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kumeko · 9 months ago

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A/N: For the Adam in Love zine! Kaoru felt like such a bitter ex in the anime and I wanted to kinda bounce from there. It was so hard figuring out the dialogue for the ending, reconciliation isn’t easy, especially when you’ve been hit by a skateboard (which I still call cheating, it’s a race, not a wwe smackdown). Also spent way too much time looking up skateboard terms for the title.

…

At sixteen, Kaoru thought he knew his home like the back of his hand. He’d grown up here, after all, had spent most of his youth navigating its streets. Yet Ainosuke seemed determined to prove him wrong. In the year since they’d first met (and fought), his mysterious friend had taken him to every nook and cranny in town.

It was amazing just how many places you could skate in, if you were determined. Like, right now, he was sitting in a brand-new development area, a couple of acres filled with half-finished model homes and empty pools. Cranes and trucks dotted the landscape and bars of metal jutted out precariously in piles. All in all, a dangerous place to explore in the day.

And an exciting one to navigate at night.

Kaoru leaned against a wall, wiping the sweat from his brow. His long hair stuck to his neck like a scarf. He was used to this feeling of exhaustion; skating with Ainosuke and Kojiro was like a race to the bottom. Neither of them knew when to take a break. They’d been here since sundown and only now could Kaoru admit his legs felt like jelly.

His companions felt otherwise. Kaoru sighed as he watched them dart past, neither of them showing any signs of letting up.

With a cocky smirk, Kojiro taunted, “Tired already?”

“Some of us aren’t monsters,” Kaoru retorted, rolling his eyes. He didn’t bother to move, only watched as Kojiro shot off the lip of the pool nearby.

“And you aren’t?” Ainosuke questioned. He jumped off his skateboard and flipped it into his hand. “You keep up with us most nights.”

Kaoru watched Ainosuke from the corner of his eye. They’d both grown taller in the past few months, with Ainosuke just barely gaining an advantage. In his usual hoodie and jeans, he looked all limbs, like his body hadn’t kept up with his growth spurt. He appeared awkward on land, in a way he never did on his skateboard.

It was an oddly reassuring thing. Ainosuke always seemed to be one step ahead of him, whether it was skateboarding or life, and puberty gave them an equal playing field.

Unfortunately, that field didn’t apply to Kojiro who sprouted like a tree.

“And it’s tiring all nights,” Kaoru finally replied, taking a deep breath as he centered himself. It was hard to tear his eyes away from his friend. “How do you keep finding them?”

Ainosuke cocked his head, his messy hair covering his right eye. He leaned against the wall too, so close Kaoru could feel his heat. “Finding what?”

“These places.” Kaoru gestured at the space in front of him. “You show a different one every week.”

“That…” Ainosuke’s expression darkened. They’d hung out long enough that Kaoru recognized it for what it was: something to do with his family. Ainosuke glanced across the pool, to where Tadashi watched them silently. There was a secret language to their gaze, to the minute changes in their body. A sign of familiarity, of an Ainosuke Kaoru didn’t know.

He didn’t like it.

Ainosuke chuckled half-heartedly, as though remembering something. “I’m good at hiding.”

Kaoru glanced at him, then straight ahead. “I suppose so.”

Ainosuke hid his family from them. He hid them from his family. He hid behind so many lies and secrets, it was hard to tell just what parts of him were genuine. The only time it all fell away was when they skated, when there was nothing but speed and rubber and the thrill of the chase.

Ainosuke’s smiles then were honest.

Of that, Kaoru was certain.

“What’re you talking about?” Kojiro asked as he climbed out of the empty pool. His eyes met Kaoru’s. There was something heavy about his lingering stare. Kaoru could feel the weight of it, even if he couldn’t understand why. Electricity hung in the air.

“How much you suck,” Kaoru lied reflexively, looking away first.

“Ouch.” Kojiro laughed, the insult rolling off him like water on a duck. It always did; Kaoru was half-convinced nothing could dampen his spirit. “And everyone at school calls you a gentleman.”

“I dunno.” Ainosuke leaned closer, his breath warming Kaoru’s ear. Kaoru could feel every word more than hear them. “I think you’re right.”

Kaoru flinched, his skin burning at the sudden proximity. Judging by Ainosuke’s mischievous grin, he’d provoked that response on purpose, the bastard.

“Hey! I heard that!” Kojiro retorted, scowling.

“Maybe I wanted you to hear?” Ainosuke drawled, chuckling. His eyes were bright and he was still far too close. Kaoru resisted the urge to recoil when their shoulders bumped.

“I’m the only good guy here,” Kojiro moaned. “And here I was about to tell you about a good spot.”

That immediately caught Ainosuke’s attention. He straightened. “Oh? Where?”

“Should I tell you?” Kojiro scowled, but even Kaoru could see that he was already thrumming with excitement, that his grumpiness was just an act.

They didn’t even need to coax him before he’d already spun around, skating around the corner of the house and down the empty street. Ainosuke nipped at his heels but Kaoru kept behind, watching their backs as he followed them. It was an odd feeling to skate down a neighbourhood that consisted only of streetlights, the roads set in place before the houses. It was an odder feeling to see the pair before him and see the space they kept for him even as they raced ahead.

“Here!” Kojiro pulled to a stop at a dug-up lot. Wooden boards and metal pipes criss-crossed the hole and a single staircase led down to a yet-to-be-made basement.

It was highly dangerous.

It was highly exciting. Kaoru didn’t have to look to know the expressions his friends had as they gazed upon their new playground. Neither moved, as though waiting for a signal.

“Scared?” Kojiro taunted, punching Ainosuke lightly on the shoulder.

“Says the one who’s shivering,” Ainosuke retorted, shoving him back.

Kaoru tuned out their daily fight. If they were lucky, one of them would be able to make it across to the other side of the pit. All three? Nearly impossible.

He skated forward. “I’ll go first.”

There was something about being with them that made him want to try the impossible.

ii.

In high school, Kojiro had thought of love as a light, fluffy thing. His sister’s romance novels, his girlfriends’ chick flicks, even his own experiences told him so. Love was fun. Love was exciting.

Love was heavy if you were an adult. Now in his twenties, Kojiro only found love at the bottom of a bottle.

And that was only when Kaoru let himself drink.

Kojiro tried not to sigh as he popped the cork of a cheap red and poured it into a wine glass. His reflection came back hazy and indistinct, and somehow that was more accurate than any mirror he’d looked into lately.

“You’ve gotten better,” Kaoru commented idly, taking a bite out of his pasta. “I almost can’t believe you used to burn the noodles.”

“That was once and we were ten,” Kojiro huffed, though he tried to keep the bite out of his voice. It was rare enough that Kaoru came to him instead of the other way around and he didn’t want to chase him away. Especially not when he was sitting at the bar instead of a table. This close, their knees almost touched; this close, Kojiro could pretend they were normal lovers as opposed to the complicated mess left behind.

“I wonder what those girls would say if they heard that…” Kaoru wrapped a delicate hand around his glass. There was something graceful about the way he raised the wine, about the way he drank it. Only a small droplet escaped his lips before a pink tongue nimbly caught it.

Kojiro jerked his head away. It was too early in dinner to have those thoughts. He didn’t even know why Kaoru was here yet. “Don’t you want it to be a secret? Just between us?”

“We have enough of those.” Kaoru gently swirled his wine. “I probably shouldn’t drink this.”

“Why?” Even as he asked, Kojiro could guess the answer.

“I’m the only one who gets drunk.” Kaoru scowled. “You can really hold your liquor.”

Bingo. Kojiro chuckled mirthlessly. “I have to be.”

“Have to?” Kaoru raised a brow before a look of understanding crossed his face. “Your girlfriends.”

No, it’s the only way you’ll actually talk. Just what would Kaoru’s expression be if Kojiro had said that? Surprised? Irritated? There’d definitely be a dose of denial.

“Why, jealous?” Kojiro drawled instead.

Kaoru snorted. “As if.”

The answer was never yes, no matter how many times they’d done this song and dance. Kojiro gulped his wine carelessly. In high school, love was easy. Even the awkward intimacy of their youth had been as natural as breathing, the way they had explored each other without fear. As an adult, it felt like he was walking on broken glass.

“I’ve got a reputation to maintain,” Kojiro finally replied, trying to keep his tone light.

“A worthless one.” Kaoru set down his glass and glanced out the window. It was a moonless night, the streetlights just barely illuminating the nearby shops. The odd car sped down the street, its headlights glowing like beacons in the dark. Quietly, he murmured, “He’s back.”

There was no need to ask who. There was only ever one he, only ever one reason that Kaoru came here to drink. Kojiro contemplated that he didn’t have enough wine to handle this and poured himself another glass. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“He’s not in the city. He’s just back in Japan.” There was rage and there was grief, and Kaoru always seemed to teeter between the two, as though he hadn’t quite figured out his own feelings. Maybe he hadn’t. As smart as he was, Kaoru was an idiot when it came to himself.

Not that he was any better. Kojiro had mostly sorted out his feelings to his old flame, but that didn’t stop the love and hate coiling in his gut at the news.

In high school, they had been fearless. Growing up meant learning what it meant to be scared.

And their shared fear was loss.

Even now, it was easy to feel Ainosuke’s space, even in these quiet dinners between the two of them. There was the empty seat on Kaoru’s right, the one he kept no matter where he sat in the shop. There was the longing and loathing in Kaoru’s voice whenever he got drunk enough to reminisce. There was the skateboard that chased Ainosuke’s ghost across the streets as though if they went fast enough, they could stop him from leaving for America all those years ago.

Ainosuke’s fingerprints were everywhere.

And Kojiro was tired of it. “Does it matter?”

Kaoru bristled. “What do you mean does it matter—”

“He’s not Ainosuke,” Kojiro interrupted, the our left unsaid. At this point, he couldn’t even imagine kissing the politician their ex had become, let alone loving him. “He was never that cruel.”

“Maybe he was hiding it,” Kaoru spat out.

It’d be easier if he had, if everything they’d known had been a lie.

It would be easier, but despite it all, Kojiro still treasured those teenage nights, the sloppy kisses and competitive smirks and moonlight races. “I hope he wasn’t.”

“Still.” Kaoru pushed his bangs out of his face, his skin flush from the wine and anger. “He still needs to pay.”

Kojiro reached across and grabbed Kaoru’s hand. He swiped his thumb on a familiar scar, felt the callouses from the pads of his fingers. “Does he?”

And if Kaoru’s eyes had always been firmly on Ainosuke, his had always been on Kaoru. A familiar jealousy coiled in his chest, a feeling that had only eased for the short time they had all called each other mine.

It was impossible to compete with a ghost.

Especially if the ghost wasn’t dead.

Look at me, he wanted to beg, to whine. I’m still here.

But he was a coward, he had always been a coward. The only time Kaoru would talk to him was when he was drunk and that only time Kojiro would try to compete with Ainosuke’s shadow was when the alcohol blurred the boundaries of past and present.

If Kaoru’s response was to chase AInosuke, Kojiro’s was to stay still.

Maybe he hadn’t escaped Ainosuke’s ghost either.

“We should—”

A snore interrupted him. The wine had done its job. Slumped across the table, Kaoru dozed peacefully.

“There’s never a right time between us,” Kojiro sighed. He tenderly brushed the hair out of Kaoru’s face before pressing soft kiss on his forehead.

The wound they shared had yet to heal. Sometimes he feared it never would.

iii.

Ainosuke, for all of his savagery on the racetrack, was a fairly predictable creature. His daily routine remained the same, regardless if an adorably aggressive cop stalked him around town. He met politicians all day and warded off his aunts all night. His meals were high class, regardless of their contents. In every conversation he had, he made sure to pick the most proactive response.

For all he had derided Cherry, Ainosuke was a boring man himself.

Which is why today was a remarkable change from it all. Ever since he’d left for America as a teen, Ainosuke had never imagined meeting Kojiro and Kaoru again and especially not somewhere that didn’t involve skateboarding.

Yet, here he was, sitting in the patio of a local coffee shop, holding a cup of extremely cheap coffee, face-to-face with a very hostile Kaoru and a more passive Kojiro. It was a strange reversal to how they’d behaved as teens.

The entire situation was odd. Ever since Ainosuke had returned, he’d seen them one by one at best, a glimpse of both at worst. Not like this, in the bright sunlight. Not like this, while wearing his usual suit. Not like this, as Ainosuke and not Adam.

There was a strange urge to flee, but he had long since decided to stop running from his problems. The only good thing was that the patio was closed off, so he didn’t have to deal with the press on top of everything else. Ainosuke could barely process the situation as it was, without having to think of a way to look good for the cameras.

Ainosuke’s gaze flicked to the table next to them, to where Tadashi quietly read a book, his eyes peeking up every now and then as he watched them. No, there were two good things; Tadashi was still here. He could handle almost anything as long as that remained the case.

He glanced back at his old ‘friends’. Did that moniker apply to them anymore? Had it ever truly applied? Even when they’d first met, there had been a spark between them, an attraction that he had chased down as fervently as he had skateboarding. An attraction that he had smothered and trampled on as thoroughly as he could before he’d fled to America.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come,” Ainosuke drawled, smiling flirtatiously. This wasn’t how he intended to start. The words and tone left his mouth anyways. It was a bad habit of his. “Miss me that much?”

“Don’t even joke about it,” Kaoru replied tersely, his voice clipped and short and straight to the point. When they were younger, he had rarely been so callous. He crossed his arms, sitting ramrod straight. “What did you want?”

“My, my, so impatient,” Ainosuke cooed, leaning back in his seat. He tapped his head. “Is the concussion still bothering you?”

Kaoru’s eyes flashed. Ainosuke could no longer tell what emotion passed through them, only that there was definitely anger. “Hope your ribs are still broken.”

Ainosuke chuckled. How could he have ever called the man before him boring? “Oh, you’ve gained a mouth on you.”

Before Kaoru could say anything, Kojiro grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly. Softly, he uttered, “Kaoru.”

Kaoru stiffened. He glanced at Kojiro, at their clasped hands, and clicked his teeth. “Fine.” For a second, he was soft. Then he turned back to Ainosuke, as unyielding as steel. “Get on with it.”

There were many things Ainosuke had expected from this meeting, but the odd tinge in his chest was not one of them. It was suffocating about seeing the duo like that, closer than they had been as kids. An entire history lay between them, communicated only with small touches and sounds.

They had looked at him like that once.

They had touched him like that once.

Even now, Ainosuke could see his teenage self sitting with them, filling in the gaps between their bodies.

“Oh, how cute. When did you get together?” Ainosuke asked. It was petty. He felt ugly. He couldn’t stop himself from picking at the wound. “Does Cherry taste like cherry?”

Kaoru jumps to his feet, his chair scraping against the concrete harshly. “You…” he growled.

Truly, Ainosuke had been wrong to ever call the man boring. As calm and collected as Kaoru acted, it only belied the fierce rage and passion that stormed within him. And if Kojiro could draw out the positives in it, Ainosuke would take the negatives.

Any emotion was better than none., after all.

“I?” Ainosuke pressed, smiling benignly. He interlaced his fingers and rested his chin on them. “Darling, make sure to use your words.”

Kaoru’s expression was unreadable again. Anger was easy to find, it had been easy to find ever since Ainosuke first returned to racing. But the rest was hard to decipher. Disgust? Hurt? Loathing? Before Ainosuke could settle on anything, Kaoru spun on his heel and stormed into the café.

Kojiro sighed, watching Kaoru disappear before turning back to Ainosuke. “You just can’t stop yourself, huh?”

Even Tadashi was giving him a look. Ainosuke closed his eyes. This wasn’t what he came here for. “No, I can’t.”

“That’s a pity.” Kojiro sighed again. He tapped his finger lightly against the table. “Kaoru was the one who wanted to come, you know.”

Surprised, Ainosuke opened his eyes. “He did?”

“What, thought it was me?” Kojiro chuckled mirthlessly, his expression bitter. When Ainosuke didn’t say anything, he shrugged. “He wanted to change. Don’t know why he thought this would help. Did you ever miss us after you left?”

“No.” It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t the truth. Ainosuke had chipped away at himself until he couldn’t remember what longing felt like, what missing meant.

Kojiro deflated, disappointed. Ainosuke didn’t know he could still disappoint someone. “Too bad. He…we missed you. I thought…well, I guess things changed. You know, Kaoru likes bitter drinks these days and I prefer sweet. And you…you aren’t someone who cares about any of this.”

Ainosuke could only stare. Kojiro had never been this direct and he didn’t know what to do with the exhausted look Kojiro gave him. It was filled with regret. It was filled with sorrow.

It was filled with the tail end of love.

Instinctively, Ainosuke knew that if he did nothing, the next time Kojiro looked at him, there would be nothing. They would be acquaintances at best. There would be a distance he could never cross.

His throat burned at the thought. “I’m not that boy anymore.”

“We aren’t those kids either.” Kojiro gripped the table tightly, his knuckles white. “I hoped…never mind. I’m done chasing. Just get to the point.”

As though on cue, Kaoru opened the door, his expression carefully blank as he returned to his seat. “You have a minute and then I’m gone.”

Tadashi’s eyes were on him. Ainosuke breathed in.

For a long time, he had thought he hadn’t known love. That he had never known love. But that had been a lie. He had known it in Tadashi’s patient hands, in Kaoru’s timid kisses, in Kojiro’s kind touches. Ainosuke had always known love, he had just lost it.

No, not lost. He had tossed it away. The only fortunate thing was that Tadashi was still beside him. That Tadashi would always be beside him.

If he didn’t do anything, he’d be throwing away the pair in front of him.

Ainosuke breathed out. He hadn’t come here to lash out. No, just like Kaoru, he had come here to change something.

He hadn’t known what until this moment.

“Let’s skate,” Ainosuke stated simply.

Kojiro stared at him, dumbfounded. “What?”

“I’m not racing you again.” Kaoru snorted dismissively. He didn’t hesitate before standing. “I’m done.”

“I didn’t say race.” Ainosuke smiled, resisting the urge to tease, to taunt. That came easily to him but what was needed now was sincerity. And that was something he had long struggled with. “Don’t you want to play in an Olympic-sized pool? I happen to know where you can find one.”

“Then…” Kojiro frowned, his brow furrowing as he tried to find a hidden meaning.

Unlike him, Kaoru didn’t mince his words. His voice was cold as he asked, “What are you really after?”

You. Ainosuke was a greedy man. If they were tired of following, then he’d chase after them. If they were ready to let go, he’d grasp twice as hard. It wasn’t enough to just have Tadashi. It wasn’t enough to know of love and let it go. He had never been that selfless.

And he didn’t know if he could handle them treating him like a stranger, like he meant nothing.

But he’d pushed too far and now was the time for a slow courtship. Ainosuke winked. “Nothing. What, can’t a man want to see his old flames?”

#sk8 the infinity #ainosuke shindo #kaoru sakurayashiki #kojiro nanjo #matchaloveblossom #fanfic

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