Archive of Our Own

Kojiro wakes up on the floor.

This is new. He does not usually wake up on the floor.

Normally, this would be a cause to worry. But as Kojiro blinks the sleep from his eyes and glances around the room, he can at least tell it is his own hotel room he’s in. He must have just fallen out of bed at some point, which is a little bit embarrassing, but not necessarily something of concern. But as his eyes trail around the room—

—the person in his bed might be something of concern.

Kojiro continues sitting on the floor as he stares at the mysterious lump in his bed. It’s definitely a person, but try as he might, Kojiro simply can’t seem to remember who it could be. As a matter of fact, he can’t seem to remember anything from last night.

That’s probably not a good sign.

His head throbs a little as he struggles to remember. He was out with Kaoru last night, with a plan to get totally wasted as quickly as possible—and judging by his headache, this was a pretty successful endeavor—but how did the night end? How did Kojiro drink so much that he can’t even remember who he slept with last night?

He looks down at himself. He’s still wearing his clothes, even if they are a bit rumpled, but Kojiro thinks that’s probably just from falling from his bed at some point last night. Then, at the very least, he’s pretty sure he only indulged in a literal sleeping together with someone.

He stares at the figure in his bed for a few moments longer, willing them to wake up so Kojiro can figure out their identity. It’s bothering him quite a bit that he can’t remember the circumstances leading up to this at all, but when the lump under his blanket stubbornly refuses to move, Kojiro pulls his gaze away with a short sigh. He’ll probably have to kick them out soon—he and Kaoru have a relatively early flight back to Okinawa in just a few hours—so he figures he’ll leave them be for the few minutes Kojiro can afford to have them in his room for the rest of the morning. Kojiro yawns and immediately winces. There’s a horrible taste in his mouth—he should really brush his teeth already. Maybe after he freshens up, he can politely usher his anonymous guest outside—hopefully without Kaoru next door seeing. God, Kojiro can already imagine his reprimand. Seriously?, he’d say with a poorly disguised roll of his eyes. You couldn’t last even a single night without someone new in your bed?

Kojiro wrinkles his nose and shakes his head to dispel the imaginary Kaoru in his mind. With another yawn, he makes to get up and move towards the bathroom, but a shuffle from the bed catches his attention. When he glances over, he sees that they’re still mostly covered by the blanket, but he can spot a glimpse of pink—

Pink?

“...Kaoru?”

The person snorts something into their pillow.

“Kaoru?”

With a groan, Kaoru—because it is definitely, 100% Kaoru—rolls to the side. He opens his eyes slightly to squint at Kojiro.

“Oh,” he says. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Kojiro greets back absently. “Uh, what are you doing in my bed?”

Kaoru blinks languidly at him before rubbing a hand over his face and finally sitting up. "It's too early for this."

Kojiro finally manages to spring from his seat on the floor. He ignores the twinge in his back as he does—his age is catching up to him, and that night on the floor really didn’t help, but there are more pressing matters. Namely—

“What the hell did we do last night?”

“You don’t remember?” Kaoru asks around a yawn.

Kojiro racks his mind and comes up empty. “No…?”

Kaoru sighs, like he’s disappointed in Kojiro. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Like…” Kojiro squints. His headache pounds a little harder between his eyes. “Entering that… one casino?”

Las Vegas probably has a thousand different casinos. Kojiro is aware this probably isn’t a very useful benchmark, but Kaoru seems to know what he’s talking about anyway, because his expression turns pensive.

“Oh,” Kaoru says after a pause. “Right.”

Kojiro waits for Kaoru to add more. When he doesn’t, Kojiro raises his eyebrows. “Do… you remember stuff?”

Kaoru looks away and rubs at his forehead. “A bit. Yeah.”

Kojiro’s eyes flit between Kaoru and the bed he’s still sitting on—Kojiro’s bed. “Then—last night—did we…” He trails off. He looks down at his rumpled shirt. He glances back up at Kaoru.

Kaoru lets out a somewhat exasperated sigh. “Nothing happened. We both just got wasted and you said I could crash in your room because I was too tipsy to make it to mine across the hall.” He glances down at Kojiro. “Also, I think I kicked you off at some point in the night. Sorry.”

“Oh,” Kojiro says, entirely relieved. Sharing a bed was something they used to do when they were younger, but it had been years since the last time. Kojiro supposes he probably should have guessed it considering he had ended up on the floor—Kaoru had been prone to flailing around in the night even when they were kids, too. With that mystery solved, he’s just about to suggest that they start getting ready to head to the airport when he feels a spike of pain behind his eyes. “Jesus,” he groans, bringing a hand to his forehead. “How much did we drink last ni…” He trails off when he notices a light glint off of something on his hand.

He brings his hand closer to his face. He blinks.

Is that a ring on his finger?

“Wow,” Kojiro murmurs, turning his hand to the side to get a better look at the silver ring. He’s usually more of a gold person, but there’s something quite alluring about the design of this. “This is pretty cool.” He glances at Kaoru and juts his hand forward so Kaoru can get a good look at it, too. “Do you remember how I got this?”

When he glances up, Kaoru presses his lips together and looks away. That’s when Kojiro notices that there’s something shiny on Kaoru’s hand, too.

“Oh,” Kojiro says with a laugh. “You have one, too.” He leans forward to get a better look, his eyes darting between the two rings. “The designs are pretty similar,” Kojiro observes out loud. “That’s neat. We’re matching! We have… matching… rings…”

He trails off. He stares at Kaoru’s hand. He stares at his own hand.

He stares at the ring.

He stares at the ring on his ring finger.

“Right,” Kaoru says eventually. “I probably should have mentioned.”

“Uh,” Kojiro croaks out.

“...I think we got married last night.”

“What?”

They should talk about it. They should really talk about it, but Kojiro spends too long gaping silently at Kaoru like an idiot after he learns the truth, and eventually Kaoru turns away and mutters something under his breath about needing to pack before grabbing his glasses and slipping out of Kojiro’s room. He’s out the door before Kojiro can remember how to use words. Kojiro stares at his closed door for a few moments before turning back to stare at the ring on his hand. The wedding ring on his hand.

When he does manage to tear his gaze away from the ring, his eyes land on the clock by his bed. When he sees the time, he finally startles into action. The next few hours pass in such a rush—frantically dragging suitcases down four flights of stairs because the elevator stopped working, anxiously double-checking flight times and terminals as they sit in rush-hour traffic, and sprinting to the correct gate just to narrowly avoid missing their flight—that the next time Kojiro has enough down-time to actually ask Kaoru about the ring, about the wedding, is when they’re on the plane. Kojiro doesn’t mind it so much—it’s over a 17 hour flight, anyway, which Kojiro figures is plenty of time to grill Kaoru about the specifics, but almost as soon as they’re seated, Kaoru pulls on his sleeping mask and turns to the side. Kojiro mindlessly fiddles with the ring as he debates shaking Kaoru awake and demanding answers, but in the end, he decides against it. If Kaoru wanted to talk about it, he would have brought it up in some capacity after he’d left Kojiro’s room. The fact that he hasn’t speaks volumes.

And if Kaoru doesn’t want to bring it up, Kojiro certainly isn’t.

With nothing else to do, Kojiro’s gaze returns to the ring on his hand. Now that his headache has subsided a bit, he can get a proper look at it, and—

—well, it’s beautiful.

It’s a simple silver band, with a single pink stone in the center. Kojiro hadn’t been able to get a good look at Kaoru’s ring, not really, but he remembers the design being strikingly similar to his own—the only difference being that it was a green stone inlet in a silver band. He turns it over on his finger and imagines the two of them drunkenly stumbling into a jewelry shop, ordering rings for each other—

—and the fact that this isn’t just Kojiro’s imagination but something that actually happened fills Kojiro with an emotion he can’t dare to put into words. Frustration, though, is an easy one to identify as it bubbles up in Kojiro’s throat. Kojiro bought Kaoru a ring, Kojiro married Kaoru, something he didn’t even think he could legally do in this lifetime—and he can’t remember any of it? This simple golden band and the certificate that accompanies it is everything Kojiro’s ever wanted, and he can’t even remember the circumstances leading up to it.

That is, assuming there were any circumstances leading to it. Most likely, it was just a drunken whim, a meaningless, spontaneous decision that they probably goaded each other into. Surely, it didn’t mean anything.

But the not knowing of it is killing Kojiro. And as Kojiro stares and stares at his ring, burning an imprint of it into his mind, he realizes he would give anything, everything to re-experience it—as much of a sham as it might be.

When he dares to glance at Kaoru, he finds the other still fast asleep—or at least, he looks like he’s asleep. For all Kojiro knows, he could be faking it, but Kojiro isn’t going to test that. But there’s so much Kojiro wants to ask, so much Kojiro wants to know. Earlier, in the hotel room, Kaoru said he remembered—a bit, but still more than Kojiro. Did he remember who proposed? Did he remember buying Kojiro a ring? Did he remember marrying Kojiro?

A part of Kojiro is scared to learn the answer. A much larger part of Kojiro is desperate to find out.

And it’s as Kojiro grapples with this indecision that, ironically enough, Kojiro comes to a decision. After they land in Naha, Kojiro is going to ask Kaoru the details, from the start to the finish. And, most importantly, he’s going to make sure nothing’s changed. It’s obviously an awkward situation, but as long as they talk it out and leave nothing unresolved, it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe they can even laugh about it, although it’s not really a funny situation to Kojiro. For Kaoru, he can fake it.

Kojiro needs to hear Kaoru say it—that none of it means anything, that none of it matters. If there’s any ambiguity left about the ring on Kojiro’s finger, he thinks he might go mad.

Kojiro thinks this is a great plan. So after they’ve landed and retrieved their suitcases, Kojiro turns to Kaoru with this great plan in mind, and—

“Sorry,” Kaoru says, tapping at his phone. “I’m running kind of late for something.”

“Uh,” Kojiro says. “Huh?”

“See you.”

And in a blink, Kaoru’s gone.

Kojiro stands at baggage claim for a few moments in a stupefied silence. What could he possibly be running late for? Why would he arrange a meeting the day he returned from a flight? How the hell did Kaoru sprint away so fast with a suitcase in tow?

Kojiro looks at his own suitcase and sighs. So much for his fabulous plan.

It’s not so bad—he’ll be able to corner Kaoru about it at some other point, anyway. But unfortunately, the conviction Kojiro had built up on the flight is steadily deflating, and Kojiro is increasingly uncertain that he’ll ever confront Kaoru about this in the way he’d previously decided.

He spends the entire taxi ride back to his apartment sulking, which he feels is well within his right. Once inside, he shoves his suitcases to the side and flops backwards onto his bed. He raises his hand and stares at the ring on his finger without blinking long enough to make his eyes start to water. With a decisive huff, he sits up and takes the ring off. As much as he tries to rationalize it, he still feels unbearably wretched seeing the ring on his hand knowing it will never be a true thing.

He doesn’t have the heart to get rid of it completely, though, even though that would probably be for the best. So, after a few moments of rummaging in his desk drawer, he manages to find a small box to put it in. He’s under no impression that hiding the ring from sight will make it leave his mind at all, but he feels vaguely appeased at the move. After carefully tucking the box back into his desk, he rubs at his bare finger and starts getting ready for bed. The fatigue tugging at his shoulders is solely from jetlag, he tells himself, and nothing else.

Passing out for 20 hours means Kojiro is incredibly awake the next evening and antsy with a sort of energy he can’t describe. After a few minutes of mindlessly pacing the floor of his apartment, he eventually decides to go to S. It would be a way to get his energy out and to get his mind off the box in Kojiro’s desk. He checks his phone to see if he’s gotten any messages from Kaoru, but he doesn’t find anything. Well, what else was he expecting?

At the very least, going to S is a regular event—and when Kojiro shows up and is greeted by the typical cheers and cries of his name, something in him settles. What was that saying—what happened in Vegas stays in Vegas? Kojiro’s been too in his head about all of this. Nothing actually has to change. As long as—

“Congrats!”

Kojiro turns around to find Reki nearly barreling into him. Langa pulls him back with a hand just before he can collide into Kojiro. Reki flashes Langa a sheepish grin before turning back to Kojiro with wide eyes.

“Congrats!” he says again with a beam. Kojiro’s eyebrows raise.

“For… what?”

“For getting married!” Reki says, the words bursting out of him as if they’ve been sitting at the edge of his tongue. Kojiro’s heart drops to his stomach.

“How… how do you know about that?”

“Cherry’s wearing the ring you gave him!”

Kojiro’s expression twitches. “Oh,” he says. “He is, huh?”

“This is so exciting,” Kojiro distantly hears Reki continue. “Like, honestly, I’m kind of annoyed that you didn’t invite us—although, I guess my mom probably wouldn’t have let me go to Las Vegas—” He cuts himself off and turns to Langa. “Hey, that’s close to Canada, isn’t it?”

“Uh… not really.”

“Anyway,” Reki says, entirely unbothered by this piece of information. “Are you guys going to have a second wedding here? If you do, you better invite us, and Miya, and Shadow, too!”

“Uh huh,” Kojiro says distractedly. He’s too busy craning his neck and trying to spot Kaoru in the crowd. His mind is buzzing. Kaoru is wearing the ring—Kaoru is wearing the ring and telling the boys about the wedding, the wedding that isn’t supposed to mean anything, the ring that isn’t supposed to mean anything—

But if the ring doesn’t mean anything to him, why is he wearing it? For a single, precious moment, something like hope bubbles up in Kojiro’s throat—

Then again, maybe the fact that the ring doesn’t mean anything to him is exactly why Kaoru’s wearing it. After all, Kojiro only took it off because he couldn’t handle wearing something that meant too much to him—that meant everything to him.

When his search for Kaoru in the crowd remains unsuccessful, he drags his gaze back to Reki and Langa, who are staring at him expectantly. It takes Kojiro a moment to remember that they were talking to him. For a moment, he hesitates—it would be so, so easy to play along with the information they already know, to sink a little deeper into this charade—

—but Kojiro can’t bring himself to do it. So with a sigh, he brings his hand to the back of his neck.

“Um… right.” Reki and Langa continue looking at him expectantly. “So, that’s not… that’s not exactly what…” He trails off and lets his hand drop before letting out a huff. “Yeah, so, we’re not actually married.”

Reki and Langa blink at him.

“...what?”

“We’re not actually married,” Kojiro says again with a shrug he hopes is nonchalant. “It was just, like, you know.” He waves a hand in the air ambiguously.

“Um…” Reki’s eyebrows are scrunched together. “But Cherry’s ring was on his ring finger.”

“And you gave it to him,” Langa adds.

“And you guys had a wedding?”

“Well,” Kojiro says. “Yeah, but…” He trails off into a short laugh. “Uh, it’s a long story. Anyway, Kaoru’s probably just wearing the ring because it… looks nice.” He looks away. “I don’t know. It—doesn’t actually mean anything, though.”

From the corner of his eyes, he can see Reki and Langa look at each other. They’re doing funny things with their eyebrows, and in any other circumstance, Kojiro would laugh at their attempt at subtlety, but as it is, he feels a sudden and heavy wave of exhaustion rest on his shoulders.

It’s probably just jetlag, Kojiro tells himself.

“Don’t worry,” he eventually says. “If I ever actually got married, I’d invite you guys.” He elects not to mention that it won’t be happening any time soon. “Anyway, I, uh, just remembered something I had to do at home. I’ll see you guys later.”

They don’t offer him more than a parting wave, although Kojiro can still see the concern lingering in their gazes. Recognizing it only serves to make him feel a little more wretched, so Kojiro makes his exit a bit more hastily.

And although he’d not caught a single glimpse of pink the entire evening, he can’t help but feel like there’s a familiar gaze on his back as he leaves.

“You’re being really weird about this,” is the first thing Kaoru says when he enters Sia la Luce the next night, and for better or for worse, Kojiro immediately knows what he’s talking about. He feigns ignorance, though, staring a bit harder at the wine glass he’s wiping down to avoid Kaoru’s eyes—but not before he catches a glimpse of silver on Kaoru’s hand.

He’s still wearing it. Why is he still wearing it?

“Weird about what?” Kojiro asks carefully.

“About the Vegas thing.”

The Vegas thing, Kojiro thinks derisively in his mind. He wishes he had Kaoru’s blasé, to be able to talk about their wedding like this.

“How am I acting weird about it?”

“You told Reki and Langa we weren’t married.”

Kojiro scrubs a bit harder at a stubborn smudge on the glass. “So?”

“Well,” Kaoru says. “We are, though.”

Kojiro pauses. He presses his lips together. He doesn’t look up. He slides the glass over to Kaoru.

“It’s not legal,” he mutters before turning to find Kaoru’s favorite wine. “Not here, at least.”

Kaoru’s quiet for a moment. “Hm,” he eventually says. “Yes, well—” He pauses again. Kojiro hears the shuffle of him resting his arms on the counter. “You don’t have to be so weird about it.”

Kojiro has to turn to pour Kaoru a glass, and he can’t avoid seeing Kaoru’s expression when does. It’s—strange, for lack of a better word. It’s a bit tense, a bit annoyed, and a bit something else, too, that Kojiro can’t place. The ambiguity only serves to make Kojiro more frustrated.

“I don’t know, Kaoru,” he says, a bit snappish. “It’s a weird situation, isn’t it?”

Kaoru exhales slowly as if he’s a parent dealing with an impatient child before reaching for the glass. "It's not that big of a deal," he eventually says. He takes a sip from his glass. "We got drunk and did something stupid. It’s nothing we haven’t done before. You don't have to overthink it."

It takes everything in Kojiro not to openly gape at Kaoru at this statement. But maybe Kojiro should have expected this—maybe he should have expected Kaoru to approach this analytically like he does everything else, to reduce all the events of that day to what it was—a drunken mistake. Maybe Kojiro should have expected this, but it still makes his mouth sour.

At least now, he supposes, he knows for certain how little it means to Kaoru.

But there’s one last thing Kojiro needs to ask about before he can drop the topic for good.

“You told Reki I gave you that ring,” he says as a non sequitur. “Does that mean you remember what happened?”

Kojiro doesn’t know what answer he’s hoping for. But when Kaoru shakes his head, he can recognize the subsequent sting as faint disappointment.

“No.” Kaoru’s eyes flicker away for a moment before they return to his glass. “I… made some assumptions.”

Kojiro exhales slowly. “Right.” Obviously Kojiro had given him his wedding ring. Neither of them needed their memories for that conclusion. “So… you think I’m weird for telling Reki and Langa we’re not married.”

Kaoru’s mouth twitches. “Well—”

“Just to clarify,” Kojiro interrupts stubbornly, because if he’s having an awful time with this, he’s determined to make it an awful time for Kaoru, too. “You want me to tell people we’re married?”

“No, just—” Kaoru cuts himself off with a frustrated noise and waves a hand in the air. “Just don’t make a big deal out of it. It happened. There’s nothing we can do about it. Just—just be normal about it.”

Easy for you to say, Kojiro thinks miserably.

"Sorry," Kojiro says eventually, and he can't help the slight bitterness that seeps into his tone. "I'll try not to be weird about it."

Kaoru gives him an odd look from over the glass. "Good."

In Kojiro’s defense, he tries. He really does. It’s not his fault that this is so much harder for him than it is for Kaoru.

A part of him sorely regrets even agreeing to continue the charade. That night that Kaoru had confronted him about it, Kojiro should have just told him he wasn’t willing to play along. But he knows Kaoru would needle and prod until Kojiro confessed the real reason for his hesitance, and the consequences of that would be more permanent than anything that would result from their little marriage roleplay. Kojiro doesn’t understand Kaoru’s insistence on treating it like such an inconsequential moment, but he’ll take the discomfort of this over the possibility of losing Kaoru for good.

It doesn’t mean Kojiro is any happier about it, though, and Kaoru can tell. Hell, everyone can probably tell—he shows up at S just to leave after a few minutes, and he’s unusually terse whenever Kaoru visits Sia la Luce, even when there are others around. He can’t blame Kaoru when his late night visits grow fewer and farther in between, and Kojiro hates himself for it a little bit more each time.

The first one to confront him about his behavior is, surprisingly, Miya. The kid doesn’t often visit Sia la Luce on his own, preferring to accompany Reki or Langa instead, but one day, he slides into the restaurant after closing.

“Your security sucks,” is his greeting. Kojiro peers in from the kitchen, eyebrows raising when he sees who it is.

“Nice to see you, too.”

“Seriously,” Miya says, ignoring Kojiro to take a seat at the bar. “Do you always leave the door open after closing hours?”

“Ah,” Kojiro hums. “I must have forgotten to lock it.”

That’s not true. He keeps it open for Kaoru, even though he rarely visits any more, even though it would be horribly awkward if he did. Kojiro guesses he probably should start locking the door, but every night when he checks the door, he always hesitates a moment too long.

“What are you doing here so late, anyway?” Kojiro asks when Miya doesn’t offer anything further. “Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

“I heard you and Cherry got married,” Miya says, which certainly does not answer either of Kojiro’s questions.

“Yep,” Kojiro eventually gets out.

Miya’s silent for a while, simply drawing circles on the bar countertop with his finger. It’s a bit different to the excitement and energy from Reki and Langa about the same news. Kojiro isn’t sure which one he dislikes more.

“Really, though,” Kojiro starts again when Miya continues to stay silent. “Don’t you need to—”

“Then why aren’t you guys happy?”

“—go home?” Kojiro blinks. “Uh—what?”

“Why aren’t you guys happy?” Miya repeats, glowering a little harder at the bar. Kojiro’s mouth flaps open and closed a few times.

“Um…” Kojiro trails off into an unsatisfactory silence. “I, uh…” He clears his throat. He has no earthly idea how to approach this in a way that wouldn’t upset either Miya or Kaoru, and he had the feeling he’d probably end up upsetting both. “What… what gave you that impression?”

Miya finally looks up at that with a frustrated scowl. “I’m not blind,” he mutters. “You both never argue any more. You—you barely even talk to each other any more. At S, you guys just—you guys are so—” Miya cuts himself off to wave a hand in the air. “And—and I know it’s not just at S, because—” Miya juts his head in the direction of the door behind him. “Why isn’t Cherry here right now?”

In the face of such evidence, there’s not much Kojiro can say. “He’s… just busy tonight,” is all he can think to offer, and Miya’s expression goes from frustrated to something more resigned.

“You didn’t say I was wrong,” he says dully. “So you guys are unhappy.”

Right. Kojiro probably should have addressed that part first.

“Kaoru’s not unhappy,” Kojiro says carefully. “I just think he—”

“Stop talking about Cherry,” Miya snaps. “What about you?”

Kojiro blinks. “I’m…” He trails off. “Not… unhappy. Either.”

Miya searches his expression for something and seems to be unsatisfied with what he finds, turning away with a sour look. “I thought you of all people wouldn’t treat me like I’m just some stupid kid.”

“Miya,” Kojiro tries helplessly. “That’s not what I’m trying to—”

“I know what this is, you know. I’ve seen it before.”

Kojiro has no doubt Miya has jumped to the worst possible conclusion. Honestly, Kojiro can’t even blame him. His answers this entire interrogation has probably only furthered Miya’s distrust in him, but it’s too difficult for Kojiro to lie with effort here—to say that they’re both happy, that nothing’s wrong. An unhappy medium is all Kojiro can offer.

“It’s… just a rough patch,” Kojiro says tiredly. “You know, like every… couple has.”

Miya scoffs before pushing away from his chair and standing up. “Yeah,” he mutters. “That’s what my mom said last year, too.”

“Miya—”

“Whatever,” Miya says, already heading for the door. “If you won’t tell me the truth, maybe Cherry will.”

Oh. Kojiro doesn’t like where this is going.

“I don’t think that’s a good—” The door swings shut. “—idea.”

In the silence that follows, Kojiro slumps down to sit on the floor. He’s ruining everything—all his relationships, all of his peace—just because he can’t pretend even for a moment that this isn’t important to him. Not for the first time, he wishes he could adopt Kaoru’s mindset on the entire situation, that he could play this off as a drunken whim that doesn’t mean anything, that he wouldn’t feel twisted from the inside out whenever anyone asks him about it—that Miya could ask him if he’s happy, and Kojiro could say yes and mean it, but—

Kojiro looks at his bare hand, remembers a ring, and feels sick.

He curls his hand into a soft fist, brings it to his mouth, and exhales. After another moment, he finally stands up. When he glances towards the door, he almost expects Kaoru to come barging through.

He doesn’t come.

“What is your problem?”

Kojiro looks up with a blink. It’s the first time in a week Kaoru’s visited Sia la Luce after closing hours.

He… doesn’t look particularly happy to see Kojiro.

“What?”

“What is your problem?” Kaoru demands again, making a beeline for the bar. “You told Miya we’re getting a divorce?”

Ah. Kojiro’s really going to get it now.

“I didn’t—I didn’t actually say that, actually.” Kaoru gives him a sorely unimpressed look. Kojiro winces at his own choice of words. “I mean, I, maybe, gave him that impression, but—”

“You gave him that impression,” Kaoru repeats flatly.

“He ran out of here before I could correct him,” Kojiro mumbles. “It’s not totally my fault.”

“Maybe the reason Miya thinks we’re getting a divorce,” Kaoru gets out through grit teeth, “is because you keep acting like we’re getting a divorce.”

Kojiro frowns. “What does that mean?”

“Do you think I can’t tell that you can’t even stand to be in the same room as me anymore?”

Kojiro looks away. “I’m here with you now, aren’t I?”

“When’s the last time you came to S?”

“I dunno. Last Thursday?”

“The one night I couldn’t make it.”

“Huh. Weird coincidence.”

“You still have access to my work calendar. I get a notification every time you check it.”

“You do?”

“You think I don’t see what you’re doing?” Kaoru demands, ignoring Kojiro’s bewildered question. “Why is acting normal about this so hard for you? Nothing’s changed—”

“For you, maybe,” Kojiro finally snaps. “Sorry that getting married is a big deal to me!”

“Oh my god,” Kaoru mutters. “It doesn’t fucking matter, you idiot. It’s just a piece of paper.”

“A piece of paper,” Kojiro scoffs. “Yeah? And what about that ring you keep flaunting around?” Kaoru pauses where he had been fidgeting with his ring. “You know, it would be a lot easier to act normal about this if you didn’t insist on telling everyone about it.”

Kaoru rolls his eyes. “It’s a funny story, Kojiro. I didn’t realize you’d be so stuck up about it.”

Kojiro’s face feels hot. It’s not like they haven't argued before, but it doesn’t usually sound like this. It's strange, and Kojiro doesn't like it, but everything he’s been wrestling with for the past few weeks is bubbling up under his skin, and—

“It’s not funny to me, Kaoru.”

Kaoru watches him for a few moments. “Evidently,” he mutters. “Well, whatever. Now that all our friends think we’re getting a divorce—” He takes his ring off and puts it on the counter. “Your wish is granted. Congrats. Happy?”

Kojiro stays silent. Kaoru waits.

“What?” he eventually asks. “That’s not enough for you? Want me to tear up the marriage certificate too? And send you a video?”

Kaoru’s doing this on purpose—needling and needling at his skin like he always does, and Kojiro’s used to it, but now, it stings in a different, more cruel way. Kojiro presses his lips together and continues to stay silent. Kaoru seems more irritated by this, his lips twitching.

“Just stop thinking about it—”

“I can’t!”

Kaoru blinks. Kojiro sighs.

“I can’t,” Kojiro murmurs again, his shoulders dropping. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I’ve tried, and I can’t.”

Kaoru’s expression sours. He looks away.

"If I'd known it would have bothered you so much, I wouldn't have said yes,” Kaoru mutters.

Kojiro’s lips part. Kaoru’s words bounce around his head. Kaoru is continuing to mutter under his breath, shuffling back towards the door, but—

“You remember?”

Kaoru glances back. “What?”

“You said yes,” Kojiro says slowly. “You… remember saying yes?”

Kaoru’s eyes flicker away. “I remember bits and pieces. I guess.”

That’s not what Kaoru said before. Kojiro doesn’t really care.

“I asked you,” Kojiro realizes. “I proposed.”

Kaoru seems to realize the position he’s in. He stops inching towards the door, but he still won’t face Kojiro completely.

“Yeah.”

“And you said yes.”

“...yeah.”

“Why?”

Kaoru's eyes flicker to him before looking away again. "The same reason you proposed," he murmurs. "I was drunk."

Kojiro kind of wants to cry. They're finally talking about this like he's wanted to for so long, but it's all wrong.

He knows the answer, but he has to ask anyway.

"And if we weren't?"

Kaoru looks up. "What?"

"If we weren't drunk," Kojiro says, digging his own grave a bit deeper, "and I proposed. What would be your answer?"

A complicated expression flickers across Kaoru's face.

"What does that matter?" Kaoru tucks his hands in his sleeves. "It's not like that would ever happen."

That's not a no.

That's not a no.

And maybe Kaoru's just being nice. Maybe Kaoru's just trying to avoid making this conversation more awful than it already is.

But maybe he's not.

And maybe there's another reason Kaoru never took off that ring.

“Kaoru,” Kojiro says after a breath. “If I proposed to you right now, what would you say?”

Kaoru stares at him for a moment before letting out an amused huff. “That’s a bit redundant.”

“So you’d say yes?”

Kaoru reels back. “I didn’t say that.”

Something twinges in Kojiro’s chest, but he pushes on. “So you’d say no?”

“I—” Kaoru falters. “I didn’t say that, either.”

Kojiro didn’t even realize he had rounded the corner of the bar to approach Kaoru. “Then what would you say?”

Kaoru eyes Kojiro warily. “What are you doing?” he asks skeptically. “This—what is this? What are you trying to do?”

Kojiro can almost see the walls Kaoru is putting up in real time. If he dances around the truth any more, Kaoru will only grow more defensive. Kojiro swallows and prepares to take the leap. He reaches for Kaoru’s hands—because if this fall ends them, he wants at least the memory of Kaoru’s touch.

“Kaoru,” Kojiro says softly. “I’m in love with you.”

Kaoru blinks. Kaoru blinks again.

“Uh,” he says. It might be the first time Kojiro’s actually rendered him speechless. Kaoru searches Kojiro’s expression and only seems to grow more confused. “You’re—no, you’re not.”

Kojiro stays quiet. Kaoru’s brows furrow.

“You’re not,” Kaoru repeats. “You…” Kaoru squints. “You hate the thought of being married to me.”

Kojiro shakes his head. “I love the thought of being married to you,” he corrects. “I just…” He trails off and tries to find the right words. “It hurts me to pretend. To say it doesn’t matter. To call it a mistake.”

Kojiro feels Kaoru’s hands twitch in his grasp. “You… don’t think it was a mistake?”

“I… I wish it wasn’t.” Kojiro swallows. “I wish it was real.”

“Oh,” Kaoru says. He looks a little lost. With a final squeeze, Kojiro lets go of Kaoru’s hands. “But you—you never wear your ring.”

Kojiro thought Kaoru hadn’t noticed. He glances at his hands.

“Because it wasn’t real,” Kojiro says simply. “And it hurt too much to remember.”

“Oh,” Kaoru says again.

“Yeah.”

They’re both silent for a while. Kojiro slowly begins to lose his bravado from before. He’s just about planning how to escape so he can cry in his apartment for the rest of the night when Kaoru speaks up again.

“Yes.”

Kojiro looks up. Kaoru has a strange expression on his face. “What?”

“Yes.” Kaoru’s eyes are flitting all over the place. “If—if you proposed to me right now. I’d say—” Kaoru cuts himself off. He clears his throat. “I’d say yes.”

It takes Kojiro a moment to process the words.

“...are you drunk right now?”

“No!” Kaoru huffs and rubs a hand over his face. “No. I wasn’t—I wasn’t even that drunk in Las Vegas, either.”

“You… weren’t?”

“Even if I was,” Kaoru says with a shake of his head. “I never forget what I do when I’m drunk, no matter how much I drink. You know that.”

Kojiro does know that. How had he forgotten?

“But you said…”

“Because I thought it might…” Kaoru trails off. “I didn’t want things to change. I didn’t want you thinking I would make a big deal over it.” Kojiro sees him hesitate. “I thought it might make you… unhappy. To know the details. To know you’d proposed. And when we came back, you were all…” He waves a hand in Kojiro’s direction. “Mopey. And you seemed—angry with me, and I—” He cuts himself off with a sigh. “I don’t know. I thought this was the closest I could get to the real thing. Even if it meant you were upset with me.”

“Oh.” Kojiro blinks a few times. “We… both read this completely wrong, didn’t we?”

Maybe it’s the embarrassment that flashes across Kaoru’s face, or maybe it’s the relief that sets into Kojiro’s skin, or maybe it’s both, but Kojiro can’t help the laugh that bursts out of him. Kaoru’s expression turns more bewildered, and Kojiro has to bring a hand to his mouth to avoid laughing again.

“Sorry,” he mumbles out from behind his hand. “It’s just—kind of funny if you think about it, right?”

Kaoru’s eyebrows raise. “Not… really…?”

“It’s a little funny.”

“Uh… sure,” Kaoru agrees eventually.

There’s an amused tilt to his lips. Kojiro wonders if he can kiss the smugness off of his face and darts forward to try just that. When he pulls away, Kaoru’s gaping at him, and Kojiro beams. He’s going to win so many petty arguments this way.

“You’re… incorrigible.”

Kojiro shrugs. “You married me for it, didn’t you?”

Kaoru sighs. “Yeah.”

He brings his arms to rest on Kojiro’s shoulders.

“And I’d do it as many times as you’d ask.”