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The first time Ainosuke sees Kojiro is briefly, in passing, and in a stupidly cheesy setting.
Ainosuke is sitting on the beach, sand cooling down under his naked feet; the sun set a while ago, the breeze is a welcome relief in the oppressive summer heat, and the world is quiet, apart from the waves softly rolling over wet sand.
The silence is interrupted by laughter, and the familiar clatter of skateboard wheels over cracked concrete. Ainosuke briefly wonders if it’s the punks that skate by the middle school down the street, but he knows the clack of a perfectly executed ollie when he hears one. The idiots that try to slide down the railings by the school do not have the practice, balance, or talent, to pull off the trick flawlessly.
He turns around just as two figures make their way through the yellow beam of light cast by a streetlamp. Judging by the voices, they’re both boys, possibly around his own age, but Ainosuke can only see the first person clearly - a pretty face and long hair fluttering as the boy crouches down, ready to attempt another jump. The kick-off is clean and nice, but the stranger fumbles in the air, and Ainosuke just waits for him to inevitably fall to the ground in a harmless, but painful way.
The fall never comes, though - and that’s when Ainosuke sees the other person. He’s tall, lanky, and even from this distance Ainosuke can tell his smile is soft and open and warm. He’s got a hold around the long-haired boy’s wrist, pulling him up, saving him from the impact with the unforgiving concrete.
Ainosuke’s first thought is that I want someone to look after me like that. The second is, ah, they’re beautiful.
The boys laugh, and as the long-haired stranger gets ready to get going again, Ainosuke could swear the other boy looks straight at him. It’s hard to tell if their eyes meet, but Ainosuke feels his cheeks heat. He turns away, and only looks back when he can’t hear the clack, clack of wheels on pavement anymore.
- - -
The second time Ainosuke sees Kojiro is almost a week later, and embarrassingly enough, he almost fails his jump when he realises Kojiro’s intense stare is focused on him. He is skating by the middle school with all the graceless newbies that are way below his level - and they’re all rather dumb and reckless, but also fun. He never expected the strangers from that night to be here as well, though. Back then, under the golden light, they seemed like two people who are perfectly contempt with each other’s presence, needing no one but each other.
He lands his jump, and it’s wobbly, but no one seems to notice in-between the cheers and the overall moment of disarray as the next person gets ready for the trick. Kojiro’s gaze is still on him though, burning at his neck. Ainosuke pulls his hood further down his face, and makes his way to the back of the group.
He watches them later that evening, from a safe distance.
The pink-haired boy is pretty, no doubt - proud and elegant, long hair untied, head held high; the silver lip piercing is a nice contrast to that cat-like elegance, though Ainosuke recognises attempts at breaking free from the strict claws of family when he sees one.
The other stranger is… cute, in the way a puppy with paws it has yet to grow into is. It’s as if he doesn't know what to do with his handsome face, or his tall figure, as if he is faintly aware of his attributes, but unable to understand them. Ainsouke’s eyes are drawn to him time after time, for reasons he himself can’t (or refuses to) understand.
The two boys make a peculiar pair, always bickering, always arguing - and yet, there is a softness to them whenever they exchange another round of insults, a familiarity of each other in the way they lean into each other’s space when discussing tricks or heave each other up from the cold concrete after a failed attempt at yet another stupidly difficult jump. It’s as if they’re made not to be separated, and no one tries to do so either; it’s clear to everyone that the pink-haired punk and the lanky puppy boy are two halves of a whole.
Ainsouke wonders if the two strangers are aware of it themselves. He doubts it - they fill out each other’s space perfectly, and have probably never had the need to think over their friendship.
He turns his head away when the green-haired boy looks in his direction.
- - -
Ainosuke never gives Kojiro, or Kaoru, his real name. It’d be too revealing, though he supposes his hood is already telling enough of a high status - if he was just your average citizen, he wouldn’t cover his face.
“Adam, huh,” Kaoru says, almost judging. Ainosuke likes the straightforwardness.
Kojiro doesn’t say anything of the sort, only smiles and nods his head in a greeting.
“You skate very well,” he says, and Ainosuke can't help but smile in return.
“You’re not bad yourself,” he answers, and the soft laugh Kojiro lets out makes Ainosuke’s heart stutter. The… the overall softness of Kojiro makes him feel funny, and he doesn’t want to dwell on it too much. He reacts the only way he can - with venom and flair.
“Of course I’m not,” Ainosuke answers, voice not his own, and yet again he turns away, forcing himself to leave before that warmth radiating off Kojiro melts him completely.
- - -
There are times, small moments, really, when Ainosuke wonders if Kojiro and Kaoru are aware of how easily they’ve accepted Ainosuke into their little bubble. He assumes that no, they’re not - their familiarity towards each other comes from years of friendship, and they fit together like two halves of a whole.
Yet, they make a space for Ainosuke there, make two pieces into three, and fit Ainosuke comfortably between each other, as if it was perfectly natural. Maybe it is all perfectly natural to them - maybe they’ve done this before, opened their arms for someone before Ainosuke, welcomed someone else to witness the brief, tender moments they’re not aware of themselves.
The thought makes Ainouske’s stomach turn, and he should’ve known right there and then that this is a bad, bad idea.
He ignores his gut feeling, rookie mistake, or maybe he’s blinded by… love? Admiration? Passion? He doesn’t know, and doesn’t want to know.
All Aniosuke knows is that he wishes for Kojiro’s hand to ghost over the small of his back, just as he does with Kaoru sometimes. He wants Kojiro to freely link their fingers as they walk down the street, and he wants Kojiro to look at him with that warm smile, and he wants to take all the soft affections and put them in a box and keep it close to his heart.
Ainosuke doesn’t notice Kojiro’s lingering gaze when they part ways at the end of their little skating sessions. He’s too preoccupied wishing he could go with them, hoping that one day, maybe, he can join them, and let the calm and happiness they radiate seep into his bones, until it erodes the cold, the emptiness, and the everlasting feeling of want.
- - -
The days feel endless when they skate together. Ainosuke gets lost in it - in Kaoru’s laughter and the easy banter; in Kojiro’s steadiness as they try new tricks, in the way he’s always there to catch whoever has fallen, how his quiet and calm demeanor has a relaxing effect on everyone around him; in the way both Kojiro and Kaoru pay attention to what Ainosuke says, and how they aren’t afraid of engaging with him.
They also get less guarded around Ainosuke, comfortable, even. He sees them holding hands, sees the way Kojiro seems to always touch Kaoru in one way or another, sees them as their bickering ends up in a “you love me anyway”, “yeah, sucks to be me”.
Ainosuke longs to be included in what they have, an odd kind of love he’s so unfamiliar with. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows that this cannot possibly be what love is, because it goes so against everything he knows, everything he believes in. It’s too similar to the traitorous relationship he used to have with Tadashi way back when. It’s too… too simple. Something as big and meaningful as love can impossibly be contained in soft forehead kisses, in fingers leisurely laced together, in lingering touches to his shoulder.
It’s much easier to accept love as the adoration and amazement painted on Kaoru’s face whenever Ainosuke lands a trick Kaoru’s been working on for three days. It’s easier to see the love he’s familiar with in the way Kaoru looked at him that one time when Ainosuke managed to grab his wrist before he fell. It’s much easier to react to bruising kisses and roaming hands - because they’re aggressive, and they leave marks.
That’s a love Ainsouke knows, and one he can reciprocate properly, without hesitation.
It’s way harder with Kojiro, because he’s kind and soft but also stubborn and steady. His eyes are always asking is this okay, always searching for the slightest sign of discomfort, even with something as mundane as a light touch, or a brush of their fingers. It also seems like Ainosuke can never catch Kojiro off guard, no matter how sudden his moves are - Kojiro simply opens up for him whenever Ainosuke surges into a kiss, tilts his head to the side when Ainosuke makes the slightest attempt at kissing his neck. It makes Ainosuke’s toes curl in possessiveness, but it also makes him uncertain - no one has ever submitted like this of their own accord, and no one has ever been this soft with him.
Kojiro might be soft in his actions, and sweet in his eager compliance, but he’s the anchor that keeps Ainsouke in place when he spirals into his own head, internally fighting between give in to the unfamiliar love and how do I know he really loves me. Gentle hands pet down his back, over and over, heavy and sure, until Ainosuke’s breath steadies. Quiet words are whispered by his ear, reassuring him until he could fall asleep.
It makes Ainosuke’s brain short-circuit with uncertainty and lack of capability to handle such affections. He pulls away quicker than he’d like, but he doesn’t know how else to react to the soft gaze Kojiro always regards him with.
He pretends not to see the flash of pain in Kojiro’s eyes, quickly masked by a “take your time,” and a hand that is lifted to pat him on the back, ruffle his hair, maybe, only to stop mid-motion when Ainosuke pulls the hood further down over his head.
- - -
When Ainosuke is told he’ll be shipped abroad in three days for school, he turns on his heel, grabs his skateboard, and leaves the house. He can react this childishly and brashly only because his father is there, with some understanding of the situation. He skates stupidly fast, without checking for cars around the corners when he crosses streets on red lights. He wants to go, to leave, to fall into Kojiro’s warm embrace and never let go.
He knows Kojiro and Kaoru are skating under the bridge at this hour of the day, and that’s where he’s going; he might be leaving in three days, but they still have time - time to feel free, and endless, and to love in that way Ainosuke doesn’t understand, but craves anyway.
They’re under the bridge alright, and it is when Ainosuke sees them, that he realises that his initial spark of jealousy from all those weeks ago has only been growing. It’s a fire, now, he realises, burning a hole in his chest, making him see red.
Kaoru is the first to notice him, stretching out a hand in an invitation. Kojiro doesn’t notice, too busy kissing bruises to Kaoru’s collarbone. He turns when Kaoru yanks at his hair, and his expression is so soft, so loving, it makes Ainosuke’s heart twist.
It only adds to the fire, though, to see them together like this, to see all this affection he can’t handle being so easy for them. It burns and it hurts, and Ainosuke doesn’t know where to look - so again, he turns away, leaving them baffled and hurt in each other’s embrace.
They see eachother again that evening, at S. Ainosuke is there to skate his pain away, stupidly enough, but it’s the only thing that can bring him any relief from the wildfire still raging in his bones. It’s the only thing that makes him forget, for the shortest moment, that he’s hurt and upset and alone.
Kaoru tries to talk to him, but there is nothing to talk about not now, not anymore. Ainosuke insults him in the worst way he knows. Boring, he says, cold and unforgiving despite the tears behind his mask.
He’s waiting for Kojiro to say something too - but when he turns towards him, his expression is unbearable. Ainosuke has finally managed to achieve his goal of surprising Kojiro, by hurting them both, despite telling them they were special.
Ainosuke knows, somewhere in his subconscious, that his reaction is childish and stupid, and that it doesn’t make sense in any way. After all, they are - were - three people in something resembling a relationship, so there’s no wonder Kojiro and Kaoru would be affectionate with each other when Ainosuke isn’t there. It’s a fact Ainosuke was always aware of, and one that didn’t bother him - or so he thought, apparently.
Love as they know it is not for him. Ainosuke’s known that for a while now, but he did try - because he wanted what they had, and they were willing to give it to him.
He has, in his eagerness, forgotten that Kojiro and Kaoruy were together before Ainosuke ever laid his eyes on them that night under the yellow lights. They had what was hard to come by nowadays - a bubble of familiarity that came from years upon years of sharing time, meals, thoughts, beds. They might have made place for Ainosuke in said bubble, but no matter how one analyses their relationship, hard facts remain facts.
Kojiro is the steady anchor in the sea of chaos Kaoru resembles, has been for longer than Ainosuke probably knows. It doesn’t matter that all Ainosuke wants is to feel that steady hand at his waist again, or to see that soft, warm smile on Kojiro’s face.
Kojiro is not his anchor, and so he doesn’t deserve the affections he craves.
After all, an anchor cannot be in two seas at once.