Archive of Our Own ^beta

It happened so fast, too fast. Blink and you would’ve missed it. And yet, when Kojiro saw Adam charge at Kaoru – fingers tightly curled around his board – time seemed to slow down. He remembers inhaling, remembers the sound of plywood connecting with bone, but he doesn’t remember exhaling. He remembers seeing Kaoru’s body being knocked back with such a strong force that it sends him a few feet back. That same force hits Kojiro in the chest; causes something between his ribs to shatter.

He remembers the gasps around them – the collective shock that washed over everyone as they watched the screen. He remembers seeing Kaoru’s body, barely responding to Adam’s taunts, and that’s when Kojiro exhales sharply. His fingers are curled into fists, nails digging into his fabric of his gloves hard enough to leave marks on his palm. He doesn’t even notice he’s shaking until a hand comes to rest along his shoulder. When he finally tears his gaze from the screen, Shadow and Miya are looking at him. The pain in their eyes mirrors the ache in his chest. Shadow squeezes his shoulder once, brows knitting together briefly before he jerks his head sideways. Go.

He starts running, as fast as his legs would allow him, faster than he ever thought he could. His lungs are burning, each breath coming out in harsh pants, and he feels an ache in his thighs; muscles screaming for him to slow down, but Kojiro ignores it. The cramp in his legs and the burning in his lungs could not compare to the pounding in his chest. They aren’t stronger than his need to be with Kaoru, to hold Kaoru.

It’s all he can think about as he runs.

Kaoru. Kaoru. Kaoru.

At some point he registers a vehicle next to him. A red sports wagon with a shaggy-haired driver behind the wheel. “Jump in!” the man calls out and Kojiro doesn’t hesitate for a second. They speed down the track and each second feels like an hour to him. When he sees a body in the distance, he feels his stomach drop. Kojiro would recognize him everywhere, every time, in every kind of state. Pink hair is the first thing he registers and when the car comes to a halt, he nearly stumbles out of the vehicle.

“Kaoru!”

His name cuts through the air and he repeats it, quietly, when he lowers himself onto the ground. For a moment he doesn’t know what to do, what to say aside from his name, but his body moves on its own. His hands cradle Kaoru’s head gently and there’s a moment where those gold eyes slide towards him. He can tell that he’s trying to keep them open, and Kojiro gently pulls the mask – or what’s left of it – down, fingers brushing along scarred skin. If they shake a little, nobody could blame him.

He should’ve seen this coming.

He should’ve stopped it before it went too far. Before it turned into this.

He should’ve—

Kaoru makes a pained noise as he tries to move, pulling Kojiro out of his thoughts. He flinches and he mentally scolds himself for getting distracted when his main priority should be getting Kaoru to a hospital. “I’ve got you,” he mumbles, arms sliding beneath Kaoru’s back and underneath his legs before carefully lifting him up.

Kaoru’s eyes fall shut and Kojiro barely registers his voice when the other speaks, but he hears it regardless.

“I know, Kojiro.”

The drive to the hospital is a quick one and Kojiro is forced to watch as they take Kaoru away from him. There’s not much he can do but sit in that damned waiting room and he slumps in one of the seats, releasing a long breath and draping an arm across his face. He vaguely registers the sound of footsteps approaching and he hopes, prays, that it’s a nurse or doctor who can give him any information on Kaoru’s current state. Instead, he spots Shadow and Miya; concern tugging on their features. “How is he?”

“I don’t know yet.”

They lower themselves onto the seats beside him and Kojiro may not voice it, but he’s grateful for their presence. Time passes, he’s not even sure how much, but at some point he feels Miya’s head resting against his shoulder and he scrubs a hand over his face before turning towards Shadow. “Take him home, kid’s exhausted too. I’ll stay here,”

“You sure? I can come back.” Shadow offers and Kojiro is about to decline until a voice interrupts him.

“Nanjo-san?” a nurse asks and he turns around so quickly that it startles Miya. Kojiro mumbles a quick apology to the younger boy before hastily pushing himself to his feet. “Yeah? How is he? Is he okay? Can I see him?” the words come in such a rush that he barely has time to breathe. The nurse offers him a smile, “He’s okay. Stable. A few fractures. And a concussion,” she explains and Kojiro visibly deflates. His shoulders drop and relief washes over him. The nurse looks at the clipboard in her hands, a single brow raised ever so slightly. “Are you family?”

“Yes,” Kojiro answers immediately. “Uh— well, I’m his partner.”

“Technically only family is allowed, but— I do see that you’re his emergency contact.”

For a brief moment, his eyes widen and a memory of their younger selves swims to the surface. They had been eighteen, narrowly escaped the cops, covered in dirt and cuts and bruises. Kojiro had joked that they should list each other as emergency contacts if they ever were to end up in the hospital. He remembers saying something along the lines of ‘that way our parents won’t ever find out’. It seemed like a very clever idea at the time.

Apparently Kaoru had followed through with that.

For the first time that night, Kojiro is able to let out a laugh.

A quiet one, but a laugh regardless.

“Yeah… yeah, I am.”

When he gets to Kaoru’s room, a mixture of relief and dread settles in his stomach. It’s a weird sensation. He’s glad Kaoru is okay, but seeing him in a hospital bed – wrapped in bandages – evokes a tightness in his chest and causes panic to wash over him in waves. The guilt he felt earlier makes itself apparent, though Kojiro reminds himself that it’s not about him right now. It’s about Kaoru.

He reaches for one of the chairs in the room, positions it as close to the bed as he can, and lowers himself onto the seat. His hand finds Kaoru’s, thumb gently brushing back and forth over his skin. Tonight could’ve ended worse, they’ve both seen what Adam is capable of. Broken bones are not uncommon to either of them, they’ve dealt with their fair share of sprains and fractures, but this may be one of his worst injuries as of yet.

He knows that Kaoru is stable and that he’ll recover, yet he can’t stop replaying the moment Adam’s board connected with Kaoru’s body. It feels as if that single moment is burned into his mind; haunting him.

His gloves have been discarded and this time he feels the sting of his nails digging into his palm, hard enough to destroy skin, to leave little crescent shaped marks and draw a slight amount of blood. Anger washes over him in waves, it’s hot and constricting and he doesn’t realize he’s shaking until he’s gripping the chair he’s sitting on. Adam won’t stop, not until he gets what he wants.

Currently, Kojiro wants nothing more than to bash his fucking head in.

Breathing becomes difficult, suddenly, and he has to pull himself away from Kaoru’s side.

Kojiro likes to consider himself a reasonable guy. He’s laid-back, relaxed, caring. He’s as competitive as they come, and maybe a little reckless from time to time, but he doesn’t get angry quickly. Not even when he and Kaoru fall into their little back-and-forth arguments.

But seeing the person he loves get hurt, sparks something within him; a flame that grows hotter, becomes bigger, until it’s an inferno. It causes his jaws to clench and his heartrate to spike. Anger ripples through his body, it floods his veins, settles deep into his bones and Kojiro swears as he walks into the bathroom.

He’s hunched over, fingers tightly curled around the sink, and he reminds himself to breathe. He reminds himself to calm down. Anger won’t solve anything; it won’t stop Adam, nor will it make Kaoru’s injuries heal any faster. He glances into Kaoru’s room once more, allows his gaze to roam over his sleeping form and Kojiro has to swallow that ugly feeling that’s festering within him. He has to push away the urge to stalk out of hospital and find Adam and do something that would do more harm than good.

Perhaps it’s a good thing that their old friend had disappeared when Kojiro found Kaoru.

He doesn’t know what would’ve happened if he’d been there.

The water is cool when it splashes against his face and Kojiro remains in the bathroom for a few more seconds. His grip around the sink relaxes, and raises his head to look at his reflection. Calm down, Kojiro.

Inhale, exhale, repeat.

The anger subsides with each shaky breath that passes through his lips. Kaoru is okay now, that’s all that matters.

When he slinks back into his seat, his hand reaches for him once more. Their fingers slide together and Kojiro thinks it’s ridiculous that Kaoru still manages to look effortlessly beautiful – even when injured. It almost makes him laugh. The corner of his mouth rises and he doesn’t remember how long he spends in the chair, or when his eyes fall shut.

Waking up in a hospital is not how Kaoru thought he’d be spending his Wednesday morning. The first thing he registers when he wakes up is a sharp pain in his right arm and his left foot, which is accompanied by a dull ache in the back of his head. Even breathing hurts.

He feels like he’s been run over.

When he tries to move his left hand, however, his fingers brush against something. Or rather someone. Even without looking, Kaoru knows who the hand on his bed belongs to. He smiles to himself when his assumptions are proven to be correct. Kojiro is slumped in a hospital chair that is probably far too small and too uncomfortable for him, lips slightly parted and his jacket slid halfway down his shoulder. The fondness in his chest is soon replaced by guilt. He can only imagine how worried Kojiro must have been, how he subjected himself to sleeping in a chair in a hospital room because of him.

He exhales sharply, wincing when he attempts to sit up. His body feels sore, raw, like an open wound, and he bites back a pained groan. Perhaps he should’ve seen this coming and was this some kind of divine punishment for thinking Adam could be reasoned with. His inner turmoil is cut short when a shooting pain travels up his foot. He swears, quietly, but apparently loud enough for Kojiro to jerk awake. Every trace of sleep vanishes instantly when his gaze lands on Kaoru and he nearly stumbles out of the chair as he pushes himself off it.

(Kaoru would laugh, but he’s pretty sure that will only result in additional pain).

Before he gets the chance to make any kind of snappy remark, Kojiro’s already got his arms around him. He’s gentle, mindful, and Kaoru only winces briefly before he melts into the embrace. It’s a little awkward with the sling, but he allows his head to rest along Kojiro’s shoulder with a sigh. Fingers tangle themselves within a sea of pink hair, carefully threading through the strands, and Kaoru hears, and feels the shaky exhale that slips through Kojiro’s lips.

“I’m okay,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. He repeats it once, twice, as many times as Kojiro needs to hear it. Maybe he’ll start to believe it, too.

Kojiro pulls back slightly to look at him, his hand sliding from Kaoru’s hair to his left cheek; fingers gently brushing back and forth over his skin. Concern flashes through his eyes, settles onto his features, and Kaoru’s fingers curl around Kojiro’s wrist. To anchor himself, to anchor Kojiro, who leans forward until his forehead rests against Kaoru’s. Another moment of silence passes over them and for a brief moment, it seems as though whatever physical pain Kaoru experienced subsides – if only for a second.

“I’m gonna beat the shit out of him,” he hears Kojiro mumble. “Get in line,” Kaoru retorts, quietly, amusement bleeding into his voice.

It pulls a laugh from Kojiro, and Kaoru feels something akin to relief wash over him.

There’s another round of silence, followed by:

“Hey, did you know I’m your emergency contact?”

It takes a little bit of coaxing, and some force, but Kojiro eventually leaves the hospital. Mainly because Kaoru forced him to and reminded him of the fact that he has a restaurant to run. “That’s what a sous-chef and a staff is for,” had been Kojiro’s counter argument. It was a good argument, really, but not good enough. Which is why he ended up back at Sia La Luce, begrudgingly.

Kaoru understands his reluctance. He knows that if Kojiro were to get his way, he’d be in the hospital all day; fussing over him every step of the way. It’s both annoying and endearing – and typically Kojiro. He’s a nurturer, thoughtful and loving in a way that seems almost as natural as breathing to him. Always taking care of those around him; taking on responsibilities and burdens that are not his to bear. Kaoru pushes away the wave of guilt that threatens to crash into him, ignores the tightness in his chest and stares at the flowers on his windowsill.

A gift from Shadow and Miya, who had visited him a few hours prior. They stayed for roughly an hour, talking about how it seemed very likely that Langa would be skating against Adam and Kaoru’s lips twisted in distaste. After they left, he spent the majority of the day replaying the previous night’s events. He turned them over in his head, repeatedly, wondering where he’d slipped up. Was there anything he could’ve done differently to change the outcome?   

Was there anything he had missed?

An angle, a curve – anything?

Kaoru who thinks in numbers and codes, who can predict almost any outcome, and find some kind of solution for just about anything, had simply not anticipated… this.

And that fucking sucks.

He spends the rest of the day in bed, thinking of various ways to explain his current condition to both his employees and potential clients. So far “getting hit by a car” sounds like a viable option. Amidst his quiet contemplation, his phone continues to vibrate every ten minutes; messages from Kojiro trickle in. The majority of them are a variation of ‘are you okay’ and ‘do you need anything’. Kaoru responded to one of them with ‘the sweet release of death’ after the nurse had changed the bandages around his waist.

He was only half joking.

At some point it becomes too much and he feels himself going a little stir crazy; eager to escape hospital beds and that strange medicinal odor that makes him want to throw up. It becomes pretty much unbearable at night when he’s tossing and turning, unable to relax and keep his thoughts from spiraling. He needs to escape this sterile hellhole and go somewhere he can actually relax, or a place where he’s not alone with his thoughts. 

It’s probably not the smartest decision, but Kaoru manages to leave.

And to the surprise of exactly no one, he ends up at Sia La Luce. Kojiro calls him an idiot, mentions that he would’ve picked him up if he had called, but Kaoru waves it off. As he sits at the counter, Kaoru eyes the empty wine bottle in front of him and offers Kojiro a pointed look who trails off with a sigh. At some point Kaoru feels his body relax in the chair, tension melting away from his muscles and eyelids feeling heavier with every blink.

He doesn’t even remember falling asleep.

Though, when he wakes up, he’s in his own bed instead of an uncomfortable hospital bed. A wave of relief washes over him and Kaoru exhales slowly. The pain in his arm hasn’t subsided, neither did the pain in his leg, but the headache seems to have faded away slightly. A small victory, he supposes.

Next to him, Kojiro seems to be half-awake; mumbling something Kaoru doesn’t quite register. He raises an arm, a silent invite for Kaoru to move closer – which he does. It requires some adjustments due to his injuries, but they make it work somehow. His head comes to rest atop Kojiro’s chest, who carefully winds his arm around Kaoru’s upper body. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Took the day off,” Kojiro mumbles between a yawn. “Figured your sorry ass could use my help.”

“I’m doing fine.”

Now that causes Kojiro to look at him. He raises his brows as if to say ‘oh really’ before gesturing at Kaoru’s body. “Yes, I can see that.”

“I still think you should be at work. It doesn’t even hurt as much.”

“Well, being your own boss means that you can take a day off sometimes. So be quiet and let me take care of you, all right?”

Kaoru knows when to pick his battles and as tempting as it is to argue with him, he knows when he’s been beaten. Had their roles been reversed, he probably would’ve done the same thing. Which is why he lets out a quiet sigh, signaling defeat, and says: “Fine.”

He manages to fall asleep once more, which allows him to get a full ten hours of sleep for once and he can’t remember the last time that had occurred. When he wakes up again, Kojiro’s already approaching the bed, carrying two bowls; one filled with miso soup and the other one filled with rice. He mentions that there’s some grilled salmon as well, should Kaoru want some – who shakes his head in response. “Thanks, I— usually don’t eat in bed,” he mumbles, taking the bowl of soup regardless while Kojiro places the second bowl on his bedside table. “I figured, but your doctor also said you should stay in bed, so I’m ordering you to stay in bed,” Kojiro tells him, lowering himself onto the bed. “Now, do you also need me to feed you?”

“You’re very strict, aren’t you supposed to be a loving nurse?”

“I made you breakfast, doesn’t get any more loving than that. But, I’ll throw in a kiss or two if you finish it.”

Kaoru makes a sound that is somewhere between a chuckle and a huff before starting on his food – with some much needed help from Kojiro, because it turns out that eating with one hand can be a little challenging. Naturally, the miso soup is amazing. (As are all of the dishes Kojiro prepares).

He supposes that dating a chef may have some perks.

Once he’s finished his food, and has taken two painkillers, Kaoru is reminded of the fact that he still has to explain this entire ordeal to his clients and staff. “How am I going to explain this?” he mumbles, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose to relieve some of the pressure that had been building up in his head. He can barely walk, let alone hold a brush; which means that he will be forced to cancel or postpone any outstanding commissions. Sure, he could ask his employees to pick up the slack, but how would that reflect on him – and his company? It’s not that Kaoru doesn’t trust their abilities, but he can only imagine the disappointment from the various clients who had been so eager to work with him specifically. Never mind the fact that he has to cancel several appearances as well. A sigh slips through his lips, and despite the painkillers, his headache worsens.

The mattress dips beneath Kojiro’s weight and when Kaoru raises his head, he notices that Kojiro seems to have grabbed both his laptop and his phone. “We’ll figure it out,” he says. And somehow, those four words seem to work faster – and better – than any kind of painkiller.

Kojiro spends the better part of forty-five minutes texting and emailing various people on Kaoru’s behalf; informing him of his current predicament and making up a story about a very unfortunate accident. The tight feeling in his chest slowly dissipates and breathing becomes easier. He slumps against Kojiro’s shoulder, watching him write out the final email to the organizer of a cultural festival Kaoru was supposed to attend. Once he presses ‘send’, he closes the laptop and places the device onto the bedside table.

“All right, that should do it. Everyone’s been notified. Also, I put all your doctor’s appointments in here, and all the appointments with your physical therapist. And I already called your parents when we were in the hospital,” Kojiro tells him as he drops Kaoru’s phone into his lap.  

“You’re taking this gig very seriously, aren’t you? You might even put Carla out of business,” Kaoru tells him, and Kojiro grins before leaning over to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I don’t do anything half-assed, you know that.”

“Well, thank you.”

“Hm? What was that, Kaoru? Gonna have to speak up a little.”

“Don’t push it,” Kaoru retorts, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile.

 As it turns out, having Kojiro around is very beneficial. After breakfast, he’d taken it upon himself to vacuum the apartment and start on the pile of laundry Kaoru sort-of-definitely was going to take care of, but never got the chance to due to his hectic schedule. He comes back into the bedroom, a laundry basket resting on his hip, when Kaoru spots a large, blue, sports bag in the corner of the room. “Your doctor said it’d be around six to eight weeks ‘til you’re all healed, so I’m moving in,” Kojiro says with a shrug after following Kaoru’s gaze. “Brought over some extra stuff.”

“Surely you’re not taking six weeks off to be my personal nurse and assistant?”

Kojiro laughs at that, folding a number of white garments he’d retrieved from the dryer – the sight is oddly domestic – and he gives a little shake of his head. “I know you’d love that, but no,” he muses, “I did tell everyone at the restaurant that I’d be taking shorter shifts. They’ve all been informed and they know what to do.”

And before Kaoru can even make any kind of remark, Kojiro offers him a pointed look and says: “And before you start feeling guilty, I’m doing this ‘cause I want to.”

Kaoru wisely keeps his mouth shut.

It doesn’t take much time for them to settle into a comfortable routine. Kojiro divides his time between Sia La Luce and Kaoru’s apartment, while Kaoru spends the majority of his time in bed. It annoys him, Kojiro can tell, but after the first two weeks, he seems to get used to it. He accompanies him to doctor’s appointments, drops him off at his physical therapist, and once they hear that he’s allowed to move around more, Kaoru spends a few hours at the restaurant every now and then.

When he’s at home, he spends a portion of the day calling his employees and delegating some tasks to them. Meetings with clients are done digitally and Kaoru gets a semblance of his old routine back. His mother has visited three times and somehow, after all these years, Kojiro still thinks it’s uncanny how much the two of them look alike. Kaoru is the spitting image of his mother, save for his eye-color. They even sound the same. She’s all grace and elegance, not a hair out of place, with delicate features and sharp eyes. He used to find her rather intimidating when he was younger.

“Thank you for taking care of him,” she tells Kojiro one afternoon while they’re both in the kitchen, preparing curry. Kojiro knows the Sakurayashiki family isn’t big on emotions, which is why the comment catches him off guard. Nevertheless, he grins, tells her that it’s no big deal and she offers him a polite smile in return.

When Kaoru’s mother leaves and the kitchen has been properly cleaned, the two of them relocate to the bathroom where Kojiro draws up a bath for both of them. It’s still a little tricky with Kaoru’s injuries, despite the fact that they’ve been healing quite well, but they make it work.

“I might miss you when you’re not around to wait on me hand and foot,” Kaoru says with a sigh, as Kojiro absentmindedly rubs a loofah along his shoulders and the back of his neck. A short laugh escapes Kojiro’s throat before he presses his lips to the back of Kaoru’s head. “Careful there, Kaoru, it almost sounds as if you like me,”

“I’m in a weakened state, clearly I’m not thinking right.”

“So this is just the pain medication speaking?”

“Obviously.”

There’s a moment of silence before Kaoru turns his head slightly, just enough to peer at Kojiro over his shoulder. His cheekbones are dusted with a soft shade of pink, brows slightly pinched together, and Kojiro thinks he looks cute like this. “Thank you, though. For… all of this,” he starts, quietly. “It can’t be easy for you either. You had to throw your entire schedule around.”

“It’s not about it being easy or hard,” Kojiro tells him matter-of-factly. “I told you, I’m doing this ‘cause I want to. I care about you,” he adds. Taking care of Kaoru is something that had come naturally to Kojiro; they’ve been taking care of each other for years. From the time they were reckless kids with too much time on their hands and not a care in the world, until now.

He remembers scraped knees and colorful bandaids; remembers sitting on Kaoru’s bedroom floor at 3 a.m., laughing at how ridiculous they both looked with split lips and bruised cheeks. He remembers how proud Kaoru had been when Kojiro mastered a particularly difficult trick after a week of nothing but wiping out. Sure, he had a broken nose, but it had been worth it. Kaoru had laughed, carefully tended to one of the cuts on his cheekbone with a kind of gentleness that caused Kojiro’s skin to color red. He’d been grateful that Kaoru’s bedroom was pretty dark.

He remembers Kaoru helping him with his homework when Kojiro had broken his wrist that same summer. After watching him struggle to write a single sentence with his left hand, Kaoru had sighed and decided to do the writing portion of all of Kojiro’s homework for the upcoming six weeks. They sat together for hours and Kojiro thinks he may have fallen a little bit in love with him more each day.

He remembers Kaoru showing up to the hospital when Kojiro had to get his tonsils removed. He’d been all smiles, barging into the room and carrying a plastic bag filled with ice cream. “I looked it up. You get to eat so much ice cream, I’m jealous. I got you strawberry, mango, cookies and cream, chocolate—” Kaoru had said after climbing onto Kojiro’s bed and pulling out two spoons.

Taking care of Kaoru has never been difficult, or a chore, for they had both come to a silent agreement to always look after each other. To always take care of each other. “You’ve done the same for me,” Kojiro tells him after a moment of silence. “It’s what we do, Kaoru. We take care of each other.”

There’s a sentence on his lips, something he’s been meaning to say for a while now. For years, actually. Instead, he leans forward, captures Kaoru’s chin between his fingers and gently presses their lips together.

The next day, when Kojiro’s running errands, he passes a particular flower shop. He pauses momentarily, observes the yellow canopy and peeks through the large windows. Kaoru had received plenty of flowers the past few weeks, though none from Kojiro – yet. He supposes that between taking care of him and working at the restaurant, the thought may have slipped his mind.

When he steps into the shop, he’s greeted by the store manager; a woman with brown hair and a kind face. He assumes that this is the same manager Shadow has been head-over-heels in love with. “Is Shad— Hiromi around? I’m a friend of his,” Kojiro asks, to which the manager points towards the back of the store where Shadow – Hiromi – is currently moving a crate.

He doesn’t notice him until Kojiro stops in front of the counter. Surprise passes over his features, and he asks about Kaoru before wondering what brings Kojiro to the store. “I wanna get flowers for him. Think you could help me out?” Kojiro asks, glancing around the store. It’s a mosaic of colors and he doesn’t even know where to begin, or which flowers would go together well to convey the words he carries in his heart.

“What do you need?”  

“Something big. Something that says I love you, get well, also you’re sexy as hell.”

That earns him an unamused look and a scoff.  “It’ll cost you,”

“I’ve got enough cash,” Kojiro muses and he watches as the other walks through the store, carefully picking out various flowers. At some point, the store manager walks over to the counter, observing the flowers that had been picked out. “Are they for someone special?”

Kojiro nods, “My partner. He’s had an accident, so I wanna cheer him up. I don’t know much about the flower meanings, so I hope I get this right,” he confesses with a laugh. “Ah, don’t worry. I’ve got just the thing,” the manager offers him a smile before casting one more glance towards the collection of flowers. He watches as she moves around the store, picking a few more red and pink-colored flowers.

“Roses, of course,” she begins, pointing at a few red roses. She then begins point out all the flowers, both she and Hiromi had picked out. Including the messages they supposedly convey.

Red Rose: I love you, love, beauty, passion, romance

White Camellia: adoration, loveliness  

Baby’s breath: everlasting love, purity of heart, innocence

White Carnation: sweet and lovely, innocence, pure love  

Cymbidium: magnificence, gorgeous love  

Purple Lilac: first emotions of love, first love  

Red Tulip: declaration of love, true love, eternal love, romantic love, believe me

The bouquet consists of various reds and pinks; the message loud and clear. It’s a physical manifestation of all the things he hasn’t said. Yet. He’s never been well-versed in flower language, but there’s something fascinating about it, Kojiro thinks. And he hopes Kaoru will be able to pick up on said message. “If he knows a few things about flower language, this should make it very clear,” the store manager muses, as if she had been able to read his thoughts.

“I hope so, any chance you can write that all down for me otherwise?” Kojiro jokes. It pulls a laugh from her, and she points out that there’s a website where he find the exact meaning of each flower. He googles the aforementioned website, and sure enough, there’s the entire list and he scrolls through it a few times before pocketing his phone.

“Is there anything else you’d like to add or is this it?”

There’s a pause before he speaks again.

“Could you add some Cherry blossoms?”

He arrives at Kaoru’s apartment roughly twenty minutes later, and as expected, he finds him sitting in the living room; leg outstretched and gently rotating his left ankle – as per instruction of his physical therapist. The flowers are left in the hallway and Kojiro moves towards the kitchen to put away the groceries. When he steps back into the living room, he ruffles Kaoru’s hair before gesturing at his foot. “How’s the ankle?”

“Getting better. The exercises help. You were gone for a while, where did you go?”

“Stopped by a different store. Did you miss me?”

“I admit to nothing,” Kaoru says with a half-grin, fingers curling around Kojiro’s shirt and tugging him closer. Kojiro rolls his eyes, a grin on his lips to mirror the one Kaoru’s wearing. He lowers himself onto the couch, “And yet you can’t keep your hands off of me. Lies, nothing but lies,” he muses, pressing their lips together. They spend a good few minutes on Kaoru’s couch, until Kojiro remembers the flowers he’d left in the hallway. When he pulls back, Kaoru blinks up at him; a little confused and Kojiro lifts a finger. “Gimme a second,” he explains, jumping up from the couch and jogging towards the hallway.

For some reason there’s a pressure in his chest, and he can actually feel his heart beating against his ribcage. Why would he be nervous? They’ve been dating for a few months – have known each other for years; there’s no reason for him to be concerned. He keeps the bouquet hidden as he walks back into the living room and Kaoru rests an arm along the back of the couch, observing him with that calculating gaze. “What do you have behind you?” he asks, eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Suspicion colors his features and Kojiro offers a grin. “Close your eyes.”

“You know I don’t like surprises...”

“It’s a good one.”

“You always say that and it turns out to be the opposite. Last time it was—”

“Kaoru.”

That gets him to shut up, apparently, and to close his eyes.

Kojiro lowers himself onto the couch before gently placing the bouquet into Kaoru’s lap. “All right, you can look,” he instructs. “I swear if this is—” Kaoru mutters, pausing when his gaze shifts towards his lap. Golden eyes widen briefly, lips forming an ‘o’ shape. “Flowers?”

“Very astute, Kaoru. What gave it away?”

“Shut up,” Kaoru laughs, running his fingers over the petals of the camellias. “They’re very pretty.” His gaze roams over the various the flowers, as if he’s observing every single one of them; trying to decode a message. Kojiro has no clue if Kaoru knows anything about the meaning of each flower, but part of him wouldn’t be surprised if he did. When he spots the cherry blossoms, however, a soft chuckle slips through his lips. “Fitting,” he muses quietly.

“I thought the exact same thing.”

A pause.

“You know what they mean?” Kojiro asks quietly. His heart hasn’t slowed its pace; relentlessly beating against his chest with each inhale. He watches Kaoru purse his lips in thought. “Well, I know roses stand for ‘love’. Cherry blossoms represent kindness, gentleness… among other things,” he points out, lifting his gaze to look up at Kojiro. It’s then that he notices a hint of pink spreading across Kaoru’s cheeks. “Do you want to tell me?” he asks with the kind of smile that makes Kojiro weak in the knees.

“I suppose I could,” he says, fingers brushing against a rose petal. “Passion, beauty and romance,” he explains slowly, quietly, before touching the white camellias. “Adoration and loveliness.” 

The baby’s breath is next, “Everlasting love,” Kojiro tells him, shifting closer towards Kaoru. His gaze drops to the white carnation behind it, “Pure love,” he gently taps it before pointing at the cymbidium. “Gorgeous love,” he says with a grin. Then comes the lilac, “First love,” his fingers eventually move along the stem of the tulip. “True love. Eternal love,”

When he lifts his gaze, the flush on Kaoru’s face seems to have deepened; spreading down his neck. “That’s a lot of love,” Kaoru breathes. He’s close enough for Kojiro to see the flecks of brown amidst a sea of gold in his eyes. He nods at the words, lifting a hand to trace a line along Kaoru’s cheek. His skin feels soft, warm, and Kojiro smiles. A few pink strands are tucked behind his ears before his palm cups the back of Kaoru’s neck. “You think it got the point across?” he murmurs. Kaoru offers a gentle nod, carefully lifting the bouquet off his lap and placing it aside before winding his arm winds around Kojiro’s neck. There’s a look in his eyes and a smile on his lips that mirrors the message Kojiro had tried to convey. How much love could the human body store? Kojiro isn’t sure, but he’s got a few years’ worth of it gathered in his chest, behind his ribs, and Kaoru deserves to know. He deserves to hear it.

It spills from his lips, quiet and certain, as their foreheads touch.

“I love you.”

Kaoru’s voice is equally quiet, yet certain.

“I love you, too.”

Lips brush and he hears a soft chuckle, though Kojiro isn’t sure who the noise belonged to. Probably both of them. He closes the distance between their lips with a sigh, his free arm winding around Kaoru’s waist and pulling him into his lap. He’s kissed him a thousand times before and yet, it feels like the first time again. He’s acutely aware of the way Kaoru’s mouth moves against his; slow, sweet. It reminds him of the kind of kiss they write songs about. The ones they write epic poems about. Fingers thread through his hair, like they have done so often. The touch is gentle, loving, and Kojiro’s own hand slips Kaoru’s underneath shirt. He brushes his fingers along his spine, tracing shapes on his skin and Kaoru sighs against him. He can feel him smiling against him, and Kojiro nips at his bottom lip.

Kissing Kaoru is like diving into the ocean on a summer’s day, it’s like eating your favorite ice cream, or wearing your favorite hoodie. It’s refreshing, it’s sweet, it’s comfortable. Kissing him feels makes him feel like a teenager and the same giddiness he experienced at age seventeen or eighteen, washes over him. 

He’s not sure who pulls back first, but Kojiro tilts his head back slightly to glance up at Kaoru – who cards his fingers through the strands that fall over Kojiro’s eyes. He absentmindedly leans into the touch, and Kaoru pushes his hair back before pressing his lips to Kojiro’s forehead. “Thank you,” he says quietly. “For the flowers— for being here. For everything.”

Kojiro releases a quiet hum, both hands slowly running up and down Kaoru’s sides. “Wouldn’t want it any other way,” he tells him. It’s the truth. He can’t imagine doing all of this with someone else, not like this. Looking at him now, Kojiro knows that he’s loved Kaoru for as long as he could remember. He doesn’t know when it started, perhaps it’s always been there.

Kaoru pulls back to smirk at him. “I suppose you make a pretty good nurse. Can I hire you fulltime? ”

“Oh, Kaoru, you couldn’t afford me.”