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Takahiro is sixteen when he makes The List.
It starts off as one of his ‘just in cases’, because Tooru waits until after Hajime leaves the room during one of their movie nights that he’s barged in on, to say, “If you want to get over Mattsun, you have to find reasons to un-like him.”
He pretends he doesn’t get what he means, that he thinks he’s referring to their friendship and their fight from earlier that week.
(It wasn’t really a fight. There was no shouting, no confrontation. Issei had gone silent after Takahiro had made a joke, and even though he couldn’t remember what the joke was, the idea that he, Hanamaki Takahiro, didn’t have built in knowledge of Matsukawa Issei’s limits, was like a punch in the gut, so he’d resigned himself to avoiding all points of contact with him until further notice.)
But Takahiro knows how attentive Tooru is, and that he’d probably figured out the jumbled feelings in Takahiro’s head before he’d even gotten the opportunity to figure them out himself.
He opens up his laptop and types:
Reasons to un-like Matsukawa Issei:
1-
He doesn't freak out until after an hour passes and the cursor hasn't moved from its place.
-
Takahiro is two hours to nineteen years old and the list is still empty.
It’s not like he hasn’t tried. He remembers agonizing over it for his last two years of high school, every weekend, every holiday the list hadn’t written itself.
It’s Issei’s fault. Of course it is, when every time Takahiro thinks he’s found something, Issei finds a way to twist it into something that makes him want him more.
There’s a smack against the window and he debates adding “tossing rocks at my window instead of knocking the door”, but he slams the laptop shut and runs to stick his head out the window instead.
“You’re early,” he says to Issei’s smiling face.
“You’re the one that made me find out you were in town through your mum. She saved me a trip to Tokyo, you secretive bastard,” he yells back and Takahiro can’t decide if his tone or the fact that he would take a trip all the way to Tokyo for his birthday is what makes his stomach do a flip.
He blows a raspberry at him, neighbours whispers be damned, and sprints out of his room, down the stairs and opens the front door.
Looking at Issei is always worse from up close. He thinks of his mother making an offhanded comment along the lines of, “Matsukawa-kun’s grown into quite a handsome young man, hasn’t he?” and he has to fight back the heat creeping up to his cheeks.
“You brought a Tinkerbell movie?” is the first thing out of his mouth, which is stupid and ruins what could have been a heartfelt reunion after months of phone calls and video messages, because Tokyo may not be that far, but it’s too far from his best friend so he has to spend all his time making up for that distance.
Issei grins and it’s lopsided and the singular dimple appears and Takahiro closes his hand into a fist to stop himself from reaching out.
“It was the only movie Sura would let me borrow on short notice, so-” He holds the DVD case up. “My mum is baking you a cake so you're coming over to ours tomorrow too.”
Takahiro sighs and he hopes it doesn’t betray the fondness he feels for the boy (man?) in front of him and his entire family, because almost all of Issei’s best traits are shared by the Matsukawa clan, and loving one of them means loving the whole lot.
(The same way being loved by one of them, means being loved by all of them.)
“I’ll call her and thank her in a bit,” he says, planting both hands on Issei's back with a soft push towards the stairs. “Go set things up, I’ll get something to drink and eat.”
“You’re spoiling me,” Issei teases.
Takahiro shoves him so hard he almost falls face first on the stairs.
-
It barely takes five minutes, but when Takahiro opens the door to his room, Issei sits on the edge of his bed, with his laptop open and a strange look on his face.
Takahiro remembers the open document that he hadn’t shut, and the list and panic builds up in his chest as he takes a step forward-
“Your laptop is ancient, how do you even use this thing?”
If Takahiro doesn't sob in relief, it's not because he doesn't want to, but because breaking down crying on the eve of his birthday will raise questions even Issei can’t help but ask.
(Part of him knows he wouldn't, though. That Issei’s had an uncanny ability to know when and when not to ask and when he needs to even if Takahiro is resistant.)
He drops down on the other end of the bed to lean against the headboard. “It's not my problem you have the memory of a goldfish and can't use a three year old laptop.”
Issei makes a rude gesture with his hands before tossing the device gently into Takahiro's lap, before moving to sit next to him.
(If Takahiro notices the way they're practically merged together, side by side, he keeps it to himself and considers it a win.)
-
“They should have kept Tink’s wing broken,” Takahiro mumbles, breaking the silence that had fallen over them after the movie had ended.
He instantly regrets it when Issei moves his head from where it was resting on top of his, but Issei stays close, so that they’re still pressed together the same way they’ve been for most of the night.
Issei turns so that his face is inches from Takahiro’s. “Is your hatred of happy endings some sort of extension of your emo phase?”
The high pitched shriek he lets out when Takahiro smacks his face with a pillow is almost worth having to move from the warmth of their position. “I didn’t have an emo phase, why are you still stuck on that?”
Issei blows his curls out of his eyes and shrugs, and because he’s evil and hates him, he says, “Oh, I’m sorry. Lifestyle then?”
Issei grabs onto his arms before Takahiro can cause him any bodily harm as he launches himself at Issei, and keeps hold of them until he stops struggling.
“You’re sick. You’re actually sick and I don’t think I want to talk to you ever again,” Takahiro grumbles against his shoulder.
Issei is quiet as he pulls his hands away and moves to sit back and Takahiro can’t help the sudden feeling of nervousness as his hands drop to his lap.
He manages a shaky laugh, “Does the idea of me never talking to you again bother you that much?”
Issei’s dimple reappears, but it’s only for a little bit. “Obviously. I’d never double texted anyone in my life before you.”
“You didn’t even have a phone before you met me.”
He knows it’s the wrong thing to say, but he can’t understand what’s happening in front of him.
Issei obviously isn't mad, but things have definitely taken a serious turn and Takahiro really wishes he had some form of telepathy right now, or some way to make Issei talk-
“I’m going to kiss you and I’d really appreciate it if you didn't punch me.”
His mind doesn't even have time to process the words before Issei leans over and plants one on him.
It's quick, dry; a soft press of lips before Issei pulls back, with the closest thing to fear his face can express.
Takahiro stares at him for a moment, or two and before Issei can open his mouth to explain himself, he grabs his face and kisses him properly.
It takes another moment before Issei catches up, and thank god he does, with the way he kisses him back in earnest.
They stay like that for a while, kissing. Takahiro’s hand makes its way into Issei’s hair, while he has to suppress a shiver as Issei’s hand moves so it’s positioned under his sweater, and Takahiro refuses to pull away until he has to, because he’s starting to feel lightheaded.
(He can’t tell if it’s because he’s forgotten to breathe or because Issei runs warmer than anyone he’s ever known.)
Even when he does pull away, Issei keeps pressing soft kisses on his cheeks, on his jaw, down his throat-
“Wait,” he breathes, and Issei waits and Takahiro hates and loves that he does. “I just- I need to know where this came from.”
Issei leans his forehead against his, eyes closed, and Takahiro revels in the fact that he gets to be this close and look as much as wants (even though he’d never really stopped himself before).
“The list was empty,” he says simply.
“What?”
“The one you left open. Reasons to un-like me. The one I know you freaked out about because you thought I’d seen it.”
Takahiro stares at him.
“It’s always been obvious to everyone that we liked each other. At first I thought it was just me, but then I realised it was you too. I couldn’t understand why you wouldn’t do or say anything so I just guessed there was something holding you back. Something about me. Then I saw the list and nothing was there.”
Issei’s eyes flutter open. “Tell me if I’ve read this wrong and we can pretend this never happened.”
Takahiro chokes out a laugh. “You’re a fucking idiot. You know you’d never get things wrong. Not with me.”
He doesn’t understand the overwhelming surge of emotions that overcome him, so he buries his neck into Issei’s shoulder and clutches onto his shirt. He doesn’t cry but he lets Issei rub his back and whisper soothing words into his ear and he feels the tension bleed out of his body.
(A part of him can’t believe it’s real, fingers tightening over Issei’s shoulder to remind himself this isn’t just some dream.)
They stay like that until Takahiro feels Issei fidget underneath him (probably due to his legs dying), so he pulls him down to lie next to him.
“You sure you want me in your bed in jeans?” Issei asks, and his consideration is irritating when all Takahiro is trying to do is maintain any form of physical contact possible.
“Five minutes,” he says, and he laughs as Issei scrambles towards his closet.
-
He’ll fall asleep to Issei mumbling “Happy Birthday,” against his temple, and he’ll wake up and won't need an excuse to bury his face into Issei’s chest, and it'll be on his way home from eating cake and sharing presents with his second family that he remembers The List.
Three years of agonizing over it, and he’ll watch Issei get ready to spend the rest of the night with him, so he can drop him off at the train station the next morning, and realise he’d never needed it in the first place.