Work Text:
Izuminokami Kanesada is, by his own admission, the coolest guy in college.
His character is flawless, his talents numerous, and his appearance always on point. He is, as he is eager to point out to anyone that will listen, getting more popular day by day. Modesty isn't cool and so he never shows a sign of it. It doesn't take much to start him listing his many skills.
He's top of his class when it comes to enthusiasm – because sports science is cool – and his grades are without fault - because Horikawa helps him revise. Outside of class he's frequently called on to help out various sports teams – because he's tall and usually available – and he's famous in the kendo society – mainly for being loud and slapping people with his hair when he turns too quickly. He's a poet too and his haikus make everyone jealous – Horikawa tells him that this is why Kashuu laughs so hard whenever he hears them. Details don't matter; Kanesada is interested in results and reputation. He considers himself pretty damn good at getting both.
Usually, that is. Recently things haven't been going quite the way he would like. It's not his fault.
It's Horikawa's.
It's a Friday afternoon and Kanesada is on his way to meet the aforementioned problem. Horikawa has been sitting some sort of complicated exam and Kanesada has been bored the whole time. It isn't that he doesn't have other friends it's just that, well, he doesn't like them as much. Kashuu and Yamatonokami have been acting weird ever since Kashuu stopped sneaking off at night and they heven't even graced the others with an explanation. Whatever is going on – and Kanesada isn't hurt that they hadn't told him, really he isn't – they haven't been available to hang out with as often. That leaves Nagasone, a few years above him and way too into house parties, and Yamanbagiri, Horikawa's little brother and more of a persistent ghost than a friend.
No, when Horikawa's busy there really is nothing to do. Kanesada had spent the whole duration of the others exam making himself look good for the trip down to pick him up. It's been worth it. Tastefully flared jeans, a red fitted shirt, a blue jacket and expensive sunglasses. The sky is grey and overcast but that isn't the point. Sunglasses are cool. He had even fought his hair into a high ponytail that swishes from side to side as he struts through the campus. Honestly, he isn't sure why girls aren't just throwing themselves at his feet.
That, he decides bitterly, is probably Horikawa's fault as well.
“Kane-san!”
He's nowhere near the right building yet but Horikawa is sprinting towards him down the path, skilfully dodging other students and brandishing a paper high above his head. Kanesada raises a hand in greeting and slows to a stop.
“Kane-san! I did it!”
He jumps to a smart stop just in front of Kanesada and holds out the paper proudly. It's covered in numbers, and acronyms, and other smart things and mean absolutely nothing to him. What is it Horikawa studies again, anyway? Something long and complicated that Kanesada thinks of as 'business stuff'. Honestly, the guy is so smart it's intimidating, not that he'll ever admit that.
“Good job!” he says with a genuine smile, handing the paper back and ruffling Horikawa's hair. “I knew you'd do great, Kunihiro.”
“It's because you gave me that pep talk,” Horikawa says with a radiant smile. “I couldn't have done it without you.”
From what Kanesada remembers, the 'pep talk' had been ninety percent Horikawa talking to himself but, well, whatever works. He's always been weird like that, it's nothing to worry about. Nor is his smile, which has always been gleeful and confident and pretty damn it. The way he reaches up to touch Kanesada's hand as he draws it away, though, now that is something to worry about.
“Y-you're welcome, I guess...” he says awkwardly.
Stuttering is seriously uncool. It's about as cool as an egg frying on the pavement. He's only glad that his massive sunglasses hide at least part of the pink now tinting his cheeks. He puts a lot of effort into keeping the rest of his expression blank. Inwardly he imagines kicking himself in the face.
“Kane-san?”
Horikawa steps closer, leans up on the tips of his toes, and for a moment Kanesada is worried that the biggest secret he has ever kept in his life is going to become public knowledge right here and now. Behind his sunglasses, he shuts his eyes and braces himself. He's not disappointed when Horikawa reaches up to bat at his ponytail as a kitten would a toy, he's not. He's just confused is all. Yeah.
“What did you do to your hair?”
“Aha, cool isn't it?” he preens, flicking the ponytail hard enough to hit the opposite side of his own face. “I'm going for the summer look this week.”
“I see,” Horikawa says, smile unfading. “You left half of it loose on purpose?”
“What?”
Horikawa's smile is sweet and fond and Kanesada doesn't feel cool at all.
“Shall we go back to your room?”
“Fix my hair first.”
Izuminokami Kanesada is, in his own words, 'a tough guy'.
He laughs in the face of danger. He stands up to bullies and tyrants. He's brave enough to catch the wasp that flies in through his window every damn morning and set it free. Okay so sometimes he cries when they watch something moving on television but, as he readily tells anyone who sees this happening, a real man is in touch with his emotions.
A real man probably shouldn't get butterflies in his stomach when Horikawa smiles. A real man shouldn't feel like crying every time they say goodnight. A real man shouldn't feel so lonely when his best friend isn't around. It's been two weeks since this started and Kanesada isn't dealing very well.
Horikawa had started it. He had started giving Kanesada shoulder massages after kendo. They had just happened to be the greatest things he has ever been given in his entire life and so they had become regular. It had all been going pretty good up until he had tried to give one back, messed it up so badly that the memory made him want to cry, things had gone weird and he had ended up kissing Horikawa as a thank you.
Not. Cool.
Humans are creatures of habit. Usually, Kanesada prides himself on his routines. This one is different. Every time they finish kendo they head back to Kanesada's room, Horikawa gives him a massage and then he turns, ruffles his hair, and kisses him. On the lips. It's just a peck, he reminds himself daily, barely a kiss at all really, only he's been starting to linger after each one and more often than not feels the need to excuse himself afterwards.
Horikawa's lips are really soft. He doesn't need to know this, but he does. He doesn't need to think about it almost every few minutes, but he does. Horikawa has soft lips, a dazzling smile and has a tendency to blush after every kiss, a dusky pink blanketing the tiny freckles on his cheeks. It's one of the loveliest things he's ever seen.
Kanesada doesn't need this sort of confusion in his life. Not after years and years of easy, natural friendship. Not when he's so on point with everything else.
Horikawa is always on point as well. With his appearance, with his words, with his actions. He's actually pretty damn perfect, not that Kanesada will ever tell him this.
Horikawa is sitting cross-legged on Kanesada's bed and going over his test paper with a highlighter. He's wearing a smart patterned shirt open over a white tank top, skinny jeans held up with a belt that Kanesada had bought him years before. His shoes are always shiny. Kanesada watches his own reflection in them from his position on the floor and breaks the silence.
“So that's it for the week, huh?”
Nothing. Horikawa is lost in concentration, his sea-blue eyes flicking back and forth across the page.
“Oi. Kunihiro.”
Still nothing. Kanesada sighs and taps his shoe with one long finger.
“You've already passed, you know. You can relax now.”
“I am relaxed,” he answered straight away this time.
“Eh? You don't look it.”
Horikawa looks up from the paper and meets his eyes and Kanesada swears he knows exactly what he's doing.
“Of course I am,” Horikawa says. “I'm with Kane-san.”
A real man would become annoyed with how often Horikawa says his name. Kanesada feels a tugging in his chest and wishes he still had his sunglasses on.
“What if I asked you to do something really annoying?” he says, forcing himself to grin, trying to make things normal again. “Would you still be relaxed then?”
“Like what?”
“Like...”
Kanesada stands up, hands on his hips, and looks about the room. It has already been tidied, cleaned and re-organised. Horikawa had done this after revising the night before. His eyes land on a scrap of paper sticking out from one of the books on his desk and he speaks without thinking.
“Like writing me a haiku.”
He regrets the words as soon as they are out of his mouth but he holds his pose anyway, one corner of his lips turning up in a smirk.
“Mm, I could, but I don't need to.”
Horikawa is unfazed. He sets his highlighter aside and kneels up on the bed, reaching up to brush his fingers across one of Kanesada's cheeks.
“You're too beautiful for poetry, you know?”
Oh but this just isn't fair. Not only does Horikawa have to be the best and most supportive friend in the world, he has to be suave as well. Kanesada curses inwardly and presses a hand to his own stomach to try and quiet the fluttering inside.
The way Horikawa is acting is pretty cool. In contrast, Kanesada feels like a salad left out in the sun to wither. Even his similes aren't cool when Horikawa is around. It's just out of order. The last few weeks have taught him that nothing in this universe can make him lose his cool like Horikawa Kunihiro. More than that, the guy leaves him a mess, a tangle of thoughts and feelings that he wishes he had a map to decipher.
They have spoken about it once, the first time, and found no answers. Kissing each other is new, but it doesn't feel that way. He's never seen Horikawa flirting with anyone and yet he can recognise it for what it is as if he was an expert. Sometimes he feels as if he can hear the other's thoughts as clearly as his own, feel his breath on his cheek even as they sleep in different rooms, different buildings. Words like fate and destiny come often to his mind. Words that should make him feel powerful but instead leave him terrified because if kissing Horikawa is fate then what the hell have they been playing at all this time and why should he be the one left feeling lost?
“Earth to Kane-san.”
A finger presses against the tip of his nose and he wrinkles it, sniffing.
“Are you flirting with me?”
He doesn't mean to ask. But honesty, as he has been reminding Kashuu and Yamatonokami lately, is always the best policy. It's far cooler to just come out and say something than avoid the topic. He pushes his considerable chest out as he speaks, raising his chin and his nose, feeling like a proud king but looking for all the world like a puffed up robin.
For a moment Horikawa looks confused. Then, slowly, he lowers his eyes and that fascinating blush begins to creep across his cheeks.
“I...”
Aha! Triumph. It's Horikawa's turn to be embarrassed. Kanesada waits patiently for a stammer or a missed word, anything he can use to prove to himself that he's not alone in this.
“Does it make you uncomfortable?”
Instead, Horikawa is asking the right questions and his voice carries a hint of sadness. Caught off guard, Kanesada shakes his head and raises one hand to pull at his own hair, a nervous habit he can't grow out of.
“Well, sort of, but that's-”
“I can stop if you'd like me to,” Horikawa continues. “The last thing I want to do is upset you, Kane-san.”
Please don't stop, is what he wants to say. He manages to catch that nasty little embarrassment by biting his own lip just in time. Even if it's true he doesn't need to say it. Slowly, an idea presents itself to him. Something better than this drifting along and exchanging blushes, something more familiar, more him.
This is a competition. He has just decided. And now that he knows what it is, he is determined to win.
Izuminokami Kanesada is, as he will tell anyone who faces him in combat, a man of honour. Despite this, both he and Horikawa know that their finest move when dealing with thugs has always been kicking dirt into the enemies eyes. Horikawa should be prepared. Kanesada decides here and now that he's going to fight dirty. With no mud at his disposal, he does the best he can with what he has.
Horikawa has been touching him all the time for weeks. Just little things, featherlight brushes of fingertips against his skin when he least expects it. Not much but enough. Enough for some payback. It's time to get even.
He leans forward, still smirking, and raises a hand to hover in the air between them, choosing a target. Licking his own lips, he runs a thumb along Horikawa's, the softness of them, admiring the shape.
"I didn't tell you to stop," he murmurs, making a conscious effort to lower his voice. "But if you don't think you're man enough to handle it then..."
It works better than he expects. The paper falls from Horikawa's hands, forgotten, and his eyes widen in shock. Kanesada holds his stare, triumphant, feeling an adrenaline rush that he's sure has to do with winning and not with how he can feel Horikawa's lower lip trembling beneath his touch.
"Kane-san..."
He sounds like he wants to say more. Kanesada laughs and stands up straight again, placing his hands back on his hips. He watches Horikawa looking him over, not meeting his eyes. Success, he thinks. That will teach him.
"Oh? So cool that you can't speak, huh?"
Horikawa appears to consider for a moment before shaking his head.
"Not 'cool'," he says.
"Hey, that was really-"
"Sexy."
In the silence that follows, Kanesada realises that this point goes to Horikawa. Again. He feels so uncool that he has half a mind to jump out the window. He's blushing, looking down at the carpet and struggling to find a witty retort.
It could be part of the game he's started playing. Or Horikawa actually thinks he's sexy. He's not sure which is more embarrassing.
"You don't play fair," he complains under his breath, forcing himself to meet Horikawa's eyes.
"Neither do you, Kane-san."
"This isn't over, you know."
"Id be disappointed if it was."
Stalemate. Kanesada refuses to blink first. His eyes are watering. He wonders if this counts as 'gay chicken.' He wonders if Horikawa is actually gay. He's certainly never had a girlfriend. He wonders if he's gay now that he kisses a guy regularly. He wonders how it all works.
Horikawa probably knows.
Damnit.
What the hell is he supposed to do now?
Izuminokami Kanesada is, he tells all the girls, a professional flirt. He's a smooth talker and a relationship guru.
Except now, except with Horikawa who has started smiling and leaning back on the bed with an expression that can only be described as taunting.
Well. There's no way Kanesada is going to let him get away with that.
Kanesada has done this bit before. He moves to kneel on the bed, one hand on Horikawa's shoulder, and starts pushing him down towards the pillows. This is definitely his point. He can hear Horikawa's breath catch in his throat as their lips touch, feel his face burning as he-
"Fuck!"
-smashes the back of his skull into the headboard.
"Sorry, sorry!"
"That's not sexy at all," Horikawa laughs, rubbing his head. "Ouch..."
Horikawa swearing is just a little bit sexy. Kanesada's voice is slightly shrill as he protests.
"Don't laugh at me, it's your fault! You're too tall!"
Horikawa looks at him as if he has grown an extra head.
"Too tall for what?"
A firm grab of Horikawa's shoulders enables Kanesada to push him down properly, without injury, but the smaller youth is still laughing and he's lost another point.
"This may surprise you," Horikawa says with a smile, apparently relaxed lying down and tapping Kanesada on the temple. "But I'm a short man, not a tall woman."
Kanesada tries to be offended. It's hard when Horikawa is now laughing so much he can't breathe, when Kanesada's hair has flopped over his face and into his mouth, when they're being this stupid. All over a kiss that was barely a kiss. Before long, Kanesada is laughing too, pulling himself onto the bed properly and falling beside Horikawa, a giggling dishevelled mess of hair and jacket.
He feels like a kid again, feels the same sort of unwavering closeness that's been between them since the moment they had met. It's probably wrong to be thinking about that, especially when he's still got one arm draped over Horikawa's chest and is finding the rhythm of his heart increasingly distracting. They had cuddled up together as kids but that had been different. They had been the same height then, for a start. Now, Horikawa fits snugly against his side and Kanesada reflexively moves to pull him closer, finding a spot to rest his chin atop Horikawa's head.
"Hey, Kunihiro," he says softly once the laughter subsides. "Is this... weird?"
"Mm... new. But not bad."
Horikawa is always honest. It's one of his finest traits. Kanesada secretly thinks it's really cool to admit that you're scared of something but isn't quite ready to do it himself. He could tell Horikawa that he's imagined them just holding each other like this and talking about shared memories they don't really have. He could admit that although he definitely likes busty girls there's something strangely appealing about Horikawa's lithe build, the tight muscles of his shoulders, the way he carries himself.
A real man would explain all of that, he thinks. Instead, he urges Horikawa to roll into his side and moves up close to him, chest to his back, one hand resting on his stomach. A few minutes pass in silence.
"You're the little spoon," Kanesada says stupidly.
“You're my first big spoon.”
“Yeah? So you found girls shorter than you, eh?”
When Horikawa shakes his head, his hair brushes Kanesada's chin.
“I should rephrase. You're my first any spoon.”
It sounds a bit like some sort of confession. Kanesada is glad that Horikawa is facing the wall and can't see his face because it means that he doesn't lose yet another point in the silent game they're playing. He's unsure what to say, especially when he can feel his heart jumping in his throat and the warmth of Horikawa's body against his own.
He settles for “oh.”
There is nothing cool he can think of to say and so he falls silent again, choosing to focus on the game instead. It's a shame really, it's sort of nice to just lay like this, listening to the sounds of the world going on around them, but he's lost so much dignity that leaving it like this just isn't acceptable.
What would he do, if he was trying to flirt with a girl...
Even before he thinks of an answer, his body is moving on its own. He presses just a little closer against the other youth and splays his hand flat across his stomach, the dips and planes of his stomach. There's not a lot of Horikawa but everything he has is toned and well looked after. It's... cool. Maybe. Emboldened by competition, Kanesada slowly draws the fingers of his hand back into his palm, dragging his nails lightly across Horikawa's shirt. He can feel the shiver that runs through Horikawa's entire body at the action and grins to himself in satisfaction. One point to him, for sure. He can still claw his way back to winning, even if he has to do it literally.
For a time he repeats this action over and over, movements slow in an effort to make it appear as if he's hardly thinking about it at all. As he moves his hand higher, grazing Horikawa's ribs and reaching up for his collarbone, he awards himself a handful more points. Horikawa is pressing back against him, his breathing shallow, his hand grasping at the pillow. Kanesada feels pretty smug about the whole thing until Horikawa reaches back, runs a hand through Kanesada's hair, and he hears himself making a strange noise, a soft sort of growl that takes him by surprise.
Oh.
Now their quickened breathing is the only sound in the room and the butterflies in Kanesada's stomach have travelled lower, electric jolts jumping through his nerves. Surely he's not... surely Horikawa would have noticed if...
“I keep having this dream,” he says suddenly to silence his own thoughts. "About you. And me. And Hijikata Toushizou, you know, from the Shinsengumi. I don't know why he's there too, but he was really cool so-"
"What's the dream about?" Horikawa interrupts, voice low and breathy but curious too. Kanesada traces lines along his shoulders as he continues.
"We're by this port, or something. And something really bad is going to happen. Like, really bad."
"Like a war?"
Horikawa is running his fingers through Kanesada's hair again. He desperately tries to recount the stupid dream to distract himself from the way the Horikawa is twisting to reach, pushing back against him.
"Yeah, like that!"
"Do we get into a fight?"
"Sort of. You send me away right before it happens and I get put in this weird room and locked up."
He doesn't mention that he gets carried away on a horse or that instead of a room he's actually being locked in a really large box. Not only are these details stupid but he barely has enough breath to articulate them. Somehow his fingers have slipped beneath the neckline of Horikawa's shirt and his skin is so warm, so smooth, that he's having trouble thinking.
"I end up waiting for ages, really pissed off and then one day I overhear someone saying that you got on a boat back at the port and..."
He doesn't say drowned at sea. That's not something he wants to think about, not while Horikawa is so alive and so real just next to him.
"They say that I might never see you again," he finishes lamely. "And it really, really sucks because without you I..."
Wake up crying every time. This is so uncool and unsexy and he has no idea why he started talking about it in the first place. The atmosphere is slipping, the tension that had built between them changing form to something colder, stranger, more frightening. Seized with a sudden fear, the feelings from the dreams so fresh in his mind, he wraps both arms tightly around Horikawa and pulls him firmly against his chest.
"Kane-san, you..."
Horikawa's hand has found his cheek and Kanesada wishes he could see the others expression as he speaks in a voice just above a whisper.
"I've had the same dream. Only in mine I always dr-"
"Don't say it."
Kanesada doesn't choose to lean forwards and press his mouth to Horikawa's neck, trailing feverish kisses up to his jaw and feeling tears prick at his eyes. He doesn't choose to push one hand up and under Horikawa's shirt, feeling only the need to feel the heat of his skin, the rhythm of his heart, the signs of life and proof that he's here, he's real, there's nothing wrong even though it feels as if his heart is breaking. His body moves on its own as if he's done this a hundred times and he has no choice but to be swept along.
"W-what are you..."
Horikawa's voice trembles and he turns in Kanesada's arms, wrapping his arms around the others neck, his eyes shining. His cheeks are red and his hair messy, a sight that takes Kanesada's breath but feels familiar, intoxicating, as if he's reliving a precious memory.
A real man would understand all of this.
"Oi, Kunihiro," Kanesada whispers. "What is this all about? You understand, don't you?"
Horikawa shakes his head.
"I feel like I should but I don't know how to-"
"Please don't send me away."
The words come tumbling from his lips, spoken by a part of his mind that feels like someone else. Horikawa's voice seems different too.
"If it was to keep you safe, I'd do anything."
"Never again."
Izuminokami Kanesada is, he frequently boasts, an amazing kisser. When it comes to this claim no one has actually disagreed with him. Still, the kiss he now shares with Horikawa is like nothing he has ever known.
It's not just a brush of lips like every kiss before. This is searing, electrifying, his hands in Horikawa's hair, his heart in his throat. Horikawa is digging his nails into Kanesada's shoulders, parting his lips in invitation, almost whimpering as Kanesada presses his tongue into his mouth. They kiss as if air is poison, clutching at one another desperately, and Kanesada can see now that this is more than just a game of chicken, more than just an awkward curiosity, this is as real and hot as the blood that courses through his veins and flushes his skin right to the tips of his ears.
And then Horikawa draws back, gasping for air, and whatever knowledge he had started to grasp slipped away from him like water.
"Kane-san." Horikawa's voice is a breath, a plea. "I..."
"Ahh..." His lips twitch into an embarrassed, fearful smile. "things got weird again."
For a moment Horikawa looks as if he is about to cry but then he leans inwards, lets his lips hover over Kanesada's neck, trembling like a new leaf in spring.
"Didn't you like it?" he whispers.
As Horikawa tentatively presses himself closer, Kanesada realises that yes, he does like it, he likes the way they fit together, the way they both gasp at the first touch, the way he can feel that Horikawa is just as affected as he is, just as breathless, just as hard.
It is an epiphany he is perhaps not ready to have and it shows clear as day on his face.
"I think," Horikawa murmurs in his ear with a laugh. "That the last point is mine."
Kanesada hasn't mentioned the game. For a second he is stunned but this is swiftly replaced with outrage. Okay so things are strange and he's made out with his best friend and now they're turned on and in bed together but he'll be damned if he's going to let Horikawa win despite all that, maybe even because of it.
"Don't bet on it," he whispers, closing his eyes.
Kanesada loses himself to sensation. He kisses Horikawa's lips, his face, his neck, his ears, drinking in the soft gasps and murmurs of his name that Horikawa lets slip as he slowly relinquishes control. He drags his tongue down Horikawa's smooth, pale neck and can't help but give a low laugh at the way fingers are suddenly dragging at his scalp, pulling bits of hair loose from the tie. It feels right, taking the lead like this. Yes, Horikawa is older and looks out for him, always has, but Kanesada feels as if this is what he should be doing, giving instead of just taking. Worshipping might be a word he would use if he was composing a haiku. Instead he writes the feeling onto Horikawa's skin, coaxing kiss after kiss from those soft lips while letting his fingers roam down his chest, his stomach, his hips, lower. He presses his palm to the heat beneath Horikawa's jeans and pauses, his own eyes opening slightly in something like wonder.
"Y-you don't have to," Horikawa breathes, voice strained. "If you-"
"I want to," he says firmly even as his fingers tremble with nerves. He presses a little harder. "It's just... strange."
"W-why?"
He doesn't say because girls feel different. He doesn't ask what do I do or is it the same as touching myself or, worse, tell me how to please you. It's tasteless to mention these things, not cool at all. He's had little experience with girls anyway, nothing more than hands under skirts and belts, and he doesn't want to think of them now. This is something he can work out on his own.
"Different," he decides at last. "But you... you're actually sort of gorgeous, Kunihiro."
It's a shitty line and he knows it. Thankfully Horikawa doesn't seem to realise and ends the conversation by kissing him again, shyly rocking his hips into Kanesada's hand. It's only once he's undone Horikawa's belt and unzipped his jeans that Kanesada's confidence wavers again.
What is he supposed to call this anyway? Words sound awful in his head. He leans forwards to bury his face against Horikawa's neck as he reaches down, hiding his expression so that he doesn't have to think about it at all. He runs a tentative finger down along Horikawa's length, feels him shiver.
"Designer underpants?" he laughs nervously. "I'm impressed, Kunihiro."
"You can tell by the w-way they feel?"
Horikawa's voice is trembling but there's a smile in it too. It's encouraging, reassuring, and so Kanesada forces himself to stop joking around. Once he's got a hand firmly wrapped around Horikawa it's impossible to be anything but serious, enraptured by the soft sounds spilling from his lips and the gentle rolling of his hips back and forth against his touch. His skin is hot and smooth and Kanesada wonders why he had ever thought the idea of doing this with another guy would be bad in some way. Horikawa smells musky, of cologne and sweat, a heady mix that's not girlish in the slightest but which leaves him dizzy.
"Kane-san, y-you..."
"Keep talking, Kunihiro," he urges, drunk on sound and touch and smell.
"Please...j-just..."
Kanesada isn't sure what he's asking but he assumes he's got it right as Horikawa's voice grows louder along with the quickening pace of his strokes. He knows that it's the middle of the day, that he didn't lock the door, that these walls are thin and anyone might find out but he's finding it difficult to care when Horikawa sounds so good. His wanton moans and gasps are so far removed from his usual control that it's intoxicating. And it's for him, every last broken word and breathy curse, it's something that exists for him only. That's the way it should be, the way it's always been and Kanesada's thoughts don't make sense but he finds he knows just the angle, just the speed to bring Horikawa to the brink and hold him there for an impossibly long moment before he shudders, arches and finds release with Kanesada's name on his tongue and hair in his hands.
I love you.
The thought arises unbidden, warm and tender and true. He doesn't give it voice, showing it instead through soft kisses and quiet reassurances as Horikawa comes back down.
"You too."
Horikawa reaches for him and the first jolt of fingers against his sensitive skin feels like an answer to the words he hasn't said. He loses himself to a touch that seems to know him better than he does himself and it's not long before he's rasping Horikawa's name through bitten lips and bruising his hips with his hands.
Afterwards, silence. Soft, lazy kisses and slowly cooling skin. Thoughts creep back slowly, lost and confused.
Horikawa knows. Just like always.
“It's okay, Kane-san,” he says quietly. "If it feels like the right thing to do then it doesn't matter if you can't name it.”
“You think so?”
Horikawa nods and kisses him again and Kanesada thinks that maybe he's right.
“We're just us,” Horikawa continues with a smile. “Whatever that is.”
"Yeah. I like the way that sounds.”
Izuminokami Kanesada is, by his own admission, the coolest guy in college. He's strong and popular, gets good grades and aces sports. His sense of style is infallible and his haikus are genius. And, now, he thinks he's probably falling in love with the second coolest guy in college, the one who makes everything in the world good, real, right.
It's not his fault. It's Horikawa's. Horikawa and his lack of shame as he insists they shower together, his easy smile as he doesn't question just what they're doing.
“I still won, though,” Kanesada grumbles as he grudgingly lets go of Horikawa and goes to sit up.
“Of course you did.”
Horikawa winks.
Kanesada wonders if he will ever feel cool again.