By Lily Maxwell

The first time he had kissed him, Yoite had cried.

He didn't make any sort noise. He was wide-eyed for a couple of seconds, before turning away. Miharu called his name and circled him, trying to look at his face. He brought a hand to his mouth, and then the tears just rolled down his cheeks. Miharu didn't say anything. He just looked down, and held the other's forearms, until Yoite stopped. It didn't take long.

The second time, he tried to not take Yoite by surprise.

They were sitting side by side, Yoite in his usual closed-up way, and Miharu mimicking him. The taller boy had spoken something about the kinjitsus, and he had pretended to listen. They were so close at getting to figure out Shinrabanshou, that he gave himself that luxury.

He looked up at him. Yoite looked down back. He seemed to do that sometimes, actually allowing some eye-contact. Miharu thought it was sort of cute. He smiled. Yoite did not. He just remained in the same position, blinking his eyes a couple of times. Miharu figured it was his way of being curious.

Slowly he let go of his knees, and stood on them instead. Yoite didn't move. He leaned his head, and so it happened.

Yoite didn't move.

The touching of their lips didn't last long, for soon Yukimi arrived. Miharu sat back and greeted him with a smile. Yoite looked in the direction of the wall, a hand once again covering his mouth, but with a slight flush on his face.

Yukimi took the smile on Miharu's face as a bad sign.

The third time, Miharu found out just how powerful kisses are.

Yoite seemed anxious, he seemed distressed, he seemed to want to kill something. Miharu took hold of his arm, but he pulled back. As he sat down on that very seat, where he once threatened the lives of his companions from Banten, Miharu, who was still standing, took the opportunity splendidly.

The grip Yoite had on his arm was a little tighter than he supposed it had to be.

As he pulled back, Yoite hung his head down, silent. The grip on his arm lessened, and Yoite started drawing circles with his thumb on the skin. Miharu kissed his forehead, and brushed his bangs away.

"Why must you do that?"

Miharu expected him to cry again.

He did not.