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Forty-five is slower
When it spins on our recorder
And before they all come over
They don’t know where we come from
Where we come from
My oh my
— Bootstraps, Forty five
🍵
It’s way too early for this.
It always is, Kojiro thinks, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he toes his shoes off in the foyer and slides on the slippers the Sakurayashiki family have embroidered with his name. They’ve been doing it ever since Kaoru dragged Kojiro to the house and asked if he could have a pair like Kaoru’s own, all too happy to adopt the one friend Kaoru spent all his time with if it meant he kept smiling.
Kojiro’s feet are sore from basketball practice, so the plush slippers are incredibly welcome as he wanders through the bowels of Kaoru’s house and calls out.
“Mah, Kaoru!”
He knows his way around this place with his eyes shut; has spent enough afternoons in Kaoru’s bedroom to walk in and figure it’s safe enough to see the bathroom door ajar and push it open.
“Kaoru, you better be close to ready or we’re going to be late—”
“Wait, Kojiro, don’t—!”
Too late.
The first thing Kojiro sees is Kaoru’s red face, the second his hand hovering over his ribs. His bandaged ribs.
“Holy shit, are you okay?” Kojiro says, frantic as he scans Kaoru’s body.
They didn’t even go skating last night, why the hell does he have bandages on? Kojiro fell asleep after dropping his phone on his face because he stayed up as late as possible texting Kaoru.
“Did you fall?”
Kaoru remains a furious shade of pink. “No! Get out, Kojiro.”
“But—”
“Out!” Kaoru just about shrieks, and then he slams the door right in Kojiro’s face.
Well. Good fucking morning, then.
🍵
“Kaoru,” Kojiro pleads.
It’s third period and Kaoru has barely said a word to him all day. And sure, he let Kojiro sit next to him as usual, and they skated to school together, as usual, but still. Kaoru is always doing something in class; he’ll pass notes to Kojiro written in those fruity gel pens of his and loopy writing with heart-dotted i’s, or let Kojiro put tiny braids in his hair, or snicker under his breath at something their sensei is doing.
He is never like this: stonewalling, quiet, untouchable.
Kojiro leans in a little closer. “Talk to me? I’m sorry.”
Kaoru’s lip twitches, but finally he looks at Kojiro properly. Thank god. Kojiro was about to get on his knees for his best friend, in the middle of class.
“I’m sorry I walked in on you,” Kojiro whispers. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
Kaoru wrinkles his nose, and for a moment Kojiro thinks that’s all he’s going to get, but then Kaoru sighs and brings out one of his notepads.
it’s fine
Written in pink glitter with the ‘i’ dotted with a heart. Kojiro stares at it and tries not to cry.
He can’t get the sight of Kaoru’s whole chest bandaged up, can’t think of it for too long without his lungs feeling tight and his eyes beginning to sting. “What happened? Are you hurt? Did you fall?”
Kaoru’s cheeks colour the same way they did this morning, and normally this would be the time where Kojiro’s brain goes off on a tangent about Kaoru’s beauty, but his throat is closing up and he just wants to fix this.
no, Kaoru writes, tell u later
So it’s going to be like that then.
🍵
He has to wait until lunch for Kaoru to actually speak about it. They’re at their usual spot, and Kojiro keeps forgetting to eat because of how pretty Kaoru looks, dappled in sunlight. He’s currently twirling a cherry red lollipop on his tongue. Kojiro is going a little bit crazy.
“I’m not hurt,” Kaoru says, licking his lips.
Kojiro drags his eyes away. “Huh?”
Kaoru keeps sucking on the lollipop for a prolonged moment. Kojiro wants it in his mouth.
“The bandages. You keep thinking I’m hurt. I’m not.”
Oh, right. The reason they’re here in the first place, in this uneasy truce, because Kojiro had to be stupid and walk in on his best friend. It could have been worse. Kaoru could have been jerking off or something, and then Kojiro really would have died because even if he totally would not have minded, he knows Kaoru would have cut him off immediately and never taken him back. That’s not on Kojiro’s agenda, ever. He doesn’t know who he would be without Kaoru.
“Then what are they for?” Kojiro says carefully.
“Um.” Kaoru needs to stop giving so much attention to that lollipop, Jesus. “Binding. Like, you bind your chest.”
Why? Kojiro thinks, and wisely keeps his mouth shut.
“To make it flat.”
Kojiro looks at Kaoru’s torso. Honestly, he had noticed Kaoru’s chest beginning to swell, but that was the end of it. It wasn’t something he had thought extensively about. Kaoru was just Kaoru, with his long pink hair and piercings and chipped black nail polish. Even him asking Kojiro to use different pronouns hadn’t been a big deal, and they had been eleven then.
“Ah,” Kojiro says, very cleverly. “Well. Sorry, then. For making you uncomfortable.” He plucks at the grass next to his thigh. “Y’know, I don’t fully understand that stuff but I never want you to feel like—I mean, you’re not embarrassing. Nothing about you is.” He sinks his teeth into his cheek to keep from talking because he is not good at that in general, and he is botching this up. “I just—it isn’t something to be ashamed of, if it helps you.” And then, because Kaoru is staring at him and Kojiro has no sense of self preservation, “I think you’re beautiful.”
“Koji…”
Kojiro shrugs, gauche and unsure. His shirt feels too big for him. “Sorry. Just sucked seeing you like that this morning, that’s all. I never want you to feel like that. Especially around me.”
Kaoru chews on his bottom lip. It’s entirely distracting. Then he leans over, into Kojiro’s space, and kisses his cheek.
“Thank you,” he says.
Kojiro can feel how red his face is getting, has to blink furiously at the grass and remember to pull air into his lungs so he can croak, “No problem.”
🍵
Kojiro goes home that night after skating with Kaoru, determined. Armed with a mission.
The pronouns thing, he understood. When Kaoru said, “I think I like ‘him’,” and then elaborated with, “like, if you said ‘him’ when you talk to people about me,” Kojiro nodded and agreed. He slipped up a couple of times at the beginning, especially around people they didn’t know, but it’s been years now. He’s a professional.
But the binding is a new concept. Honestly he hadn’t even heard of it until lunchtime.
So he disappears into his room after kissing his mother hello and nearly inhaling his dinner and opens Tiktok.
There are countless videos of people trying on their first ever binders. If he’s honest, the binders just look like bigger sports bras, but the difference is huge. Kojiro scrolls through a few of the videos, each watch leaving him feeling cracked open and soft like the yolk of an egg. He doesn’t need to question the reasoning behind wanting a binder after seeing these. There is so much joy.
He gets a bit lost in the page, and then comes across one where someone’s boyfriend gifts them a binder. That makes him put down his phone.
The cherry blossoms of his case stare up at him. Kaoru bought it for him when he gave Kojiro the phone last year, apparently sick to death of seeing Kojiro lug around his ‘prehistoric’ old phone. It was a good call, honestly; Kojiro’s screen was cracked into oblivion and it always died after morning tea so Kojiro would have it hooked up to a battery pack lifeline the entire day.
Kojiro thumbs at the case, smiling at the memory of Kaoru proudly pushing the wrapped box into his hand. It had been so thoughtful, and one of the many things Kaoru had gifted him over the years. He’s always buying things for Kojiro.
I want to do that, he thinks, flipping his phone over to see his background: the two of them at the abandoned car park. I want to buy you things too.
The first tiktok he saw of that person trying their binder flits through his mind, their face when they saw their chest flat, the way they cried.
Kojiro stares at Kaoru’s face, smiling up at him. I want you to be that happy. I want to make you that happy.
He pulls up Google.
🍵
The movie they’re watching is… not good. It’s horror, because Kaoru loves that shit, but so far all Kojiro has seen is a badly CGIed wolf and enough blood spraying across the screen to make him regret eating dinner beforehand.
Kaoru seems to be enjoying it though, which is enough for Kojiro to lie back and endure it. There aren’t many things he won’t do with Kaoru.
Kaoru, who he knows is still wearing bandages. Now that Kojiro is aware of Kaoru’s binding, he’s started keeping count of the hours. After the bathroom fiasco, and Kojiro’s subsequent Google dive into binders and binding tape and measurements and even a parenting blog about raising trans kids, it seemed like the right thing to do.
And right now it’s ticking over into hour ten.
So Kojiro waits for the dramatic scene of the werewolf massacring the village to fade into the main character getting his shoulder stitched up, and then touches Kaoru’s hand. “Hey. I got you something.”
See, Kojiro might not be as smart as Kaoru, but he’s definitely not stupid. And letting Kaoru know he’s tracking the hours he binds is probably a surefire way to head straight back into ‘Kaoru not speaking to him territory’. So he’s choosing a different, safer route.
Kaoru pauses the movie. “Huh?”
“I got you something,” Kojiro repeats, leaning over the bedside to rummage through his bag.
Kaoru eyes the bottle Kojiro holds out with confusion. Kojiro bought it at the konbini near Kaoru’s house after school while frantically keeping an eye out to ensure Kaoru remained busy mulling over the dorayaki display.
“What’s this?”
“Almond oil. For, y’know, your bandages.” Kojiro pushes it into his hands. “Helps with removing them.” And he almost says ‘apparently’, almost ruins it with one word.
“Oh.”
The triumph in Kojiro goes to war with his desire to see Kaoru taking said bandages off, and as always, his love for Kaoru wins. This isn’t something he feels like lording over Kaoru anyway. He wants to help. “Anyway, you should try it out.”
Kaoru is still blinking at him. “Right.” It’s just almond oil.
“Now?” Kojiro hedges. “If it doesn’t work, I can go get something else from the konbini.”
Kaoru’s fingers are white where they grip the bottle. “N-no. That’s—don’t bother.” A beat, and then he’s unfolding himself from the bed. “I’ll go try it.”
He disappears into the bathroom.
Kojiro lets go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Honestly that went way better than he thought it would. Kaoru can be really sensitive, and Kojiro hates it when he accidentally oversteps. He doesn’t want to hurt Kaoru, ever.
Time ticks by, Kojiro folding the fabric of his pant leg over itself as he does his best to keep from descending into an overthinking mess. Maybe he could have asked to help Kaoru, but then again, that would probably be crossing a boundary. Kaoru hasn’t let Kojiro see him in anything less than a baggy t-shirt for a long time.
In the end, Kaoru exits the bathroom before Kojiro can make his mind up. He’s wearing one of Kojiro’s hoodies that Kojiro thought he’d lost, hair tied up in a bun and cheeks pink from the shower.
“Did it work?”
Kaoru pushes at his knees until Kojiro moves over to make room for him, even though Kaoru already has more than half the bed. He smells like sandalwood as he burrows underneath the blanket Kojiro gives him, and Kojiro feels his heart flip over as Kaoru plasters himself against Kojiro’s side.
“Yeah.” He scrubs his nose with the blanket, a shy gesture. “Thanks.”
Happiness blooms in Kojiro’s chest. He presses his cheek to Kaoru’s hair. “Any time.”
🍵
And so, the routine blends in seamlessly with their life; Kojiro tracking hours and getting Kaoru more almond oil just before his current bottle runs out, and Kaoru buying him games and drawing glittery suns on Kojiro’s skin and the two of them skating and laughing and swearing at cars and falling—Kaoru onto bitumen, Kojiro in love. It’s not a new thing, the burgeoning joy in Kojiro’s ribcage whenever he’s around Kaoru, but something is different. Kaoru is softer with him these days, quietly affectionate in a way he hasn’t been in years.
They still bicker, because that’s them, and Kaoru still seeks out Kojiro’s presence like a flower does to the sun, and Kojiro still demands hugs from him at every opportunity, but there are other moments too. Like when Kaoru spends two hours patiently walking Kojiro through his homework even though he finished his hours before. And when he slips his hand into Kojiro’s when they’re leaving the arcade, and then keeps doing it.
And then one afternoon when Kaoru turns to him while they eat mochi next to the sea and says, “thank you, Koji. For everything.”
Kojiro doesn’t know how to reply to that, mochi sticking to the roof of his mouth. He doesn’t know how to say, I would do so much for you, doesn’t know how to soften it from this giant insurmountable mass into something manageable enough that Kaoru won’t be scared away. Kojiro gets scared by it sometimes.
“I’ve got you,” he manages to say. “I’ve always got you.”
And then Kaoru twines their fingers together again and squeezes, and Kojiro wonders if it’s possible to die from how quickly his heart is thudding.
“You’re always doing things for me.”
“So are you,” Kojiro protests.
“Yeah, but,” Kaoru says, trailing off. His eyes are golden in the setting sun. “It’s… hard, being like this. Like me.” Kojiro wants to protest that too, but Kaoru adds, “Just. Thanks. For supporting me. I know you don’t get all of it, so. It means a lot.”
Kojiro can’t help himself, has to cough as his eyes burn. “Anything you need. I just want to make you happy.”
Kaoru smiles at him, watery around the edges himself. “Idiot,” he says.
Kojiro laughs. “Love you too.”
🍵
Winter begins to thaw, the days becoming warmer in anticipation of Spring until finally Kaoru’s birthday rolls around. It’s one of Kojiro’s favourite days, because he always stays over the night before so they can wake up together, and then Kaoru will insist on cake for breakfast. He’ll get it, because the Sakurayashiki household is nothing if not accommodating.
Except it’s almost five in the morning and Kojiro has been awake for the last half hour, wondering if Kaoru will murder him if he wakes him up. The present he got for Kaoru is burning a hole in Kojiro’s bag and it’s all he’s thought about since it arrived in the mail two days ago.
He’s gonna kill me, he thinks, but eventually his desire for Kaoru to open the present wins out over his fear of being murdered.
He rolls over and taps the lump under the blanket that is his best friend.
“Kaoru.”
A moan of protest.
“Oi, Kaoru. Wake up.”
Kaoru grumbles louder when Kojiro continues to poke him, slapping blindly at the bedding until his palm connects with Kojiro’s shoulder. “Why are you waking me up on my birthday, Koji?”
Kojiro ignores him. Kaoru would stay in bed until the afternoon if he had it his way. “Wake up. I got you something.”
Kaoru grumbles even more, predictably. “You keep buying me things. Thought that was my specialty.”
Kojiro wants to say, of course it is, everything you do is special, but it’s still too much. “Wake up.”
Kaoru groans dramatically, pulling the blankets back over his head. “Leave me alone.”
Kojiro tugs them down, nuzzling at Kaoru’s nose until Kaoru makes a face and pushes him back.
“Okay, okay, I’m up.” One baleful eye looks up at Kojiro, the other hidden by Kaoru’s fringe. Kojiro’s breath catches. Even in the morning like this, still sleepy around the edges, he’s beautiful. “How are you even human?”
Kojiro pinches his cheek. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“And that’s my problem how?”
“Shut up.”
A yawn. “What’s so special that you couldn’t wait until morning to give it to me?”
“It is morning,” Kojiro points out.
Kaoru jabs a finger into Kojiro’s chest. “The sun isn’t even up.”
Kojiro forgoes devolving into a squabble about the semantics of what constitutes morning by pushing the box into Kaoru’s hands. “Here.”
He wrapped it yesterday, with his mother’s help. She asked what it was and he gave a very vague answer about it being something for Kaoru to wear, thankful that she did not press. Looking at the gift in Kaoru’s hands, Kojiro wonders if he should have picked different wrapping paper. Maybe the green is too ‘him’ and not enough Kaoru.
“What is this?” Kaoru says, pawing at the wrapping paper until it tears. The plain brown cardboard underneath it makes him even more curious. “What is this?”
“Just open it,” Kojiro pleads, heartbeat in his ears.
“Fine.”
Kaoru pushes his hair behind his ear before working on the box’s sealing tape, Kojiro’s anxiety creeping steadily higher as he watches. The packaging is nondescript, no return address or labels of what it could possibly be, so Kojiro has to wait for Kaoru to open the box fully and dig through the tissue paper until he eventually pulls out the pink fabric.
“What…” Kaoru says, looking to Kojiro for information before frowning as he unfolds it and lays it out on the mattress.
A beat.
And then another.
And another, and then a silence that stretches on and on like taffy. Kojiro bites on the inside of his cheek, watching Kaoru’s face, wanting to cry himself when he sees Kaoru’s eyes well up as he pets over the fabric of the binder.
“Is… is it okay?” Kojiro asks tentatively.
Kaoru nods quickly, then lifts his head to look at him, and oh, no, Kojiro can’t help but join in when Kaoru’s tears drip down his cheeks.
“It’s…” Kaoru doesn’t finish the sentence as he folds the binder to his chest and holds it against his heart.
“Do you like it?”
“What do you think?” Kaoru half-sobs, half-laughs then, and Kojiro thumbs away the next round of tears. “You really…” and then he doesn’t say anything, just winds his arms around Kojiro’s neck as tight as they’ll go.
No amount of watching those Tiktoks could ever compare to the emotional landslide in Kojiro right now, could ever prepare him for the happinessjoylove engulfing him as he hugs Kaoru back, digs his nose into Kaoru’s neck.
“Love you a lot,” he says, shaky but so sure of it that he doesn’t bother trying to keep it in.
Kaoru just sobs harder.
Kojiro rubs his back and hums in Kaoru’s ear, then eases himself out of the hug. “Try it on.”
“Yeah,” Kaoru huffs, face blotchy with tears. “Yeah I will.” He sniffles. “Thank you.”
“It’s okay,” Kojiro says, squeezing his hips and delighting in the small intake of breath Kaoru makes at the gesture, golden eyes wide and curious. “I’m really happy you like it.”
“I love it,” Kaoru corrects, because he always has to be right.
“Try it on.” Kojiro squeezes Kaoru’s hips again for good measure, then lets his hands linger at the hem of Kaoru’s pyjama shirt. Kaoru lets him, blinking slowly as Kojiro gently pulls at the hem until Kaoru’s face turns pink.
“Turn around.”
It’s… entirely the wrong thing to say for Kojiro’s overactive imagination and lovesick heart, but he does as he’s asked, spinning around to face the neon pink wall lights above Kaoru’s PC set up. Shadows dance across the wall as Kaoru pulls his shirt over his head, the rustle of fabric against skin loud in Kojiro’s ears, and then the bed moves when Kaoru climbs off it.
Silence descends again, Kojiro’s pulse thudding in his throat.
“You okay?” he asks, turning his head slightly.
A strangled, high pitched sound comes from the other side of the room. It sounds positive, Kojiro thinks.
“Kaoru?”
“Yeah,” Kaoru says this time, voice thick. “I’m… I’m good.”
“Okay. Do you—can I see?”
Kaoru comes back over to him instead of replying, hands pulling at Kojiro’s shoulders until he looks up. “S’good,” Kaoru says. “It’s really good.”
Kojiro blinks, trying to take it all in, the pink against Kaoru’s skin, the way he keeps biting his lip to suppress his smile, the way his eyes are glittering and his whole being looks like a supernova.
“You look happy,” he says softly. “Are you happy?”
“M’happy,” Kaoru says, “I’m really happy,” and then he laughs and crawls into Kojiro’s lap and Kojiro forgets to think about anything else.
🍵
It really is too early for maths class, Kojiro thinks as he stares at the chalkboard and tries to make sense of what their sensei showed them. Kaoru is blitzing through his work, as always, pen flying across the page while Kojiro struggles to understand basic algebra. They stayed up far too late last night skating, and sleep is threatening at the edges of Kojiro’s mind despite the clock reading half-past-nine.
The Spring sunlight bounces off the suns Kaoru drew on Kojiro’s hand in the first period, glitter dancing on Kaoru’s skin. He’s wearing eyeliner today, courtesy of Kojiro’s shaky coordination, but it was worth it for the way Kaoru looked while they ran to school holding hands.
“Mah, Kojiro,” Kaoru drawls as Kojiro works his way through the first exercise in his book.
“What?”
No answer.
Kojiro clicks his tongue in annoyance, then looks up to see Kaoru running a finger over his mouth, down his throat to the open neckline of his shirt that is definitely against school uniform policy.
Mouth dry, Kojiro can only watch as Kaoru pushes his hand into his shirt and draws it down just enough for Kojiro to see the pink strap of his binder.
Oh.
And if that isn’t bad enough, now that Kaoru knows he has Kojiro’s attention, he leans back in his chair, the same hand that was on his throat now sweeping up his side until it catches the hem of his untucked shirt and drags it up up up. The cut of his hipbone could ruin Kojiro.
Kojiro can barely tear his eyes from the softness of his stomach to see another flash of Kaoru’s binder, face heating as he snaps his gaze back to his booklet. Out the corner of his eye he can see Kaoru laughing.
And.
Well.
That’s all Kojiro wants, really; his best friend happy, because of him.
Good morning to him, indeed.