Archive of Our Own

Homesickness was something most take for granted, in Madara's opinion. A place that someone longs to go back to; whether that be a place, or even a person they've been away from for too long, and crave to return to.

But now, halfway across the world from Japan, watching from his plane's window as the sun began to withdraw, Madara couldn't have wished more for a want to return somewhere.

Essentially, he would be considered by many to be living the dream- traveling the world, performing, making people smile. And of course, he loved making people happy. If there was one thing he knew, putting a smile on someone's face was the most gratifying feeling in the world. And of course interacting with so many different types of people from so many different backgrounds was a rewarding experience he wouldn't give up for the world. Even now, lacking the funding to travel as much as he used to, every experience never failed to disappoint and excite him.

But it got tiring. Truly tiring.

On some days, Madara would imagine a world where he would excitedly return to Japan, greeted at the airport with open arms by a loving family, wrapping him into a warm embrace, exclaiming how much they had missed him. His mother kissing him on the cheek fighting tears of happiness and his father patting him on the back reassuringly. His sister jumping up and down excitedly, explaining how a new ice cream store had just opened up across the street from where they lived and they should all visit together as a family, since now her big brother was finally back.

A world where he would reply in earnest happiness, gleefully accepting her request, and how the ice creams would be on him.

But unfortunately, a fantasy can only exist for so long.

He knew the harsh reality.

Madara vaguely remembers a memory of when he was much younger, around the age of seven. He'd found his mother sitting at their home's kitchen bar, studying over some documents. She seemed to have only gotten home some time ago, still dressed in formal business attire. And he'd stumbled up to her, tugging on the hem of her shirt curiously. She'd swatted his hand off of her, eyes glued to her paper until Madara had naively asked if she could take him to the Spring festival which he'd read about in a magazine. His mother had simply sighed, reached for her wallet, pulled out a few notes and haphazardly dropped it into his small hands, murmuring how she didn't have time for his antics and how he was old enough to go alone.

Madara did end up going alone, but it hurt to see every other kid with a parent holding their hand, smiling happily and having a good time.

But that particular festival though, changed the course of his entire life.

He'd spoken to various street vendors, learning about the cuisines they specialised in, enjoying free samples and handouts as the fireworks flourished in the night sky. Madara had appreciated how one vendor, had even allowed him behind the counter to try garnishing his own Takoyaki. The high spirits of everyone left his younger self utterly immersed and drunk in euphoria. And it was at that moment, as he stood amongst a large crowd, standing on his tiptoes, barely tall enough to see the residue of the sparks, he had been lifted onto the shoulders of a complete stranger- which he then looked down to see was the Takoyaki stall owner. And he could see everything, all of a sudden; the joy on people's faces, the ephemeral fireworks bursting into hues of light, the lanterns which lit up the streets behind the crowd.

It was entrancing.

That was probably the moment Madara realised how he wanted to share a moment like this with everyone he knew and loved. To share this emotion with the world. And if he couldn't show them a festival, he would try his best to replicate that feeling.

Which is why only two months later, he'd managed to pull the only person he could think of, Kanata, out of his room, secretly around the guards patrolling the halls of his house, and to the next festival he'd been looking out for through the papers. Kanata had lazily rubbed at his eyes, dressed in a thin light blue Yukata, specially designed for sleep. He hadn't questioned where they were going, but had simply allowed Madara to continue his rambles of how incredible this particular festival was, and how Kanata just had to see it. Naturally, Kanata had been hunted down extremely quickly and brought back home, but witnessing the gleam of joy and purity that Madara had never seen in Kanata's eyes before, was worth every beating he had received from his father.

It was only weeks later, had he found out about Idols. And three months later he had been cut off from Kanata's life almost completely.

So realistically, knowing all of these things about his past, he didn't expect a fantasy like that to ever come true. He supposed that kind of life just wasn't meant for him, he wasn't allowed to be loved enough in that way.

Which is why Madara was so slow to get off of the plane, he'd sluggishly dragged his baggage out to the car park, ready to flag down a taxi. There was really nothing to look forward to, back in Japan. It was like the silence of a home after returning from a party.

Maybe it was his head clouded by jet lag and lack of sleep, or maybe Madara just didn't notice his name being called the first time. Or the second time. Or the third time. But, what did catch his attention was the rough tug of his jacket hood, forcefully pulling Madara back and successfully getting a yelp out of him. Quickly, he turned to the source of the action.

Apparently, Kohaku had been there the entire time, leant against the wall of the exit.

"... Kohaku-san?!" Truthfully, Madara couldn't conjure up a single reason as to why Kohaku would be hanging around an airport for some reason. He looked utterly unfazed, eyebrows furrowed a little if anything.

"What are you doing at the airport? Do you have work abroad now?" Kohaku's face scrunched up, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth in disapproval.

"Is your skull that thick? Of course I came here to welcome you back."

"...Um," Madara choked, " That's nice of you. But really, why are you here? Has Double Face been called for something?" Kohaku's eyes squinted, observing Madara's features.

"...No? Not that I know of. Also you look and sound like shit." Kohaku stared at Madara expectantly, so Madara tried his best to conjure up a happier tone.

"Ahahaha, there's the Kohaku-san I know~!" Wincing at the strain in his voice, Madara continued, "But there's no need to lie to Mama." Kohaku sighed, pushing himself off of the wall, and landing his head to bury into Madara's chest, enveloping him into a hug, leaving Madara stunned.

"You idiot. I don't need a reason to come and see you," Madara quickly returned the hug after being stunned momentarily, wrapping his arms around Kohaku's waist. Slowly, Kohaku moved his head to rest on Madara's shoulder, head buried into his neck inhaling his cologne and nuzzling against his skin slowly, enough for Madara's heart to practically melt on the spot. "Mnn… I missed this." He breathed, "Missed you. Welcome home."

All of a sudden, it was like the fog in his mind and the pounding jet lag disappeared.

Home.

It was like Kohaku hadn't even realised what he'd said to Madara. Home.

Logically, he'd probably meant Japan. But Madara was a sentimental guy, so just this once, he gave into the hope that Kohaku was talking about himself.

Pulling Kohaku closer, Madara allowed himself to bury his face into Kohaku's hair, reveling in how soft and well taken care of it was.

A home with Kohaku, didn't actually sound too bad.

—

Maybe it was those words they'd exchanged that day at the airport, mixed with the thoughts he'd drowned in on the plane, that made Madara realise he'd never actually taken Kohaku to a festival before. Surely, that would have been at the top of his priorities list for a date location; but it had truly never crossed Madara's mind, for some ungodly reason.

Which is why, after Kohaku had announced that their one year of dating anniversary was quickly approaching, Madara had taken it as the perfect opportunity to drag the both of them to spend the weekend at a luxurious Ryokan close to where Madara grew up. And although Kohaku argued about how the price was way too expensive and probably a waste of Double Face's funds, he eventually gave in. Madara had ominously asked Kohaku to bring a Yukata, and while Madara had thought he had dressed to impress, he saw Kohaku.

The pale pink material wrapped comfortably around Kohaku's body, with small floral patterns decorating it , his haori a flat colour of amethyst, almost identical to the colour of his eyes.

And if Madara couldn't have fallen in love anymore, he just fell a hundred times harder.

"My sister bought it as a gift for me a while ago, but I guess I never found an occasion to wear it. Is it… Okay?"

"Yes. Yes. It's…Perfect, Kohaku-san." Madara walked forward, capturing one of his hands in his, "You look amazing."

"Ah…" Kohaku bashfully turned his head to the side rubbing at his cheeks with his free hand, "Thanks, Madara-han. You look great too."

—

The one thing Madara kicked himself in the leg for about the night, is the fact he hadn't done this sooner.

Kohaku had never been to a festival as an attendee, he'd found out. And so, like the great boyfriend he was, he'd shown Kohaku each and every single thing they had time for, hand in hand. He'd pulled Kohaku to a Takoyaki stand, allowing him to place the order to the stall owner himself, squeezing Kohaku's hand in his for reassurance. And then the elderly man running the stall slid the stray over, giving Madara a knowing smile, looking between himself and Kohaku with contempt. Madara ignored the strange familiarity of the look and graciously thanked the stall owner, passing the tray to Kohaku and leading him to the fireworks.

A younger Madara probably would have been glued to the fireworks, watching as the lights exploded into the night sky, bursting into various colourful hues and shapes; but now? He was content with looking at Kohaku, because in that moment, nothing could have beaten the look on his face.

Illuminated with shock, every few moments his eyes would reflect the show in front of them. Kohaku's lip was parted slightly, his hand hanging limply in Madara's, eyes widened ever so slightly. Madara could only think that this was probably how he'd looked all those years ago at seven. But now it was different; there was nothing holding him back. He finally had something. Someone he loved, and was able to share his love with.

And it felt like freedom. One that he didn't get from traveling, or talking to new people. It was real freedom.

With that revelation, he turned to Kohaku, joining both of their hands together. And slowly, he brought their lips together.

The small squeeze from Kohaku's hand was all Madara needed in response.