![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
(fic) sk8 the infinity | joe/cherry
prompt: walk of shame
Kojiro walks in through the door at ten o’clock, dressed in the jeans he usually goes out in and a shirt that’s a little too wrinkled even for his usual standards, and Kaoru feels something in him break.
He knew it was a risk to keep living with Kojiro after they’d broken up but it was the practicality and convenience that won out, and the determination that they could salvage their friendship when it was the one thing Kaoru never wanted to lose.
They were doing well. Things no longer felt as stilted. They could bicker again without their words turning hurtful. They finally felt like friends again, and of course that meant Kojiro was finally over him. Of course that meant he’d go out and find new people to spend his nights with.
Kaoru never considered what it would feel like to have to witness Kojiro coming home from a night in someone else’s bed. The term walk of shame doesn’t fit Kojiro, who looks perfectly relaxed. He’s humming under his breath as he puts his keys in the tray by the door and takes his shoes off.
Kaoru looks away, back at the cup of coffee he’s making, and clenches his jaw so hard that it hurts.
“You had a good night, then,” Kaoru says, deciding he might as well address it.
Kojiro looks up at him, and it takes him a moment to reply. “It was interesting, to say the least.”
“I don’t need the details,” Kaoru says, and he knows the words come out a little too sharp. He turns his back to Kojiro. It’s easier to talk to him this way. “It's unlike you to share.”
“Oh,” Kojiro says, in that knowing way of his that is usually annoying but this time, feels a little frightening. “Are you —?”
“No,” Kaoru snaps, and it’s so fucking obvious that he can feel his cheeks burn.
“You’re jealous,” Kojiro declares, and the worst part is that he sounds happy about it.
“So what if you went out last night and didn’t come home until now,” Kaoru grits out. “You’re allowed to do whatever the hell you want. I know that.”
Kojiro laughs, and the concept that Kojiro would laugh at him for this has Kaoru turning around to face him, hurt and confused. He thought they were doing well.
Except Kojiro’s watching him with that patient look he gets when they go for a jog together and he waits at the corner of a street for Kaoru to catch up. Or the first time he told Kaoru he loved him, and waited a full month before the words stopped catching in Kaoru’s throat on their way out in return.
“I didn’t go on a date last night,” he tells Kaoru. “…I considered it. I went to the usual bar. Saw if anyone caught my interest. Nearly went home with someone.”
“Good for you,” Kaoru forces out.
“I didn’t, though,” Kojiro continues. “I realised, as we were talking, that I didn’t want to. I didn’t really want to go home with anyone there. Or anyone, really. I just wanted to come home. Here. To you.”
“Don’t,” Kaoru says, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter so tightly that he can feel his own fingers going numb. “Don’t say that, when you were out all night.”
“Were you waiting for me?” Kojiro asks, and Kaoru burns all over again for giving himself away twice in the same conversation.
“I went home to my parents’ place,” Kojiro tells him. “I… needed someone to talk things out with. Tell me what to do.”
“Your mother is biased,” Kaoru replies. “I’m pretty sure she was even more heartbroken than I —”
Kojiro raises his eyebrows. Kaoru shuts his mouth with a click. That’s three times.
“Maybe,” Kojiro says, slowly crossing the room, “I just wanted someone to tell me what I wanted to hear.”
“Kojiro.” Kaoru doesn’t know if it’s a warning, or a plea.
“Maybe I just wanted someone to tell me to do something I already wanted to do.”
Kaoru looks down at his hands, because he doesn’t know what his face is doing and he can’t bear to give any more away to Kojiro than he already has. He clenches his jaw again when Kojiro stops on the other side of the kitchen counter.
“Hey,” he says softly, and then he’s reaching out to place his fingers under Kaoru’s chin, lifting his head so that they’re looking at each other.
Kaoru shuts his eyes and, to add to his growing list of humiliation this morning, feels hot tears sliding down his face.
“Fuck, Kaoru,” Kojiro sounds pained this time. He steps around the counter, taking Kaoru’s face into his hands and brushing the tears away with his thumbs. “I’m not good at this. I’m not good at just being friends with you. I’m not good at getting over you.”
“Idiot,” Kaoru mutters, and when he opens his eyes he finds Kojiro grinning at him, soft and adoring, and god, Kaoru has missed this.
“Yeah,” Kojiro agrees.
“My idiot.”
Kojiro walks in through the door at ten o’clock, dressed in the jeans he usually goes out in and a shirt that’s a little too wrinkled even for his usual standards, and Kaoru feels something in him break.
He knew it was a risk to keep living with Kojiro after they’d broken up but it was the practicality and convenience that won out, and the determination that they could salvage their friendship when it was the one thing Kaoru never wanted to lose.
They were doing well. Things no longer felt as stilted. They could bicker again without their words turning hurtful. They finally felt like friends again, and of course that meant Kojiro was finally over him. Of course that meant he’d go out and find new people to spend his nights with.
Kaoru never considered what it would feel like to have to witness Kojiro coming home from a night in someone else’s bed. The term walk of shame doesn’t fit Kojiro, who looks perfectly relaxed. He’s humming under his breath as he puts his keys in the tray by the door and takes his shoes off.
Kaoru looks away, back at the cup of coffee he’s making, and clenches his jaw so hard that it hurts.
“You had a good night, then,” Kaoru says, deciding he might as well address it.
Kojiro looks up at him, and it takes him a moment to reply. “It was interesting, to say the least.”
“I don’t need the details,” Kaoru says, and he knows the words come out a little too sharp. He turns his back to Kojiro. It’s easier to talk to him this way. “It's unlike you to share.”
“Oh,” Kojiro says, in that knowing way of his that is usually annoying but this time, feels a little frightening. “Are you —?”
“No,” Kaoru snaps, and it’s so fucking obvious that he can feel his cheeks burn.
“You’re jealous,” Kojiro declares, and the worst part is that he sounds happy about it.
“So what if you went out last night and didn’t come home until now,” Kaoru grits out. “You’re allowed to do whatever the hell you want. I know that.”
Kojiro laughs, and the concept that Kojiro would laugh at him for this has Kaoru turning around to face him, hurt and confused. He thought they were doing well.
Except Kojiro’s watching him with that patient look he gets when they go for a jog together and he waits at the corner of a street for Kaoru to catch up. Or the first time he told Kaoru he loved him, and waited a full month before the words stopped catching in Kaoru’s throat on their way out in return.
“I didn’t go on a date last night,” he tells Kaoru. “…I considered it. I went to the usual bar. Saw if anyone caught my interest. Nearly went home with someone.”
“Good for you,” Kaoru forces out.
“I didn’t, though,” Kojiro continues. “I realised, as we were talking, that I didn’t want to. I didn’t really want to go home with anyone there. Or anyone, really. I just wanted to come home. Here. To you.”
“Don’t,” Kaoru says, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter so tightly that he can feel his own fingers going numb. “Don’t say that, when you were out all night.”
“Were you waiting for me?” Kojiro asks, and Kaoru burns all over again for giving himself away twice in the same conversation.
“I went home to my parents’ place,” Kojiro tells him. “I… needed someone to talk things out with. Tell me what to do.”
“Your mother is biased,” Kaoru replies. “I’m pretty sure she was even more heartbroken than I —”
Kojiro raises his eyebrows. Kaoru shuts his mouth with a click. That’s three times.
“Maybe,” Kojiro says, slowly crossing the room, “I just wanted someone to tell me what I wanted to hear.”
“Kojiro.” Kaoru doesn’t know if it’s a warning, or a plea.
“Maybe I just wanted someone to tell me to do something I already wanted to do.”
Kaoru looks down at his hands, because he doesn’t know what his face is doing and he can’t bear to give any more away to Kojiro than he already has. He clenches his jaw again when Kojiro stops on the other side of the kitchen counter.
“Hey,” he says softly, and then he’s reaching out to place his fingers under Kaoru’s chin, lifting his head so that they’re looking at each other.
Kaoru shuts his eyes and, to add to his growing list of humiliation this morning, feels hot tears sliding down his face.
“Fuck, Kaoru,” Kojiro sounds pained this time. He steps around the counter, taking Kaoru’s face into his hands and brushing the tears away with his thumbs. “I’m not good at this. I’m not good at just being friends with you. I’m not good at getting over you.”
“Idiot,” Kaoru mutters, and when he opens his eyes he finds Kojiro grinning at him, soft and adoring, and god, Kaoru has missed this.
“Yeah,” Kojiro agrees.
“My idiot.”