It started out innocent. It still was - really! It just...It just so happened that some hormones and the tendency to overthink came to interrupt what was once thought to be innocent and pure, and now Kyohei was losing his mind over it. It was innocent. It was innocent. He wasn't Ranmaru, he had control.
He had control, even as Sunako sidled into his personal space.
He had control, even as she mutely tapped on his wrist.
He had control, even as he turned his hand up for her to take.
He had no control over his racing heart.
"The doctors say it's going to take another week before she's discharged." Sunako whispered quietly, as if raising her voice a decibel higher would prove that she was croaking. Kyohei lightly squeezed her hand to comfort her. "She'll make it. She always does."
"She's getting older," the blackette bemoaned, bumping her head against the bone of Kyohei's shoulder. Ranmaru still hadn't arrived from his date (with Tamao, mind you), Takenaga still had to pick Noi up from the airport, and Yuki was working the night shift. Kyohei swallowed all his off-tangent thoughts and tugged at Sunako's hand. "She's getting older, and she refuses to acknowledge that."
"It's biting her back in the ass where she needs to feel it," he shrugged. "Maybe after this is over, you could talk to her about retirement homes for the lavishly lived." Sunako bit back a small chuckle, playfully tugging at their intertwined hands. "She's not that old, you oaf."
Sunako's aunt had been hospitalized for what may have been the fourth time over the past five years. The first time it had happened, Sunako had just finished her job interview; this latest incident had Sunako rushing out of a meeting because her aunt's liver collapsed on her. "Obaa-chan, I keep telling you to lay off the wine already, please," the blackette sobbed softly as soon as her aunt opened her eyes. "You know I'll drop everything for you, so when you feel lonely, at least call me."
"I would, but I'm afraid Kyohei's taken your time nowadays." She coughed back, a little amused, a little downtrodden at the revelation. She'd never had time for Sunako back then, always throwing the four boys into that pit of a mansion with her so she never got lonely, so she certainly didn't deserve Sunako's time now. That was how she ended up drinking herself to near-death, alone, guilty, and now in the hospital.
It started out when Sunako was fresh out of a job interview.
She was scared, she was reverting back to her doom-and-gloom mushroom self, and the boys wouldn't have it. News about her aunt being hospitalized and the fact that she wasn't allowed to enter the room yet had done a good number on Sunako. Yuki had taken it upon himself to initiate the hug. He'd embraced Sunako, now his height, if not a little shorter, bringing a soothing hand to slowly brush her obsidian hair, an action they all knew was meant to help her relax. Ranmaru had jokingly suggested giving her a whole new reason to rile her up, to make her more excitable than anxious, and the entendre wasn't lost on them. It relaxed Sunako when she punched him "jokingly". He ended up giving her a foot massage, though, under Takenaga's strict supervision. Speaking of, the raven-haired man was more comfortable with speaking with Sunako, so she had an outlet for all the stress that was accumulating. Sunako engaged him all too happily, because she needed a distraction, and Takenaga conversing about his self and Noi was what she was most grateful for. As for Kyohei, Kyohei just took her hand in his, his palm atop her knuckles, and gave it a light squeeze. Sunako had stopped mid-sentence to look him in the eye (and not fight a nosebleed for what seemed like the nth time in a row), her own violet irises trailing down to where his hand laid. Suddenly the room fell into a reverent kind of silence, and then Sunako turned her hand upwards, her palm meeting Kyohei's, her fingers slotting through the spaces between his own. She gave a light squeeze of her own, as if to thank the golden-haired man, before returning to seemingly nonchalant conversation with Takenaga. Aside from Yuki's inbred habit of smiling hopefully (and now suggestively, Christ, he really should stop reading those dumb Nicholas Sparks novels just because he worked for the embassy), nobody had reacted to their intertwined hands, and Kyohei had been relieved. Sure, he hadn't been certain if holding Sunako's hand was the best idea, but he'd squeezed Takenaga's shoulders before nervously asking Noi to live with him, so this couldn't have been too different, right? And besides, Ranmaru and Yuki were both holding her; he was just another piece of skin atop Sunako's.
It continued, progressed even, to a one-armed hug when Aunty was hospitalized during Hallow's Eve. Sunako had been preparing the mansion for a small (however small a huge house could make it) gathering with the old gang, even asking Sebastian a month in advance to book that day so her aunt couldn't decline; the butler very eagerly obliged. Yuki and Machiko were on their way to the mansion when Sunako had received a call from her aunt's husband, saying they had to drop out at the last minute because there had been an emergency. Ranmaru made a smart move to grab the house phone and put it on speaker at the same time Sunako's uncle-in-law had said that it was a urinary tract infection, and while it was mild and treated immediately, his wife had been advised to stay overnight at the hospital. Before the black-haired woman (woman! Obaa-chan would have been proud if she was here) could collapse on her feet, Kyohei shot an arm towards her and curled it around her shoulders, bringing her to his chest instinctively.
Maybe Kyohei was hearing things, but he was sure he had heard Sunako's heart shatter into pieces.
And then he wasn't hearing things anymore, because Sunako was certainly sobbing against his heart, her pain permeating past his skin and ribs and constricting his lungs. Maybe twelve years ago, Noi and Yuki would bring out ridiculous Valentine's-themed poppers to parade around them, because, wow, they all knew Kyohei had a thing for Sunako and yadda yadda, but they were twenty-seven, and Sunako was choking up these miserable sounds from her heaving lungs, and there was nothing excitable about this.
Tamao offered to take them to the hospital, and nobody but Kyohei seemed to pick up on the fact that Kyohei was to come with Sunako, and that was that. Noi, be it her stubborn need to prove that Sunako and Kyohei were a thing or her inherent tendency to keep things tidy, volunteered to stay back and deal with the food and decorations. Takenaga was already on the phone with Machiko, relaying the earlier news. Nobody had also seemed to question how, after he had released Sunako from the one-armed hug, she had one arm clinging to his shirt - not his skin, his shirt - and his arm around her shoulders. This was how he'd often seen Yuki and Machiko poised together whenever they went on casual dates - this was how people in love looked like, and it was uncomfortable, because neither one of them were in love with the other. Maybe Kyohei was overthinking things, or maybe it was because of the gravity of the situation, but their skin on skin contact hadn't raised eyebrows, as if it were natural.
On the third incident, he had kissed Sunako.
Obaa-chan had gotten alcohol poisoning, drinking because she had a fight with her husband, because she missed Sunako, because she was sorry but her pride refused to make her apologize, because she knew this was self-destructive, but she let it happen anyway. Sunako had learned to cork up her tears, and it was her uncle who was crying beside her, coughing up unheard apologies and pleading for his wife to come back while his niece stood in the back, animatedly speaking with the doctor. Noi and Takenaga were the only ones present that time, because Ranmaru had to settle the marriage issue with Tamao's family once and for all; and Yuki had joined a conference in Europe; Machiko was attending a relative's funeral; and Kyohei was trying to deal with his emotions.
But before he did, he had kissed Sunako.
"I still don't like carrots," he had frowned at her, picking at the orange bits of the mocha-colored cake in front of him as they sat outside the cafe that Sunako worked part-time for. "And I know you know that."
"Which is why I ordered it," Sunako rolled her round, onyx eyes at him. "You said you've been needing night lights at your apartment lately, and I've been there before; it's not that dark." Kyohei retained his frown. "Carrots don't light up in the dark." He flinched out of the way when his companion swung threateningly at him in mock frustration. "They help with your eyesight, you dumbass; did you really graduate college?"
"I did; you all saw it - we have pictures!"
"Could have been photoshopped," Sunako snorted into her tea latte. She put down the mug and smiled tenderly at the blond before her. "I'm glad I caught you before your break ended. I still haven't thanked you for watching over me back then." Kyohei shrugged, embarrassed and a little red, because he'd never been thanked before, much more so by the woman who he used to antagonize and be antagonized by in return back then. It was all a little new. "You're not bleeding and fainting anymore." He had replied instead.
"I'm not," she nodded smugly. "There's a faint tickling in my nose from time to time, but I think it's learned how precious my own blood is." Kyohei cocked his head to the side. "You grew out of that because you didn't want to waste blood?" He summarized, an eyebrow raised. "Not because you got used to us?"
"It helps when I repeatedly say that you're ugly and Hiroshi should've been the one worth bleeding over."
Almost a decade and a half later and Kyohei still wished he hadn't saved that stupid doll.
Sunako laughed at the scrunch in his face. "Relax a little; you'll make headlines with a wrinkle on your forehead." The blond man immediately eased the tension between his eyebrows, finally managing to fork up a piece that didn't contain any of the carrot bits. He continued to pick and eat in silence as Sunako skimmed through her emails, breath suddenly hitching when she saw the hospital itself contact her. "Oh, crap," Kyohei interrupted, looking at his watch, "my meeting is in fifteen minutes; I gotta le-"
Sunako was frozen, eyes wide and moving side to side at alarming speed, and when Kyohei got the gist of it, he swallowed thickly, wondering what he should do to comfort Sunako while they were both held back by adult obligations. The blond cleared his throat, already hating himself for it, but he'd seen how Tamao had calmed Ranmaru when she had done it - albeit she could've kissed a crying newborn and it could've shut up, too, because Tamao had that incomparable calming effect - so he thought maybe he could, too. Sunako barely had time to look at his approaching figure as Kyohei leaned in to plant soft lips atop her silk bangs, one hand cradling the back of her head and the other clutching his satchel.
The tickle in her nose was turning into a reminiscent itching.
Kyohei pulled back, his lips ghosting on her hair still, "I have to go to work," he whispered, staring down at the whorl in Sunako's obsidian hair. "Be strong for obaa-chan. For yourself." When he felt Sunako nod slowly against his touch, he finally fully pulled back, lightly grazing his fingers over her nape for added comfort, and turned on his heel, sprinting towards his conveniently near office building. He prayed his tan skin could make his red face look like a result of running around, and not because he had just done that.
Kyohei stared at their intertwined hands. He and Sunako were the only ones left in the waiting room apart from Sebastian and a few other patients; the other three men, along with their respective significant others, had paid their visit, and the women needed to be taken home. The blond glanced at his watch, where it ticked back at him an agonizing 3:07 AM. "Hey, Nakahara, we have to go."
"I don't want to." She replied curtly, forehead still poised against his shoulder. She had retreated to the dark, an old comfort of hers since high school. He would know; they'd all seen her stubbornly keep at it. "I'm staying here. You can go."
"You can't sleep here, you know," he whispered, trying to get the blackette to look at him. "Go get yourself a room at the hotel nearby." He suggested. Sunako murmured something with warm breath against his skin, and Kyohei had to hold back a groan as he felt the goosebumps ride around his arms. "What?"
"I said stay with me," she muttered somehow begrudgingly, as if she was regretting her own idea. "I'll book a room, but you have to stay with me. I don't want to be alone right now."
"What would high school Nakahara have thought about this?" Kyohei smirked lightly, ignoring the rising tension and temperature between them (He'd seen Sebastian eyeing them for a good minute before letting them be). "High school Nakahara would probably have socked us both," Sunako graced him with a small, crooked smile, and they stood up together, bid their farewells to Sebastian (Sunako asking him to contact her as soon as her aunt so much as bats an eyelash), and headed to the hotel nearby the hospital.
They'd settled with a queen-size, because Kyohei was still a cheap ass, and Sunako didn't want more attention on them if they argued about it in the lobby. Besides, she thought to herself, they'd done this before, sometimes with the other three, sometimes under Aunty's crazy schemes, while they were even underaged, and they were both adults now. As they lay on opposite ends of the mattress, Sunako knew she could trust Kyohei not to do anything, if the deep, clearly exhausted snore from his end was anything to go by.
But Sunako wasn't sleepy. She was anxious. She was jittery. When Kyohei rolled over, his face barren to her, Sunako couldn't help but reach out her hand, only barely stopping herself when she realized the blond had ceased his steamboat snoring. "I know you're awake." She said, squinting at him in the dark of the room. She was going to stay at the hotel for as long as she needed to, but Kyohei could leave if Sunako felt strong enough to be on her own again. When the man said nothing, his mouth still hanging lose against the sheets of the pillow, Sunako blinked in confusion. "That usually works." Eyeing him again, studying the silver-gold threads in his hairline, the soft bushes of his eyebrows, the near-silvery arcs of his lashes, the curves of his lips (and the whites of his teeth), Sunako unconsciously brought up a hand to touch him, trailing light pads of her fingers against his cheekbones and jaw, wondering how they still retained their shape after the numerous times she'd hit them in their younger years.
She felt herself calm down. She felt more at peace.
"I know you're awake." She tried again.
Kyohei lazily smiled at her. "Then why did you touch me?"
"Because bright creatures are warm," she whispered, fingers still rested atop his jawline, "and you've always been bright to me." Kyohei sighed against her touch, but didn't move any more than that. Sunako was probably just exploring the planes of his face the way she did to Josephine and John anyway, probably as a distraction, or as a way to lull herself to sleep, or both. "My aunty is warm, too," she continued, still whispering, "even when we were apart. She used to be the only warmth I would stick to, the only source of brightness I allowed to poke through in the dark."
"Then would you consider the four of us as the light that burned ten years off your life?"
"I'm getting to that," Sunako muttered, false irritation coloring her words. Kyohei, with his bright amber eyes closed, laughed airily, inhaling the invasive scent of his companion's shampoo as they curved into each other; Sunako, closer to the base of his throat, Kyohei, lips ghosting above the whorl of her hair. "But you four have become the kind of warmth that I'm constantly thriving for, that I'd freeze without. Even Noi and Tamao brighten up my days." Kyohei hummed. "So what's the lesson of this story, Nakahara?"
"A little sunlight is good?" She replied, a hint of laughter hiding behind the tone of her voice. "That you're not so bad after a few beatings?" And then small, puerile giggling ensued between them. Sunako crept her hands up to grab each side of the blond man's head, pulling it, pulling him, closer to her. "Thank you for this." She said, closing her eyes, finally reaching the point of tranquility that took her to slumber. Her hold on Kyohei slacked, and her breathing evened. Kyohei may have thought about all the dramas he'd seen Noi cry over, and wondered if he was in one now, because if he'd moved a little closer, he could tap his nose against Sunako's, he could feel her lips on his, he could entangle his light lashes against her obsidian ones.
He could touch her without fear.
And touch her he did.
Kyohei wordlessly lifted a curious hand and ran it down the cascade of Sunako's now shoulder-length hair, reveling in its smoothness. She may have been asleep, but in his hands, under his touch, Sunako felt so alive. He looked to her closed eyes, examining how each starburst of eyelash shone against the reflective light of the moon, how the healthy strands of her hair did the same. He eased the recent knot of worry between her defined eyebrows with a gentle thumb, rewarded with a relieved sigh from the woman splayed beside him. He studied her nose and cheeks, saw how her maturity as a woman and acceptance to go soak more sun had given her some impossibly irremovable natural blush around that area. Maybe she had freckles, too, but in the poor lighting of the room, Kyohei would have to look for them another time. For now, he'd have to settle with how the sun had kissed her skin more than he, the human sun, had. Her lips had looked untouched, too, maybe except for the short list of the few humans and inanimate objects she'd pressed them against. Kyohei heaved a deep sigh as the sky behind him ease into an indigo color.
Pulling Sunako closer, the blond man finally joined her in sleep. "You've always been warm, Nakahara."