In all honesty, this is probably the last thing that Barnaby wants to participate in.

It's the weekend—a time that Barnaby would appreciate being able to simply sit and relax, assuming he wasn't being called in for some sort of modeling gig or other sort of advertisement job. Instead, Kotetsu's a chatterbox, insisting they go out, insisting that Barnaby dress up and join him at some festival that Barnaby honestly wants nothing to do with.

The only reason he ends up complying at all is because it's Kotetsu, and the way the man looks at him with eyes that are rather comparable to a puppy dog's is simplypainful.

He is decked out in something emerald green by the end of it, only the hems of the—what did Kotetsu call it, a yukata?—yukata trimmed in a sort of criss-crossing pattern of blue. Kotetsu is also insistent on doing something with his hair, though it ends up in a messy ponytail at best, something that Kotetsu can't seem to stop admiring, with his calloused fingertips brushing over the nape of Barnaby's neck and lingering long enough to make the blond shiver.

"These shoes are really annoying," Barnaby remarks, unwilling to take the edge of irritation from his tone just yet, no matter how happy Kotetsu seems to be able the whole ordeal. The older man is draped in a sort of deep, navy blue yukata, a pattern of white diamonds decorating its sleeves, and he seems highly unfazed by the shoes—Barnaby's completely forgotten the names of the things, but all they are is some glorified sandal, anyway—no matter how Barnaby finds himself more annoyed by their presence by the minute.

"You'll get used to them," Kotetsu says, and Barnaby glowers at the back of the other man's head, highly doubting this. "C'mon, Bunny—I'll show you something fun!"

Barnaby highly doubts this as well.

The whole festival is a bright, colorful affair, draped in streaming ribbons and origami and lanterns. Kotetsu babbles on, telling him about the story that inspired it—something about a girl that wove things, and how the festival was on the night that she's allowed to go and visit her lover—but Barnaby tunes it out in favor of warily keep an eye on the scenery. To him, it simply screams of too many people, and with each step they take further into the festival grounds, that seems to be the case. The walkways are covered in people, by children running and skipping and shrilly shouting, and Barnaby can already feel a headache coming on.

It's worth it, he grimly tells himself, because Kotetsu is happy.

And indeed the man is, pulling him this way and that, shoving food in his direction that Barnaby eyeballs skeptically. It's some sort of… pastry, Barnaby thinks? But it's in the shape of a fish, and when Kotetsu tells him it's filled with red bean paste, Barnaby's eyebrows arch even higher.

"It's sweet," Kotetsu further extrapolates. "Give it a try."

"I'll pass."

"Don't be so grumpy, Bunny. Just take a bite."

Barnaby sort of wants to strangle him, but begrudgingly does so anyway—a delicate nibble, at best. To his surprise, it actually is quite sweet; not like generic candy, but a sort of raw sweetness that makes him tentatively take another bite.

"See?" Kotetsu proudly says. "Good, isn't it?"

Barnaby finds himself sort of reluctantly agreeing.

Stranger still is the little goldfish catching game that Kotetsu reels him into next. Barnaby stares at the little fish swimming about with trepidation, even as Kotetsu eagerly—and with great finesse, the mark of someone that must have done this for years and years—catches one. "What exactly are you going to do with that?" Barnaby asks, still less than impressed as the poor thing is bagged up and Kotetsu watches it like a damned cat as it swims around in slow, lazy circles in its little see-through bag.

"Keep it as a pet."

"Where? You don't have a fish tank."

Kotetsu shoots him a sour look. "I'll get one!"

"Don't expect me to take care of it."

Kotetsu makes him carry it after that, and Barnaby finds himself struggling not to name the thing the longer it stares at him with its rather large, bug-eyed stare.

The closer the night comes to an end, the more and more Barnaby finds himselfrelieved. He's tired, his feet hurt from these wretched sandals, and he feels more and more uncomfortable by the minute when it comes to swatting away mosquitos in the strange outfit he's been wrangled into. As much as he wants to ask to simply leave, he knows Kotetsu would adamantly refuse—there's something about fireworks and needing to see them through, and so Barnaby sullenly complies, letting Kotetsu lead him to the hilltop for the supposed 'best view' of the things for whenever they intend to eventually go off.

It's nice to get off his feet for a bit, at least, and Barnaby sinks gratefully down into the grass, sighing out a slow breath and gently setting the bag with the fish in it down a few inches away. Kotetsu plops down next to him, stretching out his legs, and before Barnaby can protest, the man simply leans over, pressing a kiss fondly to the side of his head, nuzzling his face into his curls.

"Kotetsu—"

"I know this isn't really your thing," Kotetsu says before he can utter another word, "but thank you, for coming along anyway. I promise I won't drag you out into big social things like this anymore."

Barnaby feels his skin heat up at that. "It's not… so much the 'big social' part of it, it's just—I don't know anything about the festival, and on the weekends I'd rather just—"

He gets cut off again, but this time, it's by the crack and fizzle of fireworks shooting up into the sky, exploding into a dozen colors. Barnaby's attention snaps up, as does Kotetsu's, and there's nothing to do but watch for a moment. The night sky is so dark, littered with hundreds of stars, and with each firework released up into that blackness, everything is lit up—red, blue, green, a spark of gold and enough glitter to leave Barnaby's vision swimming.

"… It wasn't so bad," Barnaby says in between crackles and explosions. "I'm just mad because my feet hurt."

Another group of fireworks goes off, and Kotetsu blinks, obviously having not heard him. "What, Bunny?"

Barnaby cracks a wry smile and shakes his head, looking back up to the sky. "Never mind."