Chapter Text
“You WHAT???” Hirose gasps, gripping Nakamura’s hands tighter in shock. He can hear his blood rushing through his ears. Surely he hadn’t heard Nakamura properly.
“I like you,” He repeated, more decisive than the last. “And I have for quite a while.”
Hirose laughed, almost jealous that Nakamura had done a proper confession when he completely failed to. Then, the thought hits him:
“What about Kawamura-san?”
“Kawamura-what??? Hirose, you thought I liked Kawamura?” Nakamura’s mouth gaped, almost comically.
Hirose must surely be hallucinating at this point, barely processing the conversation as his heart fluttered with hope.
“You don’t?” Hirose asked, more enthusiasm lacing his tone than intended.
“No! What made you think that?” Nakamura laughs, hands shaking as he goes to grab for Hirose’s own. Hirose answers his silent ask, decisively linking their fingers together, breathing labored as he tries to focus on the conversation.
“But the book she gave you! What was that about?” It was Nakamura’s turn to freeze, his eyes looking terrified, as if he’d been caught doing something bad.
“Ah it was nothing. Just something I asked her to draw me.” Nakamura stuttered out after a few false starts.
“Nothing?! I saw you practically glued to that thing during class!” Hirose almost shouts, realizing he maybe was letting off more information than necessary.
“You were watching me during class?” Nakamura shook his head, and continued “they were… drawings of you.” The last part was muttered so faintly, Hirose strained every muscle in his ear to try and parse it.
Drawings of me? So Nakamura does like me!
He then realized something very vital.
NAKAMURA CONFESSED!
He laughed and shook his head at the ridiculous situation. They had both been dancing around each other for no reason.
“Is that ok?” Nakamura breathes, and Hirose moves to sit fully next to him, the unstable cart jostling beneath them.
“It’s more than ok.” Hirose squeezes his hands in a way he hopes is reassuring, and unbiddenly smiles up at Nakamura.
He memorizes every feature of Nakamura’s face, gaze landing on his lips. His brain blanked, and he felt himself leaning towards them, mesmerized by their apparent plushness and shine.
With the sudden desire to touch them, he extracts one of his hands, and brushes Nakamura’s lips softly, index finger pressing an indent into his bottom lip. Nakamura’s mouth is open in shock, but his eyes sparkle with interest.
Without even properly thinking, Hirose leans closer and closer to Nakamura, noses bumping, a breath shared between them. He grips Nakamura’s jaw, and his eyes again flick upwards to meet his counterpart’s. Searching his face and finding nothing but confirmation that his touch was welcome, Hirose leaned impossibly closer.
He began to pull Nakamura’s jaw, turning his head and closing the distance with the most timid of kisses shared between them. His lips on his were just as soft as they looked, and Hirose’s head was almost exploding with warmth as he pressed closer to memorize the feel.
It’s hypnotic, and he presses again, and then again, each kiss more determined and confident than the last. He pulls back and meets Nakamura’s eyes, a shared smile confirming that they felt the same way about each other.
Hirose’s lips tingled as he leaned in for more, kissing Nakamura deeply and savoring the satisfied exhale felt cascade across his cheeks.
He felt silly, having worried all day about the “perfect” plan. This was perfect in its imperfection— leg sticky from spilled soda, a less-than scenic view, and a stolen confession straight from his own lips.
But Nakamura is what made it perfect.
He feels a tear roll down his cheek and pulls back, eyes stinging in a way that was almost satisfying.
“I like you, Nakamura-kun.”
Nakamura squeezes his hands, and grabs his collar for one last decisive kiss, longer than the rest and deeper. Their teeth clack with inexperience but the softness shared between them feels blindingly good regardless.
It’s perfect in its imperfection.