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He wasn’t sure when it had happened or how it had happened ― all he knew was that it had happened, and this was now his fate and there was no escaping it. It was probably the last thing he had wanted from his experience at Yonan University but here it was, becoming one of the first life-changing experiences of his adult life. He had gone and done it, he had fallen in love.
It’s not that he was complaining, not at all. Falling in love had allowed him to feel a whole new range of emotions. There was elements of excitement, hyper-awareness, anxiety, sensitivity and tinges of pain, all wound up in a tangle around his head and heart. Being in love was such a foreign concept for Kinjou, it had done a few strange things to him, for example, making him lose his hard-practised image of stoicism and in turn, transforming him into a stuttering, sweaty, giggly mess.
Kinjou was never really aware of the type of person that struck interest in him, it just hadn’t been a concept he had put much thought into. But upon entering Yonan, he had met and become acquainted with Arakita Yasutomo and it had become all so clear.
If he were to give a rough estimate, it’d be about half-way into his first year, when Kinjou had become certain he was in love. Thinking back to that time only brings back a blur of vivid memories, accompanied with small surges of ecstasy and careless bliss.
He recalls the first time they rode together — Arakita was reluctant and assessed Kinjou down to every small turn and climb.
He recalls the first time they had won a race together. By then, Kinjou was already head over heels in love but he was pretty good at hiding it. Or Arakita was just that oblivious ― probably a small mixture of both. It wasn’t too far into first year; their captain had let them enter a small race, just them two, Arakita being the one pulling Kinjou to the finish. With a well-strategised plan of attack, the duo had found themselves several meters ahead of any other competitors, going in for a solo win. After Arakita had set Kinjou off for the finish line, they met together a few minutes later, pulling each other into a tight embrace, whispers of disbelief and ecstasy. Their small celebration brought tidal waves of happiness and warmth to Kinjou ― not only from their victory but also from it being the first time he had ever held Arakita so close.
There was no way he wanted to let go, but holding on for any longer probably would have raised some questions. Kinjou pulled away, his hand still on Arakita’s arm as they stared at each other, bursting into small fits of giggles, their levels of delight bubbling.
Sweat covered skin, chests heaving, lips spread wide into grins, Kinjou couldn’t find a better time to go for it. Kinjou wasn’t entirely sure if Arakita had reciprocated feelings, he was sort of stuck in a wurl of asking subtle questions, making small advances ― trying to figure if the man he loved had loved him back. Well, now was the time apparently, all caught up in euphoria ― he could blame it on the adrenaline if things turned awkward.
He stared at the raven-haired man in front of him in one of the happiest states he had ever witnessed, and went in. He leaned forward slowly, his eyes intent, watching for a sign, any kind of sign. His heart raced faster than ever, increasing tenfold, even despite the unimaginable amounts of adrenaline circulating his veins.
This next part might have been a fragment of his imagination, but he was sure Arakita was leaning toward him too, his breathing slowing and eyes drooping to a close.
“Oi, kids, congrats!”
Well, fuck. The rate at which they both pulled away was almost superhuman, both of them cracking awkward chuckles to cover up what almost just happened. Their upperclassmen had come to congratulate them and that became the end of attempt one. Despite the failure, it gave Kinjou a little hope, that maybe, things could work out and just maybe, Arakita liked him too.
Reminiscing about his years in University didn’t always bring back such pleasant memories ― there was also a lot of struggle ― not only with his love life, but with his cycling career too. In high school, in his third-year, Kinjou had hurt his knee, overworked it. At that moment, it didn’t seem like such a big deal, a bit of rest and rehabilitation and he would be as good as new.
That wasn’t exactly the case. It wasn’t like Kinjou to ignore injuries, but sometimes his pride was a little too much, his determination taking charge of his head and in the end, he didn’t make the greatest of decisions.
Nearing the end of Kinjou’s first year at Yonan, he partially tore a ligament in his left knee. Fortunately enough for Kinjou, it wasn’t career threatening and some proper medical attention would allow him to continue cycling. After his recovery and extensive time spent away from the cycling club, Kinjou had returned to practise. He was given warning that his regimen should be light, and he should slowly ease back into his normal intensity.
A week into practise came a particularly vigorous session.
“Kinjou-san, you can practise at your own pace today.” The team captain had said, definitely concerned over his underclassmen’s recovery.
“It’s okay captain, I can handle it.”
It’s not that it wasn’t true, Kinjou kept up with the session considerably well ― he may have fallen behind the pack once or twice but he managed to ride the session to completion.
He really shouldn’t have though. The locker room was empty (or so he thinks) as Kinjou walked in after locking his bike up, a small limp in his step as he made his way over to the showers. He had tried to hide the pain when under the watching eye of his teammates, but as he couldn’t see anyone near him, he winced in pain as he took every step, making careful self reminders to put some ice on it when he got back to the dorm.
“Kin-chan?” No, no, no, Kinjou cursed repeatedly in his head as he knew exactly who was calling for him.
“Arakita…” He replies, turning around to face the source of the sound, straightening up his back and instantly making it so that it didn’t look like he was pain.
“Your knee.”
“It’s fine―” he replied swiftly, a small, weak smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He was instantly cut off, Arakita’s voice sounding harsh. “No it’s not. I can’t believe you, you’ve only been out of rehab for one week!”
Kinjou was taken aback to say the least, as he stood in silence as Arakita shook his head in disapproval.
“Look, go back and take a fucking seat, I’ll have a look at it.” Arakita ordered, gesturing with a small nod back toward the locker rooms. There wasn’t all too much Kinjou could do but listen, so he walked, with Arakita’s help, and sat down on the bench, setting down his small bag of shower supplies.
Arakita had gotten him a cold compress, and was examining the swelling and range of movement, attempting to see how much pain he was in and if it needed immediate professional attention.
His touch was surprisingly gentle, and Kinjou thought it was a nice contrast to how brash and loud his voice was. Great, another reason to fall deeper in love. Arakita was rattling off some few tips on how to take care of the swelling and redness but Kinjou had zoned out, wondering how Arakita had known so much on how to tend to injuries and how he seemed to care so much about Kinjou’s.
Gentle movements, calloused hands on his skin, accompanied with a slow, worried voice, Kinjou felt his heart beat faster, his fingers beginning to tremble. He raised his own had to place on top of Arakita’s hand, getting his attention.
“...Kin…chan…” Arakita managed to stammer out as he averts his gaze to align with Kinjou’s.
It was happening again, he was leaning down, his heart hammering at his ribcage as he brought a hand up to place onto the side of Arakita’s face. Mere centimeters apart and Kinjou was thinking that it would finally happen, that he’d finally be able to kiss the love of his life.
“I.. I need to go―” Arakita pulls away, cheeks flushed a dark red and a confused, agitated look washed on his features. He mumbles a small apology and quickly leaves the club room, leaving Kinjou alone.
With this, not only did Kinjou again, fail to kiss him, but all his speculations about Arakita reciprocating his feelings had suddenly disappeared and were instead replaced with large amounts of anxiety and regret.
University experiences gave extreme highs, and extreme lows and sometimes, there were just… good times. Nothing too extravagant, no winning of races or anything like that.
As Kinjou crept into second year, he still hadn’t kissed Arakita but he made some advancement, they had begun dating. Unfortunately enough for them both, they were so inexperienced and just, well, really shy. It was obvious that they liked each other oh so much ― they just didn’t know what to do about it. They had figured that things would get a lot easier and Kinjou had might finally be able to kiss Arakita, but one week later, and holding hands was as far as they had gotten.
Hand-holding for the first time was an awkward experience ― Kinjou thinking that Arakita could probably feel his sweaty palms, or that maybe he was holding too tight, or maybe something outrageous like the fact that maybe he could feel his pulse and in turn, notice just how fast his heart was racing. Fortunately enough for Kinjou, Arakita hadn’t said a thing.
Several nights a week, mostly after practise, Kinjou would invite Arakita out to eat or to eat in with him. It was friday night and they had just finished a long day of consecutive classes and a four-hour intense training session. They had bought dinner from the convenience store as well as a couple of beers ― Arakita had insisted, as some sort of celebration for all their hard work.
A few hours into the night, they were sitting on the floor, faces flushed a light pink from the alcohol and holding hands as they watched lame late night tv shows. Arakita was laying on the floor on his stomach and Kinjou sat next to him, his eyes fixated on his laptop placed on the coffee table, fumbling a little as he scrolls with one hand. Arakita aimlessly drew small patterns on the back of Kinjou’s hand, talking about something that happened in class that day.
Kinjou was half listening, he knew that Arakita didn’t really want a response from him anyway, he just wanted to rant and get it out of his system. After answering a message he had on Facebook, Kinjou turns to face Arakita, who was still talking, scribbling something on Kinjou’s hand with his index finger. Kinjou sighs softly, suddenly feeling extremely content with how his university life had decided to pan out.
And it was in that moment, when Kinjou decided that fuck it, he was going to do it. He was going to kiss his own boyfriend dammit.
“Yasutomo.” He says firmly, making the man in question stop speaking, looking up from their hands and raising a brow slightly.
“Can I kiss you?”
There wasn’t a verbal answer from Arakita, but he swallowed, his mouth slightly open and nodded. Arakita slowly got up on his knees as Kinjou leaned in closer, his heart once again, racing at a thousand miles per second.
Their lips met in a short, sweet kiss, Kinjou breaking their linked hands to place one on the side of Arakita’s face and the other at the nape of his neck. They broke apart after a few seconds, and Kinjou cracked a small chuckle, pressing his forehead against Arakita’s, a wide smile plastered itself on his lips.
“What’s so funny, Shingo?” Arakita lips jutted into a small pout, his voice having a small playful ring to it.
“Oh, nothing… It’s just that I’ve really been wanting to kiss you for a long time now.”
Arakita chuckles at the statement as they kiss once more, this time a little longer, Arakita throwing his arms around Kinjou’s neck.
“I really, really like you.”
“Yeah. Me too. I really like you too.”