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Tadashi does not pinch himself when he wakes, though the temptation is there. He’s had this dream before, that’s all, and it’s painfully familiar in more ways than one. They used to be like this, as teenagers, stealing only hours’ worth of rest in love hotels just for the experience of truly sleeping beside one another with no one to object. Ainosuke cuddles in his sleep, something they both know, but have never spoken about so directly. It’s the same now as it was back then; a warm chest pressed against his back, an arm slung over his hips.
In his dreams they were as they are now, older and a little more burdened with tasks and chores, but their hearts not so heavy. In his dreams, Tadashi deserves this, which is what makes him feel very sure this is real life. He is not yet convinced that he does deserve this, after coming up with the wrong answer for so many years, after watching Ainosuke in so much pain for so long, but Tadashi already believes and accepts that he is a bad man, so it isn’t going to make much difference if he lets himself truly be selfish again.
He could argue about whether or not it’s selfish if Ainosuke is happy, too, but deep down, Tadashi still believes that Ainosuke deserves more than this, probably should move on from him. He’s just happy, relieved, stunned, all at once, that it seems like Ainosuke hasn’t.
The alarm hasn’t gone off yet, which means Tadashi gets to shift in Ainosuke’s hold as best he can to take in the sight of him asleep. For a man rigorously composed in his daily life, Ainosuke is an unruly, messy sleeper. His mouth hangs open, his hair is strewn over his face, and sometimes he even snores. Tadashi finds it all precious, something he hasn’t voiced aloud since they were kids, before Ainosuke developed that fierce teenage pride that meant Tadashi’s teasing might truly embarrass him. The idea of ruining the comfort and vulnerability shared with him in those moments was too heartbreaking, so Tadashi just stayed quiet, smiled secretly, and Ainosuke slept on unaware.
Now, he thinks he might say something. Some day. It could be fun, a bit of a comeback against some of Ainosuke’s own teasing. Tadashi thinks his jaw might drop. He’d be cute like that, too.
The thought of it makes him chuckle, but he’s careful to keep quiet. Tadashi tucks his face back into the pillow, gives himself a moment or two to sigh and indulge in Ainosuke’s softer sheets, though he cares very little for the quality of the bed at the end of the day. Not all of those love hotels were worth coming back to again, after all.
The alarm goes off. Ainosuke groans, turning to fumble with his phone and turn it off. Tadashi stifles another laugh, but Ainosuke still must feel the shake of his shoulders or some other tell, because he’s grumbling in Tadashi’s ear the moment the alarm has been successfully quieted. “You’re already awake,” Ainosuke says, like it’s an accusation, though he sounds less angry and more betrayed.
It’s still not a feeling Tadashi likes to prompt in him, so: “only for a few minutes.”
There’s no comment offered in return, they just lay there, and Tadashi almost prefers it that way. He likes Ainosuke’s voice, especially like this, but there’s a peacefulness to the silence between them now that he’s still learning to savor.
Eventually he has to do his job, much as he regrets it. “You have a phone conference,” Tadashi reminds him, his voice low and soft.
Ainosuke heaves a sigh, rolls onto his back and stretches, which Tadashi definitely turns to watch as subtly as he can.
“Oh, do I?” Ainosuke asks, sounding playful, some of the dramaticism of his skating persona leaking into his tone. It’s been happening more and more often, some cracks appearing in the facade his aunts had cultivated, revealing parts of himself that Ainosuke had almost certainly been told to bury. “How thrilling. Another hour or two listening to old men argue about how many nights out for drinks with certain companies ought to disqualify you from doing your job.”
Ainosuke sits up, forces himself out of bed and into the bathroom, and Tadashi gets himself up too, moving to the closet. Since Ainosuke gets to stay home and do his meetings via the phone or a video call, Tadashi decides to forego the blazer for the sake of his comfort. It might make it feel less stifling.
The sight of Ainosuke at the sink with a comb in his hand, working gel through his hair, makes Tadashi’s lips quirk upwards. He hangs the clothes on the door, prepared to turn and retreat to his own room (which is little more than his own closet, now), but Ainosuke grabs his wrist, hair gel now on Tadashi’s skin. He looks down at it, unsure if he should mention it, but privately just feels warmed by the suddenness of the touch.
“How many do you think it should be?”
Tadashi blinks.
“How many nights out? What’s permissible?”
Lately, Ainosuke has started doing this, too. He asks Tadashi things, even if there’s no real point to it, even if Tadashi’s answer doesn’t matter at all. He asks anyway, like it’s a test, but it’s not quite that dangerous. It’s practice, more like. Tadashi’s spent so long defaulting to not having an opinion that they’re practically having to train him (like a dog, he thinks, vaguely) back into voicing them.
Sometimes he gives random answers, not something he has his heart set on, but something nonetheless. It’s saying something, anything, rather than nothing, that counts.
“Two or three,” Tadashi answers after a moment, trying to give it some serious thought this morning.
“We’ll go with that, then,” Ainosuke says, nodding, looking satisfied. One of Tadashi’s favorite expressions on him.
“Yes, Ainosuke-sama,” he replies, knowing that his own voice sounds pleased, too.
Except Ainosuke frowns, which makes Tadashi realize his slip.
“Tadashi, where are we right now?”
“The bedroom.”
Raised eyebrows now. Perhaps Tadashi can blame it on still being half-asleep, as if that would ever seem believable.
“‘The’...?”
“Our,” Tadashi corrects himself, feeling his cheeks warm.
“And so…?”
“Just Ainosuke.”
“Better,” Ainosuke tells him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips and then patting his cheek.
There’s gel on there now, too, but when Tadashi turns to go and get ready himself, he hears a small snort of laughter. It was probably on purpose. He doesn’t really mind.
🌹
The first time they go to S after the tournament is over, after they’ve talked, Ainosuke tells him to bring his board, too. Privately, Tadashi feels a bit apprehensive over it, unsure whether he really does want to skate again. He’s glad for Ainosuke’s changed perspective on it, curious about how it’ll make him feel going forward, but whether he’s prepared to step onto his board again for anything else now… That’s a question Tadashi had been putting off, sort of hoping not to have to address it.
He stops the car and makes to get out, but Ainosuke beats him to their skateboards, one in each arm. He hands Tadashi’s to him directly, pushes it at his chest and refuses to let go until Tadashi’s holding onto himself.
“Skate with me.” It’s not a question, nor an invitation, not in how it’s phrased, but Tadashi thinks he could, theoretically, refuse anyway.
He can’t, though, because it’s Ainosuke.
Because there is one thing he’s still wanted to do.
Halfway down the course, Tadashi wonders if Ainosuke is expecting something from him. Finally, he goes for his traditional Love Hug, which is just what Tadashi had been waiting for.
He swerves into it, spreads his arms out wide, and lets Ainosuke crash right into him.
The impact makes them both stumble off their boards, though Tadashi’s quick to try and steady them, mostly concerned about Ainosuke hitting the ground too roughly. They trip backwards a few steps before they can straighten up and Tadashi finds that no matter what he had intended, he can’t actually tighten his grip on Ainosuke more than he already was holding onto him.
He tries anyway, squeezing.
It’s the most honest he can really let himself be about both Ainosuke and skating, some silent, physical way to try and convey that yes, this mattered to him, too. He loved it, too. He wanted to catch him every time.
Ainosuke trembles under his touch, slumps against him ever so slightly, and Tadashi’s eyes go wide, his mouth parting to inquire in concern, but—
He’s laughing, loudly, right against Tadashi’s ear, and all Tadashi can do is cling to him, startled.
It lasts until Ainosuke is struggling for breath, though Tadashi still doesn’t truly understand why, what’s funny, whether he’s supposed to say something… In the back of his mind, Tadashi can’t shake the knowledge that this is being broadcast to the other participants and spectators, and surely Ainosuke didn’t forget that, despite his strange behavior…?
“Who knew it was that simple?” Ainosuke finally mutters, a question that’s so obviously rhetorical that Tadashi doesn’t even consider responding. After what feels like an eternity, Ainosuke’s arms come up around him, too, and Tadashi feels a soft squeeze in return. His eyes go wide, his cheeks certainly flush, but it’s over so soon.
(It’s still very public.)
Ainosuke flips his board upright, pushes Tadashi’s towards him with his foot.
“Come on. Let’s see if the student has surpassed the teacher.”
The words don’t spark any sort of competitive desire in Tadashi (maybe, deep down, in part because he already knows he’s beaten Ainosuke’s time for the course), but they do warm him. It had felt like such a forbidden topic, maybe of Tadashi’s own making, the fact that they had shared that as kids, that Tadashi had handed him his board.
It’s sort of nice to have it referenced so easily.
They start again.
Towards the bottom, the finish line in sight, Ainosuke drifts closer to him, smiling.
He reaches out, grabs Tadashi’s hand, threads their fingers together.
Tadashi thinks they tie, probably, but he’s not sure. He’s distracted by the way that Ainosuke lifts their hands up, raising them for people to see. They cheer, for some reason, and it all baffles him. All he knows is that his heart is racing, that being on his skateboard again didn’t feel so horrible, and Ainosuke is in a wonderful mood for the rest of the night.
He sits in the front seat on their way home, his hair still spiky and unruly, his feet up on the dashboard.
He’s grinning the whole ride back.
🌹
S stays a regular feature of their lives, but it becomes part of Tadashi’s in a different way. His skateboard is in the car each night as well, though it sometimes stays in the trunk. Ainosuke doesn’t question him about it, but every time that Tadashi does pull it out, he always receives an approving look, coupled with something of a smirk on Ainosuke’s lips as well.
No one truly knows him here but Ainosuke and maybe the redhead, he supposes, so for quite a while no one approaches him for a beef. He doesn’t end up skating much at all, which suits him well enough. He lingers behind wherever Ainosuke stands, fine with watching and quietly cheering for Ainosuke whenever he skates.
It changes one night when the redhead, Reki, marches up to Ainosuke but then suddenly ducks to the side of him, clearly peering at Tadashi instead.
“Hey.” Tadashi just blinks. “Can we race? You look like you could use some fun.” Tadashi has no reason to refuse, even though the insistence on fun makes him a little agitated still. Looking back, maybe he was jealous. Maybe that’s why he’d used such strong words, tried so hard to dissuade him from continuing to skate. Maybe it was a mixture of envy at his enjoyment of the hobby not being ruined yet along with some real concern. He doesn’t know.
He doesn’t say no.
He wins, which doesn’t surprise him. Tadashi knows that he’s, technically, rusty, but he certainly had tried to polish up his skills a little before entering Ainosuke’s tournament.
Reki finishes shortly behind him, letting out a frustrated growl, hand raking through his hair. He waves at Tadashi, though, no hint of that frustration directed at him. “Next time!” Reki calls out to him, already walking off towards Snow.
Tadashi just watches them, watches Reki start talking so animatedly, watches Snow slip an arm around his shoulders. Tadashi’s eyes follow them and he thinks. Maybe all the envy isn’t gone.
A few nights later it’s Cherry, instead, who’s challenging him to a beef. He looks put out about it even though he’s the one doing the asking. Tadashi looks to Ainosuke for some sort of clue, some suggestion of what he ought to be doing here, how to handle these requests, but Ainosuke’s face is carefully blank.
Tadashi hedges his bets, figures Ainosuke would rather see him skating now than not, and agrees.
It’s a closer race, but Tadashi still crosses the line first. It’s a less friendly ending to the challenge simply because Cherry can’t be bothered even really talking to him, too busy talking to his board instead.
Then it’s Joe. Then Shadow. Miya, with his hoodie up, almost mumbling.
Tadashi never says no. He never exactly says yes, either, just walks himself to the starting line.
Is it fun? Maybe. It’s not not fun, but it’s not the same as skating with Ainosuke, no matter how many people are yelling his nickname, cheering him on.
Reki finally picks a proper name for S, going by Cinder. He bumps his fist against Snow’s, their eyes locked.
Tadashi stares down at his board.
Ainosuke finally says something about it, in the way that Tadashi least expected.
“Why are you still going by Snake?” he asks one night, finishing his cigarette and stamping it out underneath his foot. Were they anywhere else, Tadashi would pick up the butt of it to properly dispose of it, lest Ainosuke get in trouble.
“Am I not supposed to?” Tadashi asks, genuinely confused. His heart feels lighter already at the idea of clarification, some understanding of where Ainosuke stands on all this.
Ainosuke looks over at him, thoughtful, and Tadashi burns a little under his gaze. “Do what you want,” Ainosuke says, giving the most difficult command possible. “It just seems a waste of a title meant for you.” He doesn’t linger, instead walks off towards the starting line to partake in his weekly beef against Snow. Ainosuke’s voice still drifts towards where Tadashi is standing, though, and he can’t help but listen.
There’s still delight in Ainosuke’s voice, but it’s only “Snow” and “Langa” that he hears.
When the weight of Ainosuke’s earlier words hits him, Tadashi reaches up to tilt the brim of his cap down further, trying desperately to hide his face, almost certainly all red.
The offer is only just implied, but whether that’s for Tadashi’s comfort or Ainosuke’s he has no idea. It’s odd because of how heavy it feels, how much that title seems to represent. It’s even odder because outside of S they already have a relationship established. What does it mean to establish it here, too, then?
It’s one less place that they’re hiding, keeping secrets. Tadashi doesn’t expect anyone here would kick up a fuss, say they disapproved.
S is still something Tadashi doesn’t believe he fully understands. It obviously means a great deal to Ainosuke, though. Sometimes Tadashi thinks skating stayed Ainosuke’s salvation all this time, others he isn’t sure. With a little more of his ‘ADAM’ personality shining through in his homelife, Tadashi’s begun to think that this whimsical, reckless, ostentatious part of Ainosuke is what that boyhood seed of enthusiasm and joy truly was supposed to bloom into. It might be imperfect, but it’s beautiful nonetheless.
He doesn’t want that to wilt.
And, if Tadashi allows himself even one brief moment to think about himself, he can quietly admit that this is what he wanted. He entered the tournament in part to stop Ainosuke, yes, but also because the idea of him picking someone, just one person who happened to not be Tadashi, to be his focus, his partner… hurt. Terribly.
He wanted this, was going to try to win for this exact purpose. Now, when it’s being handed to him, Tadashi feels… shy.
What would have happened if he really had won? Since he’d been intent on making Ainosuke quit skating, Tadashi realizes he hadn’t actually thought any other possibility through.
Would it be so bad? To see his name show up on screen as ‘EVE’ instead? Trying to picture it makes him feel a bit shaky, makes his face feel even warmer, but it’s not… bad. Besides, if Ainosuke is trying to give him this, trying to offer his hand just as Tadashi did for him when they were little, wouldn’t it hurt to reject it? Never in his life has Tadashi wanted to turn Ainosuke down, not really.
He’s probably not going to start now.
It’s easy enough, anyway, he has access to the list of skaters they keep on record, for security purposes. It’s not hard to go into it on his phone and delete ‘SNAKE’ from it, fingers hovering over the keys.
Just three little taps, but each one feels monumental.
It takes days for anyone to notice, to be able to notice at all, really. It’s embarrassingly fitting that he’s skating against Ainosuke, even.
‘ADAM’
‘EVE’
Ainosuke turns his head and smiles so widely at him. Tadashi is blushing, deeply grateful when the light turns green and they both kick off.
They both dance down the course, enough that Tadashi feels sort of exhausted by the end, still out of practice. Ainosuke steps on his board at the finish line, leans in and plants an audible smooch on his cheek right in front of a cheering crowd.
He escapes for the rest of the night to the car afterwards. Even an hour later, with his forehead pressed against the steering wheel, his face still feels warm.
🌹
"I should have gone into local politics," Ainosuke grumbles one day from behind his desk. Tadashi shuts the door behind him, balancing a tray of tea and some cookies, and raises his eyebrows with polite interest. It's not feigned.
"Why?" Tadashi asks, something he's better at by the day, actually furthering conversations instead of biting down on his tongue. He sets the tray down on the desk and puts a cup in front of Ainosuke, lifting the second one for himself as he sits in a chair across the desk.
They've started doing this, too, sitting together for parts of the day when Ainosuke has less to do, when he's just reviewing different reports.
Ainosuke sighs. "It wouldn't have satisfied me anyway, there's a reason I joined the Diet, but I wish I could have more weight when it comes to parks and recreation funds here."
There are two things that surprise Tadashi about that statement. He'd never quite known that Ainosuke was actually intent on the Diet for any particular reason, he'd always thought it was simply pressure from his aunts and the family legacy.
The other thing is that Ainosuke could be so foolish when he's so lavish about spending other times.
"Just donate the money where you want," Tadashi says, taking a sip of his tea immediately after, still sort of shy about speaking.
Ainosuke pauses, goes very still for a second. For once, he's the one blinking at Tadashi.
"That's a good idea."
Tadashi doesn't remember the last time he had a good idea, if ever.
"We'll do that," Ainosuke continues, turning to face his computer screen then, going back to typing. Tadashi sips his tea again, pushes a cookie towards Ainosuke on the tray, and wonders how and when it became 'we'.
Two weeks later, Ainosuke is standing outside of a local skate park talking about how much this hobby means to the youth of Okinawa, recalling his own youth to the cameras with a broad smile.
"My first love taught me to skate," he says, and Tadashi, from the side, away from the cameras, chokes on his own breath.
"Do you still skate?" the press asks him.
"Oh, only sometimes," Ainosuke responds, beaming, chuckling. Tadashi's never felt more stressed.
In the car, later, Tadashi says nothing about it. Absolutely nothing, mostly because he doesn't know how to feel.
His stomach is in knots that he can't tell the cause of.
From the front seat, Ainosuke's gaze is heavy on him, and Tadashi knows that he frowns the entire way home.
Later that night, when Ainosuke is rubbing small circles on his back after a scene, making sure that Tadashi feels grounded and cared for, it comes up.
"I was talking about you, you know," Ainosuke says quietly.
"I know," Tadashi mumbles, his face nearly buried in a pillow. He still doesn't know quite how it feels. There's trepidation in him, a nervousness that Ainosuke doesn't seem to share. Is it okay to say these things publicly? Are they playing with fire? What's the goal here? These don't feel like the right things to say, they surely aren't things that Ainosuke wants. Eventually, Tadashi settles on something that is perhaps too mundane, maybe misses the mark, but is undeniably true anyway. “You were smiling a lot. It was cute.”
There’s a small huff of laughter and then Ainosuke shifts on the bed, his lips pressing against the back of Tadashi’s neck and then his shoulders.
Maybe his answer was good enough.
🌹
“I need your phone,” Ainosuke says to him one morning, actually seeking Tadashi out across the manor instead of staying in his office and simply calling for him. “And I want you to pull something up on my laptop, make sure it doesn’t go to sleep.”
“Sure,” Tadashi replies, almost surprised himself to hear that response cross his lips. Some of his formality and subservient attitude has started to melt away when they’re alone, too. Some of what Ainosuke asks him to do, now, feels more like a favor or a request instead of an order. The distance between them has been closing bit by bit and it shows in nearly every aspect of how they compose themselves, Tadashi realizes. “What is it?”
“It’s a livestream, and they’re trying to get as many views as possible to make a statement about how many people care about the issue. I want my official account’s name to show, I want a record that I was present for it.”
He nods, figuring it makes sense. It’s a good look for Ainosuke to care about these things, to make an effort to appear and show that he’s in touch with what the citizens are discussing and want their legislators to deal with.
“Just send me the link. What is it for?”
“Marriage equality.”
Tadashi goes very still, feels his heart skip a beat in terror. Even if Ainosuke has taken a stand against his aunts now and fortified his own political position so that there’s no real chance of him being blackmailed or anything, is it safe or wise to do something like that? To make it seem as if he supports something controversial when it’s something so vulnerable for him? He wishes Ainosuke wouldn’t do it, already imagining headlines or trending topics online speculating about why, perhaps smearing Ainosuke’s name. He thinks about renewed pressure from Ainosuke’s aunts for him to get a wife in light of the gossip and feels his heart shatter in his chest.
It’s hard to breathe.
“Are you sure?”
What a silly question. Is Ainosuke ever not sure? Does he do anything without being certain? Tadashi can’t fathom what it’s like to live with that kind of confidence, frankly.
“You know the answer to that.” He does indeed. “Make sure people know that I’m watching. You might even write a Tweet about it and share a link to it, too. It might get a few more new viewers that way.”
This will not be another betrayal, Tadashi won’t let Ainosuke down, not when he sounds so determined and excited about it, no matter how worried Tadashi is. He doesn’t even really consider the idea of not following through, it’s just that he definitely doesn’t enjoy himself.
He still hands his phone over to Ainosuke who quickly pulls up the stream and waves him off to deal with Ainosuke’s personal laptop and Tadashi still doesn’t like it, but he pulls up the page anyway.
It’s uncomfortable for him, frankly. It’s people talking about all sorts of things that Tadashi had privately put out of his mind and given up hope on. They talk about it like it should be a right, like there’s nothing different about it at all, and Tadashi… doesn’t know whether he believes them, entirely, but he wants to. Years of punishing himself and thinking he had done something abhorrent by reaching out to Ainosuke when they were young.
Looking back on those memories, ones he treasures but feels a little sick over at the same time, he can so easily see things he should have done differently. He can recognize the moments that he inadvertently encouraged Ainosuke’s crush on him. Back then, Tadashi had been young, innocently selfish, and unaware of the fragile social order to things that meant he should never have befriended the boy he was supposed to serve.
Listening to these people talk on the stream makes Tadashi consider, well and truly, that maybe he had nothing to do with Ainosuke ending up interested in men. Maybe it was inevitable. If not him, some other boy.
The guilt he’s felt dissipates a little, replaced with something like relief. Maybe he didn’t inflict any extra hardship on Ainosuke by reaching out to him, holding his hand, not pulling away when Ainosuke leaned in to kiss his lips.
And selfishly, Tadashi’s glad it was him. If it was going to be inevitable, if Ainosuke was going to like some boy… deep down, Tadashi would have wanted it to be him anyway.
Once upon a time Tadashi probably would have spiraled into self-loathing over admitting to that, but now he almost feels comfortable with it. Part of that is no doubt thanks to the fact that he’s certain Ainosuke would be happy to hear the thought, to know that Tadashi wanted something at all, but especially if it had to do with them and their relationship.
So he watches until the end of the stream, actually puts off some of his household chores for the sake of it, and lets himself consider wanting something else, too.
🌹
It takes Tadashi a few days, but finally, laying in Ainosuke’s bed, both of them settled in to head straight to sleep, he manages.
“I’m glad I was your first love,” he says softly, into the darkness of a bedroom they’re sharing now, knowing quite well that Ainosuke isn’t asleep just yet. His back is to Tadashi, so perhaps this is still a cowardly approach, but Tadashi is still learning how to voice his own feelings, learning that it’s okay to covet the man he loves at all.
Ainosuke turns over to him then, a little slowly, just looking at him with a sleepy smile, like he knows there’s another part still to come.
So quietly, because it’s even harder to say now that Ainosuke’s gaze is on him, Tadashi speaks again. He has to shut his eyes, unable to deal with Ainosuke’s expression, almost a little afraid of what it might look like once he finishes speaking.
There’s a palm against his cheek, a warm, reassuring weight.
“I want to be your only one.”
It’s the most selfish wish Tadashi has ever had, perhaps ever will, and it feels so terribly fragile. It might be too much. Ainosuke might scoff.
Instead, Ainosuke moves and presses his lips to Tadashi’s. Again and again and again until Tadashi’s wrapping his arms around Ainosuke’s shoulders and his eyes are stinging with the possibility of tears.
They stay up too late just like that, trading kisses back and forth, open-mouthed and languid, with Ainosuke’s hands drifting all over his sides. There’s heat in it all, no doubt, but they never push it beyond a little unconscious grinding.
They kiss until Tadashi starts getting too tired to reciprocate. He likes the taste of Ainosuke’s chuckle anyway, still, can register that much despite being this sleepy.
Ainosuke practically tucks him in, tugging the blankets up to his chin, fussing a little. It’s one of his cutest points, the way he gets protective and worries like that, but gets too flustered to admit to those feelings.
Tadashi will probably never know whether Ainosuke intended for him to hear or not. He isn’t going to ask, but after a few moments, Ainosuke admits his own feelings to the darkness of their bedroom, just as Tadashi had.
“You will be.”
Tadashi falls asleep smiling into his pillow.
🌹
Ainosuke doesn’t warn him, Tadashi simply sees the Tweet by sheer chance.
It’s a link to an article discussing the marriage equality livestream, with a personal comment added.
“This is an issue near and dear to my heart,” Ainosuke writes, for all the world to see. There’s no further explanation, no plausible deniability, nothing. It’s just there, shameless and unapologetic.
Tadashi’s heart races with pride, maybe a little excitement. It’s something like hope.
🌹
They’re out in the pool, still empty, one evening when Ainosuke brings it up. It’s hardly any serious skating, Ainosuke had just suggested it as a way to unwind from the day, and true enough, the breeze in his hair and the sounds of the city around them feel good.
“I’m going to come out,” Ainosuke says suddenly, completely apropos of nothing, and Tadashi nearly falls off of his board. “On Twitter, I think. Is that alright with you?”
Tadashi is probably gaping. “You are?” he asks first, his brain taking a moment to catch up. Maybe Ainosuke will think he’s foolish, too, but Tadashi can’t help but wonder, “why— are you asking me?”
Ainosuke snorts.
“Well, I’m not going to pretend to be single. Your identity can stay a secret, I suppose, but there’s no guarantee people won’t find out.” How strange to think that Ainosuke has only just started to notice that when Tadashi has spent most of their lives terrified that someone would catch them and some scandal would fall upon Ainosuke as a consequence.
He’s hardly even thinking about what he personally feels like, though, about his own comfort. Just— “what about your career?”
Ainosuke stops moving, heaves out a sigh and settles down to sit on the pool’s bottom. His hand moves to brush those hearts they’d carved into it, Tadashi realizes, and his heart aches at the sign that he wasn’t the only one who still remembered that, noticed it, maybe longed for those days.
“It’s not like I’d be the first one, you know. We have transgender members of the Diet, too. It probably won’t hurt my career at all. We live somewhere that partnerships are recognized,” Ainosuke continues, though he pauses there as if to let the words sink in, as if Tadashi is not acutely aware of that fact, “so it’s likely our voters here at home would support me anyway. So why not?”
There are plenty of reasons why not, but there are also plenty of reasons why he should do it, and Tadashi knows that, too. He wants Ainosuke to be able to live authentically, to not have to hide behind masks both figurative and not, of course. He just also wants Ainosuke to never be hurt again, and there will undoubtedly still be people who make awful comments or criticize him over this. It’s not that he doubts Ainosuke’s strength in handling it, it’s just that Tadashi feels so strongly that he shouldn’t have to handle it at all.
If that, too, is unavoidable, though, then maybe it’s best like this. If it’s on Ainosuke’s terms, if he can position himself as someone to look up to. If he can talk about things just like they did on that livestream, then he can help other people. Maybe it’d be a waste of the reach he has as a politician not to, in his eyes.
Tadashi goes to sit next to him, close enough that their thighs touch. It’s easy to take Ainosuke’s hand and thread their fingers together.
“Okay,” he says softly, staring at those hearts. “I’m proud of you,” Tadashi adds, because no one has ever said those words enough to Ainosuke and he ought to start trying to change that.
Ainosuke beams at him. Maybe it’s because of where they’re seated anyway, but he looks so much like he did when he was younger and more carefree, Tadashi can hardly bear it.
“Thank y—” Ainosuke starts to say, another rare thing to voice between them, but Tadashi doesn’t need to hear it.
He kisses that smile with a desperate passion, practically throws himself at Ainosuke with enough force to make him wobble, and then there are hands on Tadashi’s cheeks, in his hair, and Tadashi doesn’t feel afraid at all.
🌹
The world doesn’t end, nor does it change very much at all. They receive a lot of phone calls, requests for interviews, things like that, but aside from a flurry of activity, it isn’t so bad. Tadashi doesn’t know what he expected, exactly. There are nasty phone calls, too, but Ainosuke hasn’t let Tadashi be the one who picks up the phone, assigning that task to other staff. That almost feels unnecessary, but it’s secretly sort of appreciated. Neither of them think Tadashi needs to hear any potential cruelty.
There are comments on Twitter, too, but Ainosuke is the type of person who actually laughs at some of them, clicks his tongue at others, but most of all, hides the replies and blocks the posters. He takes it all in stride.
There’s yelling from his aunts, but Ainosuke walks out on them, shuts the door behind and doesn’t look back.
It’s easier than Tadashi would ever have expected.
Ainosuke is gay. He explains that he’s in a long-term, committed relationship (and Tadashi’s heart flutters every time when he thinks about ‘long-term’ and how that implies that Ainosuke has always felt he belonged to Tadashi, somehow, miraculously). He smiles, he’s patient and polite even when dealing with ignorant questions. He says he met other LGBT kids when skating, that both communities mean the world to him.
Every question that’s meant to make him feel bad, Ainosuke deflects with grace.
“What about kids?” people ask him, accusing. “Japan’s birth rate is on the decline, you know.”
“We should talk about that, actually,” Ainosuke says, lighting up at the chance. “There are plenty of children in this country who don’t have a family. We could do more for the kids that are already here. I think it’s time we address the discrimination that exists in the adoption system.”
Tadashi is so fiercely proud.
One day, Ainosuke walks in the door after an interview and Tadashi is there waiting, grabs at his lapels and kisses him hard enough to bruise. It’s immensely satisfying to see the way Ainosuke looks a little dazed when he pulls back.
🌹
Ainosuke’s laying on his chest after a long day, the blankets kicked off, bare skin cooling down. Tadashi’s fingers are in his hair, digging into his scalp just a little to make him hum, twirling some of his locks around his fingers idly.
“I think you’re incredible,” Tadashi murmurs to him, knowing how Ainosuke likes to be praised, still.
The response is muffled, nearly, and sounds tired, though not unhappy. “When will you marry me, then?”
Tadashi stops moving, eyes wide.
“What? I’m—”
“If you try and tell me you’re just a servant, I might make you sleep in your old room by yourself. No one thinks of you that way. The other servants treat you like another master of the house, and you know why.” Of course he does, because of how Ainosuke favors him, obviously. They all know it, it gives him something like seniority despite his age. He’s still fundamentally a servant, though. “And what would I care about that?” Ainosuke continues, as if reading his mind.
He lifts up his head, frowning at Tadashi, his eyebrows furrowed. Tadashi wants to smooth them out, but can’t bring himself to move, still.
“Do you think I care?” Ainosuke presses.
“No.”
“Why do you care?”
“You know why,” Tadashi answers quietly, looking away from him.
Ainosuke is quiet for a moment, but Tadashi knows that he hasn’t stopped frowning. He can’t see it, but he can sense it.
“There’s only one thing that actually matters here, to me. And at all, really. It’s not like anyone’s opinion means they can do anything about it. So tell me the truth: do you want to? Do you want to marry me?” There’s an intensity to Ainosuke’s voice, one that Tadashi recognizes as covering up his own vulnerability. Ainosuke doesn’t know the answer to this question, not completely, and that must scare him.
It hurts to even be asked, to really consider it. Tadashi had written it off when he was so little, still. Probably around middle school, he thinks. Definitely by high school. No one would ever get to know how much he and Ainosuke loved each other, and it was just as well, given his status. He’d worked hard to resign himself to that, to not resent Ainosuke for it. He’d just resented himself, instead.
Now, though, the man he loves has actually successfully launched his political career. He has a public-facing job, and yet he still is here asking if Tadashi wants to marry him. It should be the other way around, he should be questioning if Ainosuke is certain, but again, Ainosuke always is. He’d never ask if he wasn’t.
Does he want to marry Ainosuke? Yes. Of course he does. There would truly be no greater joy or honor in his life than to do just that, to be able to be on Ainosuke’s arm in public, to live without hiding what feels like the greatest part of himself— all the love he holds for Ainosuke.
So how could Tadashi not tell the truth? How could he let Ainosuke wonder about this at all?
“Yes,” he manages, sounding choked up. “Yes, I want to.”
The frown is gone now, Tadashi knows, because Ainosuke reaches out to touch his cheek and tilt Tadashi’s face back towards him. It’s been replaced by the most gentle smile he’s ever seen.
Ainosuke’s lips go to his forehead, lingering for a moment, and Tadashi knows his eyes are watery.
“Will you, then? Will you marry me, Tadashi?”
He’s certainly crying, nodding before he can even get the response out past his lips, but there’s only one possible answer. “Yes,” Tadashi whispers, scrambling to get closer to him, clinging to Ainosuke, holding onto him and being held.
They’re a mess of limbs and Ainosuke’s kisses are everywhere he can reach, over Tadashi’s wet cheeks and his trembling lips, and Tadashi still feels like he might as well be half a person even now, but it’s okay. He’s still learning how to be honest again, how to want things, how to stop hiding, but it’s alright.
Ainosuke, bright-eyed and smiling, so much happier now, so much more like he was as a little boy, can teach him this time.