Kitayama might be taking a picture of this (mousapelli) wrote,
Kitayama might be taking a picture of this
mousapelli

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Fic, 30 Kisses, (3) Kimi wa Karma

Title: Kimi wa Karma [Kitayama/Yokoo]
Rating/Warnings: G
Summary: The more things change, the more they totally don't.
AN: 30 Kisses day 3, Yokoo's Kiss Collection 3. I just keep asking yararanger what she wants to read because she's conveniently online when I start writing.


Kimi wa Karma

Wink-up brings in a stack of old issues and tells them to pick their favorite shots. The rest of them blink a little at each other, but Fujigaya and Yokoo dive right in, digging up pictures of their tiny selves and old friends. Fujigaya hoots and points at Yokoo's height and Kawai's wrist in a cast; Yokoo snaps a picture with his phone and sends it to Koyama, murmuring to nobody in particular that it will totally make him cry.

"Who's that?" Senga wants to know, leaning in over Fujigaya's shoulder, Nikaido leaning over his, just as curious. "Wow, look at that guy's hair, who's that?"

"That guy used to yell at me a lot," Tamamori says sourly as he and Miyata page through a different year.

"Oh," Miyata says when he turns a page, voice surprised and eyes soft, "he's the senpai that taught me to backflip."

"It's funny how they're sort of like family albums, isn't it?" Yokoo asks Kitayama, who is flipping pages with a sort of determination. "Looking back now, it's funny to see how we've changed…"

"Look, Nika, it's us! It's us!" Senga is exclaiming, leaning way more into Fujigaya's space than is good for his health.

"…and how we haven't," Yokoo finishes, smile fond.

"Ah!" Kitayama announces, smoothing the page down. "Found it." Yokoo leans over curiously and gives a low whistle.

"Such handsome young men," he says, slinging an arm around Kitayama's shoulders and sighing dramatically. "Were we ever that young?"

The shot is one of the first photoshoots they'd ever done together, if not the first, and if their smiles of camaraderie were fake then, they're endearing, and real enough now.

"Would you believe that I remember that shoot?" Yokoo muses. He flips the page over to check for more, but in those days they certainly hadn't rated more than one. "I remember fighting over who got which jersey, and the photographer complaining about how your tan didn't match anybody else."

"What I remember," Kitayama says quietly, "is how you were the only one to ask me to teach you how to skate."

He can see it even, if he half-closes his eyes, the cluster of a dozen boys staff had shoved into the room, all of them exchanging dark glances when the skating instructor had explained what they were doing there, why the new kids with the terrible haircut was getting special treatment, and that they would ask for volunteers first. And then one kid, features sharp and incredibly skinny from recent growth spurt, puts his hand up and says he wants to learn.

"You know how already?" he asks Kitayama, who nods. When the kid grins, it turns out he has a yaiba. "Sounds interesting, you can teach us too, right?" Kitayama nods again and Yokoo turns around to call some of the other boys by name, to call a few others chicken when they still hang back.

Kitayama opens his eyes and Yokoo is still pretty skinny, still has his yaiba, and still wants to skate with him all the time.

"Ah, did I?" Yokoo chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck a little. "Interesting stuff always did happen around you, even back then. I guess I just wanted to be a part of something interesting too."

Kitayama leans forward and presses his mouth against Yokoo's on impulse, briefly but firmly enough that he can feel the sharp press of Yokoo's fang against his bottom lip. When he pulls back, Yokoo reaches up to touch his lips, hand hiding the small smile tugging at his lips.

"Hm," Yokoo says, "like I said, interesting stuff. Guess I'll stick around."

"Yeah." Kitayama grins back. "Please take care of me in the future, too."

"Your FACE looks like a duck's ass!" Fujigaya roars, sending a giggling Senga and Nikaido scattering with his magazine aimed at their heads.

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