug. The kind that meant everything. The kind Kaoru had spent years decoding.
"No reason."
"That's a lie."
"Maybe."
"Kojiro."
"You would've been alone."
Kaoru forgot how to breathe. The room disappeared. The rain disappeared. Everything disappeared. Leaving only those words.
You would've been alone.
The statement hung there. Simple. Honest. Devastating. Because Kojiro wasn't saying it dramatically. Wasn't trying to impress him. Wasn't trying to earn gratitude. If anything, he looked annoyed that the truth had escaped. Like it had been a secret. Like he had never intended Kaoru to know.
And suddenly, maybe for the first time all day, Kaoru wasn't thinking about Ainosuke. He was staring at Kojiro. At the boy who had quietly rearranged parts of his future years ago and never mentioned it. The boy who had sat beside him through every heartbreak. Every argument. Every triumph. Every disaster. The boy who was still here.
That hit harder than expected. Hard enough that neither of them knew what to say next. And somewhere deep inside Kaoru, beneath the grief and the exhaustion and the broken pieces Ainosuke had left behind, something shifted.
The silence lasted so long that the rain became louder. Or maybe Kaoru was simply hearing it again. His mind was elsewhere. Stuck on one sentence.
You would've been alone.
He couldn't stop turning it over. Examining it. Trying to understand it.
Kojiro had given up something important. Something huge. And he'd done it so casually that Kaoru doubted anyone else even knew. Not because he'd been forced to. Not because he had to. Because he didn't want Kaoru to be alone.
That was terrifying. Not because it was romantic. Not because it meant anything. Because it revealed the depth of something Kaoru had apparently been taking for granted for years. Friendship. Loyalty. Love, perhaps, in its own form. The kind that stayed. The kind that didn't leave. The kind that didn't get on airplanes.
"Is it too late?" The question escaped before he could stop it.
Kojiro blinked. "What?"
"The academy."
"Oh."
For the first time since revealing the secret, Kojiro looked uncomfortable. Genuinely uncomfortable. "Maybe."
"Maybe?"
"The deadline's in two weeks."
Kaoru stared. "Two weeks."
"Yeah."
"That's not too late."
"No."
"Then accept it." The answer came immediately. Firm. Certain. Without hesitation.
Kojiro looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "No."
Kaoru frowned. "No?"
"No."
"What do you mean, no?"
"I mean no."
"Kojiro."
"Kaoru."
"You're an idiot."
"I know."
"No, genuinely." Kaoru sat up straighter. The blanket slipping from his shoulders. "You got accepted."
"Yeah."
"You wanted to go."
"...Yeah."
"You still want to go."
Kojiro looked away. Which was answer enough.
Something twisted painfully in Kaoru's chest. Because he'd spent the entire day grieving someone who left. And now he was discovering that somebody else had quietly stayed. For him. Without asking for anything. Without even telling him. The imbalance felt unfair. Massively unfair.
"You should go."
"No."
"You should."
"No."
"Kojiro."
"No." The answer was immediate. Final. Stubborn. Infuriating. "I don't want you by yourself."
Kaoru froze. The words landed heavily between them. Simple. Honest. Completely sincere. And somehow that made them harder to hear.
"You can't make life decisions based on me."
"I can if I want."
"That's ridiculous."
"Maybe."
"It is."
Kojiro shrugged. The movement was careless. But his eyes weren't. His eyes were serious. Steady. "I don't care."
The room became very quiet. Rain against glass. Distant thunder. Two teenagers sitting in a bedroom. One heartbroken. One impossibly stubborn.
Kaoru stared at him. And suddenly a thought appeared. Small at first. Then larger. Then impossible to ignore. It was ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. Which was probably why it escaped his mouth.
"You wouldn't have to."
Kojiro frowned. "Wouldn't have to what?"
"Leave me alone."
Neither of them moved. Kaoru could actually feel his heartbeat. Too fast. Far too fast. This was stupid. A terrible idea. An insane idea. Yet somehow he kept talking. Because for the first time all day he wasn't thinking about loss. He was thinking about possibility. And that felt strangely wonderful.
"I could come."
Silence. Absolute silence. Kojiro stared. Kaoru immediately wanted to jump out the window.
Wonderful. Excellent. Perfect. The worst suggestion in human history.
He looked away first. Suddenly fascinated by the floor. "It was just a thought."
Nothing.
"Forget it."
Still nothing.
Kaoru's ears were burning. Why were his ears burning? This was humiliating. "You don't have to answer."
The silence somehow got worse. Than finally: "Come with me?" The question sounded almost disbelieving.
Kaoru immediately regretted everything. "Forget I said anything."
"You'd move to Italy?"
"It was a hypothetical."
"Kaoru."
"It doesn't matter."
"Kaoru."
"It was stupid."
The mattress shifted. Kojiro had moved closer. Not much. Just enough. And suddenly Kaoru became very aware of how little distance existed between them. His pulse did something concerning.
"You'd actually come?" The question was quieter this time. Careful. Like Kojiro was afraid the answer might disappear.
Kaoru swallowed. The truth felt strangely difficult to say. Not because it wasn't true. Because it was. Because somehow the idea had felt right the moment it appeared.
A fresh start. A new country. A new life. No Ainosuke. No memories around every corner. No waiting for somebody who wasn't coming back. Just freedom. And Kojiro.
The thought startled him. Not enough to reject it. Just enough to notice. "I don't know." The answer came softly. Honest. "I think so."
Kojiro stared. Neither of them spoke. The room seemed smaller somehow. Warmer.
Kaoru looked down at his hands. Then admitted the part he'd been avoiding. "The idea doesn't sound terrible."
A laugh escaped Kojiro. Small. Disbelieving. "You are the worst salesperson I've ever met."
"I'm not selling anything."
"That's literally what you're doing."
"I'm not."
"You are."
Kaoru rolled his eyes. Relieved by the familiar argument. Relieved by anything that reduced the strange tension currently filling the room.
Unfortunately, Kojiro wasn't letting him escape. "What about your plans?"
"What plans?"
"Your future."
Kaoru snorted. "My future currently consists of being miserable."
"That's not a career."
"Give it time."
That earned another laugh. A real one. The kind Kaoru had always liked hearing. The realization arrived unexpectedly. He'd always liked hearing it. Long before today. Long before this conversation. Long before he'd started noticing things he probably shouldn't be noticing.
The thought made him look away. Fast. Very fast. Fortunately, Kojiro seemed distracted by something else. Namely the fact that Kaoru had just casually suggested crossing the world with him. Which, admittedly, was a lot.
"You know," Kojiro said slowly, "if I went..."
"Mm?"
"I'd be there for years."
"I know."
"Probably two or three."
Kaoru nodded. "I know."
"You'd really consider it?" There was something vulnerable in the question. Something surprisingly uncertain. As though Kojiro genuinely couldn't imagine somebody choosing him.
That made Kaoru's chest ache. Because that was ridiculous. People chose Kojiro all the time. They trusted him. Relied on him. Loved him. They just rarely said it out loud. Including Kaoru. Especially Kaoru.
He met Kojiro's eyes. For the first time since this conversation started. And answered honestly. "Yeah."
The word hung in the air. Simple. Certain. Real. Something shifted in Kojiro's expression. Something warm. Something almost unbearably fond. And for a second neither of them looked away.
Then both of them did. Immediately. At exactly the same time. Which somehow made everything worse. And neither of them mentioned that the first future that had excited Kaoru all day was one that happened to include Kojiro standing beside him.
Five days since the airport. Five days since the night everything changed. Five days since the worst day of Kaoru's life. And somehow, impossibly, things had become... lighter. Not fixed. Not yet.
Sometimes he still woke up thinking about Ainosuke. Sometimes his chest still hurt. Sometimes he still found himself staring at his phone. But there was something else now. Something new. Something forward-facing.
Italy. The word felt strange. Exciting. Terrifying. Real.
Both sets of parents had reacted with varying levels of panic.
Kojiro's mother had cried. Twice. Then immediately started hugging both of them.
Kojiro's father had spent twenty minutes pretending not to be emotional before loudly announcing that "his little boy grow up."
Meanwhile, Kaoru's parents had stared at him like he'd suddenly grown a second head.
Their son. Their meticulously organized son. Their perfectly predictable son. Announcing he intended to move across the world with Kojiro Nanjo. Of all people. The irony still made him smile.
Eventually, after several very long conversations, everyone had accepted it. Mostly.
Kojiro was sitting on the floor beside his bed when Kaoru arrived. The notebook was immediately dropped in his lap.
"What's this?"
"Our future."
Kojiro opened it. Then blinked. Then blinked again. There were charts. Of course there were charts. And lists. And budgets. And timelines. Because Kaoru was Kaoru.
"Have you slept?"
"That's not relevant."
"It absolutely is."
"Focus."
Kojiro laughed. Then actually started reading. At first it was practical. Very practical. Flights. Tuition estimates. Living expenses. Language courses. Visa requirements. All the boring adult things that suddenly mattered.
Eventually Kojiro reached the housing section. Then stopped. "Wait."
Kaoru looked up. "What?"
"This says one apartment."
"...Yes."
"One."
"That's generally how apartments work."
"No." Kojiro pointed at the page. "This."
Kaoru suddenly became fascinated by the opposite wall. A terrible sign.
"Kaoru."
Silence.
"Kaoru."
"It seemed practical."
The answer came far too quickly. Far too casually. Far too rehearsed. Kojiro stared. Then looked back at the notebook. Then back at Kaoru. Then back at the notebook again. One apartment. One rent payment. One set of utilities. One kitchen. One life.
"Oh."
Kaoru's ears immediately turned pink. Interesting. Very interesting.
"You mean together."
"No, I meant we'd live in separate dimensions."
The sarcasm was automatic. Which meant Kaoru was nervous. Kojiro knew that tone. Had known it for years.
"We'd save money." Kaoru continued staring at literally anything except him. "Everything is expensive."
"Right."
"We already know each other."
"Right."
"We wouldn't have to deal with random roommates."
"Right."
"It makes sense."
Kojiro's heart was doing something concerning. Because yes. It did make sense. Complete sense. Perfect sense. Dangerous sense. The idea of living with Kaoru had occupied a suspicious amount of space in his imagination over the years. Entirely against his will. He'd simply never expected reality to offer the opportunity.
"You want to live together?" The question came out quieter than intended.
Kaoru finally looked at him. "I think I'd like that."
The room suddenly felt smaller. Much smaller. Kojiro forgot how breathing worked. Momentarily. Only momentarily. Which was fortunate. Because Kaoru was currently looking at him with an expression he rarely showed anyone. Open. Uncertain. Vulnerable. As though the answer genuinely mattered. As though rejection might hurt.
The realization made something tighten painfully inside Kojiro's chest. Because how was he supposed to explain this? How was he supposed to explain that if Kaoru asked him to move to the moon, he'd probably start researching rockets?
Instead he settled for: "Yeah."
A smile appeared immediately. Small. Relieved. Beautiful. Kojiro nearly had a heart attack.
"Oh." Kaoru blinked. "Just yeah?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"I don't know."
"You suggested sharing an apartment."
"You sound weirdly calm."
"I am calm."
"You're lying."
"I am."
"Kojiro."
"I'm trying very hard."
That finally earned a laugh. A real one. The sound filled the room. And for a second everything felt easy. Simple. Possible.
Kojiro watched him. Watched the way the tension disappeared from his shoulders. The way excitement slowly replaced uncertainty. And suddenly he understood. Kaoru needed this. Not just Italy. Not just the fresh start. The certainty. The knowledge that somebody was choosing to be there. Choosing him.
The thought hurt. Because Kaoru still didn't realize how much Kojiro would always choose him. Maybe someday. Not now. But someday.
"Okay." Kaoru grabbed another notebook. The movement was immediate. Businesslike. Focused. Dangerous.
Kojiro knew that look. "What now?"
"We need a plan."
"Oh no."
"Oh yes."
Three hours later they had discussed: apartment budgets, transportation, food costs, laundry, furniture, emergency savings, language classes. By the end of it Kojiro felt like he'd attended a corporate meeting. Meanwhile Kaoru looked delighted. Absolutely delighted. Like organizing their future was the most enjoyable activity in existence.
The sight made Kojiro smile despite himself. "You know."
Kaoru looked up from a page. "What?"
"This is kind of terrifying."
"Yeah."
The answer surprised him. Because Kaoru looked scared too. Not dramatically. Just enough. Enough to be honest.
"We're really doing this."
The words hung between them. Neither joked. Neither laughed. Because suddenly it was real. Not a fantasy. Not a dream. Not a desperate idea born from heartbreak. Reality. A new country. A new life. A future neither of them had expected.
Kojiro watched Kaoru for a moment. Then smiled. A genuine smile. The kind he usually reserved for very few people. "We'll figure it out."
Kaoru looked at him. And something softened immediately. As though those four words were enough. As though somehow they always had been. "We will."
The answer came quietly. Certain. Trusting. And Kojiro had to look away afterward. Because hearing Kaoru say we like that felt dangerously close to everything he'd ever wanted. Even if Kaoru didn't realize it yet. Even if he never would. For now, this was enough. A shared apartment. A shared future. A chance to stay beside him.
And as Kaoru launched into a detailed explanation about calligraphy programs in Italy, Kojiro found himself smiling again. Because for the first time in years, the future looked exactly the way he'd secretly dreamed it might.
For Kaoru, the reality still felt surreal. Especially now. Because Kojiro was lying on the floor beside him, reading through academy information while occasionally making notes. Completely focused. Completely serious. Completely adorable. The thought arrived without warning. Kaoru immediately frowned.
No. Nope. Absolutely not.
He returned his attention to his own paperwork. Calligraphy programs. Programming courses. Language schools. The future. His future. A future he hadn't expected to have a week ago.
"Look at this."
Kaoru glanced up. Regretted it instantly. Kojiro was smiling. A genuine one. Bright. Excited. Happy. Far happier than Kaoru had seen him in years. The sight did something strange to his chest. Again. That same annoying warmth. The same feeling that had been appearing with increasing frequency lately. Extremely inconvenient.
"You are aware," Kaoru said carefully, "that normal people don't look this excited about homework."
"It's not homework."
"It literally is."
"It's our future."
The answer came so quickly that Kaoru paused. Something softened inside him. Because Kojiro wasn't joking. Not this time. He looked genuinely happy. Not the loud, carefree version of happy. Something deeper. Something quieter. The kind of happiness that came from finally reaching something you'd wanted for a very long time.
And suddenly Kaoru remembered the academy. The acceptance. The opportunity. The thing Kojiro had nearly thrown away. For him. The realization still unsettled him. A lot.
"Hey."
Kojiro looked up. "What?"
"I'm glad you're going." The words slipped out before he could overthink them.
For a moment Kojiro simply stared. Then smiled. A smaller smile this time. Softer. "You mean, you’re happy we’re going?"
"Yeah."
Silence settled between them. Comfortable silence. The kind they'd always shared. But lately it felt different somehow. Heavier. Warmer. Filled with things neither of them seemed ready to discuss.
Kaoru returned to his paperwork. Or at least he tried to. Unfortunately, concentration was difficult when Kojiro kept existing nearby. Which was absurd. They'd known each other forever. Nothing had changed. Except apparently everything. Because now Kaoru noticed things. The way Kojiro bit the end of a pen while thinking. The way he pushed his hair back when reading. The way his eyes lit up whenever he talked about cooking.
Had those things always been there?
Probably. Kaoru had simply never paid attention. Or maybe he'd been too busy looking at somebody else. The thought hit unexpectedly. Ainosuke. For the first time, the memory didn't hurt quite as much. It still hurt. But less.
That surprised him. Enough that he sat there staring at a page without actually reading it. Maybe because grief wasn't the only thing occupying his heart anymore. Maybe because something else was growing in the empty spaces. Something familiar. Something dangerous. Something suspiciously similar to…
No. Absolutely not.
Kaoru immediately shut that thought down. He wasn't doing this. Not now. Not after Ainosuke. Not just a week after.
"Kaoru."
"What?"
"You've been staring at the same page for five minutes."
"I have not."
"You absolutely have."
Damn it.
Kojiro grinned. Kaoru hated that grin. Particularly because he liked it. A lot. Which was becoming a problem. A serious problem. The worst part? The more he thought about it, the more obvious certain things became.
The airport. The comfort. The way Kojiro always seemed to know when something was wrong. The way he stayed. The way Kaoru felt calmer whenever he was nearby. The way every plan for the future suddenly seemed brighter when Kojiro was included.
Oh. Oh no.
He was in trouble. Real trouble. Because he was starting to understand something. Not completely. Not enough to name it. But enough. Enough to recognize the direction. Enough to realize his feelings weren't moving backward. They were moving forward. Toward somebody. Toward the idiot currently researching Italian grocery stores.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
Kaoru nearly jumped. "I don't."
"You do."
"I don't."
"You absolutely do."
"You're imagining things."
Kojiro narrowed his eyes. Kaoru looked away immediately. A terrible strategy. Far too suspicious. Judging by the laughter that followed, Kojiro agreed.
Wonderful. Perfect.
Now he was embarrassed.
Meanwhile, across the room, Kojiro was experiencing a completely different crisis. Because every few minutes he found himself looking at Kaoru and having to remind himself this was real.
Kaoru was coming with him. To Italy. To a new country. A new life. An apartment they would share. Mornings together. Meals together. Years together. The idea felt dangerously close to a dream. One he'd secretly wanted for so long he'd eventually convinced himself it would never happen.
He'd fallen in love with Kaoru years ago. Quietly. Hopelessly. Without expectation. The kind of love you carried because there was nothing else to do with it. And now the person he'd loved for years was sitting on his bedroom floor planning a future that included him.
Kojiro knew better than to hope for more. Especially now. Especially when Kaoru was still healing. Still hurting. Still recovering. But sometimes hope happened anyway. Small. Stubborn. Impossible to kill.
Across the room, Kaoru looked up. Their eyes met. And for one brief second neither looked away. The moment stretched. Not long. Just long enough. Long enough for Kaoru's pulse to stumble. Long enough for Kojiro's heart to do something deeply embarrassing.
Then both immediately returned to their paperwork. Far too quickly. Far too casually. As if nothing had happened. As if the future hadn't suddenly become a very dangerous place. As if both of them weren't beginning to imagine it in exactly the same way.