Seven Kisses
Disclaimer: Not mine.
The first kiss was simply an accident. Isumi tripped, Waya caught him and their chapped lips touched briefly, just long enough for them to both be embarrassed. Time didn't stop, the world didn't tilt sideways, heaven, hell, and Earth didn't twist into one. All that happened was that they turned from one another and their eyes didn't catch for the rest of the day.
The second time belonged to Waya. He found Isumi propped up against a vending machine, hair dancing in draft like flower petals wafting in a breeze, thumb and index finger holding the top of a can. Waya swiped the drink from Isumi's lazy hold and tossed back the last few drops. But when Isumi protested Waya rolled to the balls of his feet and kissed Isumi, sweet and sticky and wet. "Nothing to complain about, ne, Isumi-san?" And Isumi said nothing.
Waya also claimed the third kiss as his own. It was after pro exams when he found Isumi sitting alone, dejected, fingers curled tight around the table, knuckles edged in red, jaw pulled tight, chords in his neck angry red and jutting out. "Isumi-san." Waya crouched before him, rested hands, gentle hands calloused from snapping down go stones, upon Isumi's and peeked through Isumi's bangs as a parent would when a child played peek-a-boo with spread-eagle fingers. "I'm sorry. Please don't hate me. Please." Begging, pleading. Waya surged forward, kissed the soft slope of Isumi's forehead, the gradual curve of his nose, soft plane of his cheek, and finally his lips, a quick, staccato movement.
But Isumi just stood and walked to the door as Waya's neck bent, head coming to rest upon the seat of the chair. "Congratulations," Isumi said the word, hating that it tasted bitter. Waya's response tumbled on his tongue, bounced off his teeth and the roof of his mouth before he tried to respond to Isumi, but Isumi had already left.
The fourth kiss was Isumi. He had been grinning crazily at Waya the entire time they discussed Isumi's trip to China and munched hamburgers, but eventually Waya chucked a balled-up napkin at Isumi and demanded that either Isumi explain the devious smile or get throttled. So Isumi leaned in close, twisted a chunk of Waya's hair in his fingers and jerked Waya to him, their kiss bubbly like their sodas. "I'm just happy to see you. I missed you." Waya just nailed him with another napkin.
The fifth kiss was again Waya. Isumi's first match in the pro exams brought him to Waya's door, a quivering bundle of nerves. So Waya sat him down and began to talk. "You know Isumi-san, it used to be, a long time ago, that when a soldier went off to fight his girl would kiss him. And supposedly - are you listening Isumi-san? - her kiss was supposed to protect him from harm and bring him good luck. I think it's kinda silly, but some people still believe a kiss can bring good luck."
"And?" Isumi twitched, shifted, squirmed, tugged at his sleeve. Waya crawled forward, pushed him down and smacked their lips together, damp and warm as a summer rain.
When Waya rocked back to his crouch he said one thing before Isumi left, "And I'm wishing you good luck."
The sixth kiss was shared mutually. Once again Waya opened his door to find an energetic ball of Isumi. But this time Isumi grabbed Waya's hands and quickly, hurriedly, spun him about the apartment before they tripped over the go board and crumpled to the ground, laughing. "I passed Waya, I passed the pro exams!" They rolled about on the floor, a flurry of kisses and 'congratulations' before they stopped, heaving and breathless and swelled with happiness.
"Move in with me, Isumi-san."
"Waya, what-?"
"Yeah, let's find a bigger apartment once you start making money." Isumi sighed, knowing this was one game he could never win. He wasn't sure he wanted to.
"Please. Isumi-san?" And what could he do but laugh and nod?