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The year was 1847, and Ryo had never been kissed.
It wasn't something he advertised, of course. At 17 years old, working as a clerk in the busy offices of London's finest publishing house, he maintained a carefully constructed image of composure. But the truth ate at him in quiet moments, especially when he watched others at work.
There was Enola from the typing station who'd been kissed at least a dozen times, if the way she giggled about her lover. There was Mr. Birling from accounting who kissed his wife every morning before work a sweet, innocent gesture that made Ryo's chest ache with something he couldn't quite name.
Even the even younger clerks seemed to know what it felt like swapping stories about stolen kisses and romantic encounters.
Ryo, with his ginger hair and small frame had never experienced any of it. He'd been too focused on his work, too shy, too... something. And now at an age where it felt almost embarrassing to admit he found himself utterly curious about what it would be like. What it would feel like to have someone's lips on his, to experience that moment of connection that seemed so unimaginable for everyone else.
The funny part was that the one person who made him feel anything close to that curiosity was absolutely infuriating.
Sakuya was a baker's son, which was somehow worse than if he'd been nobility or a gentleman. There was something about his casual confidence, the way he moved through the world like he belonged everywhere that made Ryo want to scream. He was tall where Ryo was small, blonde where Ryo was ginger, and his dark eyes seemed to see right through Ryo's carefully built walls.
They'd first met at the market three years ago when Ryo had been sent to purchase bread for the office. Sakuya had been behind the counter at his father's bakery, and he'd looked at Ryo with such casual dismissal that Ryo had felt his entire body burn with annoyance.
"We're out of the fancy loaves," Sakuya had said not even bothering to look up from the bread he was arranging. "You'll have to take the regular ones."
"I asked for the fancy loaves specifically," Ryo had snapped his voice sharp enough to cut glass.
Sakuya had finally looked at him then, and there was amusement dancing in those stupid eyes. "Then you'll be disappointed, won't you?"
From that moment on they'd been rivals. Ryo made a point of going to different bakeries specifically to avoid Sakuya. When they ran into each other at social gatherings, they traded looks like weapons. Ryo told himself he hated the baker's son, hated his arrogance, hated the way everyone seemed to fall over themselves to be near him.
But that was a lie and Ryo knew it.
The truth was far more complicated and far more humiliating.
The truth was that Ryo noticed everything about Sakuya. The way his blonde hair caught the light. The way his hands moved when he was talking, confident and expressive. The way his eyes would crinkle at the corners when he smiled. The truth was that Ryo's heart did something strange and silly every time he saw him and it had nothing to do with hatred and everything to do with a feeling Ryo didn't want to name.
So of course, when their school announced that it would be putting on a performance of "A Midsummer Night's Dream," Ryo had been thrilled. It was a chance to do something creative, something new. He'd auditioned for a small role just a few lines, nothing too demanding.
He'd gotten the part of some irrelevant character.
The problem was that the lead actress, Miss Catherine had fallen ill with a terrible cold just three days before the performance. The director Mr. Holmes had been in a state of panic. The show was in three days. There was no time to recast. There was no time to find an understudy who knew all the lines.
And then Mr. Holmes had remembered that Ryo had memorized the entire script. All the parts, not just his own small role.
"Ryo," Mr. Holmes had said cornering him after rehearsal. "I have an offer for you, and I won't blame you if you refuse. But Catherine is ill and we're in desperate need. Would you be willing to take on the role of Hermia? The lead?"
Ryo's first instinct had been to refuse. He was a man for one thing and playing a woman's role felt strange and uncomfortable. But then he'd thought about it. He'd thought about the challenge, about the opportunity to do something new. And he'd said yes.
What he hadn't considered was that the male lead, the role of Puck, had already been cast.
It was Sakuya.
Ryo had found out during the first rehearsal with the full cast and he'd nearly walked out on the spot.
"You've got to be joking," Ryo had hissed at Mr. Homes pulling him aside. "Anyone but him. Please."
"I'm sorry, Ryo," Mr. Holmes had said looking genuinely apologetic. "But Sakuya's been rehearsing for weeks. He knows his part perfectly. And honestly, you two have wonderful chemistry. Your scenes together are electric."
"That's because we hate each other," Ryo had snapped.
"Precisely," Mr. Holes had said, with the kind of knowing smile that made Ryo want to strangle him. "It translates beautifully on stage."
So here Ryo was, three days before the performance about to rehearse a scene that involved him and Sakuya alone. A scene that in the play ended with a kiss. A stage kiss, technically but still a kiss and Ryo had never done one before.
He'd mentioned it to Mr. Holmes in passing hoping the director would simply choreograph something simple, something that didn't require actual lip contact.
"You two should practice," Mr. Holmes had said casually. "Get comfortable with it. The audience needs to believe it's real, even if it's staged. Go backstage, work through it together. I trust you both to be professional."
Here Ryo was standing backstage in the dimly lit area behind the curtains waiting for Sakuya to arrive. They'd agreed to meet an hour before the evening rehearsal to work through the kiss scene. Just the two of them alone practicing something that made Ryo's entire body feel like it was on fire.
He was so lost in his anxious thoughts that he nearly jumped out of his skin when Sakuya appeared stepping through the backstage door with his casual confidence.
"So," Sakuya said, looking around the empty space. "We're practicing kissing now?"
"It's for the play," Ryo said quickly, his face already burning. "Mr. Holmes said we should get comfortable with it."
"Right," Sakuya said, and there was something in his voice that made Ryo look up. Sakuya was studying him with an intensity that was new something that made Ryo's breath catch. "Have you ever done a stage kiss before?"
"No," Ryo admitted, hating how small his voice sounded.
"Have you ever kissed anyone?" Sakuya asked and his tone was almost gentle, which was somehow worse than if he'd been mocking.
Ryo felt his face get even hotter. "That's not relevant."
"It is, actually," Sakuya said, and he took a step closer. "Because if you haven't, then I need to make sure I do this right. I don't want to hurt you or make you uncomfortable."
Something about the way he said it, with such genuine concern made Ryo flush violently. "I'm fine," Ryo said, but his voice wavered slightly. "I'm a professional. I can handle a simple stage kiss."
"It's not going to be simple," Sakuya said, and now he was close enough that Ryo could smell him that warm, yeasty scent that always seemed to cling to him from the bakery. "The audience needs to believe it's real. Which means we need to make it real."
"What are you suggesting?" Ryo asked, trying to keep his voice steady even as his heart hammered in his chest.
"I'm suggesting," Sakuya said slowly, "that we practice. Properly. So that when we do it on stage, it looks natural and feels right."
Ryo should have said no. He should have walked away, should have told Sakuya that this was a terrible idea, that they could figure it out during the actual performance. But he didn't. Instead, he heard himself say, "Okay."
Sakuya gestured toward the old velvet couch that sat backstage used by actors waiting for their scenes. "Come on then."
They walked over to the couch, and Ryo sat down hyperaware of every movement and every breath. Sakuya sat next to him, and the proximity made Ryo's entire body tense.
"Relax," Sakuya said softly. "You're bouncing up like a spring."
"I'm not," Ryo lied.
"You are," Sakuya said, and he reached over and gently took Ryo's small hand. "Here. Look at me."
Ryo looked at him, and immediately regretted it. Sakuya's eyes were so close, so intense and there was something in them that made Ryo's breath come faster.
"We're going to take this slow," Sakuya said, his voice low and gentle. "I'm going to kiss you and you're just going to let yourself feel it. No thinking, no worrying. Just... feel it. Okay?"
"Okay," Ryo whispered.
Sakuya leaned in slowly, giving Ryo time to pull away if he wanted to. But Ryo didn't pull away. He stayed perfectly still watching as Sakuya's face got closer and closer until his eyes automatically closed.
The first kiss was soft almost tentative. Sakuya's lips were warm and gentle against Ryo's and it was nothing like what Ryo had imagined. It was better. It was terrifying and wonderful and made Ryo's entire world seem to narrow down to just this moment, just this feeling.
When Sakuya pulled back Ryo's eyes fluttered open, and he was breathing harder than he should have been.
"Okay?" Sakuya asked softly.
"Yeah," Ryo managed. "That was... that was nice."
"Good," Sakuya said, and there was a smile playing at his lips. "Now, for the stage we need to make it look more passionate. More like we can't help ourselves. Are you ready to try again?"
Ryo nodded, not trusting his voice.
This time, when Sakuya leaned in it wasn't slow. It was more confiden. His hand came up to cup Ryo's cheek tilting his face slightly and then Sakuya was kissing him properly his lips moving against Ryo's with a gentle pressure that made Ryo's head spin.
Ryo found himself responding instinctively, his lips moving against Sakuya's and then Sakuya's other hand was on his waist pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, becoming less about practice and more about something else entirely, something that made Ryo's entire body feel alive in a way he'd never experienced before.
When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing hard.
"That," Sakuya said, his voice slightly rough, "was better."
"Yeah," Ryo agreed, his entire face flushed. "That was... yeah."
They practiced again. And again. Each time the kisses got longer, deeper, more intense. Sakuya's hands seemed to know exactly where to touch him, how to hold him, how to make Ryo feel safe and cherished even as the kisses became increasingly passionate.
At one point Ryo found himself practically in Sakuya's lap, their kisses becoming messy and desperate. Sakuya's mouth moved from Ryo's lips to his jaw then to his neck and Ryo gasped at the sensation, his hands gripping Sakuya's shirt.
"Sakuya," Ryo breathed, and he wasn't even sure what he was asking for.
"I know," Sakuya murmured against Ryo's skin. "I know."
He kissed Ryo again and this time it was different. This time it felt like Sakuya was trying to tell him something. It was somethiny that went beyond stage practice and into territory that felt dangerously real.
Sakuyas hands gripped Ryo bare waist roughly moving up and down trying to memorise how it felt under his big hands. Ryo practically moves to straddle Sakuyas lap. His slender thighs come on both sides squeezing him.
Their tongues dance with eachother bout interlinking. Sakuya continuously licks inside every conrner of Ryos bratty mouth. His misbehaving hands wander gripping Ryos hips planting him right on top of something Ryo dreamnt about. And Ryo could feel it. They stopped before it could escalate.
When they finally pulled apart both of them were flushed and disheveled and Ryo was very aware of the fact that this had stopped being about the play several kisses ago.
"That should be good for the performance," Sakuya said but his voice was unsteady, and his dark eyes were dark for entirely different reasons now.
"Yeah," Ryo said quietly. "That should be... fine."
They sat there for a moment, not moving, not speaking just breathing. And then Sakuya did something unexpected. He reached over and gently tucked a strand of ginger hair behind Ryo's ear his touch tender and careful.
"I didn't hate you," Sakuya said softly. "All this time. I didn't hate you at all."
Ryo's heart seemed to stop. "What?"
"The market," Sakuya said. "When you came in looking for fancy bread, and you were so angry with me. I thought you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. And I was so nervous that I was rude to you. And then you kept hating me, and I thought... I thought maybe if you hated me, at least you were thinking about me."
Ryo stared at him unable to process what he was hearing. "You're lying."
"I'm not," Sakuya said. "I've been in love with you for three years, Ryo. I've been waiting for you to notice me, to see me as something other than the arrogant baker's son. And now you're here and you're so beautiful and I get to kiss you and it's everything I've ever wanted."
"Sakuya," Ryo said, his voice shaking. "This is... we can't..."
"I know," Sakuya said, and he looked away, his jaw clenching. "I know this is complicated. I know you probably don't feel the same way but I had to tell you I couldn't keep pretending."
Ryo should have said something. Should have told Sakuya that this was a mistake that they were rivals that this changed nothing. But instead he found himself reaching out and taking Sakuya's hand.
"I don't hate you either," Ryo said quietly. "I never did. I just... I didn't know how to feel about you and it was easier to be angry than to admit that."
Sakuya turned back to him his dark eyes hopeful. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying," Ryo said slowly, "that I want to try this. Not just the kissing practice. All of it. You and me. I want to try."
Sakuya's face broke into a smile so bright it seemed to light up the entire backstage area. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," Ryo said, and then Sakuya was kissing him again and this time it felt like a promise.