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I miss (…)

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Kamakari didn't ask right away. He avoided it, preferring to let the curiosity eat away at him because he knew that questions were dangerous sometimes. Especially with people like Yonehara Kousuke: he knew that in their world, the truth was something to be measured out carefully in half-doses. Too much of it could ruin anything if someone wasn't careful enough and that was something that Yonehara had never really learned in all the years that they'd known each other. This was the kind of question that Kamakari wasn't sure he wanted answered with Yonehara's level of honesty and so it turned to something that lived on the tip of his tongue, to be swallowed back down whenever he got too close to voicing it.

Their proximity wasn't helping. Seeing Yonehara on a daily basis threw the question to the forefront of his mind every single time and even if he decided that he wasn't asking about it, that didn't always stop from speculating himself. He wasn't sure if that was better or worse than whatever answer Yonehara had for him but Kamakari wasn't about to find out any time soon anyway. It didn't matter. Guessing at something uncomfortable was still worlds better than knowing it for sure. That was enough.

For months, it stayed that way. He didn't ask, not after shows, not at dinners, not in the fleeting moments that came and went where they would share the same breath and the same warmth before continuing onwards as they always did. He didn't ask and eventually, it was something that he learned to ignore even when it sat at the back of his mind.

So when he did ask, just voicing the question itself felt a little disappointing and anticlimactic.

They were at Yonehara's place, their conversation in a lull, and Kamakari was looking at his phone. It was the app icon that brought it to mind, and he was too unprepared for it to push it back down. Instead, he looked up, to where Yonehara had draped himself across his side of the couch like some sort of cat.

"Hey, you know… that interview we did," he began, and Yonehara looked up, raising an eyebrow.

"Ah, yes, that interview," he said with a sage nod, so facetious that it made Kamakari snort with amusement and want to punch Yonehara at the same time.

There was no changing the subject now, Kamakari knew. He could deflect all that he wanted but Yonehara would catch on somehow and he'd hound Kamakari until he managed to pull the truth out. Kamakari took a breath, wondering if he should brace himself for the conversation that was going to come as he said, "You know. That interview where you said we were like Rom and Shuuzo."

Yonehara looked at him, still waiting for the rest of the question. Kamakari definitely wanted to punch him.

"What did you mean by it?" he asked at last, a little disappointed in himself but mostly too curious to care.

Of all things, Yonehara laughed in reply.

"Wow. You've been thinking about that since I said it, haven't you?" he asked, running a hand through his hair, making it stick up in all directions and making Kamakari want to fix it. "You asked them not to include that bit and they still did. Have you really been waiting to ask all this time? Was it bothering you that much?"

"I changed my mind," Kamakari lied. "I don't want to know. Ever. I'm going."

He even made motions to gather his things, and Yonehara sat up in his seat, his expression going shuttered. No, Kamakari corrected himself as he looked closer. There was a faraway look in Yonehara's eyes, like he was actually thinking about his answer and considering where to go with it.

"It's because Rom and Shuuzo have history," Yonehara said at last. "So do we."

"Is that it?" Kamakari asked, and immediately hated the fact that he asked. That was the problem with asking Yonehara questions: it wasn't just that he was honest about his answers, he made other people more honest too.

They both knew that this wasn't where the similarities ended. Kamakari knew that well enough from all the time he spent thinking about the answers Yonehara could give.

"It's just," Kamakari began, "Rom is…"

He didn't know which word he wanted to use. Bitter? Angry? Too honest, just like you.

Yonehara must have taken pity on him because he drew a breath and said, "I think I'm like Rom. I miss what we used to have, but I know we can't have it again. And maybe sometimes it feels like I'm the only one who misses it. I felt like I was just left there to do my own thing after Cocoa ended, and you disappeared out my life."

"I did not," Kamakari replied, putting his things back down where they were and turning to face Yonehara directly. "I miss Cocoa too."

Yonehara shrugged, a wordless, not as much as I do, but Kamakari didn't know if he could even argue with that. He thought of all the times Yonehara would end up on youtube in the early hours of the morning, listening to their old songs, watching their old videos. It wasn't something he could imagine himself doing, and maybe that was enough of a difference for Yonehara.

"I miss…" Yonehara gestured between them with a self-deprecating laugh, looking away and shaking his head.

"What part of it?" Kamakari didn't know how to stop asking questions now.

Yonehara laughed again. "All of it. Don't get me wrong. I'm not asking for anything. I don't want you to feel like you have to do anything."

Closing the distance between them on the couch, Kamakari leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Yonehara's lips.

Yonehara's hands were on his shoulders in an instant, but not to push him back, the way Kamakari was half-expecting. They didn't pull him closer either, but hovered for a second as if Yonehara couldn't decide what he wanted to do. Finally, Yonehara hit him in the shoulder with a fist and this time, his laugh sounded a little broken.

"I just said—"

"I'm not doing this because I have to," Kamakari told him, and kissed him again, gentler this time in case Yonehara really did want to pull away.

Instead, Yonehara held on, fingers digging into Kamakari's shoulders and pulling him in. He was too honest like this too, too giving of his affection, and it was far too easy to give him affection in return. Every single kiss Yonehara gave Kamakari in front of an audience felt exactly the same as the ones he initiated when no one was looking. Maybe they weren't quite as deep when they weren't alone together, but it didn't change the fact that every single one of them felt wholehearted. Kamakari found that he was feeling wistful too, missing a time where he could get carried away with Yonehara and call it fan service in the end, as if that cancelled the meaning out of everything. Without that, they were stuck with the truth that they were kissing because they wanted to, because they wanted each other specifically and Kamakari didn't know what to do with that fact except to keep kissing Yonehara more because at least when they were kissing, they weren't thinking.

"Kenta," Yonehara muttered against his lips, pulling back. Kamakari could see the tension in his shoulders, like all he wanted to do was lean in again. Kamakari wanted to enable him, the way he did so often whether he meant to or not, but there was something in Yonehara's eyes that held him back.

"Listen," Kamakari told him, brushing his thumb across Yonehara's lower lip before pulling away. "If you're like Rom, then I'm like Shuuzo and I don't know how much attention you were paying to the story, but with everything between them… it doesn't just go one way. You've figured that out, haven't you? Maybe it's not as obvious, but it's still there. Rom just wears his heart of his sleeve all the time. Of course it's going to be more obvious for him."

Yonehara considered him for a moment, then reached out to tap Kamakari's forehead. "There's more to you than that ikemen face, huh?"

"I'd say the same for you," Kamakari replied, "but I'm not even sure about the ikemen face, to be entirely honest with you."

That made Yonehara laugh, genuine and amused. Kamakari found himself relaxing by instinct, leaning in again, glad when Yonehara allowed it, tilting his face so that their lips met.

"I guess this is one thing we're both good at," Yonehara murmured, between kisses.

That and falling for their friends between kisses without wanting to admit it, but Kamakari didn't know what to do about that. He didn't think Yonehara did either and maybe it didn't really matter, when they at least understood each other like this.