it's always ourselves we find in the sea.
After Hikaru learns to drive, he takes Yabu to the beach.
It takes them a while because they get lost along the way and, drunk on open air and 80s pop playing on the radio, circle round roads till they finally end up by the ocean, the sun already a red fruit hanging low over the horizon.
Hikaru buys ice-cream cones from a seaside vendor, the old lady smiling warmly at the two of them as he hands one over to Yabu, “It’s nice to have two fine young men as my last customers for the day, ne” and Hikaru grins back at her, slips an arm over Yabu’s shoulders and thanks her.
They sit on the beach after that, legs spread out on the sand, knees pressed together. They talk about frivolous things, about sand sticking to their jeans or the shape of clouds, vanilla ice-cream dripping warm and sticky down their hands, and at one point Hikaru laughs because Yabu starts laughing at a seagull of all things, but for a moment it just seems so hilarious, so perfect that they double over wheezing and clutching at each other till they almost cry.
Later they wash their hands in the sea, wiping the saltwater on their jeans before they walk down the shore, holding their slippers while their feet splash in the shallows. They don’t talk, don’t touch each other, not till Yabu reaches for Hikaru’s hand, catches it gently with his own before he says, “It’s getting dark, Hika.”
“Is it?” Hikaru pauses, watches the sky turn indigo, returns Yabu’s touch with a light squeeze. “I hadn’t noticed, huh.”
“You don’t notice a lot of things,” Yabu says absentmindedly, a little buzzed by the feel of Hikaru’s hand in his own. The younger boy smiles wanly.
“Sometimes, huh,” he says, before he tugs a little at Yabu, tells him “Just till the end and back” and they hold hands as they walk along, perhaps but not really searching for something they were trying to find, if they just knew what it was.
By the time they get back it’s late, the stars blinking silently above them as Hikaru pulls up next to Yabu’s house. They hadn’t had dinner yet, so Yabu invites Hikaru in for coffee and whatever he can find in the kitchen, though the other boy declines, citing leftovers at home and work the next day.
“You can treat me tomorrow though,” he jokes through the car window, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Breakfast at the ramen vending machine.”
Yabu laughs - a brief, sweet noise - before leaning down to kiss him. Both of them taste about the same, vanilla ice-cream and sea breeze lingering on their tongues, the sharp tang of longing at the back of their mouths. Hikaru reaches out to cup Yabu’s cheek, tilt him a little closer, and Yabu sighs, kisses him soft and shy.
They pull apart before the neighbors can start spying, tasting of each other now. Hikaru licks his lips, declares, “Best dinner ever!” and Yabu laughs again, eyes nearly disappearing in his mirth.
“Thanks, Hika,” he says, reaches in again to brush Hikaru’s hair out of his eyes. “I -” A beat. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah.”
Hikaru smiles at him, forehead tingling from Yabu’s touch. “See you, Kou.”
They don’t say anything else, no matter how much they want to. There is a moment of silence as Yabu turns around to walk into his house, and Hikaru restarts the car. Hikaru waits until Yabu’s opened his door, and Yabu waits for Hikaru to wave and drive off before he closes it behind him.
afterthought: the person who translates the song for me, you have my eternal love. or, if you prefer, a fic, because that is about all my raging adoration can offer.