Archive of Our Own ^beta

i.

The first time it happens is unexpected.

They’re in Kaoru’s room a few weeks before finals. Kaoru is pacing back and forth, laying out an efficient study and assignment plan. Kojiro is sitting on the bed, leaning his head back against the wall and not really listening. If there’s anything he’s learned over the years, it’s that Kaoru will keep them on track whether Kojiro knows what’s going on or not.

Kojiro doesn’t remember Kaoru ever feeling like it was worth pacing around about, though. He tracks Kaoru’s journey back and forth across the room for a few more minutes before he decides it’s enough.

Kojiro leans forward and grabs his wrist as he walks by again. “Relax. You’re stressing me out.”

Kaoru’s scowl only proves his point more. “The only reason our parents don’t care how we spend our time is because our grades are good. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to be allowed out of the house.”

“You’re near the top of the class, aren’t you?” Kojiro says. “You’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be fine if I study.”

“Which you will,” Kojiro says. “Just. Sit down and breathe for a minute first.”

He pulls at Kaoru’s wrist until Kaoru gives in and sits down on the edge of the bed.

“One minute,” Kaoru says. “We have so much left to do.”

“And three weeks—”

“Two.”

“—two weeks to do it,” Kojiro says, throwing his arm around Kaoru’s stiff as hell shoulders. “Plenty of time.”

“Surprisingly, that did not make me feel better.”

All right, Kojiro’s going to have to go for the distraction technique. His arm around Kaoru’s shoulders gives him an idea. “You know what would make you feel better?” he says, tugging Kaoru closer. “A massage.”

Kaoru blinks at him, then raises an insulting eyebrow. “From you?”

“Lay down, you jerk,” Kojiro says, climbing off the bed. “I’ll show you.”

“If you say so.” Kaoru’s tone is doubtful—rude—but he’s stretching out on his stomach over the covers.

Kojiro stands at the side of the bed and rolls up his sleeves. “How hard could it be, anyway?”

“Reassuring.”

“Oi.” Kojiro flicks his ear.

Kaoru swats blindly at him. “If this makes me sore, I’m blaming you.”

“It’s supposed to make you less sore,” Kojiro says. “I think.”

Kaoru presses his face into his pillow. “This might go better if you talked less.”

Kojiro sweeps up Kaoru’s hair and pushes it over his shoulder and out of the way. Then puts his hands on both shoulders, squeezing firmly at the muscles there before moving in towards Kaoru’s neck. Kaoru remains stiff and silent, but when Kojiro pushes his thumbs into the tight muscles in the sides of his neck, Kaoru lets out a low groan, head tipping further forward.

Kojiro lights up. “Is it working?”

“Shut up and keep going,” Kaoru says.

Kojiro flicks his ear again, but Kaoru’s too relaxed to do anything but grumble at him. Kojiro keeps working at his neck in smug silence before moving back to the top of his shoulders, then lower to his shoulder blades, kneading the muscle through his starchy white uniform shirt.

After a while, Kojiro notices that Kaoru’s been quiet for a while. He lifts his hands, but Kaoru stays still and silent on the bed, breathing deeply. Kojiro leans closer and pitches his voice low. “Oi. Kaoru. You didn’t fall asleep on me, did you?”

Kaoru turns his head slowly, his hair falling over his face. His hair falls into his eyes as he turns. Kojiro pushes it back over his ear, revealing soft, sleepy golden eyes that make his heart skip a beat.

He pulls away quickly, tucking his hand behind his back and trying to bottle his crush back up.

“Do you want a massage, too?” Kaoru says, rolling onto his side facing Kojiro.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine, I get my stress relief in other ways,” Kojiro says without thinking.

“What ways?”

“Uh,” Kojiro says. The one that springs to mind may or may not be because his brain is still on that crush thing. “Ah, you know.”

Kaoru raises his eyebrows.

“You know…” Is Kaoru really going to make him say it? Kojiro struggles internally, then makes an explicit motion with his hand.

“I see,” Kaoru says flatly.

“You asked!” Kojiro says, dropping his hand to his side. “And besides, it’s a good form of stress relief. The best. You get all the happy chemicals once you finish, you know.”

“And you want me to help with that,” Kaoru says.

“Ye—wait,” Kojiro says. “What?”

Kaoru sits up and rolls out his neck and shoulders. “You helped me with the massage. It’s only fair, isn’t it?”

“I wasn’t massaging your dick,” Kojiro says automatically. He still can’t believe Kaoru’s even offering.

“If you don’t want me to return a favor, I’m fine with that,” Kaoru says, flicking his hair over his shoulder.

“I mean,” Kojiro says slowly, turning the idea over in his head. Kaoru’s house is empty as usual, his parents working late, so it’s not as though they’d get caught. And this is Kaoru. “I didn’t say that…”

Kaoru scowls at him. “Make up your mind already. We have a study plan to get to.”

Well, if that’s the alternative.

Kojiro leans in, planting his hands on either side of Kaoru. “Well, if you’re offering…”

“I think that’s my move,” Kaoru says, and pulls him the rest of the way onto the bed before pushing him down onto his back. Kaoru studies him for a moment, hand on Kojiro’s chest, before sliding his hand down to his pants.

Kojiro feels suddenly nervous. “What, no foreplay?”

“Do you need any?” Kaoru says, tugging his pants down.

His dick traitorously springs free in answer.

Kaoru gives him a Kaoru-standard that’s what I thought look before leaning sideways to mess with something under his bed. He comes back with lotion on his hands.

“I don’t want to hear a word from you,” Kaoru says as he rubs his hands together.

Kojiro, very distracted by the way the lotion is spreading across Kaoru’s skin and the thought of where exactly Kaoru’s hands are going next, stays silent.

Kaoru touches him with careful fingers, cold from the lotion. Kojiro squirms, ticklish, until Kaoru grips firmly, at which point he’s pretty sure all the blood in his body is rushing to meet Kaoru’s hand.

“You have to tell me what you like,” Kaoru says.

“Anything’s fine,” Kojiro says. He feels like he’s wheezing.

Kaoru’s watching him as he pumps slowly, once, then twice. The glide is smooth with lotion, but Kaoru’s fingers are unmistakably callused and rough. It makes Kojiro’s brain spin.

“You’re easier than I thought,” Kaoru says.

“I changed my mind,” Kojiro says, a brain cell coming back to life at the insult. “I like it when people are nice when they’re touching my dick.”

“Define nice.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” Kojiro suggests.

Kaoru narrows his eyes. Kojiro desperately wants to know what’s running through his mind, but he decides he doesn’t care when Kaoru leans in, pressing their lips together.

Kaoru’s lips are warm and dry against his, and his mouth is open a little, his breath unbearably hot against Kojiro’s lip. This may have been a mistake, Kojiro thinks, as Kaoru sucks a little at his lip before pulling back, and everything is heat, straight to Kojiro’s cock.

Kaoru pulls back, but just barely—if he were to purse his lips they would be kissing again. “Easy.”

Kojiro’s brain and cock are throbbing. “That’s not being very nice,” he says lowly.

Kaoru’s hand, around his cock, is still pumping. “Are you complaining?”

“Yes.”

“Too bad.”

Kojiro literally feels his cock twitch in Kaoru’s hand, which is an incredible betrayal by his own body.

Kaoru smirks, which somehow makes it even better. Or worse. Definitely worse. Right?

Ugh, he’s blaming Kaoru for this.

“Kojiro,” Kaoru says into the corner of his lips, “do you want me to use my mouth?”

Kojiro wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from coming if he’d wanted to.

“I take it that’s a no to my question,” Kaoru says, wiping his hand on Kojiro’s shirt after Kojiro’s laid back, exhausted.

“Oh my god, shut up,” Kojiro says, swatting weakly at him. “Ass.”

“I think you like it,” Kaoru says.

“We’ll see how much you like it next time,” Kojiro says, wrung out. Then he realizes what he just said. “Ah—”

The tip of Kaoru’s tongue darts out, wetting his lips. “Next time, then.”

ii.

Like skating, life has a path you travel down. Sometimes it’s uphill, and it sucks; sometimes it’s downhill, and it feels like you’re flying. And then, sometimes, your wheels catch onto a rock the wrong way and it all goes to shit.

Adam is the rock.

Sort of.

He’s not a bad guy. He was kind of a show-off when they first met, and Kojiro won’t lie and say he didn’t feel that ugly twist in his heart when he saw the way Kaoru’s eyes lit up in awe.

But Adam really is… everything. Charismatic, talented, handsome even when he’s wearing his hood. And thrill-seeking. He sees the world as limitless, and his energy is contagious; where he goes, they follow.

With him, they skate like they never had before, and every night they run home, sweaty and tired and with adrenaline pumping through their veins. They both try to keep quiet as they sneak in through Kaoru’s window, even though Kaoru’s parents are on the other side of the house and never hear them anyway.

The best part of a good skating night is that they have extra energy to burn, and more often than not Kojiro finds himself staring at the heat in Kaoru’s eyes before he’s dragged into Kaoru’s room and pushed up against the wall.

That part doesn’t bother him.

What does is the fact that he wasn’t the one who lit the fire.

But it doesn’t stop him from letting Kaoru pull his clothes off, littering them all over the ground on the way to his bed. Doesn’t stop them from kissing as they go, short, clumsy clashes of lips and teeth. Doesn’t stop him from rolling on top of Kaoru and running his hands over his face, his chest, his stomach, his ass, anywhere he can reach as he kisses Kaoru hard enough to bruise.

When he pulls away, it’s only to reach over Kaoru to grab the lube from his nightstand drawer. Kaoru watches him do it, chest flushed and heaving and hands resting on Kojiro’s waist. Kaoru’s grip tightens when Kojiro presses in with his fingers, then relaxes quickly.

They’re both used to this by now.

Soon enough, Kaoru’s panting softly, moving himself in rhythm with Kojiro’s fingers. Kojiro almost just wants to stay here forever, watching him. Kaoru is pretty always, and prettier like this, lips red and bitten and hair splayed all over the sheets as his body arches in Kojiro’s hands.

Kojiro kisses him again.

He doesn’t get to see you like this, he thinks but doesn’t say as Kaoru moans against his lips. This is for me.

He doesn’t know how much longer that’s going to be true.

The thought weighs on him as Kaoru gets tired of his fingers and more demanding of something else, and Kojiro lubes himself up, hauls Kaoru’s legs apart, and pushes in.

Kaoru groans, eyes squeezing shut as Kojiro bottoms out, and his nails are leaving crescent marks on Kojiro’s waist. Kojiro intertwines their fingers together and pins both of Kaoru’s hands to the bed above his head as he starts to move: slow, steady thrusts that rock Kaoru’s body under him.

He’s beautiful, so beautiful, and Kojiro wants him to be his and only his.

But he’s not.

“Adam,” Kojiro says lowly, and Kaoru’s eyes flutter open. “Do you think he’d fuck you like this?”

Kaoru squirms under him; Kojiro holds him fast. “Idiot, why are you bringing him up at a time like this?”

“Because,” Kojiro says, and he feels like he’s tearing his heart open, but he wants to know. He needs to know. “You like him, don’t you? Don’t you wish it was him with you?”

“I—”

Kaoru never hesitates, but even if he didn’t, the hint of guilt behind his eyes is unmistakable.

“Close your eyes,” Kojiro says, because he doesn’t want to see it, and he’s grateful that Kaoru does it without arguing, even though it hurts him to know why.

The steady slap of his skin against Kaoru’s is defeaning.

“You can imagine him, if you want.”

“Ko—”

Kojiro bites Kaoru’s earlobe, making him shudder and fall silent. “How do you think he’d do it? Slow and sweet? Or maybe hard and fast, just like he skates. You need to keep up or he’ll leave you behind.”

Kaoru whimpers quietly but doesn’t answer.

Kojiro slams in all the way and holds there, tugging at Kaoru’s earring with his teeth. “C’mon, Kaoru. I know you’ve thought about it. You can tell me anything.”

There’s a long moment when Kaoru’s chest just heaves and heaves.

Then,

“Harder,” Kaoru breathes, eyes still closed. “And—not like this.”

He pushes at Kojiro’s arm a little, and Kojiro pulls out, giving Kaoru room to roll over onto hands and knees. His head hangs between his shoulders, pink hair falling around his face like a curtain.

Kojiro swallows hard and runs his hands up Kaoru’s sides. They don’t usually do it this way, because Kojiro likes seeing his face, but if it’s what Kaoru wants…

He lines himself up carefully and pushes in, listening to the strangled groan Kaoru lets out as he sinks all the way in, and the tiny, punched-out moans as he starts finding his rhythm again—a harder one, just like Kaoru wanted.

Kaoru is trembling beneath him.

Kojiro puts his hand in between Kaoru’s shoulders. “Faster or slower?”

“Faster,” Kaoru whispers.

Kojiro pushes down until Kaoru’s on his forearms and then leans over him, finding the leverage in the new position to drive with his knees and pick up the pace while Kaoru whimpers and his hands turn to white-knuckled fists in the sheets.

It’s dirty.

Kojiro wouldn’t think to take Kaoru like this. Kaoru—he’s hard-edged, but precious. He deserves to be treated with care, not rolled over and used. But he can tell Kaoru’s enjoying this in the way he arches and his hips move to meet Kojiro’s, seeking more, more.

This is what he wants from Adam.

This is what Kojiro hasn’t been giving him.

Kaoru seizes up under him.

“Ah—ah, Ad—ahhmm—”

Kojiro slaps his hand over Kaoru’s mouth, muffling him as he comes, half to keep the noise down and half because he doesn’t want to hear the name.

He started it, he knows, but… he didn’t want Kaoru to finish it.

Once Kaoru seems to settle, Kojiro pulls out. He hasn’t come, doesn’t think he can, and there’s not really any hiding that, but luckily Kaoru seems too out of it to notice right now.

Kojiro escapes to the bathroom for a towel. Once Kaoru’s as clean as he’s getting without a shower and settled back in bed with the covers over him, Kojiro looks for his clothes.

He and Kaoru are about the same size, so there’s a good chance he picks up the wrong uniform pieces, but he can’t be bothered to look too closely. He just grabs whichever one looks right and pulls it on.

“Kojiro.” Kaoru’s fingers latch onto him, a loose ring around his wrist. “You…”

Kojiro looks at him steadily.

Kaoru’s eyebrows are pinched. “Are you… okay?”

Kojiro plasters on a smile that feels so fragile it may as well have been drawn in the sand. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

There’s a little purse to Kaoru’s lips, something he wants to say that he isn’t.

Kojiro is more than done with this conversation already. He picks up his shoes and kisses Kaoru on the forehead. “Good night, Kaoru.”

Then he pulls himself out the window and leaves.

iii.

Expectedly, Kaoru stops wanting to mess around after the whole… Adam sex thing.

Kojiro would too, honestly, after what he did. He shouldn’t have brought Adam into it at all; should have left Kaoru to make whatever eyes he wanted without getting Adam’s name involved in their… whatever it is. Was.

It leaves a hole in him, which it shouldn’t, because they never gave what they were doing a name. Never said that it would be anything more than what it was.

No promises meant there wasn’t anything to break.

Or, there shouldn’t have been.

Kojiro somehow ends up with an ache that he’s struggling to fill.

They spend later and later nights out, and somehow it feels like the bigger the crowd gets at S, the closer Kaoru and Adam get to each other.

And that’s just fine with Kojiro. He leaves them to make eyes and spends his time getting to know the fangirls who come out to support him—and, as it turns out, they’re more than happy to get to know him too, no strings attached.

Tonight, he’s getting closer with Kana, who he recognizes as having been around S from the start. She’s a good kisser, and her arms feel nice slung around the back of his neck.

Kaoru catches them going at it behind a tree and clears his throat noisily to announce his presence. “I’m leaving, if you want to join me. Or don’t.”

Kojiro slides his hand out of Kana’s shirt and sighs dramatically. “Guess that’s my cue. I’ll see you another night?”

She giggles, eyes darting between him and Kaoru. “Bye, Joe.”

He gives her another kiss for the road before hopping on his board and catching up with Kaoru, who’s already on his way out of the mine.

“You looked like you were having fun,” Kaoru says when Kojiro catches up.

“So did you,” Kojiro says. He keeps his tone light, but Kaoru frowns anyway.

He doesn’t say anything else, though, that night or any other. In return, Kojiro doesn’t mention a thing about Kaoru and Adam, even though he finds himself waiting every day for Kaoru and Adam to get together for real and leave him behind.

In the end, it turns out to be Adam who leaves them both.

Kaoru is numb about it when they find out about the side races Adam’s been having, and even number when he tells them he’s leaving. For good.

One look at Kaoru’s face tells Kojiro he hadn’t known. Kojiro’s hands ball into fists. Kaoru stops him with a hand on his arm.

“Let’s go,” he says quietly.

“Kaoru, he—”

“Kojiro,” Kaoru says, looking at him, and Kojiro can see he’s one or two bad sentences from falling apart.

Kojiro grits his teeth and leaves. He doesn’t look back, otherwise he knows he’s not going to be able to control his anger.

“You should have let me punch him,” Kojiro tells Kaoru once they’ve made it back to his house.

“What would the point be?” Kaoru’s voice is even, but he’s yanking off his uniform jacket viciously. “He’s leaving. What’s done is done.”

Somehow it’s the vicious edge to Kaoru’s voice that pulls Kojiro back. He’s angry for Kaoru, but Kaoru is the one who’s losing everything.

“Come sit down,” Kojiro says, pulling him toward the bed.

Kaoru follows him, every movement mechanical.

Kojiro undoes Kaoru’s hair, slipping the hair-tie onto his wrist. Then, starting from the center, he slowly threads fingers through Kaoru’s hair from scalp to end, gently untangling any knots he finds on the way.

Eventually, Kaoru’s head droops, forehead to Kojiro’s shoulder. When he speaks, Kojiro has to strain to hear him. “Do you think he ever really cared?”

“I know he did,” Kojiro says, remembering the look in Adam’s eyes in the beginning, like they were the people he’d been searching a long time for.

Like Kaoru was.

And Kaoru looked back the exact same way.

“He’s different now,” Kojiro says. “I don’t know what changed, or why, but… it’s not your fault, Kaoru.”

“Maybe it is,” Kaoru says. “Maybe if I were better, he wouldn’t have—”

“Kaoru.” Kojiro hates seeing him like this. “Stop.”

“I could have saved them,” Kaoru says.

“You didn’t know what he was doing,” Kojiro says.

“I should have known!”

Kojiro remembers, at that moment, that they’re sneaking in and the house isn’t empty, even if Kaoru’s bedroom is far from his parents’. They both look to Kaoru’s bedroom door, holding their breaths, but when enough time passes that Kojiro runs out of air and there’s still no sound from outside, he considers it safe.

Kojiro rests his hand against the side of Kaoru’s neck. “Adam is his own person,” he says quietly. “Whether or not you know what’s going on in his head… that’s not something you can control.”

Kaoru is silent, gaze cast down.

“I don’t want to talk about Adam anymore,” Kaoru says finally, before pulling himself up with hands on Kojiro’s shoulders and kissing him.

In the first second, Kojiro thinks about how much he’s missed the feeling of Kaoru’s lips on his.

In the second, Kojiro remembers where they are, and what they’re doing.

In the third, Kojiro pushes him away. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Kaoru’s hands fall, his lips pressing briefly into a thin, white line. “Then you can leave.”

But Kojiro doesn’t want to leave. Not like this. He touches Kaoru’s jaw. “Kaoru. Is this really going to make you feel better?”

Kaoru’s jaw clenches, then unclenches under Kojiro’s fingers. “I don’t know. But. You always make me feel better.”

Kojiro’s heart stops. Then he smiles, without humor. “You’re really going to say that to me now?”

Kaoru looks away.

Kojiro breaks. He draws Kaoru to him again, and kisses him on the lips, chaste and soft. “Tell me if you want to stop.”

Kaoru nods, just the smallest movement of his head that Kojiro only recognizes through years of being with him. When they kiss this time, he lets Kaoru unbutton his shirt with deft fingers and push it off his shoulders. Kojiro wrestles his way out of his sleeves and tosses the shirt aside so he can get to work on Kaoru’s.

Slowly, Kojiro leans back onto the bed, pulling Kaoru on top of him and holding him with one arm around his back and shoulders and one hand against the side of his face as they kiss. He goes slowly, carefully, every movement meant to soothe.

Eventually, Kaoru gets tired of the treatment. He pulls back with an irritated huff. “I’m not going to break.”

“Then why do you look like you’re about to cry?”

Kaoru’s eyes widen like he’s been struck. Then he scowls and turns his head down, pressing his forehead against Kojiro’s sternum. “Idiot. You didn’t have to say it.”

Kojiro kisses the top of Kaoru’s head and doesn’t tell him that it’ll be okay.

“Kojiro,” Kaoru says into his chest. “Make me forget.”

Kojiro knows that this is a terrible idea, and that instead of entertaining him, he should be giving Kaoru some time to cool off alone, process and reprocess the way he always does until his head is in a better place.

Logically, he knows that.

But when Kaoru’s like this, quiet and vulnerable and trusting, Kojiro can’t say no.

He lightly tugs Kaoru’s face back up and kisses him. Kaoru’s lips tremble lightly against his, and Kojiro hates it, he hates Adam, he hates everything about this.

They fall back to the bed, face-to-face. When Kojiro pushes into him, Kaoru turns his head away, hair falling over and hiding his expression. Kojiro takes his chin with one hand and turns him back to face him. Kaoru’s jaw trembles under his fingers, before he steels it.

The tightening of his jaw wrenches something in Kojiro’s heart. “Kaoru…”

“Don’t,” Kaoru snaps. He sniffs and looks over Kojiro’s shoulder, eyes too-bright in the moonlight. “Stop stalling and just do it.”

If he needs an excuse to cry, then Kojiro will give him one. He grabs Kaoru’s waist, hauling him further onto his lap, and drives in. When Kaoru throws his head back, Kojiro fists a hand in the hair behind his head to keep it there, and drags his lips over the long column of Kaoru’s neck. “Stay.”

Kaoru’s pulse quickens under his skin, and he tries to turn his head again. Kojiro tightens his grip. Kaoru swallows, the bob of his throat clearer with the way his head is tilted back.

“If you want this,” Kojiro says, “then stop trying to hide from me.”

“You want to see me cry that badly?” Kaoru snaps, frustrated.

“Yeah,” Kojiro says. “I do.”

Kaoru’s stunned into silence again. Then he says, “You’re the worst.”

“Do you want this or not?”

Kaoru kicks at him. “Shut up and fuck me.”

Kojiro does, keeping Kaoru pinned with his fist in his hair and his shoulders behind Kaoru’s knees as he slams into him. Kaoru’s breath hitches as his body shakes with the rough treatment, and then the tears start to spill.

Kojiro releases his hand, flattening it against Kaoru’s hair and letting Kaoru press his face into his shoulder as he sobs quietly.

He doesn’t complain when Kojiro pulls out, but he’s still painfully hard. “Kojiro—”

“I’ve got you,” Kojiro says. He puts lube on his hand and wraps a slick fist around Kaoru’s cock, Kaoru’s face damp against his shoulder. Kaoru bites into his collarbone as he comes.

“I hate feeling like this,” Kaoru whispers into the darkness afterward.

Kojiro’s still laying in bed. He’ll sneak out earlier in the morning back to his own house so his parents won’t notice he’s missing, but he’s not leaving Kaoru alone like this.

But the fact that he’s here doesn’t mean he knows what to say to make it better. He doesn’t know if there’s even anything to say.

He reaches out and intertwines his fingers with Kaoru’s. Kaoru’s hand is cold, but his fingers fold back over Kojiro’s.

“I’m not leaving you,” Kojiro promises.

Kaoru squeezes Kojiro’s hand, hard, and cries.

iv.

“Kojiro,” Kaoru says, finger rubbing against the side of his half-empty wine glass. It’s late, and Sia la luce is quiet and empty, save for them and their bottle of wine. “What do you think life would have been like if we’d never skated?”

Kojiro dries his hands on the towel as he thinks. Honestly, it’s been a long time since they skated to the same extent that they did when they were kids, but he can’t imagine growing up without it. Skating gave them the escape from their homes that they were looking for; let them achieve goals outside the confines of their school life and home life. Let them fly higher. Brought them closer.

Brought them Adam, who they haven’t seen or heard from in years.

Slowly, Kojiro puts the towel down. “I don’t regret it, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Do you think we would still have been friends?”

“Well, we were friends before we skated, weren’t we?” Kojiro says, folding his arms on the counter and leaning forward. “I’m sure we would have found something else to do together, if it wasn’t skating.”

“I suppose.” Kaoru’s fingers are lightly tapping at the glass now. He isn’t usually so fidgety. “Do you think we would have been different people then?”

“I think we both know the answer to that,” Kojiro says.

Kaoru’s fingers keep moving, but he doesn’t answer.

Kojiro exhales and pushes off the counter. “Why are you thinking about all this, anyway?”

“It’s nothing important,” Kaoru says. He stares at his glass a little while longer before draining it. “Kojiro. Are you free tonight?”

Kaoru is far from the only person Kojiro’s slept with at this point, but he’s still by far the most important.

He’s the only one Kojiro lets into his home, for one; the only one who Kojiro takes to his bed and the only one who Kojiro hopes will stay there until morning.

Kaoru doesn’t, of course—he does Kojiro the favor of at least staying until he falls asleep, but he’s always gone before Kojiro wakes. At this point, Kojiro’s used to the cold sheets and the vaguest scent of sandalwood.

He still keeps a breakfast menu on reserve, just in case.

Kaoru’s on top tonight, the weight of him comforting and hot as he kisses a trail down Kojiro’s stomach.

“I knew you liked my abs.”

“Don’t ruin this, gorilla,” Kaoru says, lightly smacking said abs. He kisses it after, as if in apology.

What would he be ruining, Kojiro wonders, but he doesn’t have much time to wonder when Kaoru nips at his inner thigh, and all thoughts leave his brain as his blood rushes south.

“What do you want?” Kaoru says, hands against his thighs.

The image of Kaoru between his legs is already more than doing it for him. “Chef’s choice.”

“I’m not the chef here,” Kaoru says, but he gives Kojiro a thorough once-over. “What if I want to fuck you?”

“You know where the lube is,” Kojiro says.

Kaoru studies him for a moment longer, then he goes for the lube. Kojiro thinks about their arrangement. He isn’t nearly as flexible as Kaoru is, and Kaoru isn’t as strong as he is, which might make things a bit difficult face-to-face, which is a shame.

“No.” Kaoru’s hand on his shoulder stops him from turning over.

He shoves a pillow under Kojiro as he pulls him onto his lap. Kojiro’s legs twinge a bit in discomfort as Kaoru pushes his legs apart, but then the stretch fades and he holds himself as best he can for Kaoru to push in.

“Fuck.”

Kojiro might have said that, or it might have been Kaoru. Maybe they both did.

But it’s exactly how he feels.

They haven’t done this before. After all, Kaoru likes getting fucked, and Kojiro likes fucking him. Kojiro admits to having been curious, though, and now—

Every careful thrust is directly feeding the pounding of his heart. His pulse is so strong in his throat he feels like he’s going to choke on it. His cock feels almost uncomfortably hot. He reaches down to take off the edge, but Kaoru bats him away, his hand closing around Kojiro instead and stroking him in time with Kaoru’s thrusts.

Everything feels so fucking good, but also so fucking slow.

“Kaoru,” Kojiro whines.

Kaoru looks just like Kojiro feels, flushed and messy and wrecked. He leans forward and Kojiro strains up to meet him in a kiss. Kaoru’s lips, this time, are slick, his breath hot and needy. Kojiro licks into his mouth, urging him on. Kaoru groans and starts moving faster.

“That’s it,” Kojiro says against his lips. “That’s it, fuck, Kaoru, yes. Fuck me just like that.”

“Kojiro,” Kaoru says, his voice shaking.

“You’re beautiful,” Kojiro says.

Kaoru lets out a soft cry and stills as he comes, his cock pulsing inside Kojiro. Kojiro groans and wrestles Kaoru’s hand aside so that he can take himself in hand and chase the feeling that rises in him with Kaoru’s cries. He comes in spurts between them both.

Kaoru collapses on top of him, uncaring of the mess. His skin is burning where they’re touching.

“Kaoru,” Kojiro says, and when Kaoru looks up, Kojiro pulls him close and presses their lips together, slick and desperate and not at all chaste.

I love you I love you I love you, he thinks, and they’re strong words, but he means every one.

When he lets go to breathe, Kaoru draws back and watches him with a complicated expression.

“Kojiro,” Kaoru says quietly. “I…”

Kojiro waits, but Kaoru never finishes the thought.

v.

The night after Adam makes his reappearance at S, Kojiro grabs Kaoru’s arm before he can leave Sia la luce.

Kaoru scowls at him. “What?”

Kaoru has three types of annoyance: general annoyance at the incompetence of people or at the world in general that can put him in a shitty mood; surface-level annoyance like the kind he throws at Kojiro that’s more reflex than it is any actual irritation; and the kind where it’s not annoyance at all, but it’s easier to act annoyed than to show whatever it is he’s feeling inside.

Today’s annoyance is one of the last kind. Kaoru’s breathing a bit faster than normal, and his arm, in Kojiro’s, is shaking.

“Stay with me tonight,” Kojiro says.

“For what,” Kaoru says, “so you can treat me like I’m made of glass? I can do without, thanks. Now let go.”

“You’re not going to be able to sleep.”

“And you think having you around will help?”

They both know the answer to that, but now isn’t the time to get Kaoru to admit to it.

“We don’t have to sleep,” Kojiro says, already knowing as he says it that it’s a bad idea. But he’ll say what he has to if it means Kaoru won’t go home alone.

Kaoru’s scowl deepens, but his arm stills as he considers his options, his stubbornness fighting against his sense in an internal debate Kojiro’s seen over and over.

Then Kaoru yanks his sleeve out of Kojiro’s hand and says, “Fine.”

Kaoru’s pushy when he’s in a mood.

Kojiro’s jacket is off before he knows it, then his shirt, then his pants, all crumpling to a messy pile on the floor where Kaoru tosses them. Kaoru’s yukata joins them before he pushes Kojiro to the bed and climbs on top of him.

Kojiro puts his hands on Kaoru’s waist. “Slow down there.”

“I thought you didn’t like things slow.”

“Kaoru.”

“Kojiro.”

Kojiro bites his tongue. Kaoru really is in a mood tonight. One misstep and they might actually be fighting, for real. Kojiro can’t even remember the last time that’s happened.

He lets go of Kaoru.

Kaoru studies him for the space of a long breath. “That’s what I thought.”

He pours lube on his hand and works Kojiro back up to full hardness, which doesn’t take long. Kaoru’s been gathering his data for years. He knows exactly how to touch him to get what he wants.

And even if that weren’t the case, Kojiro’s body remembers Kaoru’s touch, and craves it always.

Kaoru changes position, then, and Kojiro opens his eyes in time to see him line himself up and seat himself on Kojiro’s cock.

Kojiro makes a strangled sound. “Kaoru—”

“Be quiet,” Kaoru says, planting his hands on Kojiro’s legs and fucking himself on Kojiro’s cock.

He’s turned away, so all Kojiro can really see is the tilt of his head and the light arch of his back as he moves. But Kojiro can also hear him—the quiet huff of his breath and the little noises he makes every time he bottoms out. They’re not happy noises.

Damn it, Kojiro knew this was a bad idea.

Kojiro pulls himself up to sitting and clamps his hands on Kaoru’s hips, holds him seated and still. “Kaoru,” he says, sharply enough that Kaoru looks at him, eyes sparking and ready for a fight.

“What.” Everything about Kaoru’s voice says try me, I dare you, but Kojiro isn’t letting this one go.

“Do you think it makes me happy to see you using me to hurt yourself?” Kojiro says lowly.

Kaoru flinches.

Kojiro lets go. “Get off. I’m done playing this game.”

Kaoru pulls off, but he doesn’t leave. He sits next to Kojiro on the bed, not facing him, knees drawn up to his chest and hands on his knees. “I’m sorry.”

“You’d better be,” Kojiro says, laying back down and drawing up the blankets to cover himself, and Kaoru’s feet.

“Kojiro,” Kaoru says a bit desperately, turning to face him this time. “I really am.”

“I know that, you stubborn ass.” Kojiro tries to keep the exasperation out of his voice for Kaoru’s sake. “You don’t say you’re sorry unless you mean it. Apology accepted, okay? We’re both not in good moods tonight. Just lay down and sleep already.”

“I can’t sleep if you’re…”

“Still horny?” Kojiro guesses.

“Angry,” Kaoru says, the mild Kojiro-level annoyance making him look more like his typical self.

“I’m not angry at you,” Kojiro says, truthfully. “Just—new rule, okay? You can use me to feel better if you want, but not to feel worse.”

Kaoru drops his cheek to his knee, expressionless.

“What does it say about me,” he says, “that I’m using you like that at all?”

Kojiro’s laugh feels like it’s coming from someone else. “What does it say about me that I’ve been letting you?”

“That you care.”

The silence that falls in the room is suffocating.

It isn’t until Kaoru moves that Kojiro feels like he can breathe again. He’s not sure what conversation they just almost had, but he knows that tonight of all nights isn’t the time for it.

Kaoru gets himself settled next to Kojiro under the blankets. He’s curled on his side, facing away. They’re not touching.

“Good night, Kojiro,” Kaoru says quietly.

Kojiro closes his eyes. “Good night, Kaoru.”

*

“I’m in your bed,” Kaoru says, staring at him from his position laying flat on his back.

“It was either put you here or break you into your apartment to put you there,” Kojiro says. “I thought you would’ve preferred this option.”

“Or,” Kaoru says, “you could have woken me up and I could have gone myself.”

Kojiro raises his eyebrows in mock innocence. “Oh, but didn’t you say you were injured?”

Kaoru scowls. “You’re not cute.”

“That’s just what you think.” Kojiro sets the glass of water and bottle of pills he’s carrying on the nightstand. “I brought your painkillers.”

“Wonderful.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.”

That’s probably expected.

“We’ll need to change your bandages later,” Kojiro says. “I didn’t want to move you too much last night.”

“That’s fine.”

It’s not like Kaoru never talks in short answers, but that combined with the way his fist is closing and opening in his lap means something’s wrong.

Kojiro sits on the bed and gently places his hand over Kaoru’s. “I’m sorry, Kaoru.”

“I never thought that he would…” Kaoru trails off, staring down at his lap. “I suppose this is where you tell me you were right.”

“You really think I’d say something like that?”

“I would, if I were you,” Kaoru says. “You were right. He’s beyond our reach now. I was a fool to try.”

“You believed in the good in him,” Kojiro says. “That doesn’t make you a fool. That makes you a kind person.”

Kaoru snorts. “See where that kindness got me.”

Kojiro is silent.

“Though I suppose you’d understand,” Kaoru says eventually. “All you’ve been is kind to me and look where that’s gotten you.”

“You haven’t hit me in the face with a fucking skateboard,” Kojiro says.

Kaoru winces, and Kojiro regrets saying it so harshly.

“Look, Kaoru,” Kojiro says, sliding his hand under Kaoru’s so he can intertwine their fingers. “Adam is—even back when we were friends, he was always doing stuff on his own. We were in the same orbit, but he was always wrapped up in his own world. That’s why he let us drift apart so easily. You can see how that’s different from us, can’t you?”

“So you’re saying we’re stuck with each other,” Kaoru says.

“A long time ago, I told you I wouldn’t leave you,” Kojiro says. “I meant it. If you want me to leave, that’s a different story. I know I haven’t always been the best friend, either.”

“You’re wrong,” Kaoru says, squeezing his hand. “You’ve always been my best friend. And I don’t want you to leave. Kojiro…”

Kojiro waits while Kaoru gathers his thoughts.

“Every time I kissed you, I meant it,” Kaoru says.

“You’re the only one I ever bring here,” Kojiro says.

They look at each other for a long, quiet moment. The tiny crease in Kaoru’s brow relaxes.

“So what now?” Kaoru says.

“Now,” Kojiro says, cupping the side of Kaoru’s neck and running his thumb under his jawline, “you get better. Later… we can figure that out then.”

“Stay with me,” Kaoru says, placing his hand on top of Kojiro’s.

Kojiro leans in and kisses him. “Always.”