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It was one of those days.
No matter how hard Kaoru tried, he couldn't arrange his kimono in a way that sufficiently hid his curves. It wasn't the kimono's fault, really—Kaoru was hyper aware of how the fabric clung to his skin in all the wrong places, the usually breathable material turning suffocating at every glimpse of his body in whatever reflective surface he came across.
He kept finding traces of femininity—the wrong kind, the uncomfortable kind, the undeliberate kind—in his face, his limbs, his demeanor, his hair, flashing like neon signs. His voice felt off when he discussed matters with clients, even though it sounded exactly the same as the day before. Soon his smile and his posture faltered, and he had to resist curling in on himself, wrapping his arms around his bound chest and squeezing, as if somehow that would make it shrink.
The drop that made the bucket spill was finally, finally returning home from work and finding Kojiro lounging on the couch, chest bare, the soft, warm light of the living room caressing the scars lining his pecs.
Kaoru felt his muscles tense, felt his stomach churn in rage and envy.
"Welcome ba–"
"For God’s sake , would you please put on a fucking t-shirt for once." His voice was a knife, a whip, swinging wildly at anything in range.
Kojiro's smile fell, and hurt flashed across his face.
"God, fuck –" Kaoru plucked off his glasses and dragged a hand down his face. "Shit, I didn't mean that, I'm sorry."
His lungs crumpled in on themselves, his binder making it even harder to breathe. He knew why Kojiro walked around shirtless all the time. If it were him, he'd be doing exactly the same. He took pride in his chest now—as he should, really. But here Kaoru was, raining on his parade, as usual.
A hand touched his elbow, and Kaoru's hand fell from his face. Kojiro stood in front of him, face pained yet so gentle, brushing a lock of long hair out of Kaoru's eyes.
"That kind of day, huh?" he said softly.
Kaoru could only hum, and he let his head tumble forward until his brow rested against Kojiro's collarbone. Right away Kojiro’s hands came up to rub soothingly up and down his arms.
Sometimes Kaoru hated how kind and understanding Kojiro was. Sometimes he wanted him to lash out, to match Kaoru’s venom with his own barbs, to put Kaoru in his place when he slipped or went too far.
But he never did.
"C'mere," Kojiro murmured, hands settling on Kaoru's waist and pulling him in. A flash of lightning struck Kaoru’s heart, and he stepped out of Kojiro's embrace before it could close around him.
"No, please– not now," he forced out. One more wrongly placed touch and he would start tearing off his skin with his nails.
Kojiro's eyes lost some of their shine, but he nodded in understanding. He knew the feeling, had been the only one to know that feeling alongside Kaoru as they figured themselves out as teenagers and found their bodies didn’t reflect what they harbored within.
"Why don't you change into something more comfortable," he suggested, his fingers coming up to tenderly trace down Kaoru’s cheeks, face soft with sympathy. "I could give you a massage if you want? Just your neck and shoulders, promise."
Tension seeped out of said neck and shoulders as Kaoru deflated. "Yeah, alright."
"Alright," Kojiro echoed, pressing a kiss on Kaoru's forehead, then another on his jaw, tickling his way down Kaoru’s neck with his lips until Kaoru squeezed out a laugh.
Kaoru disappeared into their bedroom and ripped his kimono off as if it burned him. It took him several minutes to wriggle out of his binder, with sore muscles limiting his mobility and his hair getting tangled and stuck. He pulled on a pair of Kojiro's sweatpants and snagged the largest out of Kojiro's hoodies he could find, keeping it pressed against his bare chest as he padded back into the living room, where Kojiro sat on the couch with his legs spread, armed with massaging oil.
Kaoru sank down between Kojiro's thighs, gathering his hair with one hand and guiding it away from his back. He heard Kojiro warm the oil between his hands, and then his palms cupped Kaoru's shoulders to spread it.
Despite the snakes writhing underneath his skin all day, Kaoru almost moaned at the feeling of Kojiro's hands on him, kneading his muscles like dough, working out all the built-up tension. He rubbed circles between his shoulder blades, untangled the knots in his neck, trailed his practiced fingers down Kaoru's spine, careful not to put too much force on his ribs or stray to his sides.
Once in a while, Kojiro paused to brush his lips against Kaoru's shoulder, his throat, one of his vertebrae, dropping seeds of his love into Kaoru's skin in the hopes that they would sprout and become one with Kaoru's body.
"Just a few more months, love," Kojiro whispered against the nape of Kaoru’s neck. "Then it's your turn."
Kaoru sighed. "I know."
He curled a strand of hair around his fingers, his other hand still holding the hoodie to his chest. "I'm just so tired of waiting. Tired of feeling like everything about me is wrong . I just want to feel like my body is my own, like it belongs."
Kojiro gave him a sympathetic hum. "Nothing about you is wrong, sweetheart, but I get what you mean. It'll get better."
"I know," Kaoru repeated. “I’ve been so busy lately—I suppose it’s been wearing me down.”
Kojiro left him a kiss on the soft skin behind his ear, rubbing his hands over Kaoru's upper arms. Kaoru glanced over his shoulder and found Kojiro's gaze.
"Thank you."
It was for more than just the massage and the reassurance, but Kaoru didn’t need to say that for Kojiro to know.
"Anytime," Kojiro smiled, pecking Kaoru on the lips. "I can't wait to take care of you after your surgery like you did for me. I can't wait to see your chest match with mine."
He paused with an excited gasp. "Maybe we can get matching tattoos for them."
Kaoru considered teasing him, but to his own surprise he found himself liking the idea.
"That sounds nice. Another way to mark the milestones in our journey together."
"That's what I thought!" Kojiro nuzzled Kaoru's neck. “Maybe you can mock up some designs sometime. To keep yourself occupied. I haven’t seen you use your sketchbook in a while.”
“I have been missing my leisurely sketching, yes,” Kaoru smiled as Kojiro combed his fingers through Kaoru’s hair and divided it into sections. A moment later Kaoru felt the tell-tale tug of his hair being braided on his scalp.
“You know where to find me if you need a model,” Kojiro teased.
Kaoru rolled his eyes. “Such a thirsty gorilla.”
Kojiro retaliated by blowing a raspberry on Kaoru’s shoulder blade, startling a squeal out of him that dissolved into laughter.