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Tooru let out a sigh as he flopped back onto the damp sheets. He was naked, still a bit sweaty too, and he reveled in the warm breeze spilling in through the open window of their two-story apartment. Yes—his and Hajime’s. It had been almost two years now since they’d moved in together, and about two and a half since Hajime had confessed. How wild to think that had been only a few months after they’d graduated from their respective universities. Tooru would be forever grateful that Hajime had worked up the nerve; Tooru had loved Hajime since forever, but he’d convinced himself that the best thing to do was keep his feelings bottled up.
The bathroom door opened and closed, and then Hajime was there, cuddling up to Tooru’s side, his arms sliding around Tooru’s waist. Tooru’s heart skipped a beat as they drew close for a kiss; Hajime was firm and soft and alive under his hands, and he smelled so good…like that one brand of soap he always used. Damn. Tooru couldn’t believe he’d nearly missed out on all of this.
“How do you feel?” Tooru asked in between soft, lazy kisses.
“Pretty good,” Hajime said.
Tooru could feel Hajime smiling, which of course made Tooru smile. “Ready for round two?” he asked.
Hajime let out a sound that was part laugh, part moan. “Give me ten minutes.”
Tooru bumped Hajime’s nose, and Hajime nuzzled back. Nuzzles turned into more kisses, of course, slices of afternoon sun warming their bare limbs. Tooru could hear a lawn mower running somewhere, and the noise of a train, but his own heartbeat was louder. Hajime never failed to make Tooru’s heart sing.
“Iwa-chan,” Tooru sang.
Hajime’s laughter ghosted over Tooru’s cheeks. “Haven’t heard that in a while.”
“Tell me…” Tooru began.
Hajime stroked the base of Tooru’s spine. “Tell you what?”
“When did you know that you liked me as more than a friend?” Tooru asked.
“Told you, didn’t I?” Hajime said.
“But I want to know the exact moment,” Tooru said.
“Don’t remember.”
“Liar.”
Leaning in, Hajime kissed along Tooru’s neck. “Why do you want to know?” he asked.
“Just do,” Tooru said, running his hands through Hajime’s hair.
A few more kisses, a few more little moans.
At last, Hajime spoke. “There wasn’t a moment,” he said. “It was just you. All the little things. I just wanted you. More than other people.”
Tooru’s eyes fluttered shut, his heart singing its blood-warm song.
“I wanted you the same way girls wanted you,” Hajime went on. “I got so jealous when you got a girlfriend.”
Tooru ran his hands over Hajime’s bare skin; he could remember feeling the same way whenever girls confessed to Hajime. But he’d gone on pretending, like so many boys did.
“Did you ever think about me when you jerked off?” Tooru asked.
Hajime flushed. “Of course,” he said.
“Don’t be embarrassed. I was the same,” said Tooru.
Worrying his lower lip, Hajime peeked up at Tooru from under dark lashes. “Glad I’m not the only one,” he said.
Being that cute should be a crime, Tooru thought, clearing his throat. “Did you ever think I might like you back?”
Hajime snorted, and said, “I thought you were straight.”
“If only you knew. You could’ve had me ages ago,” Tooru teased.
Hajime’s face fell.
“Hajime?” Tooru said.
“I sometimes wonder,” Hajime said, “what would have happened if I’d been brave enough to confess back then. I feel like I wasted the best years of our lives.”
Tooru stroked him reassuringly. “Hajime, no. Please don’t think that. I was scared too, remember?” he said.
Hajime relaxed a little. “I guess we’re here now,” he said.
Yes we are, Tooru thought, running his thumb along Hajime’s jaw. He could feel a little bit of stubble there—so sexy.
“Remember our first kiss?” Tooru asked.
“Of course,” said Hajime, his eyes darkening.
“You were shaking so bad,” Tooru said.
Hajime smirked, and said, “You making fun of me?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Tooru said, catching Hajime’s lips in a kiss.
Tooru’s memories filled him up like a heartbeat: hiding under the covers, pounding hearts and trembling lips, stealing urgent kisses in the dark. Whispered confessions, a thousand bottled emotions pouring forth in an instant. Getting Hajime off with his hand, reveling in the way Hajime clutched at him; fisting his hands in Hajime’s hair as Hajime sucked him off for the first time. Desire so strong—a heart so full—Tooru thought for sure he’d burst. What would he have done if Hajime hadn’t confessed?
Don’t want to think about that.
“What is it?” Hajime asked, bringing Tooru back to their room—back to the sound of lawn mowers, the warm breeze and the sweat-damp bed, the feel of Hajime’s sun-warmed skin beneath his fingers.
“Our first time,” said Tooru.
Hajime’s eyes sparkled.
“I felt so relieved,” Tooru said. Damn was it true: Finally being able to kiss Hajime after so many years, after all that pretending, all that denying—it felt like being washed clean.
Hajime kissed the tip of Tooru’s nose, his mouth so soft and gentle and perfect that it made Tooru want to cry.
“I love you so much,” Tooru whispered instead.
Hajime pulled him close, folding him into his arms. “Love you too, babe.”
Yes, Tooru thought as they breathed each other in. These are definitely the best years of our lives.