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After the fifth time listening to Kyouji’s horrible falsetto, Satomi is getting desperate. Surely there has to be a way to convince Kyouji to stop singing the song - even just within Satomi’s radius. He’s not gonna stop him from subjecting other people to it. Maybe it’d be a good torture technique, or whatever yakuza do.
So when Kyouji clears his throat and sets the mic down, Satomi takes his chance.
“Kyouji-san,” he says carefully, “What will it take for you to stop singing that song?”
“Eh? Crimson?”
Satomi gives him a pointed look. “What other song is there?”
Kyouji grins, too wide and with too much teeth, in that weird way that makes Satomi feel like he’s about to be chased. “You’ve got sass, huh? You really hate it that much?”
“I told you already. Your falsetto is horrible. You need to stop singing it if you don’t want your boss to tattoo you.”
“Hmm... But I’ve been singing this song this whole time. It’ll take a lot for me to give it up...” Kyouji leans back and starts stroking his chin in thought, his motions exaggerated, another annoying thing he likes to do for some reason. “How about... a kiss?”
What.
“What?” Satomi blinks.
“A kiss,” Kyouji beams, leaning closer to the table. “Just one! Then I won’t sing Crimson for... two hours!”
“... Who are you gonna kiss?” Satomi says.
Kyouji tilts his head and grins again. “Who else is there?”
Satomi frowns, sinking into the seat. Is this some kind of joke? Surely Kyouji has better things to do than make bad jokes about making out with middle schoolers. Then again, he did drag Satomi here to a karaoke room to ask for singing lessons, so it’s not like his priorities make sense in the first place.
That aside, there’s something more important he should worry about. Satomi bites his lip, looking down at the table. “Well… Why a kiss? And why me?” he says, fidgeting with his hands. “I thought you’d, I dunno, make me pay up or something.”
“Eh, if I took some kid’s money, that’d just be too mean!” Kyouji says, like it makes complete sense. Which it doesn’t. “Your parents still kiss you, right? Think of it like that.”
But you’re not my parents, Satomi thinks, And my parents don’t even kiss me. You’re weird.
Sensing his hesitation, Kyouji shuffles closer, patting him on the shoulder. “Well, if a kiss is too much, maaaybe I should just ask you to sing for me!”
“No way,” Satomi frowns. Before Kyouji can open his big mouth and say something stupid, Satomi raises two fingers. “Fine, a kiss. On two conditions. One, just on the cheek. Two, you have to go two hours without singing Crimson before you can… kiss me.”
Kyouji laughs, a sudden bark that almost surprises Satomi. “Man, you sure drive a hard bargain, huh? You’d give some guys I know a run for their money.”
Satomi winces. It sounds like a compliment, in a weird Kyouji-like way, but he’d rather not be compared to gangsters for any reason.
“Whatever. Weirdo.”
Kyouji goes quiet, which is surprising. Nervous, Satomi looks up, finding Kyouji looking at him with an unrecognizable expression. Satomi instinctively draws his shoulders inwards. Is he mad? Is Satomi going to die because he called him a weirdo?!
But then Kyouji’s face suddenly shifts into a wide smile. “You promise?” he sing-songs, raising his pinky finger like a child. “Swear on it, Satomi-kun.”
Satomi blinks. He really doesn’t wanna do a pinky swear with a yakuza, but if he refuses Kyouji might try to cut his finger off instead. He carefully raises his pinky, and watches as Kyouji locks their fingers together.
“No taking it back, okay?” Kyouji says, and Satomi gets the feeling he just made a big mistake.
***
Come Friday, Kyouji drags him to Karaoke Heaven again. Satomi watches as Kyouji queues up three songs, none of them Crimson. He ignores the smug look that he just knows Kyouji has, and busies himself with looking through the menu instead. Three songs in the span of two hours is nothing, maybe Kyouji’ll give up and the deal will fall through. Hopefully.
Wait, no, not hopefully. Because Kyouji failing his end of the deal means listening to his cringy falsetto again.
A kiss on the cheek is just a few seconds, Satomi reminds himself, And Crimson is six minutes. It’ll be fine.
To get his mind off of things, Satomi orders a fried rice and orange juice, like usual. Listening to Kyouji go through songs that don’t make him sound like a deflating balloon is actually kinda nice. In a passable way. Kyouji’s no Hoshino Gen, but at least he sounds normal now.
Ten minutes and two water jug refills in, Kyouji takes a break, sitting down beside Satomi. “Pretty good, huh?”
“Not terrible,” Satomi says flatly, keeping his eyes on his fried rice.
“Satomi-sensei is so strict,” Kyouji whines dramatically. “Not even a ‘keep up the good work’?”
“Are you just trying to waste time?” Satomi scoffs. “Sitting around isn’t gonna count for the two hours.”
Kyouji pouts, and Satomi rolls his eyes. Seriously, what business does a grown man have pouting like some poor kicked puppy? For all Satomi knows, he’s the one going around kicking puppies, and that’s how he’s mastered the look so well.
It’s not going to work on Satomi anyways, because Kyouji isn’t a puppy in the first place. He goes back to his fried rice — Kyouji actually takes the hint and goes back to singing.
Satomi recognizes some of the songs as those he picked out for Kyouji, and the realization makes his stomach do a weird thing that makes him feel like he needs to throw up. But it could also be the fried rice, which was oilier than usual this time. Satomi stands up to order some soda, figuring a fizzy drink will help with the oily feeling. Meanwhile, Kyouji moves on to another song Satomi recommended him.
How far will we go tonight?
Will we stay here like this forever?
… Is this really how the song starts? The original singer slurred his words a bit, and Satomi was mainly focused on the song’s range and tempo anyways. He doesn’t remember the verses being like… this.
I'm about to burst, I'm about to take flight
Being alive is so wonderful
When the staff comes in with the drink, they do a double take, like even they know Kyouji is obsessed with Crimson. At least Satomi can tell himself he’s doing something good, saving innocent karaoke workers from hearing Kyouji’s strained voice.
I want you to kiss me
I want you to kiss me
I want you to kiss me
I want you to kiss me
Satomi looks away from the TV screen. This part of the song he knows, but hearing it in Kyouji’s voice feels unsettling.
So we can reach our dreams
I want you to kiss me.
As the instrumental fades out, there’s a second or two of suffocating silence, Kyouji staring at the screen, and Satomi staring down at the table. It’s just a song, Satomi tells himself. Kyouji’s just singing it because you told him to.
That fact doesn’t comfort Satomi as much as he thought it would.
Kyouji suddenly claps his hands together, breaking the silence. “Two hours, done!” he says, looking far too smug for someone about to kiss a middle schooler. Satomi sighs, picking at nonexistent lint on his pants.
“On the cheek,” Satomi reminds him. “And just once.”
“I’ll be gentle,” Kyouji sing-songs, and Satomi cringes.
“Shut up.”
“Okay~ Ready when you are.”
Satomi sighs, again, and closes his eyes. He doesn’t need to see Kyouji’s weird face up close. “Ready,” he mutters, his heart beating fast, as if he just ran laps for PE. He finds himself holding his breath, staying very still. What was that thing they just learned in Biology? Prey instinct?
“Just relax,” Kyouji whispers, which has the exact opposite effect. His voice is suddenly too close, and Satomi shivers. From surprise. Obviously. Before he can move away, he hears Kyouji chuckle, and then feels something press against his cheek.
Then nothing.
“All done!” Kyouji says, “You can open your eyes now.”
Satomi opens his eyes slowly, blinking as the room comes back into view. Kyouji is leaning against the seat, sipping coffee like nothing happened. Satomi clears his throat awkwardly, reaching for his juice to chew on the straw.
“Wasn’t that bad, right? Nothing to be worried about.”
“Shut up,” Satomi says, but it sounds weak to his own ears. “Anyways, now that Crimson’s out of the way, we can focus on other stuff you can actually sing—”
“Eh? This kiss was only for two hours of no Crimson, remember?” Kyouji grins, putting his coffee down and stretching his neck.
“Well— yeah— but…” Satomi stammers. Kyouji was the one who made a big deal out of- kissing him. Right?
“But what? Satomi-kun, if you want me to stop singing that song for good, you’ll need to make another deal,” Kyouji says, all smug, “And I already got to kiss you, so you need to give me an even better reward.”
Right. Trusting a yakuza was the first mistake.
Satomi bites on the straw so hard it splits. Kyouji’s eyes flicker to his lips for just a second, maybe barely that, but it’s enough. Satomi’s not stupid. Inexperienced? Definitely. But straight up ignorant? Of course not. But still…
“If…” he says, hesitant, “If you promise you won’t sing Crimson anymore— I’ll…”
“You’ll…?” Kyouji raises a brow, expectant.
“I’ll kiss you,” Satomi says, all together in a rush of breath so fast he’s not even sure if he says it properly.
“Hm? What was that?” Kyouji says, bringing his hand to his ear and leaning in closer. Asshole. “Satomi-kuuun, speak up please!”
Satomi should just leave. Just stand up, throw the rest of his drink at Kyouji’s stupid face, and make a run for it. He really should. But something’s keeping him glued to his seat, stomach doing something weird, like when he ate too much cake on his twelfth birthday.
… That something being the fact that he doesn’t wanna piss off a yakuza. And only that. Probably. So for the good of all his fingers and unbroken bones, Satomi takes a deep breath, and repeats himself. “If you promise you won’t sing Crimson anymore… I’ll kiss you.”
“Aw, Satomi-kun—”
“Just on the cheek,” Satomi reiterates, face heating up, “And if you try to sing Crimson again I’ll… I’ll…”
“I promise I won’t,” Kyouji says with a hand on his heart, far too serious. “A kiss from Sensei is very important, after all.”
“It’s not that serious,” Satomi mumbles, stirring what’s left of his drink with his straw. His stomach twists, and he hunches over with his elbows on the table. Thankfully Kyouji doesn’t press further, busying himself with ordering another coffee.
***
They hash out the details in the car; meaning Kyouji does all the talking while Satomi, too tired and embarrassed to argue, just nods his head. Two weeks of no Crimson, and if Kyouji can do that, well, Satomi has to hold up his end of the deal.
As he takes a bath and puts on his pajamas, Satomi can’t help but think that maybe hearing Crimson again wouldn’t be that bad. He got a good break from it, right? He could text Kyouji right now, tell him that he’s sorry, that he actually can’t keep his promise, and beg him to let Satomi keep all his fingers.
Wait. His fingers. Kyouji would probably get really mad if he backed out now, especially through Line. Satomi needs his fingers for school, he can’t lose them because he can’t— because he doesn’t want to kiss a yakuza. He buries his face in his pillow with a grumble. It’s just a kiss. It doesn’t mean anything.
That night, he dreams of severed fingers, and the press of Kyouji’s lips against his cheek.
***
“…Wait, have you picked what song you’re gonna sing instead of Crimson?” Satomi says.
“Hm? I figured I’d just keep practicing the songs you showed me,” Kyouji says, shoving a spoonful of whipped cream into his mouth.
“It’s better to practice just one song from now, so you can focus on getting that song right, instead of worrying about different songs.”
“Ah, of course… Sensei is just so smart.”
“Stop calling me that.”
Kyouji hums, and he brings out the list that Satomi gave him, placing it on the table between them.
“Well. I suggest anything but that,” Satomi says, pointing to I Want You to Kiss Me.
“Eh, why not?”
“Because you sound creepy,” Satomi says, a weak excuse. Because, well, Kyouji does sound creepy, but it’s kind of just how he sounds in general, so it’s not really something that should bother Satomi this much. But it does. It makes his stomach churn and his chest feel tight, and Satomi doesn’t want to get sick in a karaoke bar.
“You’re right,” Kyouji says, his smile not reaching his eyes, “I bet the boss would think I was making fun of him, singin’ a song like that.”
Satomi shuffles in his seat. Why is Kyouji looking at him like that? Is he supposed to say something? There’s something about his smile that makes Satomi feel nervous, so he looks away.
“Um, Kyouji-san—”
“I really like this one,” Kyouji says suddenly, pointing to Boyhood scrawled on the list.
“It’s a good choice,” Satomi says carefully, looking at Kyouji out of the corner of his eye. Kyouji nods, queuing it up before gulping down the rest of his half-melted parfait.
***
Two weeks pass by in a blur of fried rice and karaoke instrumentals, and once again, Satomi has to face the music (hah).
Kyouji, somehow, manages to go two whole weeks of them meeting up without a single breath of Crimson. By the fourth day, Satomi finds himself wishing Kyouji would just give up. Surely a kiss from him isn’t that important, right? He’s just making fun of a kid, after all. But Kyouji seems so dedicated to the deal, and Satomi doesn’t want to, like, discourage him. He’s supposed to be helping Kyouji after all.
When Kyouji turns around after his last Boyhood performance for the day, Satomi can’t even look him in the eye. Kyouji doesn’t immediately sit down beside him though, and Satomi hazards a glance at him.
Maybe Kyouji’s planning to take it all back? Maybe he’ll laugh his stupid, obnoxious laugh, and make fun of Satomi for falling for one of his pranks. It’s something he would do, say weird things and tease Satomi for taking him seriously. It’d be better than him being excited for Satomi to kiss him. It would be the adult thing to do.
But then Kyouji just slides beside him on the couch, and Satomi sighs.
“Hm? What’s wrong, Satomi-kun?” he says, tilting his head like he’s completely innocent.
Satomi glares at him. “Are you… Are you really serious about this?” His cheeks heat up, but it’s definitely because he’s annoyed right now. Really, Kyouji’s too old to be acting like this.
“Well, we made a promise… Good kids keep their promises, right, Satomi-kun? After I went though all that trouble too,” Kyouji sighs dramatically. Satomi frowns.
“Stop treating me like a kid,” Satomi grumbles, “And… fine. You kept your promise, I guess.”
Kyouji smiles, which makes Satomi’s frown go even deeper. “But just on the cheek, like we said,” he continues, cheeks heating up, “And, uh, close your eyes. Keep them closed until I say so.”
He expects Kyouji to complain about the new rule, but he just smiles instead. “Of course, whatever Sensei wants,” he closes his eyes and leans forward. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Satomi swallows. No getting out of it now.
He leans in slowly, making sure to check that Kyouji’s eyes stay shut like he promised. This close, his perfume smells even stronger, a heady mix that he can’t even begin to figure out. Another breath, closer, and now he can pick out the vague sting of cigarette smoke. His heartbeat is picking up again, his palms feel clammy, and he wants to just run out of the door and never speak to Kyouji again.
But he made a deal, and backing out of it now is definitely dangerous. So he closes his eyes, takes one last wobbly breath, and plants his lips on Kyouji’s cheek.
The first thought that comes to Satomi is ‘What the hell am I doing?’ The second thought is that Kyouji’s cheek feels warm, in a way he didn’t expect. Warm… and a little rough. Stubble, probably. Kyouji’s at the age when he has to shave, right? Not that Satomi cares.
Kyouji isn’t even moving, and Satomi can’t figure out how he feels about it. On one hand, it’s good that Kyouji isn’t making this more humiliating than it already is, but on the other hand, he’s not doing anything, after all the fuss he made. He’s just making a fool of Satomi. Of course.
Satomi pulls back, and before Kyouji can say a word, he shuffles to the other end of the couch. He reaches for his orange juice, but he refuses to look up, pretending that he’s interested in the wear and tear of the table edge. His cheeks— no, his whole face— feel hot, like he’s running a fever.
“Kyouji-san, I want to go home.”
Kyouji hums. “Well, it’s about time for you to go anyways,” he smiles, “But Satomi-kun, can I open my eyes first? I can’t drive like this~”
“You can open your eyes now,” he deadpans. Stupid yakuza, he thinks, Do I really need to say it?
***
The car ride back is torture. Kyouji’s acting like nothing happened, humming some vague melody, fingers tapping on the steering wheel.
Satomi squirms in his seat, looking outside at the scenery passing by. He knows he’s the only one making a big deal out of it, Kyouji probably gets kissed by other people all the time. He hugs his bag closer to his chest and sighs. Glancing at Kyouji, he sees him dutifully keeping his eyes on the road, which should be a good thing. He doesn’t want Kyouji to start teasing him about it, it just… It just feels weird, sitting like this in the quiet. But Satomi doesn’t want to be the one to bring… it… up, so he keeps quiet.
After a while, they pull over at the same old intersection, the setting sun lighting the car with a dreamlike glow. Satomi tries very hard to look ahead, eyes on the empty road and not on Kyouji. Should he say something? Kyouji hasn’t said a word, and he usually talks non-stop while driving Satomi home.
Maybe it really does mean nothing. Maybe it’s just a stupid dare that the both of them will forget eventually. The thought makes Satomi hesitate, though, and he stays seated, frozen in place.
“Satomi-kun,” he hears Kyouji say, and before Satomi can even turn his head, Kyouji’s leaning in close.
Satomi finally understands what people mean when they say the world stops, but it’s a lot more terrifying than he could have imagined. It’s like the world is thrown off its axis, and everything freezes just before it all comes crashing down. Inertia.
Kyouji’s face is getting closer, and Satomi can smell his cologne getting stronger with every nervous breath he takes. Objects that are in motion stay in motion. Kyouji is going to kiss him again. Satomi should run. But he freezes instead, squeezing his eyes shut. Object staying in place. Kyouji is really going to kiss him again—
Kyouji pats him on the shoulder, and Satomi’s eyes jerk open. “Well, see you next Tuesday, okay?” Kyouji says, with a grin that doesn’t make Satomi fear for his life. All Satomi can do is nod, before awkwardly getting out of the car. He turns around, remembering his manners, and gives a stiff nod of his head.
“See you,” he says. He turns and walks away before Kyouji can reply.
He expects Kyouji to call out for him, to at least complain about his manners, but he gets nothing. By the time he’s walking up the stairs to his home, Kyouji’s car is driving away into the distance.
***
“How was school today?” his mom asks as he toes his shoes off, and Satomi flinches. It’s a good thing she’s not looking at him, focused on chopping vegetables for dinner.
“It was fine,” Satomi says. He’s not really lying, but the guilt weighs him down all the same. His mom hums in approval, and Satomi takes the cue to slip into his room.
Finally alone, he sighs, flopping down on the floor. It’s just a stupid dare, he tells himself. It didn’t mean anything to Kyouji, so it shouldn’t mean anything to me. Stupid creepy yakuza. He sits like that for a while, leaning against the door with his eyes squeezed shut.
It doesn’t mean anything, he insists to himself, but he still presses his fingers to his lips. Stupid creepy yakuza. Why did Kyouji’s cheek feel so warm when he kissed him?
He jerks back in shock at the thought. No… He’s probably just imagining things. After all, Kyouji acted like nothing even happened, didn’t even insist on a second goodbye. Satomi’s just being a kid.
With a huff, Satomi pushes himself off the floor. He has to get changed and do his homework. He has more important things to do than worry about a stupid kiss. Whatever.