Floccinaucinihilipilification – estimation that something is worthless (Akafuri)
Seijūrō made it clear to Kōki from the beginning that it was a game to him, nothing more (he was never the type to want to hurt someone). Every time he mentioned it, Kōki would merely smile slightly and nod, saying that he knew it all. And, somehow, Seijūrō found himself coming back again and again, even if he knew any kind of relationship was worthless and impossible and couldn't change anything even if he wanted it to change.
But then there were some moments when the lines were blurring a little and he didn't have to think and force himself to show gentle affection. When Kōki shivered if they were out it became second nature to take off his own jacket and drape it over his shoulders (sometimes keeping his hands on Kōki's arms just a little bit longer than necessary – to make sure it wouldn't fall off, he told himself), and when he kissed Kōki it wasn't just as a way of manipulation. Kōki's head on his shoulder if he ever fell asleep on the sofa was something that he enjoyed, even if his hair would tickle Seijūrō's neck and the fact that Kōki wouldn't wake up even if the world was ending meant that he would have to carry him up to bed.
The lines were becoming too blurred, and that night, whilst Kōki chattered as Seijūrō made dinner, he said, as casually as he could manage, "You know this is a game for me, right? Relationships are pointless."
Kōki smiled. "I know, Sei. Do you want some help with that?" He got up from his seat.
"I just wanted to make sure. My father's going on at me about arranged marriages."
Kōki looked at him thoughtfully before batting him out of the way so he could access the saucepan. "There's nothing that says we can't still be friends, right? Who knows, maybe I'll even get on with your wife." He laughed and shot an amused look at Seijūrō over his shoulder, who was raising an eyebrow sardonically. "Okay, maybe not quite. Here, taste this."
Seijūrō couldn't quite shake off the feeling that Kōki hadn't fulfilled what he'd hoped, though what he hoped evaded him. So he stayed back slightly (Kōki was a better chef anyway) and watched him bustle about the kitchen.
Kōki's apartment felt strangely like home in a way the Akashi manor never had, and he had to remind himself that this was only a game, he was only playing against Kōki in this pitiful 'relationship' and had only to win before he could leave and forget. If only he could figure out what and where the finish line was and how he could reach it first.
"So who are the options, then? Daughters of your father's business partners?"
"Not necessarily. Anyone of a good social standing will do."
Kōki put two plates on the table and sat down. "So you have a good chance of marrying for love if that's the only qualification."
Seijūrō was surprised at how bleak his laugh sounded. "Haven't I taught you anything, Kōki? Love doesn't exist."
Kōki gave a small, seemingly all-knowing smile and bowed his head. "Of course, Seijūrō." And this, again, left Seijūrō with a sort of longing that he couldn't quite place.
He accepted, maybe all too easily, when Kōki asked him to stay the night (the ease of which ought to have persuaded him to leave). But there was something so comforting in feeling Kōki so near to him and always tugging him closer to kiss him and leave marks on his skin which would last longer in his mind than their visible effects. And he found he didn't want to leave afterwards as Kōki's fingers played along his spine and the languid silence settled over them.
"You know what…" Seijūrō pulled back and propped himself up on his elbow. "This is just a game for me." But it felt more now like he was trying to convince himself.
Kōki sighed and brushed his fingers along Seijūrō's cheek and down his neck before cupping it. "Maybe for you." But the softened way he said it… Seijūrō knew he didn't believe it. He let Kōki draw him back into another kiss.
And as counter-intuitive as Seijūrō found it, maybe it wasn't a petty game anymore.