Chapter Text
It shouldn’t have happened, that’s what he tells himself later.
But it did, and the memories of Miyagi’s sounds, the shape and the feel of him that night, all have turned into heavy shackles, dragging him down.
In a way it was easier before, because he didn’t really have anything to go on, only his fantasies and a bleeding heart. But now he knows exactly what he’s missing. And after having the real thing once, now he can’t wait to get back.
So it just keeps happening.
Miyagi will call him, usually at night. He’ll just say something simple like “I hope I didn’t wake you,” And Kazunari will say ‘you didn’t’, even when he clearly does sometimes. And they’ll both play stupid for a few minutes. A little, ‘What have you been up to? How’s school?’ and some ‘Hey, do you have any games coming up?’ or ‘Could I go see them?’ and eventually Miyagi will relent – Usually then, especially then – He’ll sigh, and go, ‘Can I just come over? I just can’t sleep.’
And Kazunari will forever keep saying yes.
When their schedules align, Miyagi will be back in his room, they’ll kiss fervently as soon as the door closes, and wrestle with their clothing, littering all of it on the hallway back to his room. But they’ll never see much outside of the privacy of Kazunari’s apartment. Kazunari tries not to notice. He guesses Miyagi probably has a lot of things going on, there’s a lot of pressure riding on his shoulders, too much to waste it all away by dating a man in broad daylight, and he understands this, at some level. But he wishes Miyagi would trust him with any of this. His worries and his dreams, he wants to know them as well as he knows the contours of his body.
He doesn’t want to disturb the quiet balance they have achieved. After all, he learned to be content with so little, he already did.
But eventually, it just slips out of him.
“Do you think,” Kazunari begins, patiently picking olives off his pizza with chopsticks as he muses, Miyagi keeps laughing at it, Kazunari smiles good naturedly at this, he likes listening to the sound of it, filling the background so nicely.
Once he warned himself to be cautious, to not let himself get carried away, because Miyagi Ryota is not his boyfriend. But here he is, wearing one of Kazunari’s old t-shirts, rummaging around his cupboards with familiarity as he snorts, doubled over and breathless because he thinks Kazunari is just that funny, and the sight is everything he ever wanted, so how can he stop wanting now?
It’s when he’s high on the clouds like this, that he makes a crucial mistake.
“Do you think we could go grab lunch sometime?” He asks while Miyagi sits in front of him. “There’s a new place downtown I wanna see.”
He can feel his own heartbeat hammering away down his throat. It feels like the sound gets amplified for every second Miyagi doesn’t reply.
“Oh,” Miyagi says. His face is still flushed from his laughter just moments ago. A pretty shade, Kazunari thinks. It gradually fades away as Miyagi fidgets on his seat, sobering up. He begins by cleaning his hands with a napkin, anxiously preening away at the grease the food left behind. “Fukatsu, I should’ve told you this before, but there wasn’t really a good time, and- Well I guess this is as good as any'' Kazunari hates the sound of it already. His stomach drops, he wants to backtrack.
“That’s okay,” He says quickly, cutting him off, adrenaline pumping hot inside him. “We don’t have to go.”
“Fukatsu,” Miyagi tries again. He looks awkward here, under the cheap fluorescent lights in Kazunari’s apartment. His tone is weird, unfamiliarly warm.
“I’m sorry, I should’ve told you this sooner, it’s just-”
A beat. Miyagi bounces his knee on the floor. He crosses his arms. It feels like he tries a hundred poses in under a few minutes. The truth is, he doesn’t have to say anything, because by the way his shoulders look, by the way he avoids his gaze, Kazunari already gets it . But Miyagi says it anyway, just to twist the knife, perhaps: “It’s just- Uhm- I’m back with Eiji, so” The words come out like a sigh out of Miyagi; like it’s a relief to tell them. His shoulders sag now that there’s no weight to hold them tense.
Kazunari blinks in reply.
He looks down at his olive-free pizza, maybe taking the olive slices away was a mistake. The food now looks so cold and unappetizing, sitting there in an oil little puddle, in one of the cheap IKEA plates that came with the room. It mismatches everything else. He should do something about it, probably.
“Uhm- Could you say something?” The other man mumbles.
What is there to say? A thousand thoughts pass through his head, none of them feel appropriate right now, that’s the thing. Nothing he could say would make this okay. He balls a paper napkin while Miyagi watches, his face tight.
At what point was he okay with turning Kazunari into the sort of person who has an affair with his friend’s boyfriend? At first Miyagi said they had broken up. Was that a lie? Kazunari held onto this belief like a lifeline. He guessed it wasn’t supposed to be anything serious, much as it pained him, he had known this somehow, but then Miyagi kept on coming, over and over. What was he supposed to think about that?
It was the fine line that differentiated him from an awful friend. Maybe the only thing.
“What do you want me to say?” He grips his chopsticks tightly, looks at them. It feels like he’s doing this for the first time. They’re simple lacquered wood chopsticks, cheap and bought at the KMart streets away, but Kazunari looks at the pattern on the wood with detail, hoping to find something that could make it all okay.
He feels stupid, all of a sudden.
All of his memories have been ruined now. Whatever tender picture he can conjure up, him and Miyagi, just the two of them in this cramped apartment, now it all looks hollow and empty when looked in this new light. It makes him think of his mother teaching him how to check for porcelain under a bright light. It all looks so fragile and thin now. All of the weird looks Miyagi gave him, how skittish he was in his hold, like a cornered animal. Kazunari wanted them all to mean something else, maybe a bashfulness to hide the reciprocity of it all.
It never meant a single thing.
Kazunari looks at him. Miyagi says something else, he says a lot of things, actually, but Kazunari is not really listening. He listens to the sound of his voice droning in the background, and for the first time, wishes he would just shut the fuck up.
He gets up mid-speech, grabs his plate and tosses the pizza onto the garbage can with a deep sigh. “You need to leave, Miyagi,"
“But-”
“You can see yourself out,” Kazunari cuts him off. He needs a shower, he feels disgusting right now.
“I’m sorry,” Miyagi’s voice sounds pitiful against the stark silence.
“It’s okay. It doesn’t matter,” Kazunari shrugs. It’s actually not okay. Not at all. There’s a crack on his chest and it keeps widening every second. Gaping and bleeding.
He doesn’t really feel like seeing Miyagi right now, maybe for a while, so he heads to his room, eager to be alone and done with this. Selfishly, Miyagi follows after him, still saying things in that annoying cadence of his, a buzzing little mosquito. He remembers feeling this same exact thing, back in the game once. An overwhelming need to squash him until he stopped running across the court, running their plays.
“I’m really sorry,” Miyagi repeats.
“I heard you the first time,” Some irritation gets into his voice. He can’t help it. He frowns. Can’t Miyagi take a hint and just leave? He sighs, and looks over at where Miyagi is standing, awkwardly glued to a spot. The sight alone annoys him now.
He frowns. “Actually, Miyagi, what are you apologizing for?”
Miyagi pauses for a second, then huffs indignantly. He has the nerve to frown at Kazunari. “I- I told you- You knew ,” His voice is accusatory. “You knew I was dating him, okay? It’s not like-”
“You said you two broke up. You told me yourself.” His face flushes. Hadn’t all of this happened already? Kazunari is not even sure he knows when they started dating. Was it before or after they kissed?
Does nothing they ever did matter to him at all?
“We did!” Miyagi jumps to his own defense. His voice a little higher.
Kazunari looks at him, it feels like he’s looking at him for the very first time. He’s being so ridiculous right now. Throwing a childish fit because Kazunari is just repeating what has happened back at him.
“Right. And now you’re back together. Were you ever gonna tell me?”
“I was! Obviously! It’s just-” His eyes squeeze shut together, his hands go all over his hair. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, and Kazunari just stands there, allowing the seconds to pass in silence, all to watch Miyagi squirm uncomfortably.
“I’m really sorry, it’s just- Look, it’s not coming out how I want it to. I just-” He speaks all over himself quickly. Almost desperate. His hands move all over the place with a crazed energy. “Can you- Can you give me a chance? It’s not like that, I promise.”
A few hours back, he knows he would have said yes to anything that would’ve come out of those lips.
Now he’s not so sure. “I think you should go back to your boyfriend , Miyagi” His mind races before him. They’ve been hanging in his room for a while. Just how long had Miyagi just wanted to keep it all under wraps? When did they get back together?
He watches as Miyagi’s frown melts into something much more uncertain. “Don’t be like this”
Kazunari can’t help but laugh at that. “Like what ?” Miyagi is there, his eyes almost glassy. He thinks of kicking him out again, but then he doesn’t. It hardly matters, the brief second of doubt is all the opening Miyagi needs. He pushes, follows after him and presses himself closer to Kazunari.
It’s really unfair.
Kazunari looks away, he feels a blush creeping into his cheeks. His eyes move quickly, unsure where to look now that Miyagi has brought the heavy weapons. It’s his own place but it feels like nowhere is safe.
“Listen to me, please?” Miyagi asks, looking up at Kazunari, pressing against his chest. Kazunari’s heart beats horrendously fast, he swallows.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Miyagi whispers. He wraps his arms around his torso and Kazunari’s treacherous heart shortcuts, goes haywire. Miyagi is so unfair. His arms fly out of their own accord to hold his hips. “I’m sorry. I really am. But I can make it better, so just- Just let me, okay? Fukatsu please”
Kazunari looks at him, at last.
He knows it was a mistake as soon as he does. Miyagi looks so beautiful, even sadness manages to look solemn in his face. Almost cool. Kazunari hates himself, because some of his anger melts when he looks at his frown, his weird expression like he’s trying to not cry. His heart squeezes.
“Why are you crying? I should be the one crying” He manages to mumble.
At this, Miyagi laughs, the soft sound still stirs something within him, despite it all. He’s royally fucked. “You’re right. Just- Just give me one chance. It’ll make it okay, I swear.” Miyagi presses a kiss to his torso, as if to seal his promise. The gesture now feels so cold it might as well burn, and still, he doesn’t move away. “I’ll talk to him. Please”
He swallows, his gaze locked on Miyagi’s lips as they stretch into a smile when Kazunari nods.
He doesn’t think there’s anything Miyagi could truly say right now to make it all okay, but he nods anyway. The way Miyagi holds onto him, clingy and eager to please as he kisses him over and over, cornering Kazunari against a wall is a reward enough. It’s all he needs. It’s supposed to be enough. At least that’s what he tells himself at first.
It’s only because he doesn’t know the other half of it.
The days go by, and there’s no sight of Sawakita Eiji pounding on his door to beat him up. The truth is, he’s not sure what he was expecting, he pictured the crying swollen face of Sawakita so many times, a familiar picture, so much so that it followed him around during the day.
But this wall of silence is even more unnerving.
It all feels different now.
If he had to put it into words: it’s Miyagi who is different. Before, it seemed to Kazunari whenever he hugged him, tried to hold his hands, even something as simple as caress him. Miyagi would steel himself, go painfully still in his hold. Sometimes he’d outright laugh, blush bright red and call Kazunari “too much,” Too much of what? Kazunari would want to ask.
How could that be? He didn’t even ask for much. At first he was perfectly happy with it, with whatever scraps of attention he got. So what if he liked Miyagi more than Miyagi liked him? It all had to start somewhere.
But Miyagi is different lately. He wraps around Kazunari so lovely, keeps pressing kisses on his lips with abandon as if he’s trying to avoid something.
They both are.
Kazunari won't mention him again. Neither does Miyagi. If they both pretend, then maybe- He wants to hope Miyagi can sort it out on his own. Childishly he thinks, shouldn’t he, anyways? He’s the one who made this mess.
But deep inside, he knows the other shoe has to drop.
Miyagi texts him an address, that and very little explanation.
“Be there at 8pm?” The characters on his flip phone read. Kazunari texts back a lame ‘ok’ before popping in the shower. He cleans up his apartment and after dinner finally heads up to the meeting place.
The place is okay. Some student bar, halfway empty and close to Miyagi’s campus. Kazunari scans for the brown set of gelled curls that make Miyagi, but finds nothing. He takes out his phone again, confirming the date, the place.
He’s not mistaken, Miyagi was supposed to be here. There’s not any new texts though, so Kazunari orders a beer, sits by the counter and waits in contemplative silence. What exactly is he doing here?
Is he going to break up with Kazunari next? Kazunari had thought- Hoped for, honestly- foolish and incredibly selfishly, that Sawakita being out of the picture meant something. An opportunity, maybe.
Of course it didn’t, he had never even left. The thought makes the drink taste a little more bitter.
As if conjured by the thought. Sawakita pops next to him, he pulls his chair closer, and smiles at Kazunari, all casual, all pleasant.
Kazunari straightens up.
“Hey, senpai.” Sawakita says, his voice flat. It reminds Kazunari of when they first met. Sawakita was a freshman at high school back then, was he? Just a prideful boy. He’d taken so many beatings, and never once complained despite the fat tears rolling down his face, despite his swollen face and dots of blood adorning his face. Kazunari had admired that about him.
“I thought-”
Sawakita waves a hand. “Ryota’s not coming.”
“Oh,” Kazunari says. He tries not to feel disappointed.
His former teammate asks for a beer. They sit in silence in the creaky barstools, Kazunari racks his brain for something to say, but deep down he knows it’s a moot task.
Across the bar, a group of students plays a loud round of beer pong.
“I really wanna punch you right now, you know?” Sawakita says at last. Looking intently at the bar.
“He said you two had broken up.” Kazunari replies briskly, like a line he rehearsed.
“That asshole,” Sawakita says, the words barely making it out of his gritted teeth. “Ryota kept saying the same thing. But you know? I don’t really care. You’re basically my best friend. And Ryota-” He sighs. “Well, you know him .”
Kazunari thought about it coming all the way here. He nods, slowly. Swallows his fears and asks: “Do you- Do you hate me now?”
Sawakita laughs, he shakes his head. “Maybe. Not really, I don’t know what I feel, honestly.” He rubs his hands through his head. Kazunari has never seen him like this. Off his game, nervous.
“I love him. I’m sorry.” He feels awkward in the bar, the seats squeak. He should leave.
He didn’t get Miyagi, and now Sawakita hates him too. What else is there for him to ruin?
The seconds go by. An old song plays in the background, Kazunari can’t recognize it for the life of him. His fingers tap the counter anxiously
.
“I know.” Sawakita says softly, nursing his drink. “You wouldn’t shut up about him after that match” His shoulders feel heavy. Kazunari watches them tense for a second, and then rolls them back as he relaxes. His voice is soft when he asks “Are you really sorry though?”
Kazunari thinks about this. He knows the correct way to answer would be something like saying yes, of course , and promising to keep away from both of them. Leaving the two of them to have their happy ending, their happy life away from his greedy self.
But he’s already this far, he’s kissed Miyagi more times than he can count. And he’s never been one to soften words. “Not really,” He says bluntly. But that’s not the complete truth either. “I just didn’t mean to hurt you. That’s all”
Sawakita blinks at that. The honesty might catch him off guard, and then he laughs. It’s not really the boisterous happy sound Kazunari is so used to, and it mellows quietly into a sigh. “You’re an asshole too, aren’t you?.” He says, shaking his head. “The truth is I don’t hate you, I just wish- I wish” He sighs, the words seemingly leaving him. After a second, defeatedly he adds: “I kinda want you both to get the fuck away from me.”
He doesn’t know how to react to that. Sawakita had always been rather sensitive. Pretending this wouldn’t harm their relationship was mostly wishful thinking. All those years building something only to watch it all collapse tonight. He might not be the most talkative person, but he always counted with Sawakita in the back of his mind. The way he’d get into silly fights with Kawata, how supportive he was of Mikio. The moodmaker of the serious Sannoh team. Did he throw all that away for nothing?
“But that’s not gonna happen. I mean, I don’t want it to happen, I’m just- I’m just hurt” He sighs. “But-“
But? Kazunari hangs onto the words, they promise something, he wants them to. An olive branch. He leans in closer.
“There’s something you could do, to make it all okay. Actually, well, two things” Sawakita holds up two fingers. A peace sign , he thinks lamely.
Kazunari nods. Anything , he thinks, by the edge of his seat.
Sawakita straightens his back, clears his throat and with comical seriousness lowers a finger as he announces, “Number one, I want your Hangyodon stuffed plushie”
“No”
“Yes,” Sawakita insists.
He feels his eyes go wide. “You don’t even like Hangyodon. My mom gave me that one for a birthday, you know?”
Sawakita nods, arms crossed now. “I know. She said you were too old for it, and that you needed r eal men's interests . I was there. The cake that year gave me-“
“Food poisoning, yeah.” Kazunari finishes for him, thinking about Sawakita running towards the bathroom for dear life while the rest of the team laughed. “But how does Hangyodon make it all better?-”
Sawakita squints at him. Then raises an eyebrow. “It clearly doesn’t? You fucked my boyfriend, but-” It’s misplaced given the situation, but Kazunari smiles fondly at it. The gesture is so familiar. It must’ve rubbed off him.
The former Sannoh ace pursues his lips. “I know you love that plushie, so I think I’ll scribble onto it with some sharpie, or give it to a dog to piss on. I don’t really know.” He sighs. “The truth is, I’m just trying to hurt you, honestly“
“Oh?”
“Yeah”
Kazunari thinks of all the moments he and the Hangyodon plush have shared together. They form a little montage on his head. Or they would if there were any. The truth is that Kazunari insisted on keeping the plush in pristine conditions. His little felt sewn-in accessories are so untouched, so clean, you could hardly tell it’s not new. He prided himself on that. But now there’ll be no more Hangyodon to keep safe from dust and harm. He sighs, accepting himself to his fate.
“Okay, fair. Deal.“
“And the second thing-“
Kazunari braces himself. He fears for the fate of his Sanrio collection and grimaces. Has he told Sawakita about the limited edition figurines? He’d hate to part with them.
“I want…I want you to do it again” Sawakita mumbles. His face goes red, up to the tip of his ears, his brows furrowed. He’s trying to edge away, as if he’s the one that should be ashamed.
There’s a beat.
Kazunari blinks. Unsure he heard it right. He looks around, unsure if they are being filmed or something . Maybe that American sitcom celebrity will pop up at any moment and announce it was all part of an elaborate prank for television. Surely.
Because there’s no way he’s saying that seriously when it’s what got them in this mess in the first place. Right?
But Sawakita looks so serious right now, despite his beet-red face. Earnest, and sober. His brows furrowed in concentration now.
“What?” He croaks, at last.
“I’m serious.” Sawakita gulps down the remaining of his beer. “And I want to watch it this time.”
There it is.
“What the actual fuck,” Is what Kazunari mumbles.
The students behind them cheer. Someone has finally won the beer pong game it seems.
Sawakita laughs. The flush in his face has reached the tip of his ears. “I know,” He says.
The odd request still rings in his head as they walk outside the bar a little later; pushing through droves of people around them. The streets are lively and filled with the sound of people getting ready to party. The sky is a deep blue and dotted with lights as far as his eyes can see. “About the plushie,” Kazunari says. He holds onto Sawakita’s forearm, trying to stop all of it.
“Hm?”
“How about- How about you punch me instead? I think I’d rather that.”
Sawakita chuckles and shakes his head. Without any further ado his fist crashes against him in a messy punch, his knuckles kissing Kazunari’s jaw. He retreats immediately, shaking his hand and whining. The pain surges through Kazunari like thunder, quickly spreading around in vine-like lines. “What the fuck!” Sawakita screeches. He jumps in place, all the while making faces. “Dude that fucking hurt! What the fuck!?”
Kazunari just blinks. His whole face burns, and his jaw is tilted to the side with the impact. Already, he feels the promise of a bruise starting to bloom across his face, but Sawakita’s face is just too funny. His eyes start tearing up as he whines. “I'm serious! Why did it hurt me more than it did you?”
“It hurt me too,” Kazunari reassures him.
“Well then act like it!” Sawakita whines, furiously rubbing his fist. For good measure, he kicks Kazunari again, without any heat at all.
They go back to Sawakita’s place, to ice their bruises. Kazunari listens to the sound of a dog barking in the distance as Sawakita sits beside him on the beat up sofa he shares with the many roommates of his.
He offers a bag of frozen greens to Kazunari, which he promptly places against his cheek and then holds one against his knuckles. “I’m still taking it, by the way.” He says.
“What?”
“The plush”
“Oh,” Kazunari blinks. All in all, it is a low price to pay, he knows he should be happy about it.
“Ryota told me you kissed at that party.” Sawakita interjects.
“What party?”
“The one where I passed out. In that frat house of one of my teammates. He said you made out next to me,” Sawakita says, deeply serious, even though Kazunari keeps hoping this all is some sort of elaborate joke, and the rug will get pulled from him at any point. The pink tips on his ears are all the proof he needs to know Sawakita is not playing around.
Kazunari nods. The moment is still crystal clear for him. The taste of Miyagi’s lips is so vivid. “What about it?”
“That’s what I want.” Sawakita says. “I want you to continue that night. Like how you would have, if I hadn’t been there.” Kazunari conjures the memory again, allowing himself to be there once again. The thumping of the bass reverberated through the walls only to be drowned by the sound of his heartbeat, Miyagi’s face in his hands while his boyfriend slept next to them. The thought fills him with desire now. If he had more time, he would have taken his time, pressed Miyagi against the mattress and fed him his cock until that woke Sawakita up. A challenge on its own. Dared him to do something about it.
He can see it now too, the clear picture Sawakita wants. He swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. “I’ll do it.” He says.
Sawakita nods, his eyes bright. His smile is slow as it spreads across his lips. “There you go,”