Hello.

I suck at summaries.

forgot to add disclaimer on my last fic, but I think we all know that I don't own K, GoRA, GoHands, or the gayness they provide. But I wish I did.

(again, image source: ユポポ on pixiv)


"Is this...okay?" His eyelashes flutter in the dimness of the room. Saruhiko can see the hint of pink on his cheeks and it makes his heart skip a beat. Their school blazers discarded, long forgotten about; for some reason, the room felt much, much hotter than it was before.

"Mm," is his simple reply. He could've sworn he heard an airy chuckle leave his best friend's lips—well, he wouldn't be surprised if he did. What does the idiot think this is? Is he the only one so damn tense right now?

It's subtle, but he feels the older boy sitting opposite him on the bed remove his glasses, set them aside, then blink a few times. Flawless, he thinks, blushing. His eyelids flicker down and his gaze meets the small curled up balls of fists on either side of him, and he tries not to smirk. Flawless and cute. Maybe he's just as nervous as he is.

Then, a weight presses down on the mattress. His friend's breath tickles Misaki's lips, and it's simply breathtaking. He's never felt something like this before and it makes him so—giddy. But, he can't look stupid in front of the blunette. I'm probably the only one freaking out here, is the thought running through his head.

They left the window slightly open, welcoming the chilly autumn breeze and the leaves it brought with it. When one sets in Misaki's hair, Saruhiko instinctively reaches out, making him flinch, but then he relaxes. His long fingers brush against the ends of his hair when the leaf falls out, and Misaki could feel the sweaty palms of his hands start to hurt from how hard his nails were pressing into them, the white of his knuckles showing. Saruhiko's fingers tremble when he drops his hand to his side again. And that was it. Almost as if an electric shock was sent through them at that right moment. That's what they needed.

Within a heartbeat, the world blurs around the edges. It's only them. They're the only ones who exist here. It's their moment. There are no sounds of traffic outside, children shouting, the whispering of the wind through the gap in the open window, the creaking of the bed when they press themselves closer to eachother. When their bodies suddenly feel weak and just want to hold on. When they desperately, yet innocently, tilt their heads to the side. What was once a gentle peck melting into something more fierce, hot, wet, sweet and experimental. The world, their world is closing in on them and pushing them closer. It's nearly suffocating, and they don't mind it. They don't mind it at all.

When they both part, eyes glazed over accidentally meeting, they turn their heads away in embarrassment, a mess of tangled limbs on the bedsheets. Because they know one is afraid to admit to the other—that they were both thinking the exact same thing.

"Wow."


It wasn't fair though, Yata thought, as he fixed his beanie on his head and adjusted the headphones around his neck. It wasn't fair because, he was the one who made the first move. He was the one who took his breath away. He was the one who captured him, who made him speechless. And ever since then, ever since that day—it was the only time they ever done that, and he remembers it clearly. A bittersweet aftertaste.

Skateboarding through the rowdy streets of Shizume City, through alleyways and down handrails of stony steps he knows all too well, the vanguard grumbles to himself. He lets the noise of the outside world soak into him, an attempt—rather, an excuse to mute his thoughts.

That shitty monkey never let me kiss him back.


A/N: Am I dead yet.