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Every once in a while, Kunimi manages to surprise Kindaichi. Sometimes, it’s a foreign bout of motivation that rousts Kunimi from his usual late mornings to do some menial task he usually would put off until it blows up in his face. Others, he might assert himself into a situation certain to cause him lingering levels of irritation.
Today is certainly a case of the latter.
Hot, milky coffee drips from the front of Kindaichi’s school uniform, courtesy of Sanada, a boy from their year who hasn’t bothered to hide his dislike of Kindaichi for as long as they’ve been acquainted. Why he finds Kindaichi offensive, he has no clue, but after their first run-in their first year at Aobajousai, Kindaichi doesn’t question it. He just avoids the guy altogether.
But this time, the bus is crowded and there’s nowhere to slink off to, and Kindaichi’s self-proclaimed nemesis deposited his drink onto Kindaichi’s chest with a half-assed ‘oops’.
Before the liquid even has a chance to soak through Kindaichi’s jacket, Kunimi steps in front of Kindaichi, arms crossed and mouth in a forbidding slash of displeasure.
“So now you let your girlfriend do your fighting for you?” Sanada sneers.
The expression quickly morphs into panic when Kunimi’s hand shoots out and fastens around Sanada’s neck, thumb pressing down on his Adam’s apple.
“I don’t know what your problem is, and frankly, I don’t care,” Kunimi hisses, his grip tightening. “Lay off and back off or you’re going to upset me.”
Kunimi drops his hold on Sanada and pats down his collar. “Now, your stop is next, right?”
Sanada stares. “No, it’s —”
“Your stop is next, right?” Kunimi repeats, and Sanada nods before scurrying to the front of the bus.
Kindaichi gapes at Kunimi. “Dude, what the hell was that?”
Shrugging, Kunimi says, “I was getting tired of that guy. Figured it was about time to redirect his bullshit.”
In the four years they’ve known each other, Kindaichi can’t recall a single time Kunimi had taken interest in anything not directly involving him. He barely takes interest in matters that do involve him. The only question Kindaichi can manage is, “Why?”
Kunimi raises a brow. “You really have to ask?”
“All right, then, I won’t.” Kindaichi falls quiet for the rest of the ride, though he breathes a little bit easier when Sanada gets off at the next stop, five before his usual one.
As another installation in the Wrong Stop Day, Kindaichi lets his own pass by to get off at Kunimi’s stop farther down the line, even though his soaked sweater is starting to bring on a chill.
Off the bus, Kunimi drags him over to the nearby park and into the restroom. From his bag, he pulls out a spare t-shirt and sheds his own sweater, offering both to Kindaichi. “Here, dry off before you get sick.”
Kindaichi’s refusal dies before the first syllable comes out when Kunimi’s eyes narrow. “Uh, thank you.”
In a few minutes, Kindaichi is once again dry, and he is able to rinse out the worst of the mess in the bathroom sink. With his damp clothes stowed in his spent practice clothes, he follows Kunimi home, if only to wheedle some much needed answers.
Inside the empty Kunimi residence, a larger than average suburban abode, Kunimi rolls his eyes when Kindaichi calls out, “Tadaima!”
“Yuu, when’s the last time you were here and someone besides me was home?” Kunimi drops his duffel bag in front of the bathroom door and trods up the stairs toward his room. Soon they are both swaddled in warmer and drier clothes, courtesy of Kunimi’s penchant for oversize loungewear.
On the couch, Kunimi’s gaze is fastened to the powered down television when he finally says, “I know what you’re going to ask.”
Kindaichi harrumphs. “You know, it isn’t fair the way you read me like a book and I can’t tell jack shit about what you’re thinking or feeling most of the time.”
“Then ask me.” At Kindaichi’s cough of surprise, Kunimi bumps their shoulders together and smiles. “Remember once upon a time when we had our own private blue-eyed despot who never listened to us and never tried to make himself understood?”
At the reference to Kageyama, Kindaichi’s back straightens and a shiver zips all the way up his spine. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“That instead of guessing what I think or waiting for some tool to dump his coffee on you, maybe start asking questions before it all blows up in your face.” Rising to his feet, Kunimi hums. “I’m gonna order food. Ramen okay?” Without waiting for a response, Kunimi drifts into the kitchen, leaving Kindaichi with a lot more questions than he’d had before.
Kunimi returns to the couch, and Kindaichi finally asks, “Do you know why Sanada hates me so much?”
“Yes.” Gaze fastened to his fingernails, Kunimi picks at them without elaborating.
Growling under his breath, Kindaichi snaps, “Well are you gonna tell me or not?”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
Kindaichi grabs Kunimi’s chin and jerks his chin to face Kindaichi. “And just why the hell not?”
The mask of indifference drains from Kunimi’s face, leaving weariness in its wake. “Because I don’t want to hurt you.” His fingers wrap around Kindaichi’s wrist and slowly lowers it into his lap. “But if you really want me to, I’ll tell you.”
A boulder of dread drops in Kindaichi’s stomach. Kunimi has never been the kind of guy to sugarcoat what is on his mind, instead favoring the relief of openness. If this big secret is enough to bottle even Kunimi’s habitual transparency, even if it involves Kindaichi, whatever it is must be horrible, damning, or some mix of the two.
Kindaichi isn’t sure he wants to know, but after seeing Kunimi lose his cool on the bus, he’s fairly certain he needs to know.
“Whatever it is, I can take it.” Kindaichi closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, waiting for some horrible story of how he had allegedly wronged Sanada.
He isn’t prepared for the answer at all.
“Back in middle school, he walked in on you and Kageyama when you were making out in the bathroom.”
That rock in Kindaichi’s stomach balloons, twisting his insides around it until his lunch threatens to escape. So ancient history comes back to haunt him once again. Despite the warmth of the room, Kindaichi’s entire body shook.
“I told you it would hurt.” Kunimi crosses his arms on his thighs and leans forward to let Kindaichi shudder in peace. “There was a girl who wanted to ask you out earlier this year, and he heard her talking about it to her friends. He tried to tell her what he saw, but the bell rang and he never got a chance.”
Kindaichi blinks at the statement. Someone he barely knows has invested this much effort into enmity for a reason like that? His lip curls into a sneer. “What a loser.” His head jerks to the side to gawk at Kunimi. “Hey, wait, I didn’t get asked out by any girl earlier this year.”
“I know.” Woodenly, Kunimi explains the girl decided against it to be on the safe side, despite not hearing what Sanada had to say. Kunimi found out when the girl’s friend asked him if Kindaichi had received the confession because the girl had quit talking about it to their group.
Kunimi sags against his arms and shakes his head. “When I asked her why she changed her mind, she mentioned something about Sanada trying to warn her away. Girls getting warned about certain guys is pretty common, so she didn’t ask questions.”
Dread leaches out of Kindaichi, and all that remains in its wake is disgust. “So you asked him and he told you what he saw.”
“Something like that.” Kunimi perches his feet on the edge of the couch and wraps his arms around his legs, rocking back and forth with closed eyes. “I more or less threatened to shatter every one of his teeth if he told anyone about it.” He laughs humorlessly. “Little did I know he would just make you miserable instead. But he kept up his end of the bargain. He was being a dick, but that’s something I knew you could live with.”
“Akira,” Kindaichi breathes, unable to tear his eyes away from his friend.
Nobody knows how badly Kindaichi’s feelings had been steamrolled after the King Kageyama situation blew up in their faces better than Kindaichi. Aside from Kunimi, their teammates hadn’t known Kageyama and Kindaichi had been more than just friends, and a lot of those same teammates are either already at Aobajousai or on their way in.
Information like that being unleashed into a petri dish of gossip like a high school could ruin him. Kunimi had known that, so he took care of it.
Kindaichi bands his arms around Kunimi’s entire curled up form for a crushing embrace. “I can’t believe you went through all that for me.” He buries his nose in Kunimi’s silken hair and lets the mango scent calm his racing nerves. “Thank you.”
Kunimi grows rigid under Kindaichi’s touch, and the second he notices, Kindaichi recoils. “Oh god, I’m sorry. I don’t want you to think I . . . that you . . .” He stuffs his face into his borrowed sweatshirt and whimpers, “Fuck.”
The collar of the sweatshirt slowly slides down, revealing Kunimi on his hands and knees, staring at Kindaichi’s shrinking form. “Oi, stop that. I didn’t say you could hide yet.”
“Okay.” Kindaichi stares because it’s all he knows how to do. The moment he hugged Kunimi, something had changed between them. What it is, Kindaichi doesn’t know, but in the finest traditions of their long-standing friendship, Kunimi appears to be ready to explain it to him.
A smile sneaks onto Kunimi’s lips. “That’s more like it. Now let me finish before you turtle away from me.” Kindaichi nods, and Kunimi sighs. “I did what I did to protect you because it’s the only thing I can do. Even if you never give me a second look, nobody has the right to out you like that.”
Even if you never give me a second look. The phrase clatters around in Kindaichi’s skull, the noise filling his ears. Or maybe it’s his heart beating at warp speed, he isn’t sure. When the clamor dies down, the only meaning he can glean from the words remains. “Akira, are you saying you, uh, like me? Like That?”
Kunimi chuckles. “You picked up on that faster than I thought you would. Sometimes, I swear you think I speak in code and try way too hard to figure out what I mean.”
Kunimi likes me, he chanted mentally. KUNIMI likes ME. On any other day, Kindaichi might assume the whole thing is a joke, something to stave away Kunimi’s boredom. But not this day. Not after Kunimi had unloaded a bombshell on him.
Warmth blooms in Kindaichi’s chest, but he tamps it down immediately. Of all people, he owes it to Kunimi to think about this. He has never had a friend so invested in casting aside performative socializing. All Kunimi wants from Kindaichi is for him to be comfortable with himself while they’re hanging out. He doesn't care about who bought meat buns last or even birthday presents. The only thing he asks out of Kindaichi is honesty, with himself and with Kunimi.
“Wow I am stupid,” Kindaichi murmurs under his breath.
Kunimi chortles. “I’m not even going to ask what rabbit hole you fell down to get there. If you have an answer, though, I’ll definitely take that.”
Kindaichi gulps. Two voices, one in each ear, fill his mind with different notions. One rails at him to take what Kunimi is offering: unconditional love, support, and the willingness to beat the crap out of a guy for treating Kindaichi poorly. Another gushes in an insistent whisper that he should wait.
What if he’s wrong? What if he is just in the midst of a wave of gratitude and he doesn’t, can’t, or won’t feel the same way Kunimi does? Could their friendship survive a beating like that?
He catches Kunimi watching him think, his nose crinkled while he ponders something of his own, and Kindaichi has his answer. Leaning forward, he presses his lips to Kunimi’s.
Once again, Kunimi’s entire body clenches, but only a second drags by before that slowly fades away like Kindaichi figures it will. Like his own overthinking, Kunimi screeches to a halt over unexpected touches. Home alone more often than not, physical affection is still something Kunimi shirks.
If Kunimi had done all that with Sanada for him, working away that reflexive inhibition is the least Kindaichi could do in return.
Kindaichi earns a yelp when he hauls Kunimi onto his lap, but neither of them break away from that lingering kiss, growing in boldness with every brush or press of the lips.
When Kindaichi withdraws to catch his breath, Kunimi’s mouth continues to rove, littering kisses down the column of Kindaichi’s throat wherever the sweater isn’t covering. Kunimi’s knees tighten around Kindaichi’s thighs, drawing a rush of heat Kindaichi hasn’t felt for a long time.
He’s a red-blooded male, so it certainly hasn’t been that long since he was aroused; it’s just been a small eternity since he felt desired. It’s a heady thing and he wants more of it — so much more.
When Kindaichi’s arms slide around Kunimi’s waist, he can feel Kunimi smile against his lips. “You finally made it,” Kunimi gasps between kisses. “Lucky for you, you’re worth waiting for.”
Face flaming, Kindaichi squeezes his eyes shut, casting out the amusement he doesn’t need to see to know it saturates Kunimi’s features. However, the teasing he braces himself for doesn’t come. Instead, there’s a knock at the door.
Groaning, Kunimi lolls his head back and rolls his eyes at the ceiling. “I never thought I’d be annoyed by someone bringing me food.” He slides out of Kindaichi’s lap and accepts the takeout bag as quickly as he can do politely.
Their first stab at intimacy already scuttled, Kindaichi lets himself slump back into the recesses of the couch’s plush upholstery, with Kunimi firmly nestled into his side while they share one of their bowls of ramen, taking turns bringing chopsticks to each other’s lips so they don’t have to let go of one another.
In a haze of carbohydrates and contentment, Kindaichi yawns and tightens his hold on Kunimi. “You s’pose Sanada’s gonna shoot his mouth off anyway.”
“Nah.” Kunimi nuzzles Kindaichi’s chest and lets out a yawn of his own. “I’m pretty sure I made him pee a little.”
“Ha!” Kindaichi chuckles into Kunimi’s hair and lets his heavy eyelids drift shut. “Good.”
“Yeah,” Kunimi whispers. “Everything is good.”