Archive of Our Own

A few days before his father’s inauspicious, fourth wedding, Satoru was out getting properly drunk. As he sat straddling a tiny stool that kept going out of balance, he rested his wallowing chin in his propped hand and sighed deeply and loudly to be overheard over the sound of annoying EDM playing in the background. He couldn’t believe the audacity of the old man. The Gojo patriarch was nearing eighty. An age where most men looked after gardens or picked up other hobbies. Not his old man. He was marrying someone only a year younger than Satoru. Twenty-seven! Gojo Hiroto was going down in history as a true cradle-snatcher.

If there was any justice in the world, his father would drop dead before the tip of his dick even thought of brushing his new ‘husband’s’ lips. He shuddered as the mental image slammed into his brain.

Beside him, his best friend eyed him with amusement the reason behind which Satoru couldn’t fathom; he was clearly suffering from the latest update in his father’s love life.

Noticing his embittered glare, Shoko chuckled. “Cheer up, dude, it’s not like you will be living in the same house as them,” she muttered around the lip of her third beer bottle—unlike him, Shoko could chug and chug and not show it. It took real liquor to turn her pale cheeks pink.

He scrunched up his nose; he hated beer and didn’t know what possessed him to order one to begin with. Matter of fact, he preferred not drinking at all, as it lowered his inhibitions to uncomfortable levels that led to him dancing on bars and taking his clothes off in public.

Her words, though spoken lightly, struck him right in the chest. It was his dignity that took his father’s actions as a blow. “You cannot fathom just how humiliating it is, Shoko. I have to see this dude every Sunday for dinner. Do you know how many Sunday dinners that’ll be until the old man croaks?”

In her true annoying fashion, she quickly did the math. “If your old man lives for another ten years, that’ll be 520 Sundays, give or take.” She wasn’t even looking at him while she delivered her calculations; she was glaring at the pair of hands wrapped around Utahime’s waist.

“Thanks,” he muttered dryly.

Utahime’s favorite song—which sounded like incredible noise to Satoru—shifted to something else she presumably didn’t want to dance to, so she returned from dry humping some stranger with gray eyes, who looked like he wanted to put a ring on all of Utahime’s fingers, grabbed Shoko’s bottle, and took a swig.

“Are we still trying to cheer up Satoru?” she asked Shoko, ignoring the friend she was supposed to comfort.

“You guys suck at cheering me up!” he interjected.

She ignored his outrage and instead asked, “Has Shoko told you the news?”

“What news?” he commanded, unable to comprehend more news—which could only be potentially bad news if he knew his own luck.

With a grin, Utahime said, “Suguru is coming home.”

Light and music filled Satoru’s heart. Finally. Something over which he could rejoice. He smiled and it wasn’t forced. “He is? I thought he was staying in Thailand for a few more months.”

She shrugged. “He said something’s come up so he’s coming back in two weeks.”

Shoko perked up, wrapping an arm around Utahime’s waist to steady her. “He told me a couple of things have come up, actually.”

Satoru snorted, lifted the beer bottle to his mouth then remembered his hatred for it just as he took a sip, and grimaced. He said, placing the bottle away from him, “Knowing him, he’s probably adopted another charity case.”

Utahime sniggered, sitting herself more comfortably on Shoko’s lap. Her crush was so desperately obvious—to everyone but Shoko, of course. Fate was cruel. “What kind of exotic animal do you think it’ll be this time?” he murmured.

Shoko suggested, “Parrots?”

Utahime drained the rest of Shoko’s beer and added her own speculation to the pot: “Lizards?”

“Probably a panda or two,” Satoru added, eyeing the way Shoko’s hand hovered over Utahime’s hip, her pale hand sharply contrasting Utahime’s black, tight dress—it never landed though. She wasn’t any better with her pining, but since Satoru had sworn off interfering in his friends’ love lives, he averted his eyes.

“I don’t think there are pandas in Thailand,” Shoko drawled, blinking slowly in his direction.

“Get off my dick, will you?” he muttered back.

She shrugged. “I’m just sayin’.”

He threw his head back and grunted. “I wish life was a little fairer to me, you know? Like, here I am, a handsome, well-adjusted—” Shoko snorted derisively, Satoru ignored her— “young man, and so hopelessly single! Whereas my old man, who, if I may divulge, has a huge feet fetish that’s unsuited for his age, is marrying for the fourth time.”

“The ceremony of which you aren’t attending. Again. Are you not worried the old man would retaliate?” Utahime asked him, her big brown eyes glassy. Her lashes fluttered as they swept over her high cheekbones.

With a flagrant shrug, Satoru said, “Nah. I don’t owe him shit.” He wiped his lips from the taste of beer and asked, “Did you forget how Wife Number Three tried to sneak into my bed two hours after the ceremony?”

The memory of the horrifying incident filled Shoko’s chest with laughter, which she didn’t bother curbing. Satoru would’ve joined her if the shock of that night wasn’t still fresh in his head, which it was. It’d only been twenty-three months since. Wife Number Three had been kicked to the curb the second his father confirmed Satoru’s word—he caught her on CCTV from the hotel.

He was still shuddering when he caught the look of scheming cross between the two women he named as his best friends in the whole world. Sweat broke over his hairline and he swiped it with the back of his hand, too nervous to ask.

But Satoru didn’t need to ask before Utahime leant in with a conspiratorial whisper, “What if you sabotage this marriage?”

At first, her words did not register completely in Satoru’s head, which he definitely blamed on the few sips of beer he had—he was that bad with alcohol—but as long into the night, as he tossed and turned, her suggestion kept coming back to him.

What if I sabotage this marriage?

How? When? The wedding was in two days. Did he have enough time? This required some assistance. Thankfully, the original masterminds were awake and when he texted them, they replied.

__

Kento’s wedding day was brilliant and gorgeous. He hated it. He glared at the sky outside his window and cursed it for being such a perfect day. There should be rain clouds covering the sun. This wasn’t a day he wanted to remember.

“Ease up, Kento,” said Yu somewhere behind him.

Kento continued to glare at the sky and the heavens in association for delivering such glorious weather on what happened to be his worst day. It was the only thing he could do until his hand was wrapped by a much, much smaller hand.

“Is Nanamin mad?” spoke a gentle voice, which instantly tugged at Kento’s heart strings. Kento abandoned his futile mission to glare the weather into submission and turned his gaze to the adorable kid clutching his hand.

Kento schooled his expression, but that wasn’t much of a task, his face always softened when he looked into Yuji’s big, brown eyes. “No, sweetie, I’m not mad,” he murmured, reaching down to pluck the boy into his arms.

“Kento, you’re going to crease your kimono,” Yu said, but his warning was ignored. Kento didn’t care about his attire. He held Yuji close and patted his back.

The boy wore a face of dejection, which wrapped a tight fist around Kento’s heart. “What’s the matter, Yuji-kun?”

His lower lip wobbled. “Nanamin looks sad,” he finally said, his words warbled around a sob as his eyes filled with instantaneous tears.

Kento’s heart was crushed both by the words and the tears. He smoothed his fingers gently over those soft cheeks and hushed him. “I’m not sad,” he lied. He was sad. He was devastated even.

After a long, brutal adoption process that drained Kento both mentally and financially, he’d finally won custody of Yuji. Then he got laid off from his job and faced the ultimate challenge: financial stability. The lawyer fees had done true damage to his savings. To continue being Yuji’s guardian, Kento needed a stable income and fast. And what did he do to secure both his and Yuji’s future? He was agreeing to enter an arranged marriage with a man forty years his senior. A man who had no clue that Kento came with a five-year-old.

Gojo Hiroto had been too busy charming Kento during their first date. Although he’d asked Kento a lot of questions about his life, Kento had evaded the big secret and allowed the man’s ignorance to continue, then lied about why he couldn’t host the older man at his apartment to keep Yuji’s existence a secret.

A secret that was inevitably coming to light and soon.

He gulped down the trepidation and put on his bravest smile. “I’m not sad,” he repeated to Yuji, who was calming down due to the hand Kento rubbed along his back. “I’m excited. Didn’t I show you the big house we’ll be living in?”

Remembering the room Kento promised him (Yuji currently slept in the same bed as Kento, as their apartment only had the one bedroom), Yuji swallowed back his distress and replaced it with a small smile. He nodded enthusiastically and the sight of the gesture blew a breath of relief through Kento’s frame.

That’s good. As long as my boy’s happy, I can at least pretend to be happy, he thought as he leant in and kissed Yuji’s tear-stained cheek.

“You look very handsome, my boy,” he said, changing the subject.

Yuji lit up like the sun. He tugged at the lapels of his haori—black, to match Kento’s—and grinned. “I look like Papa, right?”

“Yes, my love,” Kento whispered. “Just like Papa.”

Behind Yuji, Kento saw the look Yu wore on his face, a mixture of apprehension and hope. Kento wished he could feel the second, but his heart was filled to the brim with the first.

A half-hour later, an attendant knocked on Kento’s door and informed him that the wedding ceremony would commence soon. He thanked her and returned to what he’d been doing: coloring with Yuji to keep him occupied.

“Yu, why don’t you take Yuji to get some sweets? I hear the buffet has a variety of desserts,” he said, his voice a low register, as if he wanted to keep Yuji from hearing him.

Taking the bait, Yuji abandoned his coloring, hopped off his seat, and grabbed onto Yu’s awaiting hand.

“Sure, Kento. Will you be okay?” Yu asked.

Kento nodded, his mouth pursed into a bloodless line. “I will. Make sure to save me some, okay, darling?” he told Yuji.

His precious boy nodded vigorously then turned to Yu and said, “Can we have some sweets now, Yu-oji-chan?”

Like the softie he was, Yu melted instantly to Yuji calling him uncle and said, “Of course, Yuji-kun! Let’s go.”

They left, their excited chatter a welcome distraction from the dull beat of Kento’s heart. As the heavy door closed behind them, he was left to his thoughts. He needed the time alone and abhorred it at the same time, knowing that these were his last moments of freedom before the shackles of marriage closed around his wrists.

He looked quickly down at his shaking hands and rubbed them furiously together, begging his body to listen to him. It did not. They trembled even harder when the door opened with a soft snick. He didn’t look up at first, thinking it was Yuji and Yu returning for some forgotten item; perhaps the black dog plushie Yuji liked so much.

“Did you forget your Kuro-chan, Yu—” the rest of his words died in his throat as Kento’s eyes were filled with a magnificent sight.

Gojo Hiroto stood in the doorway, tall and handsome, his face unlined, his hair pushed back. Kento lifted a hand and rubbed his right eye, wondering if he was seeing things. Is this a hallucination? No. This was truly Gojo-san, but at least forty years younger.

Kento’s spine straightened as Hiroto strode in his direction.

He was still staring into his brilliant eyes when, with a thud, warm hands cupped his face, tilted it up, and planted a kiss on his mouth.

—

Slap!

The sound echoed in the otherwise empty room, then it was filled with a soft, outraged gasp, “Who the hell are you and why are you kissing me?”

Satoru lazily rubbed his cheek, a smirk hiking the corners of his lips high then higher as he watched horror fill the brown eyes of his latest headache.

Not bad, old man, he thought as he took in the man who should become his latest stepfather. He knew his name was Nanami Kento, but he hadn’t seen him before. Too horrified. Now, he saw that Kento had the world’s most beautiful eyes—eyes that were currently staring with visible fright at Satoru, but it wasn’t difficult to imagine them half-lidded with pleasure. His sharp cheekbones. His soft lips. Kento was a nicely put together young man.

It was a shame that Satoru had a mission to ruin the pretty man’s life.

In his pocket, his phone buzzed, and he leant back, no longer concerned with Kento’s incessant questions of “Who are you?” and “What are you doing here?”

He took a few meandering steps around, eyeing the gaudy décor of the room with disinterest. Hm. The old man sure knew how to pick the venues. When Satoru learned that his ceremony would be a traditional one, he nearly choked, but as he glanced back at Kento, he could see the allure of a man in a kimono.

The outer robes didn’t disguise his nice physique, though there was a sharpness to him that made Kento have a hint of danger surrounding him.

Now, if only that black robe wasn’t so tightly wrapped around his long neck. A neck that was red, the jawline above it taut with fury as Satoru continued to ignore his repeated inquiry.

Finally taking mercy on him, he murmured, “As you see, I am Satoru.” He stopped short of adding, Your soon-to-be stepson, because the words might have made him sick right then and there. “You must know who I am.”

Kento’s anger did not dissipate. “I can tell,” he said through gritted teeth.

Now why was his face so pretty when it was twisted in anger? Satoru couldn’t deduce a reason why his chest constricted. Probably his own sense of accomplishment—outside this room, hidden in the bushes, Utahime had snapped the picture that’d be the first and final nail in the coffin for Kento’s plan to marry his father. Gojo Hiroto did not forgive infidelity.

Kento rose and Satoru was impressed by the size of him—his forehead was set at the perfect height for Satoru’s lips. Hm. That’d be convenient if Satoru didn’t hate this man’s guts for seducing his father.

“What boggles me is why you are kissing me,” Kento continued, his hands tightly fisted by his sides. How cute, his shoulders were shaking.

Provocation was Satoru’s favorite pastime, so he held his ground and straightened his spine, staring down at those brown, hate-filled eyes. “Because I am onto you, gold digger.”

Confusion mixed with Kento’s anger, making his lips part and close in quick succession before his jaw tightened.

He probably had nothing to say because he knew Satoru was right.

Still, that didn’t stop Satoru from goading him. “I’m right, aren’t I? You are marrying my father for his money and nothing else.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for Kento’s expression to crumble into shame, as it should, but instead, Kento mimicked him and tilted his chin higher in a show of boldfaced defiance.

“What if I am?” Not waiting for Satoru’s confusion to supply him with a response, Kento went on to say, “You cannot be foolish—” the word was hissed— “to believe Gojo-san is marrying me for anything else besides my age.”

Okay. That was true, but did Kento have to say it? Disgust at the old man rose up in Satoru’s throat. “That doesn’t mean you can just waltz into his life and suck him dry!”

“Excuse me,” Kento yelled. “Who the hell is sucking whom dry? I have done no such thing!”

Satoru waved a hand in front of him—his cheeks felt overly warm from the imagery of that mouth doing any sort of sucking—and said, “I didn’t mean it literally.”

“Then how did you mean it?” Kento countered, his words lashing Satoru in no time at all, catching him off guard. “You clearly have formed your opinion of me and while that is all up to you, I do not allow you to spit such vulgarities in my face.”

Whoa. Kento had a fierce temper. A notion that shouldn’t be making Satoru’s heart pound in his chest, but it did.

“And it definitely does not give you the right to assault me!” Kento went on to say.

Which made Satoru’s shoulders hunch in shame. That was true enough.

“I didn’t assault you,” he said weakly.

“You kissed me!” Kento said, pointing a finger at Satoru’s face like he had a muzzle instead of a mouth.

“I did but it was for a good reason!” he replied because he was growing quite irritated with how Kento painted him as a total flagrant devil. True as it might be, he didn’t appreciate the accusation.

When Kento took a step closer, that aura of danger that coated him from head to toe intensified, forcing Satoru to take a step back, suddenly concerned for his safety. Kento wasn’t just tall, he was big all over. His shoulders alone made Satoru reconsider how hasty he’d been in his behavior.

“I- I apolog—”

Before he could finish, the door to Kento’s room was knocked upon. “Nanami-san?” called the attendant’s voice.

In an instant, Kento’s expression shifted from anger to concern. “Yes?” To Satoru, he hissed, “Not a word from you.”

Satoru wasn’t planning on it—how could he, when Kento looked daggers at him?

“The ceremony is beginning now,” she said, still not opening the door. Satoru admired her level of respect. He, on the other hand, had been an absolute brute to Kento.

“Understood. Thank you,” Kento replied, his voice so well-modulated that it made Satoru raise his eyebrows.

The second the door closed with a click, Satoru said, “You know how to talk civilly, I see.”

Kento turned to him and his eyes burned. “Get out of my room.”

His irritation spiked. “Why? Are you so eager to marry my father?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Can you at least tell me why you’re doing such a thing?” Satoru asked, ignoring every sign pointing to Kento readying himself to sock him in the face.

Those lips pursed into a line tight enough to make Satoru feel this insane urge to pry them open. Just to hear Kento’s reason. It had to be a good one. Or else, who in their right mind married somebody four decades their senior?

“Get. Out,” Kento muttered.

Kento’s control was clearly superhuman, and Satoru commended him on it with a salute before he took his leave. He didn’t need to stay and further antagonize Kento. The second part of his plan would soon begin.

—

Kento couldn’t believe the audacity of that…that…idiot! Satoru’s smug face remained in the forefront of his mind throughout the ceremony and if it wasn’t for Kento’s miraculous ability to compartmentalize, he would have blanked out at every step of the long, odious ritual. Thankfully, it proceeded as needed and by five o’clock, with a grinning Gojo Hiroto holding his hands, Kento began his life as his husband.

The word turned his stomach.

He went through the procession, standing straight next to a beaming Hiroto, all the while aware of the eyes staring at him. Amongst the guests were a lot of faces Kento did not recognize, most being Hiroto’s business associates, men and women of his generation, smiling coyly at Kento and giving Hiroto their somewhat sincere congratulations. Kento dutifully fulfilled his part and was grateful nobody spoke directly to him except for a few words of amazement at how beautiful he looked.

Kento gritted his teeth and smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He was sweating under his heavy attire and his stomach twisted with hunger and fury.

To think that he not only had to suffer the abject humiliation of this arranged marriage but also be kissed so forcefully on the same day… Somebody was laughing at him up above and Kento wanted to fly into Heaven and let them taste his fist.

Gold digger. The insult was branded onto his flesh. His back ached from its heat. He wanted to curl into a ball.

Yuji, he reminded himself. You’re doing this for Yuji, who stuck obediently to Yu’s side although every line of his body looked ready to sprint to the head table and pounce onto Kento.

His eyes filled with tears every time they fell onto the boy’s face, which scrunched into visible longing. In the two years since Kento began the grueling process of adopting Yuji, they had not been separated. Even the few meters keeping them apart felt like an ocean.

A woman approached the table, and Kento’s eyes tore away from Yuji’s forlorn face to address her. She was young and beautiful, dressed in a green dress that draped itself lusciously over her body. She eyed Kento with a warm look as she spoke to Hiroto.

“Congratulations, Ossan,” she said, and although the informal form of ojisan was spoken fondly, Kento still stiffened. She was a formidable person to call Hiroto a middle-aged man. And clearly trying to mess with Kento. He’s not a middle-aged man, he thought absently. More like ojisan. His own thoughts filled him with self-loathing.

And who’s just married a man old enough to be his grandfather? The sound in his head wasn’t his own. It belonged entirely to Gojo’s son, who sat at the nearest table, his blue eyes fixed stubbornly on Kento’s face and watching his every move.

Hiroto chuckled. “Come on, Shoko-chan, don’t be like that.”

“Like what? You’ve always been Ossan to me. Don’t tell me I can’t call you that anymore in the presence of your beautiful groom?” Shoko asked, directing the last at Kento.

He bowed his head minutely and murmured, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure is all mine,” she told him. She lifted the wine glass in her hand and toasted them.

Kento didn’t touch his own glass, though he longed for it, while Hiroto took a hearty gulp.

The woman named Shoko stepped away from their table afterwards. Kento froze as he felt a hand brush his leg under the table.

“Are you all right, Kento-kun?” Hiroto whispered, leant to deliver the words in Kento’s ear.

He willed his body to unfreeze. “I’m well, thank you, Gojo-san.”

“Please. I’m your husband now,” Hiroto said with a bright grin. “Call me Hiroto.”

Kento would rather die than do that, but he forced the name through his lips. “Hiroto-san.”

Hiroto’s smile widened.

It was truly unfair that Kento felt nothing but naked detachment towards Gojo Hiroto. From their first meeting, Hiroto had been nothing but respectful to him. Sure, he’d plied Kento with presents, which he’d returned swiftly, and compliments he bore patiently, but Hiroto never forced himself on him.

Unlike his idiot son, Kento thought as he finally allowed for a morsel of food to enter his mouth.

He chewed thoughtfully, but as a pair of blue eyes snagged his attention, swallowing proved to be quite the task. He managed it somehow, not once looking away from Satoru’s face.

Fuck you, he wanted to mouth.

As if he was reading Kento’s mind, Satoru grinned and raised his water glass in a silent toast.

Which soon turned into a verbal one as the ceremony required. Kento curled his hands into fists under the table and watched Satoru saunter insouciantly up to the platform where a microphone was hooked onto the speakers, guaranteeing his words would be heard by everyone.

Satoru began with bowing deeply for his father and to Kento, an impressive feat considering the look he wore in his eyes—pure, undiluted challenge. With a loud clearing of his throat, Satoru said, “Let me first begin by congratulating my father on this beautiful venue.”

Kento scoffed quietly. Beautiful, Satoru had said, but his eyes spelled out garish. Kento didn’t entirely disagree. The hotel in which his wedding ceremony was held wasn’t hideous, but it was done up in very showy displays of wealth. Did any hall need so many chandeliers, for one?

“The beauty of this room does not compare, however, to the beauty of the lucky man sitting beside my old man,” Satoru went on.

Heat rushed to Kento’s face, and he could only guess at how shamefully demure he looked, his face lit up like an ornament. He cleared his throat as Hiroto chuckled loudly and agreed.

The guests joined in joyfully enough to second Satoru’s words, which seemed to only embolden Satoru further.

“I must say, Father, you’ve found yourself quite the gem,” he said, his words clearly an attempt to dig at Kento.

Ha. A gem. Wasn’t it the other way around, with Hiroto being the gold Kento was digging? He closed his eyes momentarily, but Satoru’s voice penetrated through the calm he was attempting to call forth.

“Nanami-san, having you as my stepfather will be fun.”

Fun.

Long after Satoru vacated the podium and walked back to his table, Kento could not tear his eyes from his face. His disgusting, scheming face.

Until a precious face popped onto the forefront of Kento’s mind and helped him forget all about Gojo Satoru and his insufferable existence. Who cared what that brat thought of him? Kento had more important matters to focus on. Mainly, his son. Who looked every bit tortured, sticking to Yu’s side rather than sit in Kento’s lap.

Remember, Yuji, you need to stay in your seat next to Yu, Kento had drilled into Yuji’s mind.

Obediently, the boy listened to Kento’s words, but the looks he was giving Kento in between eating his dinner told Kento how much he wanted to disobey and race to him instead.

Kento felt the sharpness of his own longing but pushed it down. It wasn’t the right time to introduce his son to his husband. Not until the marriage was consummated at least.

—

Satoru paced in his hotel room.

“Stop that, Satoru, you’re making me dizzy,” Shoko complained from where she lay on his bed.

He scoffed. “I think those are making you dizzy, not me,” he said, pointing at the three bottles of white wine she’d stolen from the hotel bar and snuck into his room. Not a drop of wine touched his lips.

He had sampled the wedding cake, of course, but why was he still feeling a tingle on his lips? Was he allergic to chocolate?

“Will you please sit down?” Utahime pleaded, clutching at her stomach, then raced to the bathroom.

She came out a few minutes later, looking refreshed. Satoru watched in horror as she slid into his bed and placed her head on Shoko’s stomach.

“Can you two not spread your…everything on my sheets?” he asked them.

Shoko snorted. “You’re allergic to us now?”

“No, no, Shoko. He’s allergic to blonds,” Utahime told her, her eyebrows lifting and lowering repeatedly, each waggle sending a dagger into Satoru’s heart.

“I am not,” he denied with great passion, accompanying it with a face plant into the only space left on his bed: the very end.

One of them nudged his cheek with her socked foot, and he pushed it aside with a grimace. “Don’t pout, Satoru, it’s unbecoming of you.”

“Yeah, think of what your new daddy might think if he sees you sulking,” Utahime added, her amusement barely concealed.

He lifted his head and gave them both matching middle-fingers. And the hags cackled.

With a groan, Satoru resumed shoving his face into the mattress. All the while, his brain continued to torture him as it imagined what was conspiring in room 507.

“I gotta say,” Utahime said, “you kissed him fairly passionately.”

Shoko hummed. “Nicely done, Satoru.”

He grimaced. “Kissing him was akin to kissing a cactus!”

“Right,” they said in unison, disbelief coating their tone.

Forgetting about them, Satoru dug his phone from his pocket and pulled up the photo Utahime had sent him. Eyebrows furrowing, he zoomed in. Why was he smiling in the picture? And was that a blush on Kento’s stricken face?

—

Kento sat primly, his hands clasped together in his lap to stop their shaking. Hiroto was in the bathroom, and he was counting down the minutes before… Well, there was no other way to say it, before he had sex with a nearly eighty-year-old man.

The door cracked open, and his spine straightened.

“Kento-kun, you’re still dressed?” Hiroto asked.

Sweat gathered under Kento’s arms. He felt the chill vibrate through him. Clearing his throat, he softly said, “Yes,” while his eyes watched Hiroto approach.

His husband took his time to walk and sit by his side, and just as he was about to reach and brush a hand over Kento’s leg, Kento sprung up and stammered, “I- I’ll go and shower.”

Once he locked the door behind him, nervous tears filled his eyes.

He couldn’t believe he’d gone ahead with this ridiculous plan. He’d married a man as old as his grandfather. He looked up at the ceiling of the bright bathroom, wanting the light to blind him for as long as he’d be enduring the rest of his night. Alas, he retained his eyesight after he came out.

His skin was still wet from the shower, the bottom of his feet making no noise, only his heart’s furious beating in his throat.

Hiroto was in bed, under the covers, looking quite serenely at Kento. When he sat gingerly on the edge, the man’s hand reached out and touched… his hand.

Kento blinked. He’d thought Hiroto would touch his robe and undo the tie knitted tightly to keep him from exposing his nudity.

“My dear,” Hiroto began. Kento tore his eyes from the innocent touch and looked into soft blue eyes. Hiroto's face merged with another. One much, much younger, with eyes more brilliant. Yet where Satoru’s eyes had been filled with nothing but contempt, Hiroto’s showed compassion.

Kento frowned in confusion.

“I know why you married me, Kento-kun, and I don’t mind,” Hiroto said, his voice even and calm. Kento swallowed, staying quiet and praying for this to be reality and not a daydream his sick mind had concocted for him. Thin eyebrows furrowed above Hiroto’s kind eyes. “You needn’t be nervous. I won’t force you to do something you don’t want to do.”

“You… won’t?” he asked, his voice a hushed whisper.

Hiroto shook his head. “Absolutely not.” His hand tightened around Kento’s. “You are precious to me.”

Oh, the words were sweet. Now if only they’d come out from a different pair of lips… Hold on, what was Kento thinking? He didn’t want anyone calling him precious besides his son.

“I… Thank you,” he murmured weakly, still disbelieving his own ears. “Does this mean we don’t have to…” consummate our marriage.

Shame filled his cheeks.

Hiroto nodded, understanding Kento’s meaning. “We don’t.”

But… if they didn’t do that, how could Kento tell him about Yuji? His boy had probably cried himself to sleep; Yu was too kind to tell Kento, but he knew his son.

Yet something in Hiroto’s words told Kento that he could tell him. “Gojo-san,” he began, only for Hiroto to remind him to use his first name. He choked it out, “Hiroto-san… I have been keeping something from you.”

Hiroto’s eyes widened. “You have?”

Oh, this was going to be painful. But he had to come clean.

“I… have a son.”

Hiroto’s face lit up with a smile. “So do I!”

“I know.”

…

Wait. Did he just…

“You’ve… known?” Kento asked, his voice but a whisper.

Hiroto nodded, smiling still. “He looked quite adorable in his matching kimono.”

Kento was about to faint. What did this mean? Hiroto knew Kento had a son, and he was… okay with it? Did he not think Kento came with ‘unnecessary baggage’? “…How did you know?” he asked, though had he been in his right mind, he’d have deduced it for himself.

Hiroto patted his hand. “Come now, Kento-kun, I am fairly capable of doing a background check on the man I am about to marry. It’s not that difficult.”

Still confused by how easily Hiroto was speaking, his tone devoid of disgust or dismissal, Kento simply nodded. “Of course,” he murmured, a chill making him shudder.

Noticing this, Hiroto clicked his teeth. “You should get dressed, dear. It’s cold.”

Like a marionette following instructions, Kento stood up and moved to his packed suitcase. He took out a pair of pajamas and ducked into the bathroom to get dressed. When he came out, he was more put together and ready to talk further regarding how he’d kept such a crucial detail of his life from his husband. Except the man was snoring softly.

Kento sat down and for the first time in months, he felt well and truly relieved.

Hello, spoke an annoying voice in his head. Did you forget about me?

As if he could see him, Kento batted the air in front of his face, but Gojo Satoru wasn’t truly there. Only the memory of him. Somehow still stamped onto his lips after all these hours.

—

Out of respect, Satoru waited for a week before he showed his father the picture of him kissing Kento. He planned it perfectly. Sunday dinner.

Except he showed up and was struck dumb by the plus one who sat in his seat. A boy of barely five, his feet dangling from the chair, eyed him warily. Next to him, Kento sat with an arm wrapped protectively around his shoulder.

“Satoru! So nice to have you join us!” His father sounded as if Sunday dinners weren’t a mandated part of Satoru’s week.

He was still petrified in his spot until his father patted him on the back—a hint too strongly, too. His limbs worked slowly but eventually he sat down right across from his stepfather.

“Welcome, Satoru-kun,” Kento said, his disdain barely veiled behind his words. He turned to the boy next to him and uttered six horrifying words, “Yuji, say hello to your niisan.”

Niisan?

Niisan!

What?

Satoru’s head was spinning. And the look of glee on his dad’s face wasn’t helping.

“I’ve been meaning to introduce you two, but I thought it best that it happened in person, yes?” Hiroto said amicably.

Kento’s arm tightened around Yuji. Who was looking up at Satoru with eyes filled with amazement. Then proceeded to give Satoru a deep bow and say, “It’s nice to meet you, Satoru-nii.”

Oh. He was an angel. An angel with a glaring dad.

Satoru gave his father a helpless look. But his dad’s eyes shimmered with an unspoken threat. Be anything but courteous with this man and his son or else…

Satoru didn’t need to think too hard of what his father might do if he caused a scene—he wanted to throw a total bitch fit—as Satoru relied on him to this day. He employed him and paid for his apartment. Which wasn’t cheap.

The thought of unemployment and homelessness forced a fake-smile onto his face, which quickly turned genuine when Yuji beamed at him.

“Hello, Yuji-kun!” Satoru greeted, and to his own surprise (and visibly Kento’s) added, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Yuji’s broadening grin showed his snaggle tooth. Satoru nearly fainted. Brats weren’t his weakness, so why was Satoru’s chest squeezed tightly enough to make breathing difficult?

Dinner proceeded quietly, with Satoru sitting utterly confused by how his evening had unfolded. He looked at Kento in a new way, seeing his nervous looks glancing from Yuji, to Satoru, then to the man eating his dinner like nothing was amiss in the world.

After a few bites of his pasta, which was scrumptious, Satoru cleared his throat and began, “So, Yuji-kun,” he felt two pairs of eyes glaring at him—his father’s eyes were less vehement than Kento’s, “Are you in school?”

Yuji nodded. “I am!”

“How? You’re so tiny,” Satoru said, unable to help himself.

“Yuji is five years old,” Kento told him, his hand brushing over Yuji’s head.

Hm. How’d that feel? Satoru wondered, the thought so very intrusive that he hadn’t a clue it’d surface in his head.

Why am I thinking of my so-called ‘stepfather’ running his fingers through my hair?

His next bite tasted like ashes as it struggled down his throat, but he persevered. “Do you have a lot of friends?”

Yuji appeared happy with the attention Satoru was showing him, though the blond next to him stiffened into a statue at every word leaving Satoru’s mouth.

As Yuji chattered about a boy called Megumi and a girl named Nobara, Satoru snuck glances at Kento.

In those brown eyes was evident alertness, as if Kento was prepared for anything crass to come out of Satoru’s mouth.

Please, he thought, I’m not that rude. Then again, he had introduced himself to Kento mouth-first. That wasn’t his most shining moment.

He took a sip of his water and continued to pepper Yuji with innocent questions, just to have Kento glance at him with that wide-eyed stare—What are you planning? they seemed to ask.

Satoru leant back in his seat and reevaluated his plan. Kento had a son. A fairly young, darling child. Was Satoru cruel enough to bring up a photo taken under the impression that Kento was a gold-digger?

No.

—

Yuji was excitable during his evening bath, bringing up Satoru-nii over and over, the word causing Kento’s heart to shrivel in his chest. He finally calmed him down by tucking him in and reading him a bedtime story. After he kissed Yuji’s forehead, he slipped out of his room—only to come face to face with the very same man whose name had been mentioned a handful of times by his son.

Satoru stood so close that Kento’s arm brushed his chest. He took a step back and his spine straightened, his back pressed to the door.

“What do you want?” he asked, his heart thudding in his chest. Was he here to kiss him again? Kento fisted a hand by his side in preparation. This time, he wouldn’t be caught off guard.

“He’s a cute kid,” Satoru said, ignoring Kento’s question.

Kento’s head tilted. “I know he is. What do you want?” he repeated.

“A cute kid like that deserves a good home,” Satoru went on to say.

What was going on about? Kento knew that well enough. His whole life would be dedicated to giving Yuji a good home. Wasn’t that clear enough?

He opened his mouth to tell Satoru to get lost when Satoru’s eyes snagged him in a long look. In his chest, Kento’s heart hiccupped. His breathing turned shallow.

When he peered into those bottomless blue eyes, Kento didn’t like what he saw. He expected more or less some form of disgust. Or judgment. What he saw instead was pity. His hackles rose instantly. He didn’t appreciate that look coming from his parents when he informed them of his decision to adopt Yuji and he definitely didn’t like it coming from someone like Satoru who couldn’t possibly comprehend why Kento did anything.

What Satoru said, however, was even more confusing than the way he looked at Kento.

“I’m sorry.”

A long moment of silence passed between it and Satoru clearing his throat.

“Are you accepting my apology?”

“No,” Kento instantly replied. “Definitely not.”

Satoru deflated, then his eyes lit up again. “That’s not nice.”

“What’s not nice is kissing men without their consent,” Kento rebutted. Emboldened by the look of dejection Satoru dared to put on next, he took a step forward and like their first meeting, Satoru was wise enough to take a step back.

“I will never forgive you for putting your disgusting mouth on me,” Kento told him, rage filling him anew. That kiss should mean nothing, but it’d shaken him to his core.

Especially because in the week since it’d happened, Kento hadn’t been able to shake it off him. Late at night, early in the morning, and all the moments in between, his mouth buzzed with the aftershock of Satoru’s kiss.

Satoru’s lips, unaware of Kento’s dilemma, pouted. “Disgusting is downright unnecessary, Kento.”

He shook his head, uncaring for how his body lit up when he heard Satoru say his name. “I don’t remember allowing you to use my first name so casually.”

Satoru’s eyebrow hiked up. “I’m older than you.”

“By eight months,” he told him. Did Satoru care? Likely yes, but Kento didn’t, and he needed to make it clear. He didn’t want Satoru to call him by his first name. He didn’t want them to be casual with one another.

Except Satoru didn’t realize Kento’s intention and was instead leaning a hint forward, his face opening up. “So, you know my birthday?”

Kento schooled his expression into a stern frown and said, “Seeing as it’s the day the devil was reborn, yes.”

Satoru pressed a hand to his chest. “You wound me,” he bemoaned, but he was smiling. That irritated Kento further.

Rather than continuing to entertain this pointless conversation, Kento took a step to the side and began walking away from the annoying man.

Who proceeded to follow him.

Kento sighed. “You are aware that I’m heading to my room, correct?”

“Yeah, so?”

He gave him a look over his shoulder, uncaring for how the slight difference in their heights put him at a disadvantage. “A room I share with your father.”

Satoru’s face soured so quickly that it almost—keyword being almost—made Kento smirk. He didn’t and sufficed with watching Satoru make a hasty retreat.

—

Bright and early, Satoru rolled himself out of bed and greeted the day. Work didn’t start until 10 o’clock for him, so why was he waking up at five in the morning?

Because you’re an idiot, Shoko would say.

Because I am making amends! he would disagree.

Suguru watched him flounce around the apartment from his perch on the couch, looking like he hadn’t slept a wink all night long. Thanks to the two bundles sleeping soundly in matching bassinets set in front of him.

Oh, right. Satoru stopped halfway to the kitchen and gave Suguru a pat on the shoulders, peering at the angelic faces of Nanako and Mimiko.

“How did the girls do last night?” he asked. “I slept like a baby.”

Suguru gave him an unamused look. “That saying is false. Babies sleep badly.”

“I know! Your dark circles are looking ghastly, my friend,” Satoru said cheerily. He was pulling out the egg carton from the fridge with one hand and the milk carton with the other. “You should look into getting an overnight nanny?”

“And where would an overnight nanny sleep?”

Satoru cracked the eggs and began to whisk them. “Hmmm, maybe you do need your own place.”

Suguru had followed him into the kitchen and was now leaning sleepily against the fridge door, looking every bit the sleepless parent he was.

When Suguru showed up at Satoru’s step with two babies clutched in his arms, Satoru had thought he was playing an elaborate joke, but no. The ‘couple of things that came up’? Those were two six-month-olds who formerly belonged to Suguru’s brother, who passed them on to Suguru because his sponsor was admitting him into rehab. Again. The girls’ mother died in childbirth, so they had no one but Suguru’s grandparents. Knowing Suguru’s deteriorated relationship with his parents, it wasn’t difficult to deduce that he’d rather die than let those ‘bigots’ take care of his precious brother’s girls.

Therefore, Suguru became a guardian at the ripe age of twenty-eight.

“I’m looking at a couple of places this afternoon but…”

Satoru poured the mixture of eggs and milk into the rectangular pan and turned to him. “Do you want me to look after them for you?”

“What about work?”

Satoru shrugged. “I can take the day off.”

“Thanks, but I can’t do that. Besides, Shoko said she knows someone who can babysit.”

“Ooooh, is it someone cute?”

Suguru gave him an unamused look.

He bit his tongue between his teeth. “Whoops, sorry. No sleeping with my best friend’s nanny. Got it.”

“Are you even sure you want to, what with your whole new redemption arc picking up?” Suguru asked in a drawl.

When he saw the arched brow, Satoru sighed.

“I keep telling you three that I’m doing this for Yuji, not his sour-faced father.”

“Who happens to be legally your father as well.”

Satoru set down the spatula with a soft click. “He’ll never be my father.”

He shook his head. “Their marriage is a sham. I told you. He’s only married my dad for his money.”

“And yet you’ve abandoned the sabotage and moved on to redeeming yourself in his eyes.” Suguru went on, not allowing Satoru the opportunity to defend his motives, “Don’t bother explaining yourself, Satoru. We can tell when you’re trying to impress someone.”

“How is making the kid lunch boxes impressive?” he asked, uncaring for the way his mind had conjured the face Kento wore when he first began delivering these lunchboxes to Yuji’s school.

The Monday after Kento had dismissed him so cruelly (Did he have to remind him that he was sleeping with his octogenarian father?) Satoru had shown up to the school gate just as Kento and Yuji were being dropped off by the driver.

Kento’s face had been priceless. Yuji’s even more so. He’d accepted Satoru’s lunchbox with impeccable cheer, thanking him sweetly. Satoru had had a hard time not melting in reaction.

On the second morning, Yuji’s face had been utterly delighted, though still walked in controlled steps to where Satoru was leaning against the school gate to say good morning.

Kento had still eyed him with suspicion, but he didn’t reject Satoru. He didn’t even need to prompt Yuji to thank him; the boy was so well mannered. He even reciprocated Satoru’s offered high-five.

Since then, two weeks have gone by, and Satoru hadn’t missed a single morning drop-off. After the first three times, he’d thought Kento would switch up and show up earlier or later, to avoid seeing Satoru, but he didn’t. They showed up at six thirty-five on the dot. Whilst Satoru was earning Yuji’s affection, Kento’s forgiveness seemed set at a faaaar distance.

That’s fine by me, Satoru thought, smiling to himself. It was enough that Kento looked outraged when his son gave him a warm hug.

Did he need to give Kento a raised brow over Yuji’s shoulder as he hugged him back? Probably not.

The next Sunday dinner had been illuminating to say the least. Satoru got to hang out with Yuji, who gushed thoroughly over Satoru’s cooking skills—did he then give Kento a smirk? Of course, he did—and played video games under Kento’s supervision. When Yuji won, fair and square; Satoru wasn’t into letting kids win, so he promised him a trip to the aquarium.

To this date, he hadn’t managed to free his schedule since he didn’t want to impose on Kento’s time with his son, especially since Satoru didn’t know how much of it was spent with his dad, bonding and whatnot. Ugh, he didn’t care for his dad’s attempt to buy Yuji’s affection. He definitely noticed the new toys littering the front yard last week.

While he finished up the lunchbox, Satoru sniffed his arm. “Smell me.”

Suguru groaned, nursing his second cup of coffee. “No.”

“Come on, take a sniff. Do I smell like fried tempura?”

Like the good friend he was, Suguru complied finally. “No, but you should change anyway.”

“Duh.”

Twenty-five minutes later, he was leaning against that familiar wall, looking at his watch. Six thirty-five. On the dot. But no Kento. And definitely no Yuji.

Worry began to slither into his chest.

He picked up his phone and was about to send Kento a text, but he remembered, as he scrolled down his list of contacts, he didn’t have Kento’s number. Now wasn’t that moronic? Why would he have his number?

To check if he’s alright, supplied a voice of reason Satoru didn’t care for.

But a number he did have was his father’s driver. He rang him up instantly.

“Hello?”

“Where are you? Actually, where’s Kento? Why is he not bringing Yuji to school?” Satoru asked rapidly, tempted to start pulling his hair.

“…”

“Answer me, Ijichi!” he bellowed.

The man sighed. “The young master has a fever, so he won’t be going to school today.”

“Yuji is sick?” Without bothering to confirm, Satoru hung up on Ijichi and raced back to his car.

The drive to his father’s house was the fastest Satoru had ever driven. His heart was pounding in his ears, his fingers tapping impatiently at every red light, until blissfully the house came into view. He left the car idling at the curb and rushed out. His shoes clicked noisily as he ran to the door. He was about to open the door but remembered he didn’t have a key anymore—he’d thrown it aside after he’d moved out.

He rang the doorbell repeatedly and finally, Ijichi came to the door.

“Satoru-san—”

“—Move out of my way,” Satoru grunted and sidestepped him, flinging off his shoes as he padded hurriedly into the foyer and began to take the stairs two steps at a time until, finally, he reached Yuji’s door and froze.

What.

The.

Fuck.

What was he doing?

Did he just run up the stairs to check on a kid that wasn’t even his own? Before he could bring his racing thoughts to a conclusion, the door cracked open, and Kento came out with a furrow between his eyebrows. Probably because he heard the racket of Satoru’s pounding footsteps.

“What are you doing here?” Kento asked, but Satoru was more eager to know, “How’s Yuji?” so their questions clashed, spoken at the same time.

Kento shut the door with a click and frowned deeper. “…He has a fever.”

“I know that part,” Satoru told him, fighting the urge to open the door and find out for himself just how bad Yuji was doing.

A hand came to rest on his chest, and Satoru flinched back. Looking wildly at Kento’s face, he saw his own confusion at his action.

“You just put your hand on my chest,” he said weakly. Why are my legs about to give out?

Kento shook his head. “Only because you looked ready to barge into my son’s room.”

“I just want to know if he’s okay.”

“He’ll be okay, Satoru—”

“You said my name.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” Kento took a deep breath, which to Satoru’s ears sounded very shaky. Why was he affected? “Can you calm down? You’re making me nervous and—”

“Sorry,” he cut him off. “This isn’t about me, but I just heard that idiot tell me Yuji was sick and I— I couldn’t think. Should we take him to the hospital?”

Before Kento could speak, which he didn’t look capable of managing since he was staring at Satoru’s face, his eyes as wide as saucers, a voice spoke up to their right.

“Satoru? What are you doing here?” Gojo Hiroto questioned.

“Would people stop asking me this question?” Satoru muttered under his breath. To his father, he said louder, “Yuji is sick.”

Hiroto looked between Kento and Satoru and finally settled on Satoru, he said, “I’ve been informed. That doesn’t explain what you’re doing here.”

Satoru took a step back. Finally realizing just how his reaction was entirely blown out of proportions. He shook his head at his own impulses and sighed. “I… You’re right… I’m just…”

To his surprise, it was Kento who came to his rescue. “Yuji was asking about you.”

Satoru lit up. “He was?”

Kento’s eyes were shrouded in a feeling Satoru knew quite well: confusion. “Come in.”

Forgetting about his father watching them, Satoru followed Kento inside Yuji’s room.

—

Kento couldn’t comprehend the man standing in his son’s room; he was an enigma of inexplicable behavior. He was crass; he was rude. He made Kento want to tear his hair out, but he was also looking at his son with his heart lodged in his eyes. Concern painted Satoru’s face in vivid shades of agony. He was about to tell him that Yuji was fine. He would be fine. But he was struck by the tentative way Satoru lowered himself to his knees and crept to where Yuji was sleeping fitfully.

Sensing the strange presence, Yuji blinked his eyes open and once he saw who was brushing their fingers over his forehead, his eyes widened.

“Satoru-nii!”

He nearly sat up, but Satoru was shushing him and making him lie down. “I’m right here, Yuji. Don’t gotta sit up.”

“Why does niisan look so upset?” he asked in a voice so small, Kento’s chest constricted.

He was waiting for a similar answer.

Satoru chuckled. “Niisan got a bit worried when he heard Yuji wasn’t feeling too well.”

“I’m fine,” Yuji croaked, then coughed lightly. He looked dejected that his body betrayed him.

Kento sat on the bed, which meant he was sitting inches away from Satoru. He placed a hand on Yuji’s head, feeling that heat radiate off his son’s body. He’d been adamant on taking him to the hospital, but it was Hiroto who told him he could call a doctor in.

“Sensei was just here,” Yuji said. “He gave me a shot.” His bottom lip wobbled in memory.

“He was?” Satoru looked at Kento—he nodded. This made Satoru’s cheek light up. Even in the dim light, with only sunshine peeking through Yuji’s heavy curtain as illumination, Kento could see the blush climbing up Satoru’s neck and face. “That’s good,” he said, sounding choked.

“Are you here to deliver my lunch?” Yuji asked, his smile sweet.

Kento opened his mouth to—what? What could he say? Yuji’s expectation to receive a homemade lunch from Satoru was all due to Satoru’s repeated visits.

He hadn’t known what to make of it the first time, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t expect to see Satoru leaning against his school’s son, waiting for them.

It caused quite a stir in his chest. A stir he didn’t understand.

“I am,” Satoru confirmed. He slapped a hand on his forehead, the sound loud and startling Kento. “I forgot it in the car.” He made a move to get up, but Kento offered to do it himself. “No, no, I can’t make you do that. Stay with Yuji, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Father and son watched as he moved, looking lost for a second before he opened the door and, with a lingering look at them, turned around and left.

“Satoru-nii is so nice,” Yuji said in a whisper.

Kento looked down at his son. “Do you really think so?”

He nodded. “He asks me about my morning every day, plays with me, and he makes delicious onigiri.”

“I thought you liked my onigiri best?” Kento asked, not liking the hint of displeasure in his voice. He wasn’t competing for his son’s affection against somebody like Satoru. He couldn’t be.

Yuji looked sheepishly at him, which confirmed Kento’s suspicions. “Mine are too bland, aren’t they?”

Yuji shook his head vigorously. Which meant he was momentarily dizzy and couldn’t reply. Kento clicked his tongue and smoothed the blanket covering him.

Just then, Satoru returned and, hovering by the door, he asked, “Shall I just drop this off and go?” He held the lunchbox in his hands.

“Come in,” Kento said, not understanding why he was inviting him back.

Yet despite that, Satoru still made his leave after leaning in to kiss Yuji’s forehead, which meant that for a few seconds, he was close enough that Kento could smell him—light and sweet.

He was blinking in confusion at his own body’s rising temperature long after Satoru left.

Yuji was sleeping, so he left him to rest and walked out. The hallway wasn’t empty. Gojo Hiroto stood there, a peculiar smile on his face.

“May I have a word, Kento?”

His stomach twitched. “Sure.”

—

“What’s wrong with you now?” Shoko groaned. She was clearly sleeping but she’d still picked up.

“I’m losing my mind,” Satoru wailed. He was in the car, still parked at his dad’s house. He couldn’t make himself start the car and leave. He stared up at the second floor, the window to his dad’s room was visible to him from this angle. When he saw Kento fill it, his back to the window, his chest tightened.

“Hello? We’ve known you’re insane a long time ago,” Shoko muttered. The sounds of sheets rustling. Then she asked, “What is it this time?”

Satoru didn’t reply, too focused on watching Kento through the window like a total creep. When his father entered the frame, Satoru’s body went cold.

A hand lifted and brushed Kento’s shoulder—his heart stopped working. It no longer had any interest in pumping blood or whatever it was supposed to do. His eyes hurt from how long he’d been staring unblinkingly at the scene in front of him, but he couldn’t tear them away or relieve their irritation with a single flutter to his lashes.

He squinted even closer, wishing he could read lips and find out what Kento and his father were talking about. Until Kento hugged his father, and Satoru felt an emotion he’d never believed himself capable of pulling off… Jealousy.

He was totally and utterly jealous of his father.

“Hello?” Shoko’s voice finally penetrated the thick haze filling Satoru’s head. He started the car and drove away, his fingers clutching the wheel.

“I think I need to murder my father, Shoko.”

She laughed at first, but after he didn’t join in, she nervously said, “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Not sure if I am,” he said honestly.

—

Kento sat down on the armchair beside Yuji’s bed, his eyes unseeing as his mind went through the past thirty minutes. Hiroto’s face. His words. How he’d smiled at Kento as he delivered his news.

He was divorcing Kento and paying him a settlement of 20 million yen. When Kento had stared confoundedly at him, he’d offered no explanation. He’d allowed Kento’s hug but afterwards, with a glance outside, he’d asked, “Do you think Yuji will miss me?”

When Kento had told him he would miss him, he wasn’t lying. The gleam in Hiroto’s eyes had told him he believed him.

As he sat by his son’s side, Kento was slowly adjusting to the idea that his arranged marriage, having lasted for a month, was coming to an end with him getting precisely what he wanted. Twenty million would help him find a place and allow him time to properly look for a job. He’d been on several job interviews the past month and there were some amazing prospects.

As if the heavens were smiling down at him finally, his phone buzzed with an incoming email from Higuruma, a defense attorney, informing him that they want him to start next week.

His fingers trembled as he typed in a response. And even long after he’d sent it, Kento was still in disbelief. Was this really his life?

Yuji shifted in his sleep. Right. He needed to tell Yuji that they’d be moving out soon. Then again, Hiroto hadn’t mentioned wanting them to leave just yet. Perhaps he could continue to lean on his now-ex-husband’s generosity for a while longer. He had a feeling he had unfinished business left in the Gojo house.

—

Sunday dinner was charged with unspoken words. Satoru kept opening his mouth to ask how Yuji was feeling but backed out and asked for stupid shit like more stuffed zucchini. Who the hell wanted more zucchini? He still ate it, because he knew it was Kento who’d prepared it.

After dinner, Yuji tugged his hand in the direction of the living room, their set up ready for another round of gaming. This time, however, Satoru presented Yuji with a brand-new Nintendo switch in buttercup yellow. Yuji’s eyes widened.

“Is this really mine?” he asked, the question directed at Kento, who stood with his arms crossed over his soft-looking chest. Uhm, his sweater looks soft, not him, Satoru mentally corrected.

“You can have it, but only while niisan is around.”

Yuji deflated. “Okay.”

“Hey, hey, why the pouty face?” Satoru asked, finally tearing his eyes from Kento—he was a fairly arresting man, who wouldn’t want to look at him for the rest of their meager life?

Yuji stared longingly at the box, not having opened it yet. “Because…” He looked up at Satoru, his eyes filled with tears. “Satoru-nii won’t be around much.”

Satoru frowned. “Now, why do you say that?”

A sigh emitted from Kento. Satoru gave him a look, and when he didn’t clarify why Yuji was under the impression that he was going somewhere, looked at his father. “What’s going on?”

Hiroto leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. He was looking at Kento.

“Kento and I are in the process of getting a divorce.”

Hearing those three words should send Satoru into a dance, with a magically conjured party popper to explode all over the place. Instead, he stared confusedly at the two people in mention.

“Huh?”

A divorce?

“What?” he asked eloquently.

Kento ran his hand over the back of his neck and came to sit down next to Yuji, his legs neatly curled under him. He was a man of such purpose, every gesture of his was precisely performed. Satoru was still tracing the lines of Kento’s long legs when he spoke.

“Hiroto-san and I have reached the end of our union.”

Ugh. Union. Ew. Vomit. Satoru fought the urge to get sick. He didn’t want to imagine his father’s wrinkly hand touching a hair on Kento’s head, never mind uniting with him.

He swallowed the bitterness in his throat and made a sound of understanding in his throat, though he felt far from comprehending anything.

All he knew was that Yuji was upset by this, so he slid onto his elbows and, probably looking like an ass, peered up at Yuji’s face. “Are you bummed out, little guy?”

Yuji nodded, the gesture loosening the tear clinging to his bottom lash line. It trembled down his cheek, and Satoru moved to brush it away with his finger—the same second Kento did. Their hands touched for a mere second, but in Satoru’s mind, time stopped and extended into eternity. Even though Kento withdrew his touch, Satoru felt the hint of it embedded into his skin long after.

Clearing his throat, Satoru said to Yuji, “I see why you’re upset, Yuji-chan, but—” he looked up at Kento, “You’ll always be pretty special to me.” He put out his pinky finger. “And that’s a promise.”

With a sniffle, Yuji extended his hand and curled his finger around Satoru’s. And there, some of the concern clouding Satoru’s own heart dissipated.

—

He stood at the threshold and felt quite silly for it. He never cared to send Satoru off, but perhaps he was feeling grateful for the kind way he comforted Yuji.

He’d not expected him to be so good with kids, but since he acted like one, he must be able to easily relate.

“Good night, Satoru. Drive safely,” Hiroto said, then gave him a hug and walked away.

Satoru turned his gaze onto Kento and all thoughts in Kento’s mind came to a screeching halt.

“I’m not giving you a hug,” he said.

Satoru scoffed. “I wasn’t waiting for one.”

Then what are you waiting for? Kento thought.

“I, uh, I guess,” Satoru began to mutter, “I was going to ask…”

Impatient suddenly, Kento tilted his head. “What were you going to ask?”

“Are you okay?” Satoru murmured; his eyes fixed on Kento’s face.

That caused him to blink, his mouth gaping. Was Satoru worried about him? What, did he think Kento was sad he was getting a divorce? The thought made no sense. Satoru had made it clear what he thought of him marrying his father. He should be jubilant and maybe a little nasty.

Instead, he was looking at Kento like he was waiting for him to crumble.

“I’m fine,” Kento managed.

Satoru didn’t look convinced. “If you need…”

Surprise pushed a disbelieving scoff out of Kento’s throat. “I can’t believe you’re offering your help to the gold digger.”

A wince crumbled Satoru’s face. Which made Kento feel a hint of regret he’d brought up that heinous insult.

“I was wrong,” Satoru mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

Well. A little too soon.

Kento didn’t acknowledge his apology; he’d told him he’d never forgive him. Though the dejection on Satoru’s face was softening his resolve.

Before it could properly fade away, Kento bid him goodnight and shut the door in his face.

There. That’s done. I never have to deal with him ever again.

—

False.

He’d thought with his divorce from Gojo Hiroto finalized, his apartment moved into, and his job secured with a one-year-contract, he’d never have to come face to face with Gojo Satoru. He’d thought wrong.

“Ugh, hide me,” he grunted to Yu. His friend blinked in confusion as Kento curled close enough to his chest, covering his head with his hands.

He felt him scan the area around them. “Who’re you hiding from?”

“Satoru.”

“Ah, your former stepson,” Yu said, and Kento didn’t miss the pointed way he said it.

“Shut up. He was barely my step anything,” Kento grunted, peering up to see if the head of white hair was anywhere near them.

Finding no one who matched the blue-eyed demon, he rose and straightened his shirt. Yu was looking at him with mirth barely concealed in his smirk.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said, but the way he elongated the word made Kento flinch.

“I’m not hiding from him.” He picked up his glass and took a sip of his gimlet.

Yu hummed. “I wonder…”

“How did babysitting go today?”

Subject perfectly changed, Yu forgot all about teasing Kento for his childish behavior and began telling him the latest of his job. Yu liked kids so much that, even after work as a preschool teacher—not at Yuji’s school, unfortunately—he babysat in his free time. When a friend of a friend contacted him about twins, he’d been ecstatic. The father of the twins, however, ended up being the center of Yu’s discussion whenever Kento asked.

Slurping the rest of his drink, Kento rested his chin on his hand and wondered if he was in any position to tease Yu about his very obvious crush, when once again, a flash of white and blue crossed his eyes.

He froze.

Satoru wasn’t just crossing his path, he was in his path, striding so purposefully right up to Kento’s stool. He crossed his arms over his chest and asked Kento, “Where the hell have you been?”

A frown swiftly replaced his stunned silence. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m—hello, you’re Haibara, correct?”

Yu grinned and shook the hand Satoru offered halfway chewing Kento out.

“Nice to formally meet you,” the traitor said.

Satoru nodded. “Likewise.” Then he turned his eyes back on Kento and the force of his stare made Kento’s body tighten.

“Now, what was I saying?”

Yu chirped in, “You were telling him not to pretend to be clueless that he’s avoiding you.”

“Yu.”

“He asked!”

With that, Yu took the rest of his cocktail and left Kento to face a furious Satoru. He made a mental note to mess up Yu’s yarn collection and gave Satoru a look. “I’m not avoiding you.”

Satoru scoffed, helping himself to the now emptied seat next to Kento. He ordered grape juice—who the hell ordered juice at a bar?

“Yes, you are. Every time I’ve come to see Yuji, you’re conspicuously absent and I know you’re not that kind of dad,” Satoru finally said after taking a sip of his juice. His eyes looked hurt.

Kento sighed.

How did he explain to Satoru that while he appreciated him coming to visit Yuji and spend time with him, he didn’t want to see him?

“What? You don’t want to see me?”

Huh. It was that easy. Satoru concluded it all by himself. Yet why did the look of hurt on Satoru’s face make Kento’s chest constrict and for his breathing to halt?

Why was Kento saying, “No, it’s not that,” and reaching as if he was about to touch Satoru’s shoulder?

Satoru stared at the hand Kento raised and didn’t land on him. Then as if impatient, he jerked Kento’s stool close enough that their knees knocked.

Their mouths had kissed all those months ago, so why was the brush of their knees so monumental that Kento forgot how to think?

“I thought you forgave me.”

“I never said I forgave you,” he replied weakly.

Satoru peered closer at him. “Liar.”

“I’m not a liar.”

“Prove it then. Say you hate me. Tell me to get lost,” Satoru challenged, but this close, all Kento could do was watch the way his long, white lashes fluttered.

Blink. Those blue eyes pleaded with him. Don’t hate me. Pull me in closer.

Kento frowned. “I don’t have to do anything.”

With a sigh that broke whatever spell he had on Kento, Satoru leaned back. “You’re killing me, Kento.”

“Good. Die faster,” he muttered, wishing his glass wasn’t empty.

Satoru wasn’t lying. He had been avoiding him. Allowing his visits was done mostly to appease Yuji, who was missing his niisan. In a family as small as theirs, with Yu as his uncle and his two friends, Yuji needed people in his life. The fact that he’d picked Satoru wasn’t done to irk Kento, he knew that. Still. Every Sunday, he’d beg his neighbor Ino to chaperone and spend an hour pretending to read in the café across the way whilst Satoru hung out with Yuji.

It was fairly juvenile of him to pull it off every single time, but Kento sincerely didn’t know how to be around Satoru now that nothing tied them together.

When Yu heard his reasoning, he’d called bullshit on it. Said Kento had a pretty strong tie to Satoru: Yuji. That was alarming enough. He didn’t know why he allowed his son to befriend Satoru, but it made Yuji happy so who was he to take that away?

Blue eyes peered up at him from the folds of a sweatshirt. Kento raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You look good.”

That had not been at all what he expected Satoru to say, and especially not so fondly.

He cleared his throat. “Thanks.”

After a moment, he added, “You look like a mess.”

Satoru looked down at his oversized hoodie and frowned. “This is trendy.”

“Dressing like a homeless person is in trend? Huh… I had no idea,” he murmured, biting back a smile at Satoru’s innocent tone.

When Satoru didn’t reply, he peeked at him, only to find Satoru staring at his profile. He wanted to swallow back the ball forming in his throat, but with Satoru watching him so raptly, he couldn’t.

“What’re you staring at?”

“My former stepfather.”

Kento shuddered. “Don’t call me that.”

Satoru peered closer. “What do I call you then? Nanami?” Then, in a voice like crushed velvet, “Kento?”

“Have you been drinking?” Kento asked, changing the subject because if he had to endure Satoru calling his name in that tone, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

Satoru shook his head.

“Well, I have. I gotta go pee.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“I don’t think so,” Kento said, stopping him from hopping off his stool.

He was turning around, scanning the bar for the restroom sign and possibly for the exit, when Satoru’s low voice penetrated his ear. “Don’t run away from me, please.”

It took so much out of Kento not to do just that because he simply didn’t know how to behave around Satoru. Nothing tied them personally. But as long as Kento allowed Satoru to keep being his son’s pseudo-older brother, he’d have to see him eventually. After using the unbearable stall, Kento washed his hands and stood looking at his face in the large mirror. He didn’t see what men like Hiroto and Satoru saw. He couldn’t be more ordinary than any other twenty-seven-year-old. What was it about him that attracted men like them?

Tremendously bad luck.

He was fortifying himself for another bout versus the pouty man when he saw that his seat was taken by a stranger. Who put a hand over Satoru’s arm and his face near Satoru’s face. From a distance, Kento could’ve easily mistaken them for a couple. But as he stepped closer, his heart causing a ruckus in his chest, he saw Satoru’s anxious, furtive glances. Until those blue eyes settled on Kento and ease flooded Satoru’s expression.

That, to Kento, was inexplicable. Why did Satoru look every bit relieved when Kento was clearly not the right person for him?

If it wasn’t for the jacket he’d left on that stool, now squished by a pert ass that looked keen on plopping itself on Satoru’s lap, he’d have left the bar and Satoru. Don’t run away from me, please. If it wasn’t for those horrible words. Perhaps it was a sign of his deteriorating mentality. Perhaps he simply couldn’t have a peaceful evening. Kento walked right up to the stranger batting his lashes at Satoru and asking him, “Wanna take me home with you, handsome?” and said, “You’re in my seat.”

The man who didn’t look a day older than twenty-three startled, a shrill “Oh my god, where did you come from?” released from his rosy lips.

Kento’s eyes didn’t waver. Neither did his stance. “You’re sitting on my jacket.”

Satoru straightened up, released his arm from the long-fingered grab in which it’d been captured, and said, “Kento, there you are.”

The fledgling of a man looked between them, his wide brown eyes filling with slowly gained understanding. If only he could share it with Kento, because he didn’t comprehend what he was doing, staking his claim on Satoru.

Finally, he stood up, plucked Kento’s denim jacket like it was below him to even look at it, and handed it over. Kento donned it slowly then glanced at Satoru and said, “Come.”

With a screech, Satoru stood so fast his stool scratched over the floor. Loud enough for the man, who’d been trying and failing to get into Satoru’s pants, to whine loudly, “Where are you going?” His eyes flew between Kento and Satoru with an unspoken “Can I come, too?”

No, Kento told him with his eyes, and in a moment of true insanity, he reached for Satoru’s hand and wrapped it in his, tugging him in the direction of the exit.

Walking out amidst all a rush of incoming bar hoppers forced Kento and Satoru together, their bodies squished together. Kento’s back nestled against Satoru’s chest. His ass was growing acquainted with Satoru’s crotch. Kento’s neck warmed up, as did the tips of his ears as he felt hot breath rush over the back of neck. “Sorry ’bout that,” Satoru said only loud enough for Kento to hear it.

He wanted to shrug the shivers running down his spine. But he couldn’t. They left together, but the second Kento could take a deep breath of the chill air, he turned and said, “I’m going home.” Satoru’s mouth opened, eyes glittering. “Alone.” The glitter died.

“What about—”

“You can’t come home with me,” he cut Satoru off. “I don’t think it’s appropriate. I was married to your father two months ago. You may not care how it’d look to people, but I do,” he rambled on, his voice picking up speed and pitch as he went. “I admit that there is something unspoken between us, something charged and frankly, uncomfortable, and while I appreciate your effort in making Yuji happy, I don’t think you have to extend that kindness towards me. What’s going on between us is wrong and I think it’s best if we never, ever acted on it.”

He was panting by the time he shoved all those words out of him, and the effort it took from him made him feel faint.

“…”

Satoru’s mouth never opened but Kento didn’t wait for it to do so. He turned around, hailed a cab, and left.

—

—

With a sigh of relief, Satoru sat down on the curb in front of the bar and looked up at the sky.

The rush of emotion was making him dizzy, so he didn’t care that his 75-thousand-yen jeans were getting stained beyond the abilities of his stain-remover.

Why should he care about his jeans when he was embarking on his life’s mission?

—

After a long, grueling day running errands for Higuruma, the only thing Kento wanted to do was pick up his son from pre-school and head home. The sight of that precious face, pink hair spiked into the air as the five-year-old ran to him managed to erase fifty-seven percent of Kento’s exhaustion. He was kneeling and braced himself for the impact of Yuji’s body slamming into his. Except it didn’t come.

With a loud squeal of “Satoru-nii!” Yuji shattered Kento’s brain.

He looked up from where he was crouching with a confused look. Satoru stood with Yuji in his arms—or rather, he was twirling Yuji around, grabbing him by the waist and sending the boy into a fit of giggles.

Grunting, Kento stood up and waited for Satoru to put his son down. He didn’t. He eventually stopped twirling Yuji, and with a look of mischief, finally addressed Kento. “Hello.”

Everything Kento had spewed that night outside the bar came back in the form of furious blush. His skin was going to melt off the bones and leave his face looking like a bleached skull.

“Hello,” he murmured, only because a long time passed with him simply staring at Satoru like he was looking at an alien.

“Why is Satoru-nii here?” Yuji asked. Good question, Yuji.

The man in question lit up, his eyes still locked with Kento’s, and said, “We’re going to the aquarium!”

The announcement received two different reactions: Yuji squealed in excitement while Kento groaned.

Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t say no to that, not when Yuji was vibrating and talking a hundred words a minute about all the fish he was going to see. He simply followed Satoru to where he’d parked his car. He was astounded to see a car seat set up for Yuji in the back.

“When did you do this?”

Satoru buckled Yuji in and turned to Kento. “Just today.”

“You have a lot of free time.”

Satoru beamed. “I have a lot of hobbies. Mainly cooking and cleaning and doing laundry.”

With a groan, Kento rubbed his temples. “Stop talking. I beg you.”

At least he listened to that part…for two minutes, then he was singing along to the same awful baby shark song Yuji was just forgetting. For the twenty minutes it took for them to arrive at the aquarium, Kento leant his head against his window and took deep breaths to modulate the massive headache creeping up on him.

Yuji bounced in his seat until he was helped out of the car, then he reached for Satoru’s hand. And Kento’s. He walked, utterly oblivious to the two men above him who were perfecting the art of mouthing at one another.

You’re mad, Kento mouthed.

Satoru’s tongue peeked out as he replied, exaggerating the movement of his lips as if Kento wouldn’t understand, “It’ll grow on you.”

I would rather die than have any part of you grow on me.

And I’d resuscitate you just to do it all over again, Satoru promised, pushing the door open for Yuji and Kento.

The sound of Kento’s sighing was eaten up by the cacophony of other excited patrons, walking or running to the help desk to get their entry fee paid and their entry wristbands.

When Kento put his hand out for two of those bands, Satoru said, “Allow me.” Then he took Kento’s hand in his and with far too much care than the task necessitated, he secured it around Kento’s wrist. All the while, Kento fought the blush warming his cheeks because it was shameful that the innocent act of handholding made him feel this bothered.

When it was Yuji’s turn, Satoru lowered to one knee and said with aplomb, “May I?”

Yuji giggled and offered his arm. Satoru was beaming. When it was his turn, he batted his lashes at Kento and asked, “Do it for me?”

Oh, he didn’t want to. The act reminded him too much of putting that ring on Satoru’s father. Still, he bore with it because Yuji was prompting him breathlessly, “Come on, Papa, let’s go!”

His heart trembled and sighed as he felt Satoru’s skin under his, so he quickly tied the band around Satoru’s wrist and shook off the feeling of touching him from his fingers.

“Good luck with that,” Satoru whispered to him, then aloud to Yuji, “I hear they’ve got penguins!”

“Penguins?” Yuji was going supersonic.

Kento sighed. “Yuji, inside voice, please.”

“Penguins!” Satoru exclaimed, without a care to how the two of them were drawing so much attention.

Since they set the mood for the rest of Kento’s afternoon, he was helpless to simply go along with it. He’d much rather be home, soaking in the tub to rest his feet after having walked over fifteen thousand steps running errands for his boss, but one look at Yuji as he plastered his face to the glass, his eyes flitting from one fish to another, helped Kento forget his plans.

Satoru stuck by his side like glue, while keeping an eye on Yuji’s wandering from one exhibit to the other. He read Yuji the information plaques and probably lied about most of it because there was no way there was a princess fish who lived up to two hundred years.

Yuji, if he cared, didn’t show it, and was simply captivated by Satoru’s storytelling. They walked amidst the other families and not once did Kento’s anxiety of people staring at them come true. They were treated like everyone else: a tiny family of three.

When they finally reached the penguins, Yuji’s hopes were crushed because the animals were listless and clearly unmotivated to entertain. Kento felt for them. He wrapped his arm around Yuji’s shoulders. “They’re just resting, darling.”

Yuji’s bottom lip wobbled, but he sucked it into his mouth and gave Kento a determined look.

“Everyone needs to rest,” Satoru piped in. “Even Papa, right?”

Yuji laughed. “Papa never rests. He’s always moving around and fixing things.”

Satoru’s eyebrow arched. “Is that so?”

Nodding seriously, Yuji informed him that “Papa likes to lie down with a book but ends up napping without turning a single page.”

This sent Satoru’s glittering eyes to Kento’s face, which warmed under his fond inspection.

“Yuji,” was all Kento said in a way of admonishing him for spilling his bad habit of taking naps. If he had the energy, he’d love nothing more than to pick up his favorite hobby; he had so many books from his university years, but they’d been collecting dust on his shelves.

Satoru didn’t tease him, though, which was a small mercy.

After a few lackadaisical minutes in front of the listless penguins, Satoru promised Yuji some ice cream and his disappointment was all forgotten.

Kento watched the way the two of them interacted like a hawk. He wanted to decipher the key behind Satoru’s ability to gain Yuji’s trust and admiration. When he first came under Kento’s care, Yuji was too young; he’d latched onto him immediately. But meeting Yu was a challenge. It took Yuji months of Yu cajoling him with treats and toys until he warmed up to him. That wasn’t the case for Satoru. Perhaps it was the label of niisan that removed any sort of obstacle for Yuji. He looked at Satoru and found a solid figure in his life.

Kento’s heart hurt at the thought of ruining that relationship.

—

The weight of the snoozing Yuji on his left shoulder was entirely new for Satoru, but it was an experience he wanted to instill into his brain. He wanted to become integral to Yuji and to the sour-faced Papa walking them up the stairs to their apartment.

“Couldn’t you find a place with an elevator?” he asked breathlessly. Five floors was a bit much even for him and he proudly went running for an hour every other Saturday.

Kento gave him a look and shrugged. “I enjoy the exercise.”

Once inside, Satoru laid Yuji down on the couch at Kento’s behest. “If he sleeps a lot, he’ll be up all night,” he explained when Satoru looked at him.

With a shrug, he tucked the pink throw around Yuji’s limbs and stood there with his hands on his waist, still catching his breath.

“Would you like to have some water?”

“Got anything stronger?”

Kento’s eyes widened. “No.”

“I didn’t mean alcohol,” Satoru quickly explained. “I just... I don’t like water much. I'd rather have grape juice.”

Kento’s eyebrows twitched. “I noticed.”

His feet were seemingly attached to Kento’s every step, when he walked into the kitchen, so did Satoru. When his hand lifted to open the fridge, Satoru’s hand rested its palm on the door, keeping Kento from pulling it.

He didn’t miss the way Kento’s body froze in front of him. He couldn’t help himself, he shuffled closer and took a deep inhale. Citrus filled his nose.

Even after a long day at work and an afternoon excursion, Kento smelled fresh, like he’d just walked out of the shower. Satoru’s eyes were closed as he delighted in the knowledge, missing the way Kento was staring in horror at him.

When he opened them and saw, he cleared his throat and pulled away his arm.

Pointedly, Kento cracked the fridge open and took out a juice box half the size of Satoru’s hand. “This is all I’ve got,” Kento said.

He didn’t mind. “Hope Yuji doesn’t hate me for drinking his juice.”

A sound like a scoff passed through Kento’s nose. “He’d forgive you if you even lost his precious Kuro-chan.”

Settling with his juice box, which he emptied in two long pulls, Satoru let his eyes take their fill of Kento in his kitchen. He looked so handsome in his beige suit, though Satoru would have liked to dress him in something cozier. Like his own sweatshirt. Or…nothing.

“Are you planning on staying for dinner?” Kento asked, breaking Satoru’s concentration as he tried to undress Kento in his head.

He shook the insidious thought free and said, “Am I welcome to stay for dinner?”

Kento looked away from the pantry in which he was contemplating what to cook and met Satoru’s gaze. With a click, he shut it closed and strode to where Satoru was making himself comfortable on the kitchen island.

“Why are you here?” Kento asked, his voice modulated and calm. But Satoru could see the way Kento’s brain was working overtime to make sense of him. Good. He liked Kento thinking of him, even if he was causing him to furrow his brows severely enough for a divot to form between his fair eyebrows.

He itched to reach over and smooth the spot.

Oh, what the heck? He should just— tentatively, Satoru extended his hand and, watching Kento for any sign that he might sock him in the face (déjà vu), he brushed the pad of his thumb right where Kento’s irritation formed. Once the skin returned to its undisturbed natural state, Satoru retracted his hand.

Or he tried.

If it wasn’t for the way Kento grabbed his hand, Satoru’s hand would be well on its way to settling by his side.

Instead, it was held between Kento’s fingers, those brown eyes inspecting every inch of it. “Looking for something?”

“Yeah,” Kento murmured, eyes flickering up to Satoru’s face, “the audacity.” Then he frowned once again, “Don’t laugh.”

He couldn’t help it. Kento made his chest feel light, like there was absolutely nothing in the world that could ever ruin this moment. Even when Kento was glaring at him.

“What are you really doing here, Satoru?” Kento finally asked once Satoru calmed down.

He wanted to pout when Kento dropped his hand and went on to make dinner, but instead, he put his whole heart out for the taking. “I am romancing you.”

Kento dropped the pan he’d been holding and the clanging sound made Satoru wince. He glanced back at the living room couch but fortunately, Yuji was still sleeping.

When he turned his head back, his vision was filled with a tense looking Kento. Who was staring unseeingly at the pan on the floor. Satoru hopped off the kitchen island and walked over to him. He bent down to pick up the pan and placed it on the stovetop.

Bravery flowed through him like lava. He gingerly placed a hand on Kento’s waist, and another under his chin, lifting his face to him. Much like he’d done that first meeting. But this time, Satoru didn’t kiss him.

Kento did.

With a hand grasping both sides of Satoru’s face, eyes screwed shut, and a soft whimper buried in his throat.

Satoru froze in his spot, unsure if he was dreaming with his eyes open. But no. He wasn’t. Kento was kissing him. Rather awkwardly, too. Their teeth clicked behind their closed mouths. That wasn’t good enough for Satoru. With a hum, he closed his eyes and tilted his face to the side, allowing his and Kento’s mouth to meet more amicably. Kento’s lips parted with a shocked gasp when the hand Satoru had on his waist snaked its way all the way around and pulled him in.

Satoru didn’t slip his tongue into Kento’s mouth though every part of him begged him to, he wanted to simply memorize Kento’s lips like this. Panting softly for him.

When they pulled away in unison, Kento with wide eyes, Satoru with a heavy look pointed at the way their chests were crushed together, it took them a moment before they found their words.

“That was…” Kento started but didn’t finish. Holding his breath for an adjective that’d ruin his day, Satoru waited. “Nice.”

Huh. Nice wasn’t great. But it was a whole lot better than awful. He smiled tentatively. “Yeah? Wanna do it again?”

Kento’s lashes fluttered in a slow blink, then he nodded.

With his heart lodged in his throat, Satoru leant in this time, slowly enough to gauge Kento’s reaction. When his proximity was met with breathless anticipation in the form of Kento crushing his shirt in his fists, he closed the distance between their lips and kissed Kento.

They kissed long enough for their lips to ache and puff up, long enough that Yuji stirred from his nap and asked why Papa was red in the face.

Satoru bit his bottom lip, his hands missing the feel of having Kento’s hips underneath them, and watched as Kento hurried to the living room to lie to his son.

Making dinner was fun, especially since Yuji helped and was his adorable self, but what made it better was the fact that Satoru was allowed there. He threw glances at Kento every step of making the spaghetti bolognese, and when he caught Kento already staring at him, his chest fluttered.

After dinner, Kento didn’t tell Satoru to leave. He even gave him another juice box. “Satoru-nii likes the same juice as me!” Yuji noted with cheer as he was led to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

While Kento and Yuji were gone, Satoru snooped. He looked at every framed photograph on the walls, his heart squeezing at seeing Kento with a much younger Yuji in his arms. The man in the photo didn’t look any different than the one Satoru had been kissing an hour ago, but still, Satoru could see the worry in his eyes.

There was so much he wanted to know about Kento. Preferably everything. But for now, he stuck his hands in his pockets and inspected the shelves filled with books both new and old. Some had spines that were broken in several spaces, some looked untouched since purchase. These must be the books that made Kento fall asleep, he noted fondly.

He was about to slip one off the shelf when the door to the bathroom cracked open and out came Yuji, shouting, “My tooth just fell out!”

Kento was hot on his heels, saying, “Yuji, you cannot keep that.”

Yuji frowned. “Why not? It’s mine, isn’t it?”

Satoru exchanged a look with Kento then crouched down to intervene. “You see, teeth are only borrowed, not kept. You should put that under your pillow so the Tooth Fairy can retrieve it.”

Yuji’s eyes widened. “A fairy is coming to steal my tooth?!”

Satoru chuckled. “Not steal. Think of it as returning it to her.”

Kento looked worried the concept was too complicated for Yuji to understand, but to his surprise, Yuji let out a squeal.

“I am going to meet the Tooth Fairy!”

This is on you, Kento mouthed as Yuji finally handed him the tooth and went to his corner of the living room to take out his coloring book and pencils.

Satoru shuffled closer and nudged Kento’s shoulder. “You’re just jealous.”

“Of what?” Kento scoffed. “You’re a liar, that’s all.”

“C’mon, Kento, you know he likes a bit of magic in his life,” Satoru said.

When he saw the way those brown eyes widened, Satoru froze. Did he say the wrong thing? Again? He nudged Kento’s shoulder again, then settled for placing his hand on it, and if he held Kento close to him, then so he did.

Kento turned his head to him and quietly said, “You called me Kento.”

Satoru beamed. “I’ve been doing it for a while.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Do you hate it?”

Kento shook his head.

“Papa, come see this! If I mix yellow and blue, I get green!” Yuji called out, pulling them out of their small huddle.

Kento broke free from Satoru’s hold, but something in the way he looked back at Satoru, a look of blatant want nestled within his eyes, told him his plan was working.

—

Tying a noose would be a lot easier than this tie, and no matter how many times Kento redid it, it still looked lopsided and awful.

Behind him, Yu and Yuji were blissfully too engrossed in an episode of Naruto to notice him struggling.

Or so he thought.

“Just forget about the tie, Papa.”

“I second Yuji. You look a lot better without it,” Yu added, his eyes still fixed to the screen.

“Aren’t you two supposed to be watching TV and not me?” he asked with a sigh, succumbing to their advice and removing the tie from around his neck.

Yuji grinned, his newly fallen tooth having left a huge gap in his front teeth. He’d poked it a lot with his tongue until Satoru told him it’d make the new tooth come out sideways. Kento had been astonished by how quickly Yuji listened to Satoru.

Speaking of… He glanced at the clock on the wall.

“Are you sure you two will be okay without me?” he asked for what felt like the tenth time in the span of an hour since Yu came over to assume babysitting duties.

“Yeah, Papa, Yu is cool.”

“Thanks, Yuji-chan,” Yu said, not a hint of sarcasm. He hugged the boy to his chest, and judging by the way Yuji squealed, he liked it. Kento watched them get all cozied up on the couch, crunching on sweet popcorn and watching their favorite anime and wished he could join them.

But no. He wouldn’t be joining their snuggle because he had a… he swallowed thickly… he had a date.

With Satoru.

Which was totally inappropriate and horrifying. But also, exciting.

Speak of the devil. Three distinct knocks sounded on the door.

Yuji and Yu’s heads shot to the door, Kento’s didn’t. He didn’t need to open the door to confirm who was standing behind the door.

The only sign Kento needed to pursue this totally inappropriate, horrifying, and exciting endeavor was the way his heart sang when he eventually opened the door and was greeted by twinkling blue eyes and a huge bouquet of…books.

“Books?” he asked in lieu of hello.

Satoru winked. “To help you sleep at night.”

Something about the way Satoru’s tongue peeked from his plump lips and licked his bottom lip told Kento that he’d have no such problem.