Work Text:
For Vee
Kaoru couldn’t sleep. Which, in the past, wouldn’t have been out of the ordinary for him. He was an anxious man—he always had been since he was a child. He found it hard to switch off, to stop intrusive thoughts racing through his mind when there was nothing left to distract him: Did the other kids in his class like him? Was there homework due tomorrow that he’d forgotten about? Did Adam like him back? Would Kojiro forget about him when he left for culinary school? Would he get that project finished in time to meet the client deadline? Did Kojiro love him back?
When he was a child, his mother used to lay in bed with him, cradle him in her arms, and sing him lullabies, soft and low until he drifted asleep. When he got too old for that, he would download them to his phone and listen to them through his headphones. Eventually, he programmed Carla to play lullabies for him, to monitor his breathing and his heartbeat so she knew exactly what tempo and volume to play them at to be most conducive for falling into a deep, sound sleep, in the least amount of time.
It never failed.
Until tonight.
It was all the stupid gorilla’s fault, Kaoru thought, as he tossed and turned on his painfully empty double futon, Carla futilely shuffling through his entire library of lullabies for the third time that evening, trying to find the one that would, rhetorically speaking, knock him out. Ever since Kojiro had confessed his feelings to him—feelings which Kaoru had reciprocated for years, but had always been too terrified to reveal—they hadn’t spent a night apart. Every night was the same—Kaoru would ask Kojiro to come over, and Kojiro would call him clingy, but he’d come around anyway. Even if Kojiro had worked late. Even if Kaoru was sick. Even if they’d had a fight and hadn’t spoken all day. He’d always come.
It took two entire oceans to finally stop him.
It was all the stupid gorilla’s fault, Kaoru thought again, flipping his pillow over to the cold side. Kaoru had gotten so used to sleeping tucked up against that warm, bronzed pile of muscle, that now that he was forced to sleep without him, he couldn’t sleep at all.
He’d tried all his usual tricks. Chamomile tea. Lavender oil on his pillow. Meditation, even though he hated every moment of it. Not even his carefully curated playlist of lullabies could get him to drift off.
Kojiro had ruined him.
Kaoru rolled over and picked up the phone that was sitting on the table beside him for the seventh time that night, the bright light from the home screen blinding him in the dark room as he tried to navigate to the last messages he had received from Kojiro so he could read them again.
about to take off
will message when i land
miss you already
Kaoru had received the messages just over 13 hours ago, while he had been, ironically, sitting down to a client lunch at Sia la Luce. Despite Kojiro’s absence, his support staff seemed to be running the restaurant like a well-oiled ship, in no short part due to the capable command of Kojiro’s sous-chef, Ayame.
“Don’t tell the big lug I said this,” Ayame had said, as she refilled Kaoru’s wine glass, “But I think things actually run smoother when he’s not here.” Kaoru had to hide a snicker behind his fan at the comment. He was fond of Ayame, as she was one of the only people he knew that could hold banter with Kojiro as well as he could. “Anyway, the menu was starting to bore me. Tell your boyfriend to bring me back a challenge this time, would you?”
For two weeks Kojiro would be travelling Italy, visiting restaurants, meeting with their chefs, eating their food, getting inspiration for new dishes to bring back to Sia la Luce. And, if Kaoru hadn’t had three client projects due during those two weeks, he would have been there with him.
“It’s only two weeks,” Kojiro had said, arms wrapped around Kaoru, as he stood in the doorway of Kaoru’s apartment, with his suitcase by his side, and a taxi waiting outside the building for him.
“Two weeks without you,” Kaoru had mumbled back into the crook of Kojiro’s neck where he had been hiding his tear-stained face, not proud of just how much he was struggling to accept it.
Kaoru stared at the messages again, as if he hadn’t already read them over and over and over. The flight from Okinawa to Bologna should have taken only 12 hours. Kojiro should have landed by now—should have messaged to let Kaoru know he’d made it there safely.
He looked at the time in the corner of the screen. 1:28am.
His flight had probably just been delayed. No point in stressing over it. No point in wondering if the plane had crashed. No point in wondering whether Kojiro had been mugged within seconds of stepping outside the airport. No point in wondering whether Kojiro had just straight up forgotten about him.
So instead of worrying—because he definitely wasn’t worrying—he just typed:
miss you too
call me when you land
Kaoru had barely put his phone down and closed his eyes again before the device started buzzing on the table beside him, sending a wave of adrenaline through him, waking up every nerve in his body. If he hadn’t already been wide awake, he certainly was now. He already felt tears pricking at the corner of his eyes before he even read the name flashing on the screen.
“Kojiro?” he croaked, hoping the other man couldn’t hear the way his voice wavered, the way he was trying to hold back the sobs that had been threatening to tear through his body for the last two hours.
“Kaoru?” Kojiro’s worried voice answered, and Kaoru could imagine the look on his face: his soft, round eyes wide with concern, his brow furrowed. “What’s wrong? Why are you awake? What time is it—”
“I’m okay,” Kaoru said, cutting Kojiro off before he could work himself into too much of a panic. “I’m okay. I just…”
“What?”
“I... I couldn’t sleep.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Would you relax? I’m fine.” Kaoru rubbed his eyes. He was reluctant to tell Kojiro the truth. If the ape knew he’d become the only thing that guaranteed Kaoru a good night’s sleep, he’d never hear the end of it. “You’re late,” he said instead, in an attempt to deflect. “Was your flight delayed?”
He could hear Kojiro huff on the other end, clearly unsatisfied with Kaoru's answer. “It was. And then my phone died, and I couldn’t find my charger. I’d literally just plugged it in after emptying my entire suitcase in my hotel room when I got your message.”
“I told you to pack it in your carry-on.”
“Kaoru,” Kojiro said softly, and Kaoru could hear the springs of the mattress creak on the other side of the phone. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”
Kaoru sighed into the phone, the glass cold and clammy against his cheek. He rolled over and splayed an arm across the other side of his double futon, craving the warm body that accompanied the warm voice in his ear. “Turns out I’ve become rather accustomed to having you in my bed.”
“Oh,” Kojiro breathed, and then, a moment of realisation later, “Ohhhhhhhhh.”
“Shut up.”
“You can’t sleep without me now?”
“I said, shut up.”
Kaoru could already hear the smugness creeping into Kojiro’s voice, and for a moment he regretted his moment of weakness, but then Kojiro laughed, and it was fond, and full of love, and Kaoru thought that he would scream how much he needed Kojiro from the balcony if it meant that he could kiss him and hold him and be held by him again.
“I’m sorry, my love,” that warm voice said again, “Carla’s not helping?”
“No. You’ve ruined me. I’ve tried all my tricks. Carla’s had my playlists on repeat for the last three hours. And following that logic the only thing that could be missing is… you.”
“Well, we can fix that,” Kojiro said. “Go and grab the biggest pillow you can find. And that green hoodie of mine that you’re so obsessed with.”
“I’m not obsessed with it,” Kaoru lied, looking down at the garment that was already zipped up around his body. “And this is stupid,” he lied again, grabbing a pillow from the other side—Kojiro’s side—of the bed, and holding it tight to his chest. “What time is it in Italy anyway?”
“Mmm, 7:30?”
“Shouldn’t you be out getting some dinner? I know how much you hate airplane food.”
“I can eat once I know you’re asleep, princess. Now just put on the hoodie and hug the pillow, would you?”
Kaoru transferred the call from his phone to his wristband to free up his hands, and squeezed the pillow tighter to his chest. “If you insist.”
“I do. Now take a deep breath, and imagine the pillow is me.”
“So squishy, Kojiro. You’ve really let yourself go.”
“I’m hanging up.”
“No, please,” Kaoru said in haste, desperate to keep Kojiro on the phone, despite his teasing. He could already feel himself relaxing, Kojiro’s words pulling him closer and closer to sleep. “Please, keep talking. I’ve missed your voice.”
Kojiro sighed, or yawned, Kaoru couldn’t really tell. “Imagine I’m there, and I’ve got my arms around you, your head is resting on my chest. You can feel my heartbeat against your cheek, and the steady rise and fall of my breathing.” And Kaoru could feel it—feel him—somehow, even though he was on the other side of the world. “Imagine that I’m rubbing your back, that I’m kissing the top of your head. Imagine that for me, will you, Kaoru?”
“I miss you, Jiro,” Kaoru mumbled into the pillow, as the edges of his world started to blur around him.
“Mi manchi anche tu, amore mio.”
“Did you just call me a monkey?”
“No—”
“You’re the monkey.”
“It means I miss you too, dumbass. I’ll be home soon. Now go to sleep.”
And eventually, Kaoru did. And each night that Kojiro was away, Kaoru would put on the hoodie, and hug his pillow, and Kojiro would talk to him until he fell asleep.
~~~
“How much pasta did you eat in Italy, Kojiro?” Kaoru mumbled into Kojiro’s chest—finally back in the arms of his love—two weeks later. “You’re almost as soft as the pillow.”
“Carla, book me an airplane ticket back to Italy.”
“Carla, do not obey that command,” Kaoru grumbled, punctuated with a sharp poke to Kojiro’s side. “He’s never allowed to leave me again.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
“God, you’re clingy.”
“You love me.”
“Yes, I do,” Kojiro said softly, followed by a press of his lips against Kaoru’s forehead. ”And I promise I’ll never leave you again.”
And Kaoru believed it, even though he knew that he was asking for the impossible from Kojiro. The rational part of his brain understood that there would inevitably be things that would pull them apart: another ill-timed work trip, or a family emergency. He knew that eventually, he’d have to spend another night alone, without the warmth of Kojiro’s body pressed against his.
He should have known not to ask for the impossible, but what was one night apart when he had a pillow, a hoodie, and Kojiro’s voice in his ear reminding him that he was safe, and loved, and his?
Kaoru could get through one night apart, when he knew Kojiro would be home soon.