One-shot - Building Blocks
Title: Building Blocks
Pairing: Koyama/Shige
Words: ~3,000
Rating: PG
Summary: There's something about Koyama that makes him special
There’s something about Koyama’s face that draws Shige to him the first time they meet. He looks friendly, open, and even though he’s an awkward newbie who’s older and taller and ganglier than all the other awkward newbies, Shige finds that he really wants to be friends with him.
“You’re a pretty good dancer.” He says first chance he gets, then wants to hit himself, because it sounds like he’s talking down to him, and no matter how many years earlier Shige joined the company, it still couldn’t feel good to be talked down to by someone so much younger. But even so, Koyama’s eyes curve into little crescent moons and his lips curl upwards until he’s beaming.
“Thank you.” He says, seeming a bit flustered. “I’m actually starting to get a little self-conscious, because I keep getting told off by people much younger than me for making stupid mistakes. It seems like I’ll never catch up.”
Shige shifts from foot to foot, suddenly feeling a bit awkward because that had sounded like the kind of comment he should reply to with encouragement. And although he’s not entirely sure how many years older than him Koyama is, he knows he’s old enough for the idea of talking to him like he’s his junior to feel a little odd.
“Oh. Well. I think you’re doing fine.” Shige replies, feeling a flush creep up his neck. “Just practice a bit more, keep working hard, and you’ll be as good as everyone else in no time.”
In the back of his head, Shige keeps berating himself over and over. Koyama will probably think he’s some smug, stuck-up kid who’s way too big for his boots and he’ll never want to talk to him again. But Koyama just nods, even looking slightly more optimistic.
“Thank you.” He says, in a voice that makes it sound as though he just took everything Shige said to heart. Then he follows up with, “Oh. Would it be okay if… well, I don’t really have many friends here yet, so do you think it’d be okay if we swapped mail addresses?”
Shige feels like you could knock him over with a feather, but he manages to come to his senses and agree.
It progresses from there, becoming one of his most cherished relationships in little more than six months. Koyama is friendly and fun, caring and supportive, just as wonderful - maybe more so - than Shige had expected from the very first time he saw him smile.
There’s something about how long they’ve known one another that doesn’t leave room for uncertainty in Shige’s mind that Koyama is his closest friend. He counts up the years on his fingers and finds that five have passed already. To him, it feels like it was only yesterday that they were put in the same junior group; feels like it was only yesterday that they were fooling around in the background on the set of Ya-Ya-yah every single week, the thought of debuting the furthest thing from their minds.
But if it had only been one year or two years, that wouldn’t account for the way it feels as though he’s known Koyama forever, or the way they’re just so comfortable around one another, as though they were family.
“Do you ever think it’s pretty amazing that we met?” Shige asks him one day, out of the blue. Koyama stares at him.
“Isn’t it pretty amazing that anyone meets anyone?” He asks. “Out of all the people in the world, the chance of meeting a particular person is one in six billion, right?”
It’s not that simple, Shige wants to tell him, but he doesn’t want to bore Koyama with explanations about probability and geography, so he doesn’t. Instead he says, “But just the fact that we were both accepted into Johnny’s and both put in the same group. It could’ve been anyone else, and if it was, maybe we wouldn’t be here right now, talking like this.”
Koyama seems to consider this with a very serious look on his face, and then puts his hand on Shige’s shoulder. The slight squeeze of his fingers is firm but gentle, and the warmth of his palm soaks through the material of Shige’s shirt.
“I’m glad it was you.” Koyama says. “I wouldn’t be as happy with anyone else.”
Shige thinks of telling Koyama that he wouldn’t have known about him and so he wouldn’t have cared had they never met. But he can’t, because he doesn’t think he’d be as happy with anyone else either.
There’s something about the way that Koyama makes Shige’s heart skip a beat that makes him think his feelings might not be strictly friendly anymore. He remembers the exact moment he realized that things might have changed; that day when they’re told NEWS are ceasing activity, the day that Shige and Koyama cry to one another in a café and Koyama’s hand somehow finds its way on top of Shige’s.
“Come home with me.” Koyama whispers in his ear after they leave. “I don’t want to be alone right now. Please come home with me, Shige.”
And Shige does, because he can’t handle being alone right now either.
Koyama holds him tight once they get to his house. Shige starts to cry all over again the moment they walk in the door, and so Koyama takes him in his arms and shushes him, and Shige’s tears stop abruptly. He knows this feeling, knows what it means; this feeling of a fluttery heart and weak knees and not wanting Koyama to let go.
But he forces the realization to take a back seat when he realises that Koyama is sniffling into his hair. Shige hugs him back, fisting his hands in the material of his shirt.
“I’m here for you too, you know.” He says. “Don’t feel like you have to be strong to support me, because I want to support you too.”
Koyama lets out an unflattering hiccup noise and chuckles through his tears.
“Sometimes you say really cool things, Shige.” He mutters in a thick voice. “But I’m okay. Really.”
Shige shakes his head, knowing that Koyama will feel it even if he can’t see.
“No you’re not. I mean it; don’t be afraid to let me look after you.”
There’s silence for a moment, but then Koyama starts to sob and clutches to Shige so hard that it feels like he might crush him.
He can’t understand a word that Koyama says, but it feels like he doesn’t need to.
Shige strokes his hair, and murmurs comfortingly, realizing that Koyama has needed someone to do this for him for a long time. He makes a vow to himself never to let Koyama grin and bear things by himself ever again.
And so even after his sobs subside, even after the hiatus ends, Shige silently continues to take care of him.
There’s something about the way Koyama is so oblivious to Shige’s feelings that keeps him from confessing. Shige is too scared to say it straight out, and so he drops hints, tries to show him without words, but it doesn’t work.
He’s pretty sure he’s being blatantly obvious, and Koyama is meant to be intuitive about these kinds of things, so Shige deduces that it must mean he doesn’t want to know, and is refusing to notice.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Koyama asks Shige one day, with a quizzical smile. Shige hadn’t even realized he’d been staring in the first place, and Koyama looks so gorgeous standing there looking pleasantly puzzled that he just stares more. Shige completely forgets to answer.
Koyama laughs, and the way he messes up his hair is so tender that it causes the age old feeling of butterflies to flare up in Shige’s stomach again. He fights to keep his face neutral.
“You’re so zoney.” Koyama tells him affectionately. “Try to get more sleep, okay? Being a student is hard work.”
“I’ve been sleeping properly.” Shige counters with a frown, and immediately wishes he could just thank Koyama for worrying like a normal person would, instead of coming off all defensive.
But Koyama chuckles again and flops down on the couch next to Shige, slinging an arm around his shoulders, and Shige feels a little less guilty about his response if only because it means Koyama is touching him like this.
“You’re obviously not. You’re so snappy! Cheer up, Shige, it’s nearly summer holidays. You’ll get to relax way more often, and maybe we can even go on a little trip together? That’d be fun, right?”
He tries hard not to smile, because he knows that if he does, Koyama will assume his job is done and take his arm away.
“Yeah, if work gives us any time.” He replies, sounding more sullen than he’d meant to. Koyama rolls his eyes and yanks Shige until he loses his balance and falls into his lap. He’s very glad that he’s fallen face down, because this way Koyama can’t see the red-hot blush that’s shot up his face.
“If you’re always this negative, your life span will get shorter.” Koyama says sagely, as though it’s a fact, and then rests his hand on Shige’s head. “We’ll definitely find time to go away together. To anywhere you like, okay?”
“Okay.” Shige says hesitantly, getting lost in feeling of his hair being stroked. He wonders how it’s possible for them to be this close without being lovers. It seems unfair.
There’s something about the electricity in the air around them one night that makes Shige feel as though there’s a strange tension between them. It’s not a bad one or an uncomfortable one, but there’s definitely something that’s different. They’re in a restaurant, sitting next to rather than across from each other in a booth, surrounded by people. Still, it feels as though he’s on a roller coaster, at the very top of the ride, about to plunge down an enormous slope.
He’s not sure what’s causing it; maybe it’s the way Koyama’s looking at him - soft, anxious, almost a little afraid - or it could be the way he touches him, fingers dancing over his wrist ever so briefly, but still leaving the skin tingling in their wake.
He tries touching Koyama experimentally, resting his hand on his knee for longer than he usually would. He sees Koyama’s lips part slightly, and his eyes dart nervously, but he doesn’t try to make Shige stop.
Shige feels like they’re dancing around one another, but he isn’t sure why.
“Do you feel a bit weird tonight?” He finally asks, unable to stand the nerves anymore. Koyama looks at him with a startled expression.
“Weird? Weird like how?”
Shige shrugs.
“I don’t know, doesn’t it feel like there’s a different atmosphere than there usually is?” He asks, and Koyama sucks his bottom lip into his mouth as though he’s thinking about it.
“I guess there is.” He admits, wringing his hands. Shige gets the feeling that Koyama’s a little more clued in as to what’s going on, but he doesn’t know how that’s possible.
“Koyama, what…” He starts to say as he turns his head, but cuts himself off with a shallow gasp. Their faces are close - too close - and it would only be a matter of tilting his head before they’d be kissing. The tips of their noses are practically brushing and Shige’s heart sounds like a marching band in his own ears.
“Shige.” Koyama says seriously, and his tone is matched by the expression in his eyes. He takes hold of Shige’s hand and Shige feels faint and fluttery and alive all at once.
“Yeah?” He manages to reply, but his voice comes out in a hoarse, breathy whisper that he’s worried gives all his feelings away. He wonders if anyone is looking at them right now, if they can see the way he’s looking at Koyama, and think it’s suspicious.
“I…” Koyama starts to say, and Shige realizes he’s holding his breath, as though he’s waiting for something.
“Can I take these?”
They shoot apart at the sound of the waiter’s voice, but he doesn’t seem to notice that he’s interrupted anything.
“Sure.” Koyama says, voice weak and almost shaking. The waiter collects their empty dishes and whisks them away, and somehow after that, the atmosphere returns to normal.
But Shige still can’t help thinking that Koyama is looking at him in a different way.
There’s something indescribably beautiful about Koyama’s shy expression and the blush painting his cheeks when he tells Shige that there’s something he needs to say. This time they aren’t sitting in a restaurant; they’re alone in Koyama’s house, knowing his mother won’t be home until well into the evening, knowing they won’t be interrupted.
“What is it?” Shige asks, heart thumping away. He’s hoping desperately that it’ll be what he thinks, but it still surprises him when it comes.
“I, uh…” Koyama starts off, and his words sound clumsy and awkward and nothing like his usual natural flow of conversation. “It might be a really bad idea telling you this, but I guess I’ve never been able to keep secrets from you so I probably have to.”
Shige’s mouth is dry, and the anticipation is crushing him.
“Whatever you have to say can’t be that bad, Koyama. Just spill.” He sounds more forceful than he meant to, and worries it’ll scare his friend into silence.
Koyama laughs awkwardly and punches Shige half-heartedly on the shoulder.
“It’s funny how nervous I am.” He says, scuffing the floor with his foot. “Because I’m pretty sure that you like me, right?”
Shige’s eyebrows shoot up, and his mouth drops, but Koyama keeps talking.
“But I’m still scared that I’m wrong, and so if I tell you that I like you too, you’ll just freak out.” Then he covers his mouth. “Oh god, I already said it. I didn’t mean for that to come out, Shige. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
Laughing probably isn’t the kindest response, but Shige does it anyway, if only because he can’t help it. Koyama goes a brighter red and covers his face with his hands, but it seems like a lot of the nervousness and tension has gone from his body. Shige can practically read his mind; at least he isn’t angry at me, at least he’s taking it well, at least he doesn’t hate me.
“It’s okay.” He says, and places a comforting hand on Koyama’s back, rubbing small circles through his shirt. “I’m glad you told me. I mean, you’re right. About how I feel about you.”
He’s blushing now too, feeling more exhaustion than the giddy happiness he’d expected. He wants to melt into Koyama and fall asleep against him, but Koyama has other ideas.
“Really?” His voice is an excited squeak, and his brown eyes are brimming with hope. “I mean, I thought you did, but seriously, Shige? You like me too?”
All it takes is one nod, and he’s enveloped in a hug so tight that it feels as though he's trying to squash him.
But then again, Shige thinks as he tentatively returns the embrace, this isn’t so bad either.
There’s something magical about the way it feels as they take their first steps into their new relationship. They start off slowly, finding the transition from friends to lovers a little strange. Koyama falls into it more naturally than Shige, who has gotten used to restraining himself and hiding his feelings by now, but it doesn’t take long for Koyama to change this.
He starts with gentle brushes of the hand and little butterfly kisses. For the first week, they don’t actually kiss on the lips, Koyama taking it slowly for Shige’s benefit. He lets him get used to the closeness of his face, the feeling of his warm breath on his cheek, the sound of Koyama murmuring against his hair.
It starts to overwhelm Shige, and one day as they’re sprawled on his bed, curled up together, he can’t stand it anymore.
“Koyama.” Shige says, soft and embarrassed. “Kiss me.”
“Shige.” It’s amazing how much emotion that one tiny word and the tiny smile on his mouth convey. It feels natural, and Shige is glad they waited because the thrill that goes through him when Koyama’s lips brush against his, simple and soft, is all he’d hoped it would be.
The “I love you” slips from his mouth without him even meaning for it to, and at first he’s terrified that it was too early to say it. But the look of adoration he receives and the whispered echo of his words are enough to convince him otherwise.
He loses track of how many times they kiss that night, as though they’re making up for all the chances they hadn’t taken. Koyama stays over, and they fall asleep under the bed covers, still wearing their clothes.
Shige is woken by another kiss the following morning, and if this is what being in love feels like, he wishes they’d confessed sooner.
Shige isn’t sure what it is that makes him feel the way he does about Koyama; if it’s the way he smiles, the way they’ve been together for so long, or the way he makes Shige’s heart pound. He’s not sure if it’s all of Koyama’s shortcomings that Shige can’t help but love, or the way he makes him feel so alive. Perhaps it’s the way Koyama looks so beautiful whenever he tells Shige how he makes him feel, or the fleeting touches of hands and lips.
Whatever it is, there’s definitely something there which leaves Shige doubtless that he’ll love Koyama forever.
Pairing: Koyama/Shige
Words: ~3,000
Rating: PG
Summary: There's something about Koyama that makes him special
There’s something about Koyama’s face that draws Shige to him the first time they meet. He looks friendly, open, and even though he’s an awkward newbie who’s older and taller and ganglier than all the other awkward newbies, Shige finds that he really wants to be friends with him.
“You’re a pretty good dancer.” He says first chance he gets, then wants to hit himself, because it sounds like he’s talking down to him, and no matter how many years earlier Shige joined the company, it still couldn’t feel good to be talked down to by someone so much younger. But even so, Koyama’s eyes curve into little crescent moons and his lips curl upwards until he’s beaming.
“Thank you.” He says, seeming a bit flustered. “I’m actually starting to get a little self-conscious, because I keep getting told off by people much younger than me for making stupid mistakes. It seems like I’ll never catch up.”
Shige shifts from foot to foot, suddenly feeling a bit awkward because that had sounded like the kind of comment he should reply to with encouragement. And although he’s not entirely sure how many years older than him Koyama is, he knows he’s old enough for the idea of talking to him like he’s his junior to feel a little odd.
“Oh. Well. I think you’re doing fine.” Shige replies, feeling a flush creep up his neck. “Just practice a bit more, keep working hard, and you’ll be as good as everyone else in no time.”
In the back of his head, Shige keeps berating himself over and over. Koyama will probably think he’s some smug, stuck-up kid who’s way too big for his boots and he’ll never want to talk to him again. But Koyama just nods, even looking slightly more optimistic.
“Thank you.” He says, in a voice that makes it sound as though he just took everything Shige said to heart. Then he follows up with, “Oh. Would it be okay if… well, I don’t really have many friends here yet, so do you think it’d be okay if we swapped mail addresses?”
Shige feels like you could knock him over with a feather, but he manages to come to his senses and agree.
It progresses from there, becoming one of his most cherished relationships in little more than six months. Koyama is friendly and fun, caring and supportive, just as wonderful - maybe more so - than Shige had expected from the very first time he saw him smile.
There’s something about how long they’ve known one another that doesn’t leave room for uncertainty in Shige’s mind that Koyama is his closest friend. He counts up the years on his fingers and finds that five have passed already. To him, it feels like it was only yesterday that they were put in the same junior group; feels like it was only yesterday that they were fooling around in the background on the set of Ya-Ya-yah every single week, the thought of debuting the furthest thing from their minds.
But if it had only been one year or two years, that wouldn’t account for the way it feels as though he’s known Koyama forever, or the way they’re just so comfortable around one another, as though they were family.
“Do you ever think it’s pretty amazing that we met?” Shige asks him one day, out of the blue. Koyama stares at him.
“Isn’t it pretty amazing that anyone meets anyone?” He asks. “Out of all the people in the world, the chance of meeting a particular person is one in six billion, right?”
It’s not that simple, Shige wants to tell him, but he doesn’t want to bore Koyama with explanations about probability and geography, so he doesn’t. Instead he says, “But just the fact that we were both accepted into Johnny’s and both put in the same group. It could’ve been anyone else, and if it was, maybe we wouldn’t be here right now, talking like this.”
Koyama seems to consider this with a very serious look on his face, and then puts his hand on Shige’s shoulder. The slight squeeze of his fingers is firm but gentle, and the warmth of his palm soaks through the material of Shige’s shirt.
“I’m glad it was you.” Koyama says. “I wouldn’t be as happy with anyone else.”
Shige thinks of telling Koyama that he wouldn’t have known about him and so he wouldn’t have cared had they never met. But he can’t, because he doesn’t think he’d be as happy with anyone else either.
There’s something about the way that Koyama makes Shige’s heart skip a beat that makes him think his feelings might not be strictly friendly anymore. He remembers the exact moment he realized that things might have changed; that day when they’re told NEWS are ceasing activity, the day that Shige and Koyama cry to one another in a café and Koyama’s hand somehow finds its way on top of Shige’s.
“Come home with me.” Koyama whispers in his ear after they leave. “I don’t want to be alone right now. Please come home with me, Shige.”
And Shige does, because he can’t handle being alone right now either.
Koyama holds him tight once they get to his house. Shige starts to cry all over again the moment they walk in the door, and so Koyama takes him in his arms and shushes him, and Shige’s tears stop abruptly. He knows this feeling, knows what it means; this feeling of a fluttery heart and weak knees and not wanting Koyama to let go.
But he forces the realization to take a back seat when he realises that Koyama is sniffling into his hair. Shige hugs him back, fisting his hands in the material of his shirt.
“I’m here for you too, you know.” He says. “Don’t feel like you have to be strong to support me, because I want to support you too.”
Koyama lets out an unflattering hiccup noise and chuckles through his tears.
“Sometimes you say really cool things, Shige.” He mutters in a thick voice. “But I’m okay. Really.”
Shige shakes his head, knowing that Koyama will feel it even if he can’t see.
“No you’re not. I mean it; don’t be afraid to let me look after you.”
There’s silence for a moment, but then Koyama starts to sob and clutches to Shige so hard that it feels like he might crush him.
He can’t understand a word that Koyama says, but it feels like he doesn’t need to.
Shige strokes his hair, and murmurs comfortingly, realizing that Koyama has needed someone to do this for him for a long time. He makes a vow to himself never to let Koyama grin and bear things by himself ever again.
And so even after his sobs subside, even after the hiatus ends, Shige silently continues to take care of him.
There’s something about the way Koyama is so oblivious to Shige’s feelings that keeps him from confessing. Shige is too scared to say it straight out, and so he drops hints, tries to show him without words, but it doesn’t work.
He’s pretty sure he’s being blatantly obvious, and Koyama is meant to be intuitive about these kinds of things, so Shige deduces that it must mean he doesn’t want to know, and is refusing to notice.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Koyama asks Shige one day, with a quizzical smile. Shige hadn’t even realized he’d been staring in the first place, and Koyama looks so gorgeous standing there looking pleasantly puzzled that he just stares more. Shige completely forgets to answer.
Koyama laughs, and the way he messes up his hair is so tender that it causes the age old feeling of butterflies to flare up in Shige’s stomach again. He fights to keep his face neutral.
“You’re so zoney.” Koyama tells him affectionately. “Try to get more sleep, okay? Being a student is hard work.”
“I’ve been sleeping properly.” Shige counters with a frown, and immediately wishes he could just thank Koyama for worrying like a normal person would, instead of coming off all defensive.
But Koyama chuckles again and flops down on the couch next to Shige, slinging an arm around his shoulders, and Shige feels a little less guilty about his response if only because it means Koyama is touching him like this.
“You’re obviously not. You’re so snappy! Cheer up, Shige, it’s nearly summer holidays. You’ll get to relax way more often, and maybe we can even go on a little trip together? That’d be fun, right?”
He tries hard not to smile, because he knows that if he does, Koyama will assume his job is done and take his arm away.
“Yeah, if work gives us any time.” He replies, sounding more sullen than he’d meant to. Koyama rolls his eyes and yanks Shige until he loses his balance and falls into his lap. He’s very glad that he’s fallen face down, because this way Koyama can’t see the red-hot blush that’s shot up his face.
“If you’re always this negative, your life span will get shorter.” Koyama says sagely, as though it’s a fact, and then rests his hand on Shige’s head. “We’ll definitely find time to go away together. To anywhere you like, okay?”
“Okay.” Shige says hesitantly, getting lost in feeling of his hair being stroked. He wonders how it’s possible for them to be this close without being lovers. It seems unfair.
There’s something about the electricity in the air around them one night that makes Shige feel as though there’s a strange tension between them. It’s not a bad one or an uncomfortable one, but there’s definitely something that’s different. They’re in a restaurant, sitting next to rather than across from each other in a booth, surrounded by people. Still, it feels as though he’s on a roller coaster, at the very top of the ride, about to plunge down an enormous slope.
He’s not sure what’s causing it; maybe it’s the way Koyama’s looking at him - soft, anxious, almost a little afraid - or it could be the way he touches him, fingers dancing over his wrist ever so briefly, but still leaving the skin tingling in their wake.
He tries touching Koyama experimentally, resting his hand on his knee for longer than he usually would. He sees Koyama’s lips part slightly, and his eyes dart nervously, but he doesn’t try to make Shige stop.
Shige feels like they’re dancing around one another, but he isn’t sure why.
“Do you feel a bit weird tonight?” He finally asks, unable to stand the nerves anymore. Koyama looks at him with a startled expression.
“Weird? Weird like how?”
Shige shrugs.
“I don’t know, doesn’t it feel like there’s a different atmosphere than there usually is?” He asks, and Koyama sucks his bottom lip into his mouth as though he’s thinking about it.
“I guess there is.” He admits, wringing his hands. Shige gets the feeling that Koyama’s a little more clued in as to what’s going on, but he doesn’t know how that’s possible.
“Koyama, what…” He starts to say as he turns his head, but cuts himself off with a shallow gasp. Their faces are close - too close - and it would only be a matter of tilting his head before they’d be kissing. The tips of their noses are practically brushing and Shige’s heart sounds like a marching band in his own ears.
“Shige.” Koyama says seriously, and his tone is matched by the expression in his eyes. He takes hold of Shige’s hand and Shige feels faint and fluttery and alive all at once.
“Yeah?” He manages to reply, but his voice comes out in a hoarse, breathy whisper that he’s worried gives all his feelings away. He wonders if anyone is looking at them right now, if they can see the way he’s looking at Koyama, and think it’s suspicious.
“I…” Koyama starts to say, and Shige realizes he’s holding his breath, as though he’s waiting for something.
“Can I take these?”
They shoot apart at the sound of the waiter’s voice, but he doesn’t seem to notice that he’s interrupted anything.
“Sure.” Koyama says, voice weak and almost shaking. The waiter collects their empty dishes and whisks them away, and somehow after that, the atmosphere returns to normal.
But Shige still can’t help thinking that Koyama is looking at him in a different way.
There’s something indescribably beautiful about Koyama’s shy expression and the blush painting his cheeks when he tells Shige that there’s something he needs to say. This time they aren’t sitting in a restaurant; they’re alone in Koyama’s house, knowing his mother won’t be home until well into the evening, knowing they won’t be interrupted.
“What is it?” Shige asks, heart thumping away. He’s hoping desperately that it’ll be what he thinks, but it still surprises him when it comes.
“I, uh…” Koyama starts off, and his words sound clumsy and awkward and nothing like his usual natural flow of conversation. “It might be a really bad idea telling you this, but I guess I’ve never been able to keep secrets from you so I probably have to.”
Shige’s mouth is dry, and the anticipation is crushing him.
“Whatever you have to say can’t be that bad, Koyama. Just spill.” He sounds more forceful than he meant to, and worries it’ll scare his friend into silence.
Koyama laughs awkwardly and punches Shige half-heartedly on the shoulder.
“It’s funny how nervous I am.” He says, scuffing the floor with his foot. “Because I’m pretty sure that you like me, right?”
Shige’s eyebrows shoot up, and his mouth drops, but Koyama keeps talking.
“But I’m still scared that I’m wrong, and so if I tell you that I like you too, you’ll just freak out.” Then he covers his mouth. “Oh god, I already said it. I didn’t mean for that to come out, Shige. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
Laughing probably isn’t the kindest response, but Shige does it anyway, if only because he can’t help it. Koyama goes a brighter red and covers his face with his hands, but it seems like a lot of the nervousness and tension has gone from his body. Shige can practically read his mind; at least he isn’t angry at me, at least he’s taking it well, at least he doesn’t hate me.
“It’s okay.” He says, and places a comforting hand on Koyama’s back, rubbing small circles through his shirt. “I’m glad you told me. I mean, you’re right. About how I feel about you.”
He’s blushing now too, feeling more exhaustion than the giddy happiness he’d expected. He wants to melt into Koyama and fall asleep against him, but Koyama has other ideas.
“Really?” His voice is an excited squeak, and his brown eyes are brimming with hope. “I mean, I thought you did, but seriously, Shige? You like me too?”
All it takes is one nod, and he’s enveloped in a hug so tight that it feels as though he's trying to squash him.
But then again, Shige thinks as he tentatively returns the embrace, this isn’t so bad either.
There’s something magical about the way it feels as they take their first steps into their new relationship. They start off slowly, finding the transition from friends to lovers a little strange. Koyama falls into it more naturally than Shige, who has gotten used to restraining himself and hiding his feelings by now, but it doesn’t take long for Koyama to change this.
He starts with gentle brushes of the hand and little butterfly kisses. For the first week, they don’t actually kiss on the lips, Koyama taking it slowly for Shige’s benefit. He lets him get used to the closeness of his face, the feeling of his warm breath on his cheek, the sound of Koyama murmuring against his hair.
It starts to overwhelm Shige, and one day as they’re sprawled on his bed, curled up together, he can’t stand it anymore.
“Koyama.” Shige says, soft and embarrassed. “Kiss me.”
“Shige.” It’s amazing how much emotion that one tiny word and the tiny smile on his mouth convey. It feels natural, and Shige is glad they waited because the thrill that goes through him when Koyama’s lips brush against his, simple and soft, is all he’d hoped it would be.
The “I love you” slips from his mouth without him even meaning for it to, and at first he’s terrified that it was too early to say it. But the look of adoration he receives and the whispered echo of his words are enough to convince him otherwise.
He loses track of how many times they kiss that night, as though they’re making up for all the chances they hadn’t taken. Koyama stays over, and they fall asleep under the bed covers, still wearing their clothes.
Shige is woken by another kiss the following morning, and if this is what being in love feels like, he wishes they’d confessed sooner.
Shige isn’t sure what it is that makes him feel the way he does about Koyama; if it’s the way he smiles, the way they’ve been together for so long, or the way he makes Shige’s heart pound. He’s not sure if it’s all of Koyama’s shortcomings that Shige can’t help but love, or the way he makes him feel so alive. Perhaps it’s the way Koyama looks so beautiful whenever he tells Shige how he makes him feel, or the fleeting touches of hands and lips.
Whatever it is, there’s definitely something there which leaves Shige doubtless that he’ll love Koyama forever.