Leading the Pack - Amyused - 弱虫ペダル (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

The best things about living in off-campus apartments were the freedom and the solitude, especially after spending three years of his life in HakoGaku's school dorms. It was nice not having people like Toudou pester him constantly about homework assignments. Or others like Shinkai barging in at 2 AM and insisting on a grocery run. Not to mention, he was free from all the rules and regulations that kept the dorm managers breathing down his neck.

Unfortunately, this newfound personal freedom was also putting Arakita's self-reliance to the test, and so far he wasn't doing so great. He was surviving just fine, but he wasn't exactly excelling. After that first week of making an actual effort, he was lucky if he made it to more than half of his classes, and his dinner diet of nothing but Bepsi and microwave chicken was probably giving him a chemical imbalance.

Being almost-friends with Machimiya didn't really help. The guy was a smooth talker, and four out of five times, he could talk Arakita into skipping an assignment for the sake of bike riding or staying out late to party. Arakita had his first drinking experience within hours of running into the guy, and his first of many hangovers soon afterward.

The way the pair baited each other and encouraged bad behavior was really not that healthy, though Machimiya insisted that it was all part of the college experience. And knowing that he had someone at his back made Arakita more ready and willing to go along. It was that pack mentality coming into play, though without a good alpha at the lead, they were just rascals more than anything.

Back at HakoGaku, f*cku-chan had been his alpha dog. Or possibly pet owner, not that it really mattered. Arakita still missed him from time to time. Actually, that was an understatement. Of all the people Arakita had been close to in high school, f*cku-chan was the one he missed the most. He still pined for the guy on a nightly basis, even though he'd done his best to distance himself from that particular facet of his old life.

Maybe that was why Arakita was always so quick to give in to Machimiya's suggestions. When they raced together, the former assist was so focused on the road, the exertion, and the thrill of the chase that everything else dropped away. And the parties. Well, those stole his attention in a whole different way.

From what Arakita could tell, Machimiya went to parties for the women. Arakita was just his wing man--the angry, ugly foil to his slick charm. Arakita went mostly for the music and the booze. No one there cared that he was a little underage, and a little alcohol in his system did a good job of taking the edge off of his lingering heartbreak. As far as Arakita was concerned, the act of staying up until the buttcrack of dawn and dancing until he was too tired to stay on his feet was well worth nursing a hangover if it meant he didn't have to stare at the empty ceiling of his apartment and think about f*cku-chan for another night.

Arakita and his long distance crush still texted every day. No more than a handful of messages after practice was over, and most of them were about bikes and training regimens. If f*cku-chan every tried to ask him about about classes, Arakita would just answer vaguely or change the topic. Cat pictures worked wonders at derailing the conversation. Still, it warmed Arakita in all the most unwelcome ways to know that f*cku-chan still cared. He hoped that his current nightlife wouldn't disappoint his former captain if he knew...

~~~~

　From: f*ckutomi Juichi

　To: Kinjou Shingo

　Subject: Teammates

　By the way, Kinjou, I've been meaning to ask you something.

　What are your impressions of riding with Arakita?

From: Kinjou Shingo

To: f*ckutomi Juichi

Subject: [Re] Teammates

I can't say, as we haven't really ridden together.

My only impression is that he seems to embody his image.

　From: f*ckutomi Juichi

　To: Kinjou Shingo

　Subject: [Re] Teammates

　What do you mean?

　It seems strange that the captain wouldn't encourage the the most skilled of the freshmen all-rounders to ride together.

From: Kinjou Shingo

To: f*ckutomi Juichi

Subject: [Re] Teammates

Though I recall him being a fierce cyclist at IH, his attitude regarding school and practices is that of a delinquent.

His tendency to miss morning practices has caused him to be grouped with the mid-level riders.

　From: f*ckutomi Juichi

　To: Kinjou Shingo

　Subject: [Re] Teammates

　...That's strange for him.

　As much as he complains about early practices, I can't recall him ever missing one.

From: Kinjou Shingo

To: f*ckutomi Juichi

Subject: [Re] Teammates

I'm honestly more surprised when he's there than when he's not.

　From: f*ckutomi Juichi

　To: Kinjou Shingo

　Subject: [Re] Teammates

　He never implied that he was falling behind on training when we were messaging each other.

From: Kinjou Shingo

To: f*ckutomi Juichi

Subject: [Re] Teammates

I understand that he spends a lot of time with Machimiya from Hiroshima.

Though whether they go out racing or drinking is a bit of a toss-up.

　From: f*ckutomi Juichi

　To: Kinjou Shingo

　Subject: [Re] Teammates

　I see...

　Thank you, Kinjou.

From: Kinjou Shingo

To: f*ckutomi Juichi

Subject: [Re] Teammates

It was my impression that his rebellious attitude was normal.

Is it not?

　From: f*ckutomi Juichi

　To: Kinjou Shingo

　Subject: [Re] Teammates

　It was a phase from before.

　I think I'll call him.

　Thank you again.

~~~~

Early May was the wonderful vacation time known as Golden Week. For Arakita, that meant an entire week where he didn't have to sober up for anything besides his second indulgence, bike racing. Admittedly, the two did overlap from time to time, but when Arakia was still feeling tipsy, he just drank extra water and kept to the rollers. When he wasn't too terribly buzzed or hung over, he'd ride on the roads, though his times did suffer slightly.

The problem with this whole setup in regards to keeping his sobriety issues a secret came when f*cku-chan actually phoned him at 6 AM one day. Arakita had only just gotten home from a party and was staggering to his bed to pass out for a couple hours, when his cell rang.

He answered in what only barely resembled Japanese, it was so slurred. "Gooood evn'n. Who'zis??" he asked, since the letters on the screen had blurred together too much to read.

"Arakita?" a deep voice inquired from the other end of the line.

"Nooo. Im 'Rakita. Who'rre you?!" he whined.

"Arakita, this is f*ckutomi. A- are you feeling okay? You sound... out of it."

"f*ckutomi?" he asked, as if he couldn't quite remember anyone by that name. "Oh, shi- f*cku-chan!" Arakita nearly knocked himself off his feet by slapping himself in the forehead in shock, as his drunken brain jolted from fuzzy and content into a full-on flailing panic. "Why're. Why. Why you callin' so late?!"

"I thought I was calling early. Kinjou informed me that you've been skipping a lot of morning practices, and I wanted to make certain that you were feeling alright." There was a meaningful pause, just long enough for Arakita to jump in with an excuse as to why he was being neglectful, but the sleep-deprived boy was too preoccupied with remembering who Kinjou was to actually come up with any response. So f*ckutomi continued, "Am I to understand that you've been up all night?"

"Well, I. Uh. I was awake," Arakita covered lamely. He wanted to throw up, and it wasn't even because of the beer in his system. Rather, the guilt over his more recent lifestyle choices was already starting to seep into his conscience.

"Arakita, have you been drinking?"

Arakita turned silent. Sure, he gave himself excuses about the parties being good for his mental health, while Machimiya insisted that they made for a well-rounded youth, but he knew those justifications wouldn't fly when faced with f*ckutomi's straightforward personality. He didn't want to admit his guilt to the stone-faced boy, but f*cku-chan could read the silence well enough to know the answer.

"Arakita, do you go out drinking often?" f*ckutomi eventually continued, with actual emotion tinging his tone. He sounded almost angry, and most definitely accusatory, but Arakita had no argument that f*ckutomi would even start to consider as proper justification.

So he just apologized, "I'm sorry." For once, he felt like such a hypocrite for calling himself a college athlete and yet letting his condition slip like this.

"Then you should stop such nonsense! You drinking is not only illegal but damaging to your bodily health, especially when it interferes with your ability to attend and excel at practice."

Again, Arakita was unable to give a response that would satisfy his former captain. He couldn't refuse the command, but he didn't want to lie by agreeing. Frankly, he couldn't see himself stopping any time in the near future, not when his primary motivation would have been to satisfy the guy who broke his heart and didn't necessarily belong in his life anymore. It didn't matter that living while sober would be better for his "bodily health." At the rate he was going, without the booze he'd just bike himself into another sports injury and be even worse off.

"...f*cku-chan, I've gotta go. Tell Shinkai hi for me."

And with that, Arakita hung up. At the risk of getting another call, he immediately turned off his phone and then shoved it in a drawer for good measure.

Tears welled up in his eyes, but the wetness was quickly absorbed by his pillowcase as Arakita threw himself gracelessly into bed. And his inclination to cry soon lost to his desire to sleep.

Needless to say, Arakita slept through morning practice that day, and without his phone alarm to wake him, he slept through the afternoon portion as well. It was a fitful sleep that left him more tired than he was before. By the time he woke up at just past 5, he felt utterly drained of energy. He was glad to have slept away the worst of what would have been a nasty hangover, but that didn't mean his stomach wasn't churning and his head wasn't pounding with a different sort of pain. A guilty conscious was a nasty ailment.

It hurt Arakita to know that f*cku-chan was disappointed in him. And yet all he really wanted after getting that confirmation was a good, stiff drink. Instead, he grabbed a bottle of water and a quick microwave dinner before flopping back into bed.

If he was lucky, maybe he'd muster the energy to ride the following day.

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

At 5 AM sharp the next morning, there was a series of raps on Arakita's door. Considering that the number of people who knew his apartment number totaled to a whopping one, Arakita had no doubt that it was Machimiya, probably there to make sure that Arakita hadn't drowned in a puddle of his own vomit after being a no-show at practice the day before. Thankfully, in spite of the early hour, the former assist had been lying awake and weighing the benefits of eating breakfast versus wallowing in bed for another day, though the house call finally tipped the scales in favor of getting up.

"Calm your creepy tit*, I'm coming," he yelled through the door, taking a moment to throw on a fresh t-shirt, since he'd been wearing the other for more than 24 hours. His jeans had gone to the wayside when he was sleeping off the initial stupor, leaving his butt clad in nothing but boxers. "Whad'ya want, ass-face?" he more-or-less greeted, throwing open the door without checking the peephole. He didn't expect Machimiya to have brought a friend.

Machimiya coughed out a laugh at the early-morning rudeness but luckily, the guy he was with didn't look at all offended, just unimpressed, judging by the way he quirked his eyebrow. Arakita froze. He knew this man...

"Sorry, didn't mean you," he half-apologized, sizing up the guy and wishing he wasn't so impressed by the look of him. "Kinjou, right? From last year's In-High."

"That's right. And you're Arakita Yasutomo. I thought it best to truly make your acquaintance, since Juichi has told me so much about you, but it's been difficult with your recent absenteeism. Please forgive me for intruding on your home."

Something about Kinjou's calm demeanor and obvious closeness with "Juichi" really grated Arakita's nerves. He was immediately put off. "What makes you worth forgiving? you sold me out," Arakia accused, referring to f*cku-chan's knowledge of his recent drinking habit.

"My apologies. I wasn't aware that your delinquency was meant to be a secret. Forgive my earlier assumptions, but I'd been under the impression that it was more the norm."

"He send you to check on me?" Arakita continued with a sneer.

"No, I asked Machimiya to bring me here of my own accord."

Arakita's eyes narrowed. He couldn't tell if Kinjou was lying or not. Regardless, this felt like some sort of intervention, which honestly made Machimiya's involvement all the weirder. The way that Hiroshima's ace lounged calmly against the wall by Arakita's door, it was like he'd played no part in encouraging Arakita's behavioral change.

"Don't give me that look, Yasutomo. I'm just here for the cycling," the sprinter flippantly explained.

"Why do I ever trust you..." Arakita muttered to himself. The guy was obviously riding along for his own benefit and nothing more. "Asshole," Arakita accused Machimiya, but the words rolled right off him, as he simply grinned and shrugged.

With a put-out grunt, Arakita turned his attention back to Kinjou, "So what're you really here for, four-eyes? If it was just to say hi, then get off my doorstep already."

"Honestly, I was hoping to race you," Kinjou responded, and although Arakita still sensed another motive, the idea of a race did pique his interest. Souhoku's former ace was bound to be a tough competitor. Harder to beat than Machimiya, no doubt. Not that Arakita would give in to the idea so easily, not when he was already annoyed with the almost stranger.

"And you thought 5 in the f*ckin' morning was a good time for a race?!" he bellowed, not giving a sh*t about whether he happened to wake the neighbors.

"Well, as much as Juichi speaks highly of you. I can't say I expect too much of a challenge. You've been grouped with the lesser riders, after all. I thought a race might make a good warm-up, to prepare me for actual practice," he challenged with an sharp grin. Behind his thick-rimmed glasses, Kinjou's eyes gleamed, while Arakita's vision flashed red.

"...I'll make you eat those words," Arakita swore, his voice resembling a deep snarl.

"Not today, you won't," Kinjou calmly rebuffed.

~~~~

7 AM saw Araki laid out flat on his back by the bike racks and gasping for breath. His legs hadn't worked that hard in months, even against Machimiya, who was a beast on the flats, but could almost always be bested in the mountains.

Kinjo was fast all around. No wonder f*cku-chan was inspired by him, even if his personality was less endearing than moss on a stump. It had been a struggle for Arakita to keep up, much less find an opening to pass the guy. Either his condition really had dropped since the start of college or Kinjou was just that good. Possibly both.

At least Souhoku's former captain had the decency to look winded in the wake of their race. He was sitting with a towel around his neck just a few feet away, stretching out his knees and slowly catching his breath. Honestly, if he'd come out of their race looking less than exhausted, Arakita probably would have decked him. No pity for the fact that the nerd wore glasses.

Minutes later, Machimiya rolled in, whistling at the state of their outcome. "You guys really took off. I didn't think you still had it in you, Yasutomo," the guy drawled, as he hooked the seat of his bike onto the rack to park it.

Arakita almost gave him the finger, but it wasn't worth the energy, when he knew that Machimiya would just brush it off. "Shut your trap and buy me a Bepsi," he commanded, but before Machimiya could either accept or deny his request, a plain white bottle appeared in front of Arakia's face with a quiet slosh.

At the other end of the proffered drink was Kinjou. "You can have some of my sports drink. It's better for you."

"You honestly think I care what's good for me?" Arakita sneered, pushing the bottle aside and finally putting energy into sitting up.

"No, but I wish you would," Kinjou responded, despite the fact that the question was obviously rhetorical. "You have the potential to be an extraordinary cyclist."

"f*ck you, I'm already better than two-thirds of this team," Arakita barked. If he noticed the sidelong glances that some of the upperclassmen gave him as they began to trickle in towards the clubroom, he didn't acknowledge them. His attention was too focused on Kinjou, who had the nerve to turn smug.

"In other words, you're lacking," he surmised, and Arakita felt his jaw begin to clench, baring his teeth and grinding them together so hard that they ached. "Only the fastest wins in cycling, and you've still got a ways to go."

"Is that another challenge?" Arakita practically growled.

"Only if you have what it takes," Kinjou baited him.

Somewhere deep inside of Arakita, something sparked. The thrill of competition. The desire to win, to show the world what he was made of. To best Kinjou, then their upperclassmen, and whatever other cyclists tried to cut him off. He'd beat 'em all.

"You bet your ass I do! Better watch your back," Arakita threatened, but Kinjou looked entirely nonplussed. If anything, he seemed quietly self-satisfied.

"Gladly."

~~~~

That morning Arakita had a talk with the captain about what it would take to change his grouping for practice and whether or not he could make adjustments to his training regimen and start something similar to what he had back at HakoGaku.

The captain seemed suspicious of Arakita's sudden interest in being a more active member, but let him know that if he was on time to every practice for the next two weeks and if he did well in the one of the upcoming spring rallies, that he'd consider moving him up in the club. It was a struggle for Arakita to maintain politeness when faced with the captain's doubt, but he kept it together somehow, while internally vowing to blow the pants off him in a race someday.

Arakita put in a good three and a half hours on the rollers before lunch that day. And that afternoon, he did another four. He'd have pushed himself more, if his race with Kinjou hadn't already drained him. Still, it felt good to have his drive back.

The following Friday, when grouped with a rag-tag bunch of cyclists to ride the streets around Younan, his complaints about the lazy pace got to be so bad that the upperclassman meant to lead them in their laps told him to just take off and blow all his energy if he didn't like their steady progression. So he did. The guy was a lot less haughty when Arakita lapped them on their eighth time around the course.

After practice, Arakita's seniors lectured him on the importance of being a team player, but this time Arakita couldn't quite help sneering. "You should be telling those f*cks to improve, not ordering me to slow down. I may have had a rough start getting into college, but I was the ace assist at Hakone Gakuen! I don't need you to try schooling me on the value of teamwork!" His face was turning red, and he was spitting with ferocity. "Give me a team that can keep up with my pace, and you'll be glad that I won't stop pushing myself!"

Scowling, Arakita stormed from the clubroom without bothering to change out of his sports clothes. He thought he saw the captain on his way out and wondered how much of his outburst had been overheard. He mostly just hoped that blowing up at his seniors wouldn't inevitably hurt his chances at moving up the ladder.

In his rush out the door, Arakita was surprised to bump straight into Kinjou. To his credit, the man didn't even bat an eye when he was barreled into, and Arakita was the only one left stumbling. He tried to brush it off and sidestep the guy with a flippant, little, "My bad," but Kinjou stopped him with an arm across his chest, gripping his far shoulder. He smelled like fresh sweat and rubber.

"It's no problem. I was actually hoping to talk to you," Kinjou said smoothly, never missing a beat, even as he directed Arakita away from the doorframe.

"Can it wait? I'm kinda busy," Arakia lied. He wasn't actually busy, but he still wasn't feeling very well-disposed towards Kinjou and would rather see less of him when possible.

"It shouldn't take long, though I suppose I could text you if you'd rather," Kinjou offered, finally letting go of Arakita's shoulder and resting his hand on his own hip, instead.

Arakita was confused. "I don't remember giving you my number!" he exclaimed in an excusatory tone.

"That's because I got it from Juichi, though I suppose I should have asked you first."

"Ya think?!" Arakita barked, and Kinjou apologized, though he didn't actually sound sorry.

"Anyway, I was wondering if you'd like to go riding tomorrow. I know there's no practice, but riding together feels mutually beneficial," he reasoned, plowing ahead with his actual request.

"In case the upperclassmen didn't inform you, I'm not a very good team player," Arakita shot back, despite having just made the exact opposite claim in the club room moments earlier.

"Then perhaps that's something you should work on," Kinjou followed smoothly, though the trace of a smirk at the corners of his lips gave the impression that he was only playing along and didn't actually believe what Arakita was saying. "How does 6:30 by the south gates sound?"

"Please tell me you're talking p.m..." Arakita griped, though he already knew the answer.

"Why? Are you planning a hangover?" Kinjou challenged with a cool stare, as Arakita's hands formed tight fists by his sides.

"f*ck. You," he grit out between clenched teeth. He wasn't sure what about the statement pissed him off the most, but he was furious at it all the same. It could have been the fact that Kinjou said it with such an air of superiority, or perhaps the gross reality that Arakita really did have a weakness when it came to alcohol, and here Kinjou was rubbing that fact in his face.

Kinjou must have noticed the anger bubbling up through Arakita's tone and expression, because worry flashed in his eyes, and he took a half step backwards. For once, finally giving the impression of having gone out of his depth. He obviously didn't know what to expect from Arakita in that moment, and it was only that brief rush of power that kept Arakia from physically lashing out. "I am not the man you think I am," he emphasized and spat at Kinjou's feet before stalking away.

On the way to his bike Arakita passed by Machimiya, but he didn't answer the wolfish boy's call. He didn't feel like going to party that night.

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

Chapter Text

Going to a club was considerably different when Arakita was neither drunk nor anonymous, not that he expected it to be remotely the same. Overall, he was just happy that he could still feel the music thrumming in his veins, even without diluting his blood with alcohol. And the longer the party lasted, the more drunk and obnoxious his older classmates became, and the less he felt tempted to join them in their stupor.

Surprisingly, Kinjou didn't spend much time hovering around Arakita, despite being his tag-along. He had his own friends scattered around, from various elective courses or general requirements, and was probably doing a better job at socializing than Arakita, himself.

That's not to say that Kinjou was being neglectful. Even when they weren't sharing space and making conversation, Arakita could tell that his friend was keeping an eye on him, doing the bare minimum to hold Arakita accountable for his actions, but trusting the former rebel to do right by himself and avoid doing something he'd regret. Aside from stealing a sip of Arakita's drink about half an hour into the evening, he hadn't even made a big show of keeping track of what Arakita imbibed. His presence at the club, alone, was enough to remind Arakita to act responsibly.

Like a safety net, Kinjou was there just in case Arakita needed him, not necessarily to back him up. If all went as it should, there was no need for Arakita to rely on him at all, though having Kinjou there in reserve did give Arakita the confidence to step out on his own.

Arakita wished that his other peers were as understanding and less enabling. At least one in every two people who approached him were sure to ask him why he wasn't drinking. And for a good half of that bunch, being underage was not a good enough excuse for him to stay sober. A whole handful of people offered to buy him a beer within the party's first hour, and those that didn't assured him that the bartender that this particular club wouldn't even care about his age.

The first time it happened, Arakita was almost a little tempted, but by the third time, he was getting tired of repeating the same refusals to each new batch of conversationalists. And by the fifth, he was thoroughly annoyed and getting snappy at some people's insistence. And so, he retreated to the dance floor, like he'd intended to all along, once his social obligations were out of the way.

As he reached the edge of the dance floor, Arakita realized that this was probably his first time dancing sober since what must have been elementary school, back when kids were made to put on little productions for their parents. For the first time, Arakita wondered if he was actually any good, though judging by the uncoordinated writhing of the people around him, the standards weren't exactly high.

Slowly, Arakita let his mind relax and felt his body begin to sway. His senses overrode his higher brain functions, as he acknowledged the thrum of the bass resonating in his chest, the brief touches against his skin as other dancers brushed against him unthinkingly, and the pervasive smell of sweat and general intoxication. It called to Arakita's most basic instincts, the desire to meld with the pack and to move as one organism, driven by the direction of the booming music.

The motion began with the slow gyrating of his hips, his knees dipping with each swing of his body. His head followed suit, bobbing in time with the beat of the bassline. He loosened up his shoulders next, rolling them in counter to the position of his hips. His arms were the last to let loose, eventually allowing his hands to roam over his body however they pleased: palming down his thighs, crossing over his abdomen and dipping into the arch of his back, scratching down his neck and collarbones, never stopping.

Over time, the music subtly shifted from slightly scream-o to mellow trance beats, and that's when Arakita felt a prickle on the back of his neck, different from the sweat trailing behind his ear. It felt like someone was staring at him. Pulled immediately from his dance-induced lethargy, Arakita turned quickly and locked eyes with Kinjou, no longer engaged in conversation, just leaning against one of the little round tables lining the wall and openly staring at Arakita. The guy didn't even have the decency to look away and pretend otherwise; he kept his gaze locked and even ushered for Arakita to continue, with his palm turned up and a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

As if Arakita could get back in the groove when he knew that Kinjou was being a weirdo creeper up against the wall. Instead, Arakita gestured for Kinjou to get his as over to the dance floor and join him. Given the options, Arakita would much rather gain a dance partner than put on a show.

Surprisingly, Kinjou seemed hesitant, continuing their silent conversation with an embarrassed shake of his head and then rolling his wrist to indicate that Arakita should keep going without him.

But Arakita was having none of that, especially not after having found signs of weakness in Kinjou. He smirked and shook his head as well, making it abundantly clear that he would not go back to dancing alone. He jabbed a finger at Kinjou and urged the guy toward him with a wide swing of both arms.

Kinjou gave an exaggerated sigh, that Arakita could see but couldn't hear and shook his head in self-pity as he dragged himself toward the dance floor.

The closer Kinjou got, the more Arakita allowed himself to move, finding the beat of the music once more. "Lighten up, Kinjou! Surely your dancin's not that terrible!" Arakita yelled once Kinjou came within range, straining to be heard over the sound from the speakers.

"Hard to say! I've never danced like this before!" Kinjou admitted loudly, getting close to Arakita's ear.

"Seriously?!"

Kinjou nodded. He looked so out of place, standing stiffly with his arms crossed over his chest, while everyone around him flailed to the beat of the music.

"Want me to teach you?" Arakita offered. "I mean, I'm probably sh*t at it, but I can show you what I know."

Kinjou took a moment to consider, and with an almost pained expression responded, "I'd rather not embarrass myself, but if you're offering, then sure?"

"It’s cool! We’ll be even!" Arakita exclaimed in sad*stic glee. "You taught me magic! I'll teach you to dance! And we'll both have embarrassed ourselves!"

Arakita was glad to see Kinjou laugh at that. "Fair enough!" he consigned and dropped his arms so they swung a little and slapped against his thighs. "What do I do?"

"Find the beat, pick a body part, and move it in rhythm!" Arakita instructed.

Kinjou nodded. "Any body part?" he asked cheekily.

"Whatever you can manage! Gotta start you off slow!" Arakita quipped. "Feel free to keep bobbing your head like that, though you look like a chicken."

"As long as I'm a dancing chicken," he complied, arching his eyebrow, as if waiting for Arakita's appraisal while dipping his chin in time with the music.

"Getting there..." Arakita judged dubiously. "If you think you got the beat, try shifting your weight in time!" He moved back a step, so Kinjou could watch him demonstrate, as he exaggerated the movement of his body from side to side.

Kinjou tried to follow his lead, and he did manage to match Arakita's pace. But he was still too stiff. He looked a bit like a plank of wood tottering from side to side.

"Okay, you really gotta relax more!" Arakita concluded, shaking his head as he stepped back into Kinjou's space, only closer this time. "Let your hips do most of the work," he added, and placed his hands firmly over Kinjou's hipbones.

At first Kinjou stilled entirely, even when Arakita pushed against him, trying to direct his movements. "Come on, move with me!" the shorter boy yelled, scowling up at Kinjou. The latter had apparently evolved from a chicken to a deer in headlights. His expression was open and confused.

Tentatively, Kinjou moved his hands to cover Arakita's before letting them skim up his forearms and gripping lightly at his biceps. This time when Arakita pushed, Kinjou let himself be led, shifting his weight and twisting his torso just as Arakita urged him. They weren't moving with the music anymore, but somehow the club and the music seemed so far away, compared to Kinjou's proximity.

It felt like it was just the two of them in that whole room, dancing together. They swayed in tandem, with Kinjou following his every lead. Arakita could actually feel the way his muscles shifted beneath his shirt, as his thumbs rested just above the waistline of his pants brushing against the sides of his abs. Arakita was surprised that he could actually feel the definition there.

He'd be lying if he said that wasn't pretty hot.

It should have been obvious, but it hit Arakita quite suddenly that he'd worked himself into a pretty damn suggestive situation. Kinjou was probably one of the most attractive people Arakita had ever known, at least by his standards. And here Arakita was, not just dancing with the man, but gripping at his waist, sharing his body heat, sharing his breath even! His whole body was tuning in to Kinjou and the way they moved together.

Arakita's heart was picking up pace, and he felt the rush of blood to his head, probably turning his face into a splotchy red mess, if that mattered. It felt like he was wading through a dream. His senses were heightened to the point that the whole situation was getting hard to compute.

The music was ringing in his ears and vibrating in his bones, a haze of heavy noise that lacked all distinction. The smells around him were similarly muddled, though the familiar smell of bike grease and rubber seeped from Kinjou's hands, which were still wrapped around Arakita's biceps, though he'd taken to rubbing his thumbs across Arakita's shoulders. Arakita mimicked the motion at Kinjou's waist, tracing along the definition in his muscles. His eyes traveled the expanse of the broad chest in front of him, lingering on the peek of collarbone from the open neck of Kinjo's shirt and the man's well-defined Adam's apple.

Unconsciously, Arakita's middle and ring fingers hooked into Kinjou's belt loops, inadvertently pulling that hot body even closer, until their knees knocked lightly. He thought he felt Kinjou's hands tighten and a heavy breath across his cheek, but he couldn't be sure, amidst the overwhelming stimulation. And when he looked up questioningly, all he could see was black rimmed in green, the color of Kinjou's eyes with his pupils blown wide. It wasn't an expression that Arakita had ever received from anyone, but his instincts screamed desire.

Arakita stilled in his steps, and without direction, so did Kinjou. He licked futilely at his lips, though his mouth was completely dry, and something constricted in his chest when he saw Kinjou track the motion with his gaze.

It didn't make sense to him. Arakita would have sworn that his heart belonged to f*cku-chan and that Kinjou was just a friendly thorn in his side, but that didn't explain why they were dancing and holding each other and why Arakita was so goddamn nervous all of a sudden. Something big and emotionally charged was taking place between the pair of them, and Arakita wasn't sure he was okay with that.

And so, when Kinjou leaned in with his mouth slightly open and his dark eyes fixed on Arakita's thin lips, Arakita panicked. The brush of skin that they shared was so chaste that it could barely even be called a kiss, before Arakita turned his head away and rasped into Kinjou's ear, "I think that's enough dancing for me..."

With conscious effort, Arakita forced open his grip on Kinjou's hips and slipped his fingers free from the man's belt loops. His hands dropped down to his sides, and he stepped back slightly, tilting his head down and away from Kinjou's face. He glanced up just long enough to acknowledge the confusion and rejection beginning to stain his features. "I need some air," Arakita muttered, though it was unlikely that Kinjou heard him over the never-ending music.

As Arakita tried to slip free of Kinjou's hold and shuffle his way toward the exit, he was stopped by a strong grip on his elbow. "Where are you going?" Kinjou called, and when Arakita looked back this time, he saw something resolute in his teammate's expression, not just worry.

"Outside!" Arakita clarified for the meddlesome man. "...You gonna follow me?!"

Kinjou nodded and didn't let go of Arakita's arm, even as Arakita started weaving his way through the crowds of oblivious partygoers. He told himself that the grip was probably just to make sure they wouldn't bet separated as Arakita carved a path through the people, though when they passed right by the bar on their way to the door, Arakita realized that it might have had more to do with Kinjou's job as Arakia's keeper for the night.

Arakita walked by the wall of bottles and beer taps resolutely, without a second glance, but damn if a stiff drink didn't sound fantastic right about then. Ironically, it was Kinjou's ever-reliable presence that both made him yearn for alcohol and yet encouraged him to overcome the urge.

Kinjou held onto Arakita until the pair passed the bar's threshold, out into the hot night air. As soon as Kinjou let go, Arakita crossed his arms over his chest and moved partway down the length of the wall. Uncertain whether to acknowledge Kinjou where he stood or to pretend that the man no longer existed, Arakita leaned back against the smooth cement and closed his eyes. His breathing was still heavy, and his ears were still ringing. But without the actual noise of the club overwhelming him, his thoughts were becoming more clear. Not that the sense of order returning to his mind had any impact over the mess of his emotions or the twisting in his gut.

Nearly two minutes passed before Arakita opened his eyes. He immediately noticed Kinjou at the corner of his vision, similarly slumped against the wall and staring out at the empty street ahead of them.

Swallowing once, Arakita decided to be the one to break the silence. "...You know, I never really thought you were serious. With the flirting," he admitted. His voice was smaller and more raspy than he was used to.

Kinjou didn't turn to look at him, but he did clear his throat and respond carefully, "I never really thought you'd be interested."

"Who says that I am?" Arakita shot back in a tone that was bordering on defensive. He didn't miss the way Kinjou eyed him, appraisingly.

"You seemed interested while we were dancing," Kinjou prompted.

Arakita just humphed. "I got caught in the moment. It's nuthin' to do with you," he gritted out through clenched teeth.

Kinjou turned that one over in his mind for a while, finally turning his head to study Arakita's profile. "Is it because we're both men?" he eventually continued.

That question caught Arakita entirely by surprise, and he couldn't help but sputter. "Ppfftwha-?! The near-kissing or the pulling away bit?! 'Cause surely you know that I'm gay as-" The flabbergasted expression on Kinjou's face brought Arakita up short. "...Didn't f*cku-chan tell you?"

Kinjou shook his head almost imperceptibly, apparently surprised by what Arakita had assumed was a not-so-secret facet of his existence. "Juuichi doesn't really discuss much outside of biking," Kinjou explained.

"Well yeah, but I figured you were like his confidant or something, since you seem extra close, and he asks you about me and stuff," Arakita reasoned.

"I'm fairly certain that Shinkai is his confidant, but even aside from that, I fail to see how your sexuality is Juuichi's open concern..." Arakita fell silent, the excitement from before draining away into a quiet melancholy. "Unless you confessed to him," Kinjou eventually deduced.

Arakita pursed his lips, but nodded in affirmation before leaning his head back against the hard wall and staring up at the dark sky, involuntarily remembering the day and trying hard to keep his eyes from swimming.

"He didn't go for it, obviously," Arakita admitted at great length, his voice even more stuffy than usual, thick with concealed emotions.

The silence stretched on, as Kinjou tried to process the mountain of baggage he'd just encountered. "Is that why you took up drinking?" he eventually asked. The discrepancies in Arakita's behavior were apparently falling into place.

"Partly," Arakita confessed, though after a couple beats he amended the statement to "...Mostly."

Kinjou just hummed, but when the first traitorous tear spilled from Arakita's eyes and rolled slowly down his cheek, he sprang to attention, rolling against the wall and then stepping in front of Arakita.

Arakita didn't know why he was crying, especially not now, when he'd already mourned the impossibility of a relationship with f*cku-chan so many times already. He'd thought that he was done with tears by now. And yet the waterworks refused to stop!

Arakita wiped futilely at his eyes with the palms of his hands, trying to brush it off and act unaffected. "Sorry. Heh. I dunno what's got me like this. Weird allergies or somethin'," he laughed unconvincingly.

But Kinjou ignored the claim, somehow managing to grab both of Arakita's wrists in one hand and hold them to his chest, as he brought out a handkerchief and dabbed at Arakita's tear-stricken cheeks. The gesture was sweet, and Arakita had absolutely no idea how to handle it. Although, the way that he was being taken care of did ease some of his tension. He began to calm down, in spite of his inner pride. "...I don't need your pity," he croaked after a short moment, hardening his gaze, though his eyes were still shining and now rimmed in red.

"Good thing you don't have it," Kinjou responded fondly, swiping beneath his chin to catch the last of the tears that threatened to drip. "But you have my concern. And that's not about to change." Kinjou palmed the handkerchief and let go of Arakita's wrists, holding lightly to either side of Arakita's head instead, urging him to hold his gaze. It was uncomfortably intimate.

"I want you to know that I like you, Arakita. In the sense that I find you very attractive, and I would like to be your boyfriend."

Arakita's eyes widened and his mouth flapped open. Anything he might have wanted to say got choked off at the back of his throat. Luckily, he didn't have to speak, because Kinjou continued, "I understand if you're not ready to pursue a new relationship, but I'm willing to wait as long as it takes for you to sort through your baggage."

Reluctantly, Kinjou pulled away and gave Arakita some room to breathe. His hands dropped from Arakita's head but skimmed lightly down his arms and hooked around his fingertips. "And in the meantime, I'd like to continue supporting you as a friend and teammate."

When it became obvious that Kinjou wasn't going to drop Arakita's hands willingly, Arakita pulled them away and crossed his arms over his chest, breaking eye contact while he was as it. He was lucky for the wall at his back to prevent him from actual swooning. He didn't know what to say. He didn't handle praise well, and had very little practice with positive attention in general, much less any sort of love confession. He didn't know how to accept any of it. So he ignored it.

"Don't say that kinda sh*t like it's inevitable. You got no reason to act so self-assured," he muttered angrily.

"Oh, but you know me," Kinjou rebuffed . "I'm the man who never gives up, as long as there's a chance. Or are you saying it's impossible?" He asked the question as though it were rhetorical, but he sounded just a twinge uncertain.

"I'm saying..." Arakita didn't know what he was saying, so he did what he does best and avoided the question, too, "that tonight has been all sorts of hell, and I'm going home to sleep away my shame."

Kinjou surely noticed Arakita's lack of 'Yes,' though he didn't comment. He did acknowledge Arakita's wishes with a short, "All right," and gave Arakita enough room to push away from the wall without having to shove. "Are you still available for an extra practice on Sunday?" he asked, once Arakita was a few steps away.

Arakita paused, this would be his last chance of the evening to make Kinjou back off. He could probably end their whole partnership if he wanted to. But the fact was that he was getting a lot out of it, both in his biking and in the social sense. So as much as he was unprepared for the sudden emotional outpouring, he didn't actually want their relationship to suffer any dents.

"...Yeah, I'll be there," he promised.

Chapter 7

Chapter Text

From: Kinjou Shingo

To: f*ckutomi Juichi

Subject: Arakita

My apologies for messaging so late,

but may I ask you a personal question?

　From: f*ckutomi Juichi

　To: Kinjou Shingo

　Subject: [Re] Arakita

　I'm awake, so no need to worry.

　What is the question?

From: Kinjou Shingo

To: f*ckutomi Juichi

Subject: [Re] Arakita

Why did you never mention that Arakita has romantic feelings for you?

　From: f*ckutomi Juichi

　To: Kinjou Shingo

　Subject: [Re] Arakita

　Well, it is not my place to disclose the personal feelings of another person.

　Especially when such revelations could be damaging to their pride and reputation.

　From: f*ckutomi Juichi

　To: Kinjou Shingo

　Subject: [Re] Arakita

　Also I was unaware.

From: Kinjou Shingo

To: f*ckutomi Juichi

Subject: [Re] Arakita

He implied to me that he confessed to you sometime before college.

　From: f*ckutomi Juichi

　To: Kinjou Shingo

　Subject: [Re] Arakita

　I have no recollection of this,

　but Shinkai assures me that it is true.

　I must have misunderstood his intentions.

　"like" is a very multifaceted word.

From: Kinjou Shingo

To: f*ckutomi Juichi

Subject: [Re] Arakita

Or perhaps you are too closed-minded.

Arakita is nothing if not obvious in everything.

　From: f*ckutomi Juichi

　To: Kinjou Shingo

　Subject: [Re] Arakita

　...Have I upset you somehow?

From: Kinjou Shingo

To: f*ckutomi Juichi

Subject: [Re] Arakita

That might depend.

How do you feel about him?

Now that you know.

　From: f*ckutomi Juichi

　To: Kinjou Shingo

　Subject: [Re] Arakita

　He is a good friend and a great cyclist,

　but my feelings or him are entirely platonic.

　Much like with you.

From: Kinjou Shingo

To: f*ckutomi Juichi

Subject: [Re] Arakita

My feelings...

are not entirely platonic.

From: Kinjou Shingo

To: f*ckutomi Juichi

Subject: [Re] Arakita

No wait!

You meant your feelings for me!

　From: f*ckutomi Juichi

　To: Kinjou Shingo

　Subject: [Re] Arakita

　Um. I'm sorry, Kinjou.

　Thank you for telling me, but I cannot accept.

From: Kinjou Shingo

To: f*ckutomi Juichi

Subject: [Re] Arakita

Yes, I understand!

And that's fine!

I didn't mean that I have feelings for you!

From: Kinjou Shingo

To: f*ckutomi Juichi

Subject: [Re] Arakita

I have feelings for Arakita

　From: f*ckutomi Juichi

　To: Kinjou Shingo

　Subject: [Re] Arakita

　Oh, well that's a bit of a relief.

　I'm sorry for the misunderstanding.

　Does Arakita know?

From: Kinjou Shingo

To: f*ckutomi Juichi

Subject: [Re] Arakita

Yes, he's aware.

But it appears that he has lingering feelings for you.

　From: f*ckutomi Juichi

　To: Kinjou Shingo

　Subject: [Re] Arakita

　This is certainly an unforeseen development.

　But I hope he comes around.

　You would make a very strong couple.

~~~~

By Sunday evening, Arakita was ready to seek professional help. Or at the very least to seek advice from a certain headband-wearing voice box with relationship experience.

The practice he'd had with Kinjou had gone better than expected. That wasn't a very high hurdle, considering that he'd been expecting an absolute trainwreck of awkward interactions. But reality worked in the opposite.

Kinjou's attitude toward Arakita was exactly the same as it had been for weeks prior. He smiled just as often, casually touched him just as much, and fretted over him just as frequently as before. He also didn't cut Arakita any slack on the roads.

If it had been anyone else, Arakita would have been a bit pissed to see them acting as if the kiss and the confession from two days before had never happened, but Arakita understood now. It wasn't that Kinjou was ignoring the uncomfortable heart-to-heart that they'd shared. It was that he'd been flirting all along, and Arakita had just been too wrapped up in his own issues to f*cking realize it.

Now that he was finally aware and was operating on the same page as Kinjou, Arakita actually found it a lot easier to sync up with the other all-rounder. Now that he knew Kinjou wasn't out to embarrass him or to sabotage his style somehow, he felt more comfortable riding almost wheel to wheel and had an easier time anticipating his braking and gear changes.

As far as paired practices went, it was really good. Fantastic, even!

And that was weird.

The phone barely had time to ring before Toudou picked up and began blabbering. "Oh my god, Arakita! It took you long enough to call! I'm dying of curiosity over here! Tell me everything! I want your side of the story."

If took every ounce of Arakita's self-restraint to keep from hanging up immediately. Never mind that he was the one who called Toudou in the first place. "What the f*ck, and how much do you know?" Arakita shot back, divulging nothing.

"Only what I heard from Shinkai and Kinjou," Toudou answered easily.

Unfortunately, that answer only confused Arakita further. "...Okay, two things. What in the blazing pits of hell does Shinkai have to do with anything, and why, out of all the people on this earth, did Kinjou decide to contact you?"

"Rude, much?!" Toudou sputtered indignantly.

"No, but I could be, if you don't start answering questions, loud-mouth!"

Toudou humphed at that, though he did lay out the circ*mstances. "So, apparently, after you told Kinjou that you'd confessed to f*cku, he texted f*cku to see if that was true or something, but f*cku hadn't even realized that you'd confessed, even though your crush was, like, totally obvious to everyone. So Shinkai confirmed to f*cku that you'd confessed, and he told Kinjou. But then Kinjou confessed that he likes you. You knew that, right? I mean, it was news to them, but it was so clear to me, it was no surprise at all. So, then he wanted to know if f*cku was like his love rival or something, but f*cku doesn't feel that way. But then he wondered if maybe you still had strong feelings for f*cku, but f*cku didn't really have an answer, because he never really noticed in the first place. And Shinkai was there for the conversation on f*cku's end, but he didn't know, because he tries not to get involved in people's personal lives, for whatever reason. Except he told Kinjou that he should call me, because I obviously have a lot of insight when it comes to relationships. And do you want to know what I said?"

Arakita could feel his face heating up. He was turning red with what he was going to call anger, though it might have been embarrassment. "No, back up. f*cku-chan didn't realize that I confessed to him last year?"

"Yes, well. He's never been all that in-tune with normal human emotions..." Toudou excused in a pitying tone, while Arakita let his head thunk against the nearest wall. "Though at least you know that even if he had noticed, his answer would have been the same."

"Ugghhh. Why did I think that calling you would be helpful," Arakita griped, though the question was rhetorical and directed mostly at himself.

"Hey, I'm just catching you up on past history. We still have the present to discuss!" Toudou exclaimed with inappropriate levels of enthusiasm. "First, I want to know what exactly happened between you and Kinjou! He wouldn't tell me, himself. I think he thought it might upset you or something, which says to me that the situation is huge! So spill!"

Arakita was beginning to doubt whether the benefits of describing his love life to Toudou (if there even were any) would outweigh the embarrassment. But if he didn't seek advice from Hakone's best climber, who else was there? He couldn't have this conversation with f*cku-chan, Shinkai, or Kinjou. For obvious reasons. And he didn't trust Machimiya as far as he could throw him. Kuroda was an option, but he didn't want his protege to think less of him for his relationship inexperience, not to mention that brief brush with alcoholism. Toudou truly was his only option.

"Swear to me right now that whatever I tell you stays between the two of us," Arakita grit out, suspiciously.

"Can I tell Maki-chan?" Toudou checked.

"Do you not understand the meaning of secrecy?" Arakita practically yowled.

"Hey, if you keep screaming at that level, all of Japan will hear you!" Toudou exaggerated, though he had a point. "Besides, Maki-chan's sort of a loner, and he lives in England now. So, really, no one we know will know anything from me telling him stuff, probably."

Knowing that regardless of Arakita's terms of disclosure, Toudou would probably spill the beans to someone eventually, Arakita decided to give the gossip monger an outlet. "Fine! If it ever comes up, you can tell your freaky spider friend. But no one else!"

"I wouldn't regardless, but alright!" Toudou sing-songed in obvious anticipation. "So tell me what happened!"

Arakita rolled his eyes hard enough that he hoped Toudou could hear. "I called in a favor he owed me, by inviting him to a party on Friday, and he confessed," Arakita summarized, but before he could continue with the confusion that the whole situation was causing him, Toudou cut in.

"Yeah, I know that part already!" he interrupted. "I want the why and how! Otherwise, how can I possibly help the two of you sort out your feelings."

"Look, I'm not comfortable to talking about-"

"Which is exactly why you should!" Toudou interrupted again. "These things need to be acknowledged!"

"Haaah," Arakita sighed vocally. "Fine! We were dancing! Not like grinding, but... Looking back, it wasn't exactly friend-appropriate dancing." Arakita remembered flashes of strong muscles shifting under his fingertips and the way his hands had hooked into Kinjou's pants. "I didn't even know that Kinjou's gay, but because he is, and because he's interested and because I wasn't thinking about it, the dancing just...escalated. I guess I sorta led him on."

The other end of the line was mysteriously subdued while Arakita divulged the details of Kinjou's confession. Arakita had the impression that Toudou was finally engaged and hanging on to his every word.

"So like, what then? Something must have made you pull away," Toudou urged, brimming with curiosity.

Arakita considered lying, but his lies were always so transparent, and avoiding the question would just betray how big of a deal the whole thing was. "I guess... when he tried to kiss me." Arakita attempted to downplay the culmination of their dance, but Toudou latched onto its importance regardless.

"Omigod! He kissed you?!" Toudou wailed.

Arakita wasn't sure whether the question was rhetorical or not, but he wanted to be sure to set the record straight. "Only barely," he defended.

"And you pulled away?!" Toudou pressed.

"Yes!" Arakita exclaimed emphatically.

"But whyyy?!" Toudou practically wept with disappointment.

"Because I'm in still love with f*cku-chan!" Arakita was quick to remind him.

But the assertion only made Toudou groan in strange agony. "Your emotional denial is the bane of existence," he lamented. "Not that I didn't expect this, but hearing you confirm it, like, literally pains me! How am I supposed to live vicariously through my friends if not even you can follow your instincts and, like, get on with the getting on?!"

"Too bad this isn't about you, and also, I'm not in denial!" Arakita's voice rose.

"That's what people in denial always say," Toudou quipped, agitatedly.

"This is a stupid argument, and I'm not having it! In fact, I don't think I want your advice anymore, because you're obviously stuck in Toudou-centric fantasy land where you don't know sh*t about me, and this is a waste of time!"

"Arakita, don't run away from this," Toudou commanded, tone suddenly serious. Arakita could envision his focused stare. Begrudgingly, Arakita went silent and stayed on the line.

"I don't know exactly what you were hoping to hear from me, but I've got enough advice to fill a well. And I would be happy to tell you all of it! But, because it'd take too long and you'd probably bitch at me, I'd just like to point out that based on how things are progressing, whatever you feel for f*cku right now is not the same as what you felt a year ago. Neither is what you feel for Kinjou. So instead of letting your pea brain tell your heart how it's feeling, let your heart do the talking. This doesn't have to be complicated!"

Arakita just humphed, resenting Toudou for his superior attitude and casual insults. But the words stuck nevertheless.

"You wanna know what I told Kinjou?" Toudou asked, his tone a lot more passive aggressive than before.

"Fine! Since you'll probably tell me anyway," Arakita griped.

"Well, I told him a lot of things, honestly. And I can't really remember them all. But the important one was that no matter what your mouth says, you've totally already fallen for him."

It took Arakita a couple moments to parse out the bullsh*t, and even then he couldn't quite believe that Toudou would speak for him in such a way. Arakita had always known that Toudou was meddlesome and quick to draw conclusions, but this took the cake. "...You lied," he hissed and hung up the call without any sort of goodbye.

Arakita really should have known that calling Toudou was a terrible idea. The man lived in a fantasy world where everything was to his pleasure, and apparently, he fancied the idea of Arakita hooking up with Kinjou. Which, again, should not have been a surprise, considering his reaction to Arakita's new "rivalry." If only he'd remembered Toudou's fondness for playing matchmaker a bit earlier.

And yet, he wasn't actually too mad at Toudou. He was frustrated, sure, but that wasn't anything new. They could go months without speaking to each other, and Arakita would still manage to be frustrated with him.

If he was angry at anyone, it was himself, for being unable to deal with all this emotional sh*t on his own.... Not that he'd actually made a big effort to sort it out. His coping mechanism had always bit a bit more hit and run.

What Arakita needed was to figure out a goal. If he knew what he was working toward, and put the same level of effort into that as he did sh*t like sports, he was sure to jump from the emotional equivalent of a cat tangled in blinds to emotional guru in no time.

So what was his goal? Seduce f*cku-chan? He wasn't dumb enough to think that anyone would be happy with him for trying. What then? Get over f*cku-chan? While it sure didn't sound like a goal worth writing home about, it was probably long overdue.

With that settled, Arakita braced himself for the rush of sadness that always always accompanied the thought of being without his hero, but the depression didn't come. No sadness, just resolve. Just an acknowledgement that they weren't meant to be.

Sure, the memory of his semi-rejection still stung, but only when prodded. It certainly didn't fester like it used to. It was like...

Like he'd already reached the point of moving on. Without even noticing, the heartache had healed. He didn't actually yearn for f*cku the way he used to. He didn't cry over his absence. Didn't fight for his attention. His feelings had already changed.

Arakita blanched. If that really was the case, then Toudou was not entirely wrong. Hell, he was maybe even right for once. But that could also mean...

That it was time for bed. Arakita's monthly soul-searching quota had already been exceeded, and he was worried about what he might discover if he delved any deeper. Some things he still wasn't ready for.

Also, he was going to murder Toudou at the next opportunity.

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

Somehow, in spite of Arakita's recent emotional upheaval, his biking was improving at a faster rate than ever before. It's like a weight had been lifted from him, allowing him to fly through portions of the course that used to require a lot of pushing to move forward.

Even the captain took notice and called him aside after their afternoon course run on the following Wednesday. For the first time, he looked pleased, instead of gearing up for a lecture.

"Arakita, good job today," the older rider complimented. "Come see me after you finish cooling down.

"Thanks, captain," Arakita responded politely, if not dubiously, causing the older boy to chuckle.

"I'll be in the club office with coach," he pleasantly informed before walking by, leaving Arakita to stew in confusion for a few minutes as he parked his bike and stretched his legs, breathing deeply and waiting for his heart rate to calm down. He still wasn't used to getting positive attention, at least not from the people who knew him, since cycling spectators were all brainless and didn't count.

"You wanted me for something?" he asked a while later, as he entered the office at the back of the locker room. This was the room where all the planning and paperwork happened. Boring sht, but necessary.

The captain and coach were hunched over something that looked like a roster, but they both looked up as he came in. "Yeah. Go ahead and close the door, Arakita," the captain said.

Arakita did as he was told, though being closed inside made him increasingly anxious. It reminded him of all those times he'd been sent to the counselor's office in high school. But unlike those easily dismissed brushes with authority, the conclusions that these people came to actually mattered to him. Well, more accurately, their opinions had an impact over his collegiate cycling career, but that basically meant they mattered.

"You don't need to look so shifty. We're really impressed by how much improvement you've shown," the captain said with another chuckle. "When you first joined the club, we were a bitdisappointed by your level of performance, given your strong resume. But, in the past few months, you've really stepped it up and exceeded our expectations," the captain continued to talk, as the coach nodded along sagely. Arakita wasn't sure that he'd ever actually heard the guy speak. "That's why we've decided to add you to the lineup at next weekend's bike rally in Aichi."

Arakita felt himself grin against all his attempts to stay cool and reserved. "That would be fantastic!" he burst. While he'd been participating in plenty of races since that fateful Golden Week, he'd always taken part as an independent rider, never actually allowed to represent his school. The rally in Aichi was a big one, only open to college teams, and the fact that they were asking him to ride for the school was an enormous show of good faith.

"I'm glad to hear it," he captain agreed, with a competitive gleam in his eye. "We need a team of three for the short course, and we're looking at you, third-year Urayasu, and first-year Kinjou." The inclusion of two first-years caught Arakita by surprise. The fact that it was Kinjou was especially unexpected, though it did beg the question of who would fill what role. Urayasu was a wicked climber, so that was obvious, but both he and Kinjou were all-rounders, not to mention they were pretty evenly matched.

Nevertheless, Arakita nodded. "I can work with that," he said carefully.

The captain gave a smug smile, like he still had a secret that he knew was going to be good. Thankfully, he didn't draw out the silence long enough for Arakita to get pissed, just skeptical. "At Kinjou's suggestion, we want you to be our ace."

Arakita's breath left him in a rush, though he still managed to give a curt, "Yes!" of agreement. He wasn't sure if this was just another example of Kinjou pulling his strings, maybe trying to win some points with him, but at that moment he didn't care, because this was Arakita's chance to prove to the team that he was skilled and reliable. He knew already that this victory was in the bag. "I won't let you down," he promised, a wide grin stretching across his face.

"That's what I like to hear," the captain acknowledged, with an amused smile of his own. "We'll take care of the registration forms and distribute the schedule on Monday next week. Dismissed!"

Arakita didn't need to be told twice. He almost forgot to say thanks on his way out the door, so excited to grab his phone and tell f*cku-chan, or anyone else who might listen. He couldn't wait to rub it in Machimiya's face that he was the first of the freshmen to make ace.

The second the door to the office closed behind him, he pumped both fists in the air and whooped loudly. "f*ck yeah!" he punctuated, and though he thought he heard a burst of laughter from the coach and captain on the other side of the door, he didn't care. The situation called for celebration and proclamation.

"Hey, Kinjou! Let's get steak tonight! Special occasion!" he urged, as his brand new assist just happened to be changing nearby. "Hell, it can be my treat!"

"I should have enough cash to splurge for one night..." Kinjou responded indulgently. "Though what is the occasion, exactly?" The question didn't sound rhetorical, but there was a twinkle in Kinjou's eye that made Arakita believe he already knew the answer.

"Quit playing dumb!" Arakita called him out. "Captain already said it was your idea to make me ace. So thanks for that, I guess. Though don't expect to win any extra points just for puttin' in a good word!"

"I wouldn't dream of trying to take advantage of my good standing in that way," Kinjou assured him in a playful tone, though Arakita believed him nonetheless. If there was one thing that Arkita had learned about Kinjou over the past week, it was that he often told jokes, but he rarely told lies. "I honestly do believe that you are the most capable of attaining victory."

Arakita could feel his face heating up. "Damn right I am! But you don't have to say it like that!" he muttered, much less boisterous than before.

"But if I don't say it, who will? You're not the type to sing your own praises," Kinjou pointed out.

"My riding speaks for itself," Arakita countered, acknowledging in some small corner of his brain that he was actually engaging in playful banter.

"Your riding screams like a rampaging beast," Kinjou teased right back.

As if that was a bad thing. "You really are a flatterer," Arakita said. His rough tone was at odds with his wide grin. He honestly liked the beastly comparison. And because the words weren't meant to be a compliment, it was easier for Arakita to accept them as such.

"Too bad it won't win me any points," Kinjou lamented with a fake sigh. "All this flattery comes from the sincerity of my heart."

"Well, tell your heart to hold back a little before it gives me a hernia. Too much praise is bad for my health," Arakita continued in line with their banter, though he was only slightly kidding.

At that, Kinjou's eyes turned a touch more thoughtful, though his voice retained it's jolly tone. "I'll try, but no promises," he less than assured. And that was the moment that Arakita realized how sincerely Kinjou respected him as a rider. This cyclist, whom Arakita had always regarded as more skilled than himself, really did admire something in him.

Arakita used to think that f*cku-chan was the only person he wanted to hear praise from, that he was the only one whose opinion really mattered. It didn't seem nearly as difficult to earn Kinjou's praise, but that didn't have to mean that it was any less valuable. Would it be so bad to accept a little ego boost every now and then? Arakita's cheeks were flaring up again.

"I'll forgive you the first few times, so try to be wise about it..." He tried to sound flippant, but his insides clenched, and his heart yearned just a little. He liked knowing that the next time any sort of praise came his way from Kinjou, he'd have certainly earned it.

"I'll make sure the moment is worth it," Kinjou assured him. And whether or not he was actually just playing along, the cracks in Arakita's emotional walls continued to crumble.

~~~~

The race in Aichi finally came. The short course that Arakita and Kinjou would be riding on made a loop around some lake called Akisawa-ko, a place that Arakita had never even heard of until the race suddenly made it important to him. He, Kinjou, and Urayasu had spent a couple hours studying maps and other information on the terrain, so they could plan their mode of attack.

In the end, the promise of facing f*cku-chan and Shinkai on the roads shaped their plans as much as the roads themselves did. Meisou University's cycling team was one of the favorites for this race, and because of all the shared history between the two teams, it seemed worthwhile to keep Arakita's status as ace a secret until the Yonan trio was already well on their way to victory.

f*cku-chan was always a bit of a one-note kind of guy, and it stood to reason that he would assume the same sort of consistency from his friends and rivals. Their theory was confirmed when Arakita got the chance to talk with the pair before the race began.

The bus that brought the Younan team from the school to the starting line left long before the butt crack of dawn, and Arakita was in no way a morning person. He was yawning and bleary-eyed all through the process of putting together his bike at the tent allotted to them and their support crew, but when he saw some familiar forms dressed in Meisou jerseys walking his way, he perked up immediately, wiping off his greasy hands on a dirt rag and stepping outto greet his visitors.

"Oi, f*cku-chan! Shinkai! Here to scope out the competition?" he teased. Shinkai seemed to get that he was kidding, but it was always harder to tell with f*cku. Sometimes, it was better to believe that he was being intentionally dense than to acknowledge just how little he understood of human emotions.

"Of course not, Arakita. We were hoping to catch up with you before the race and see how you're doing," f*ckutomi corrected.

"Worry about yourselves. I'm great!" Arakia boasted, lightly punching f*cku-chan's chest for emphasis.

Shinkai placed a fond hand on Arakita's shoulder as he playfully stepped in. "Hey, now. Don't go assaulting our ace before the race," he said. His usual pasted-on smile twinkled with true warmth. "Be gentle on us," he pleaded falsely.

"As if! Be ready to get your asses kicked!" Arakita challenged, and from the way f*cku-chan stood up a little straighter and Shinkai's grin sharpened, it was exactly what they wanted to hear. They wanted to see Arakita with fire in his eyes, ready to take on the world.

"It will be strange watching you pull for someone else," f*cku-chan noted. "I'm so used to you riding in front of me. Not against me."

"Oh, I'll still be in front of you," Arakita assured, secretly smug that his former captain still thought that he was playing the assist role.

"No, I meant that I'm used to you riding in front to draft for me," f*cku-chan clarified, and it took all of Arakita's willpower not to roll his eyes. Shinkai was less successful in holding back his snort of a laugh.

"I know what you meant, f*cku-chan, and I'm saying that you can watch my familiar-looking backside as my team beats yours to the finish line," Arakita retorted. After all the bantering he did with Kinjou, he'd forgotten how hard it was to play word games with his former captain. The man's cluelessness was still endearing, though less so than it used to be.

"Give it your all, Arakita, but you will not win. We are strong," f*ckutomi declared, and Shinkai squared his shoulders a bit more. However, if they meant for those words and gestures to be at all intimidating, they had the opposite effect. Even though had been a while, the phrase was so familiar and dear to him that Arakita felt bolstered by it nonetheless.

"Us, too. The strongest we've ever been," Arakita assured.

Suddenly, the hair on the back of Arakita's neck rose, as if static were drawing it toward the presence behind him. He knew it must be Kinjou, and the deep voice that followed left no room for doubt.

"Sorry to interrupt the high school reunion, but I hope you don't mind me cuttingin," he greeted, though there was a possessive note to his voice.

"Ah, Kinjou," f*cku-chan responded. "I look forward to facing you today." He held his hand out for Kinjou to shake, which he did, brushing arms with Arakita as he leaned forward and took f*ckutomi's hand in a firm grip.

"I do as well," he said. "Though don't expect a repeat of last Inter-high." For many reasons. The least of which being that f*cku-chan would lose this round.

f*cku-chan would lose.

And Arakita would be the one to beat him.

It hadn't really sunk in before, but that was what this victory called for. In order for Yonan to win and for Arakita to prove himself, he'd have to face and triumph against the man that he'd long considered the pinnacle of perfection. But sizing the man up now, there was nothing to set f*cku-chan apart from strong riders like Kinjou, besides some shared history.

Arakita was ready for it. Not only did he trust Kinjou to pull him into the perfect position, he had faith in his own skills and racing instincts. People called him the beast of the roads. And unlike when he was the Hakogaku assist, Arakita was loose without a leash these days, free to tear up everything that stood in his path, even f*cku-chan. He could hardly wait to smell that finish line...

In another show of confidence, laced with misdirection, Arakita chimed in again. "I guarantee that you guys won't win against Kinjou, here," he said, poking his thumb at the man in question. "Our team is well taken care of."

"Kinjou..." Shinkai murmured, as if the name held deeper meaning. His gaze was discerning, and for a moment Arakita was afraid that he'd pushed the lie a little too far and that Shinkai had figured out their strategy. But, the fear was unfounded asShinkai continued on to say, "I was expecting a nickname."

Arakita was a combination of relieved and annoyed at Shinkai's little speculation. He was glad that their racing order remained a surprise, but he could really do without having another of his friends speculate on his closeness with Kinjou.

"Only cute things get nicknames. That's why he's f*cku-chan, and you're just Shinkai," Arakita sneered, though Shinkai didn't look put out, nor entirely convinced.

f*ckutomi just looked perplexed. "I don't think I've ever been called cute before," he reflected.

Thankfully, Shinkai saved Arakita the uncomfortable position of having to reassure his former crush in front of current admirer by insisting, "You're adorable, Juuichi. Very cute." Shinkai even went so far as to pinch f*ckutomi's cheek, compounding the blond boy's confusion.

The gesture was sweet and silly, and threw contrast onto the stiff way that Kinjou dropped a hand onto his own shoulder a moment later. "Arakita, we should really finish getting ready," he insisted with a false level of lightness to his tone. "The race is starting soon."

"Yeah, Bian isn't going to grease herself," Arakita agreed, shaking off the hand and draping his whole arm over Kinjou's neck instead. It was weird for Kinjou to act so awkward, and he needed to lighten up. If he wasn't in the right head space, it could throw off their team, but it's not like he could call out Kinjou's weirdness in front of their current rivals. "We'll catch up with you guys at the finish line," he said to the Meisou pair, in lieu of bye.

"Don't leave us waiting too long," Shinkai quipped back, striking his token finger-gun pose, the one that made Izumida and every other fangirl swoon.

Arakita just snorted. "Eat my dust, squirrel cheeks. And you too, f*cku-chan. You can aim for second this race."

~~~~

The race was rough, but Younan broke away early, as was their plan. Skinkai and f*ckutomi, who had paced themselves for a burst to the finish line, didn't reach their side until there were only five kilometers to victory. Arakita didn't spare them enough attention to see if they were shocked by Younan's line-up, but he could sniff out some trepidation.

They'd never seen Kinjou slice through corners and stay his downhill breaking the way he did now. He was still no beast or speed demon; he was much too calculated for that, more like an owl hunting in the night, snatching up every second of advantage like it was sitting prey. Arakita drafted behind him in utter confidence that there was no faster path.

It wasn't enough to fully shake the speed demon, but it kept them meters ahead, until right at the two kilometer mark, Shinkai called out to Juuichi and pushed the blond's bike forward.

That tiny glimpse of an enemy in his sights was all it took to trigger Arakita's own beast. "My turn, Kin-chan! Outta my way!" he yelled, upping his pace and enjoying another small boost as Kinjou pushed him forward from the small of his back.

Arakita won by a whole wheel's length. Sweat streamed into his eyes the same time that tears streamed out. He was so dmn proud. He could tell that f*ckutomi was, too.

"That was a good race, Arakita. You've trained hard," he complimented in his own weird way.

"Thanks, f*cku-chan," Arakita panted. "I had good assistance."

"A bicycle moves forward in relation to the energy you put into it," f*ckutomi insisted, ever an advocate for personal achievement.

"Sure does, f*cku-chan," Arakita agreed in a placating tone. He could explain until his breath ran out, and f*cku-chan would never fully understand the difference between having an inspiration and having support. There was no doubt in Arakita's mind that without Kinjou's efforts--not just guidance and instruction but physically being there--he would never have built up so much strength. They were both pouring energy into Arakita's bike, because teammates were more than tools for them.

"I look forward to a rematch," f*ckutomi continued and held out his hand for Arakita to shake, but Arakita waved him off.

"Don't be so formal. And save those sorts of challenges for Kinjou. I don't do rivalries."

"Kinjou...?" Arakita heard from behind him, as the assists pulled in and Shinkai felt it necessary to join the conversation. "On the roads you called him 'Kin-chan,'" he continued in feigned curiousity that bordered on smug.

"Did I?" Arakita asked, with a quick glance to Kinjou for possible confirmation. The other man was too busy drinking from his water bottle to show that he was even following the conversation, but Arakita knew better than to assume that Kinjou was oblivious. There was a pleased little curve at the corner of his lips.

"No matter. Congratulations on your win," Shinkai smoothly transitioned, and Arakita was glad that he didn't feel the need to harp on the details. He was already gonna have to answer to Kinjou later on. There was no way he could escape his little name slip without owning up to it, especially not after the comment on cuteness he'd made that morning.

"You guys gotta step it up. Find a new strategy, maybe," Arakita prodded.

"There are few couples as well-balanced as you and Kinjou. But we will work become stronger..." f*ckutomi said, but was drowned out by a chorus of sputters as soon as he called the Younan pair a couple. Arakita was choking in shock, Shinkai was struggling to hold back a gigglefit, which left Kinjou as the first to recover and respond to the utterly confused f*cku-chan.

"Thank you for your blessing, and we'll continue to work hard," he said, rubbing his palm across Arakita's back as the latter dropped into another coughing fit, this time with a glare thrown in, just for Kinjou. f*cku-chan was undoubtedly oblivious to all double entendre and didn't deserve Arakita's ire, but Kinjou probably did it on purpose. Never mind that the hand on his back was big and warm and comforting and welcome.

At that point Urayasu crossed the goal line and, without any warning or hesitation, leapt off his bike to grab both Kinjou and Arakita in a hug from behind that ended in more of a headlock. "We woooon!" he chanted, bouncing and dragging his team into a spinning circle that gave Arakita whiplash. "You guys rocked it! Perfect victory!"

If Arakita was having trouble catching his breath before, the excited flailing didn't help. Between the spinning and the overall commotion, hedidn't actually notice when f*cku-chan and Shinkai went to join their own side. But that wasn't a problem. It was nice to catch up with his old friends, but at that exact moment, Arakita had a new team to celebrate with.

This victory was sure to secure him a spot at the top of the rosters. And he had Kinjou... make that Kin-chan, to thank for it.

Chapter 9

Chapter Text

"So..." Kinjou prompted sometime after dinner. They were settled in at a hotel for the evening. Their duties as cyclists may have been over, but there was still another day of biking for the guys taking on the long course.

Arakita was sitting with a magazine on one of three futons in the room he was sharing with his team, while Kinjou sat in a low chair by the windowsill. Before finally breaking the silence, he'd seemed a bit lost in thought. Probably plotting something.

Somehow, in spite of having been on their bikes all day, most of the upperclassmen wanted to go drinking after dinner. Arakita wasn't sure where they got the energy, seeing as he was pretty beat from just the short course, though he was glad to have the privacy. Especially if Kinjou was about to lead this conversation in the direction that Arakita expected.

"If there's something you wanna say, spit it out!" Arakita jabbed, ready to get this embarrassing episode over with.

"During the race, was that an accidental name slip, or does this mean you find me cute?" Kinjou asked, with a knowing lilt to his voice. Obviously, he'd been dwelling on the matter and had already drawn some hopeful conclusions.

But, instead of reacting with wails of protests, as was his first impulse, Arakita tried to match Kinjou's smug expression. "Yes to the first, and no to the latter, Kin-chan." It was so gratifying to see confusion flicker on Kinjou's face. "I didn't mean to say it. But because I did, I'll let you be the exception," he clarified in the most confusing way possible.

Throughout the evening, Arakita had also dwelled on his slip-of-tongue and what to do about it. And at long last, he allowed his brain to acknowledge what his subconscious had already decided: that Kinjou was special to him in a very positive and not entirely platonic sort of way. Unfortunately, even just the idea of confessing those thoughts to Kinjou was enough to turn Arakita's cheeks pink, and trying to put on airs by pinning his gaze on Kinjou didn't help his blush at all. His stomach was starting to flutter in that uncomfortable way that he'd finally identified as attraction. It wasn't fair that this supposedly positive emotion kinda made him want to barf. "I- I'll make an exception for sexy," he stuttered, cursing himself for sounding so pathetic when he'd hoped to sound secure.

At least Kinjou didn't look so co*cksure anymore, either. His eyes bugged out before looking away, and he covered his mouth. He cleared his throat, but the words wouldn't come, so silently he moved to sit on the futon next to Arakita's, a polite distance away. Both their cheeks were glowing pink, andneither could make make eye contact for more than a split second.

"What about Juichi?" Kinjou asked after an extended pause.

"What about f*cku-chan? Do I think he's sexy?" Arakita shot back defensively, but Kinjou was quick to interject.

"No, that's not what I'm asking." He did his best to sound calm, though nervousness showed in the way his hands twitched and he stared distantly toward the door. "That night," Arakita knew exactly which one, "you said that you're still working out your feelings for him..." Kinjou prompted.

Arakita sighed and pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his whipcord arms around them. He hated talking about his personal life, but Kinjou deserved to know. "Look, I still like f*cku-chan, but he has the emotional capacity of a pickle dish. Pining for him from Yonan would be hopeless. I get it now."

Kinjou took a moment to digest that information, but the moment stretched too long for Arakita. He didn't want Kinjou to come to any wrong conclusions.

"So yeah, I gave up on him. And it was easier than I'd thought. So now I'm... I might wanna give you a chance." Kinjou looked toward Arakita, hope welling in his gaze. It looked like he was about to respond, but Arakita held up a hand to stop him from putting on more pressure. Instead of speaking, Kinjou clasped that hand between both of his, lowered it to the floor, and waited expectantly. There was no escaping this conversation now, unless the heat in Arakita's face caused him to spontaneously combust.

"But now... Thing is. You deserve better than being the rebound guy!" Arakita spluttered after a couple false starts. "You're probably the first person to meet me on my level. I mean really. Instead of telling me how to be better, you challenged me where I was, even when I was struggling. And I hated it at first. I was so pissed off by you. But, now that I'm better and you're still with me, it's like we’re partners. And that's somethin' special. So I don't want to cheapen that by making you into some replacement for f*cku-chan..."

As Arakita petered off, Kinjou took the reigns. "Can I speak now?" he asked, and Arakita nodded. "I want to be the rebound guy," he insisted, and even though Arakita still couldn't bear to look at him, he swayed unconsciously closer to Kinjou. With Arakita now within reach, Kinjou moved one hand to the side of Arakita's neck, urging him to turn his face. "I can't handle the thought of any other person stepping in to fill the void that Juichi left behind. And there's nothing to say that rebounds don't last, especially when they're as determined as me. So, if you're inclined to give me a chance, I'm disinclined to let you go."

Arakita's pulse was positively racing. He felt sick but at the same time elated, as if his body didn't know how to process the myriad of emotions rattling him up inside. He was nervous but also happy and scared, and excited and hopeful. He'd never had reciprocated feelings before. This was exciting new territory, but he was at a total loss for what to do. And while his instincts screamed at him to accept Kinjou's affection, it was hard to convince his head that everything would be alright.

Thankfully, Kinjou was right there, offering his support as always. The hand on Arakita's neck massaged lightly through the short hairs at his nape, calming him to the point where he could finally, albeit hesitantly, tilt his head and meet Kinjou's eyes. And weren't they just the biggest, greenest eyes that Arakita had ever seen. Arakita could almost see himself reflected in those eyes; all that same fear and joy and hesitance and hope. But in an undercurrent that was purely Kinjou, those eyes held a smolder of determination.

In many ways it was a challenging gaze, almost daring Arakita to turn him down again. Kin-chan had promised time and again that he wouldn't give up on Arakita, but even if his words could not be trusted, those eyes said it all. Kinjou was nervous, yes, but more than anything he was determined to make this relationship thing work.

The silence must have stretched on for a while, with Arakita simply searching Kinjou's eyes for answers. Eventually, Kinjou broke the silence himself.

"Will you go out with me?" he asked softly.

Arakita was never that good with words, but he felt himself nod minutely, just enough for Kinjou to see, and he felt his head being drawn forward from the hand on the back of his neck. He leaned his weight on the hand now intertwined with Kinjou's on the floor and let his eyes fall to Kinjou's lips and then fall closed, ready to accept the inevitable press of their mouths.

But it never came.

With raucous laughter as their only warning, the sliding door that led to their room rattled open, and Urayasu, their overexcited and now staggeringly drunk climber, stumbled in backwards, calling goodnight to the other upperclassmen.

Arakita could not believe the sh*tty timing, nor could he hold back one long and exasperated moan as every ounce of sexual tension evaporated instantly. Rather than be caught by his clubmate in a compromising position, he let his head thunk to the floor at his brand new boyfriend's feet. By the time that Urayasu turned back around, the scene that greeted him was one of Arakita curled over himself on the floor, and Kinjou rubbing his back soothingly.

"Hiya, guyyyyz," Urayasu slurred. "Arakita have a bit too much of the boozes?" He staggered into the room and flopped gracelessly onto the futon on Arakita's other side. Arakita's hands balled into fists as he did his best not to lash out at the oblivious drunk.

Words terse, but otherwise polite, Kinjou answered instead. "No, no drinking for us. I think he may have overheated a bit," he lied smoothly and convincingly. "I'll get you both some water, and then perhaps we should turn in." Kinjou shifted to his feet, squeezing Arakita's shoulder on the way.

"Heyyy get me some the water while you'rre up!" Urayasu called, as though Kinjou hadn't just offered and then rolled toward Arakita and draped himself heavily over the younger boy's back. The smell of beer surrounding him was thick and rather disgusting. "You gonna' be okay, ace?" he asked straight into Arakita's ear, but with genuine concern. "You're pretty red on the everywhere."

Unfortunately, Urayasu's general proximity and unsolicited commentary only managed to embarrass Arakita even more, and he felt his neck burn with the force of his blushing. At least it fit with their cover story, not that Urayasu seemed likely to remember this night regardless. "Get off..." he growled, "You're not helping." Rather than wait for his upperclassman's alcohol-addled brain to process the command, Arakita pushed himself upright and firmly shoved Urayasu back towards his own pallet. "I just need to sleep on it," he insisted and covered his face with his hands.

When Kinjou came back with two small glasses that he'd filled from the tap, he passed one to Urayasu and knelt beside Arakita with the other, resuming the act of rubbing circles on his back. "If you need anything else, let me know," he said, and Arakita glared from between his fingers.

'I need you to kiss me, you motherf*cker,' he thought as loudly as he could, and received a sympathetic twinge from Kinjou in response, as though he'd understood. And maybe he had. They were kinda in the same boat, after all. "Let's just go to bed," he said out loud and took the glass from Kinjou's hands.

"Awww, but the night ish so young, and so're we!" Urayasu cried out dramatically from the third futon, forever reminding the younger pair of his presence.

"Don't forget that we have to get up early to support the riders on the long course tomorrow," Kinjou responded, ever logical, though his attention was mostly drawn to the press of Arakita's lips on the edge of the water glass and the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed down half of its contents.

"Oh Kinjou, so responsible," Urayasu mockingly chastised, "You gotta let loose!"

Kinjou was unfazed by the drunken comment, taking the half-empty glass back from Arakita. "Maybe when Arakita's feeling better," he assured their upperclassman.

In an act of calculated nonchalance, he stole a quick sip from Arakita's cup from the place where the other boy's lips had just lingered, locking eyes with Arakita over the rim of the glass. While it wasn't the first time they'd ever shared a beverage, Arakita caught on to the deliberateness of the action. If an actual make-out session was to be put on hold, then Kinjou was going to swipe an indirect kiss right under their teammate's nose. It was weirdly suggestive despite being so tame. Of course Arakita wouldn't have been satisfied with just a second-hand brush against Kinjou's mouth, but the fact that Kin-chan got one and he didn't felt kinda uneven. Too bad that taking the glass back now would have been nothing short of lame and desperate.

Although, if he could convince Urayasu to leave, he could still have a taste of the real thing.

"If you're lookin' for a room party, feel free to take it elsewhere. I need sleep," Arakita announced in a voice too gruff to be called considerate.

Urayasu wasn't at all offended by Arakita's sour attitude. But he also didn't take the bait, rolling back and forth on his futon, as though nesting into it. "Nooo. I'm too comfortable," he insisted. "Don't wanna leave my winners! 'Sides, the guys should sleep. They gotta get up early tomorrow," he reasoned, claiming Kinjou's argument for himself.

"So do we, idiot!" Arakita yelled, once again forgetting himself in the face of Urayasu's stubbornness.

After another few moments of lolling from side to side, ever oblivious to the young couple's ire, the drunk conceded, "Yeahhh, okay. Sleep is good."

Arakita and Kinjou shared a disappointed sigh, as it was obvious that they wouldn't be getting any more privacy for the rest of the night. "Great. Goodnight then," Arakita muttered with nothing resembling good will. He settled onto his back in the middle of the futon, clearly sulking, while Kinjou stood to reach the string that controlled the overhead light.

"Is it okay for me to turn this off?" he asked. There was no response, so he took it as a yes, plunging the room into darkness with a single tug and then shuffling back to his bed.

What neither he nor Arakita could have imagined was the speed at which a drunk Urayasu fell asleep. After little more than a minute of laying in silence, a loud snore came from the third pallet.

"Are you f*ckin’ kidding me?" Arakita asked no one in particular, immediately annoyed that the unwitting co*ckblock could slumber so easily, when Arakita was sure to be kept awake by memories of the day, not to mention said teammate's noisy nasal congestion.

But that annoyance evaporated almost entirely when he felt a brush of fingertips on the inside of his wrist. He turned to face his now-boyfriend and saw the vague outline of his silhouette in the half-moon light. "He sounds like a heavy sleeper," Kinjou softly noted, not-so-subtly implying that their evening together didn't have to be a bust.

Arakita took the hint and rolled fully onto his side at the edge of the futon. "Still wanna kiss me?" he whispered knowingly.

"Very much so," Kinjou responded, shifting to the edge of his own pallet and facing Arakita, putting them no more than a breath’s-width apart. "You won't run away this time?" he asked and replaced his hand on the back of Arakita's neck.

Arakita couldn't see Kin-chan's expression well enough to tell if the question was rhetorical or not, but he figured it was probably time he showed some initiative regardless. "f*ck you," he said, rebelling against Kinjou's small flash of doubt, and he took it upon himself to sweep in and claim Kinjou's mouth.

It was too fast and too hard and a little dry and super clumsy, but otherwise it was a perfect kiss. And once they tilted their heads enough to stop crushing their noses together, it was that much better. As the urgency left him, Arakita's lips softened, and he was able to appreciate the fullness of Kinjou's mouth and the way it caught against his own as he began to pull back.

He didn't get very far, though, as the hand on Arakita's neck pulled him back in, directing him into a position just above Kinjou, himself. To balance his weight and give himself more leverage, Arakita threaded one of his arms around Kinjou's ribcage and gripped his well-toned shoulder from behind.

Kinjou hummed happily against Arakita's mouth, and Arakita's chest rumbled in response, almost like a purr. Gently, Kinjou began mouthing at Arakita's lips, creating slight friction, and Arakita took the hint to do the same. Not counting his experience on the dancefloor weeks back, this was Arakita's first kiss, and he had no idea what he was doing.

But, inexperience hadn't been enough to quell his passion for biking in high school, and it sure as hell wasn't going to get in the way of him kissing his boyfriend. Besides, if there was one thing that Arakita had learned from his early racing days, it was that stubborn enthusiasm was the path to improvement.

Before long, Arakita felt the flick of Kinjou's tongue against the seam of his lips, but when Arakita went to mimic it, Kin-chan's mouth opened beneath his and welcomed his tongue all the way inside. A muffled whine escaped him as their tongues first touched. It was so wet, but so wonderful. The sound of wet smacking filled the room as the pair explored each other. It was almost enough to drown out the pounding of Arakita's pulse in his ears.

The two were so absorbed with each other that neither boy noticed when their teammate's snores slowly petered out.

"...Are you guys kissing?" Urayasu slurred tiredly from behind Arakita. The wolfish boy jerked his head back in shock, otherwise frozen in place.

"No," he denied quickly and held his breath in horror of actually getting caught. Between the sound of their sloppy make-out and the way their arms still wrapped around one another, there was really no question as to what they'd been up to. And yet...

"Oh, my bad," the upperclassman murmured and rolled over in his futon, asleep again within moments.

The pair didn't dare move until they were absolutely certain that Urayasu was sleeping again. When the man let out a particularly obnoxious snore, they took that as a signal that they were in the clear and finally untangled themselves, with jittery laughs on both sides. "While I can think of worse ways to be outed to our teammates, perhaps we've pushed our luck enough for one night," Kinjou suggested, with just a tinge of regret. His hand slipped away from Arakita's neck and dragged down to Arakita's elbow, not quite ready to abandon all contact.

"Yeah... Okay," Arakita agreed breathlessly, though his hands wandered from Kin-chan's shoulder to his face, instead of pulling away. He touched the corner of Kinjou's plump lips, bruised enough to be visible in the darkness, and then traced along his cheekbone and up into the short-cropped hair at his temples. "Are we really dating?" he asked in awe, still amazed that he could somehow land this chiseled god of sports and sex appeal as his boyfriend.

Kinjou seemed to tense at the question, even as he tilted his head into the hand now cupping his cheek. "Well, I asked. And you nodded. But if you've changed your mind..." He drifted off. "Things don't have to change."

Arakita wasn't sure how it was possible to slobber into someone's mouth and then attempt to act normal, but thankfully for him, the point was moot. He was ready to evolve and see what perks a two-way romance had to offer. "Nah," Arakita assured, working past the flutter in his belly. "I like change. It's done me good."

Kinjou relaxed and nuzzled slightly into Arakita's palm. "I'm glad," he said, and after a pause, "Should we tell anyone?"

Arakita considered it with an annoyed humm. "Most of my friends are nosy pricks, but if there's anyone you want to tell, I don't mind." More specifically, Arakita could already imagine Toudou's screeching, whether excited by the news or annoyed that he'd been left out of the loop. Arakita would rather spare himself the "mountain god"'s incessant chatter for as long as possible. "I mean, we don't gotta be secret or anything. I'm just not the type to make announcements."

"What about the team?" Kinjou pressed.

"What about them? I'm not gonna flaunt it, but unless we've got some real hom*ophobes in our ranks, it's not like they'll knock us for anything.

"So you're not concerned about PDA?" Kinjou tried to clarify.

But Arakita's response was just, "Don't be stupid," which either meant that his reaction to public displays of affection should be obvious one way or the other, or that it was fine in the company of people they could trust. Considering Kinjou's occasional bouts of possessiveness, he'd be hard pressed to keep his hands entirely to himself, but hopefully that much was acceptable.

"No promises," Kinjou said playfully, giving in to the urge to lean forward and kiss Arakita just one more time, this time on the forehead. It wouldn't do to get lost in another lip-lock and risk more embarrassment at the hands of Urayasu. "We should probably get some sleep," he relented after a long pause.

"Yeah, that's gonna be a problem," Arakita griped, though he wasn't upset in the slightest. He just couldn't imagine settling down after so much excitement.

"I know this may seem like a dream come true, but I have to insist that you try. Living the dream will not leave you rested in the morning, and I know you get grumpy without your beauty sleep," Kinjou quipped.

Arakita nearly gagged at all the sappy sh*t spewing from Kinjou's mouth. "There was so much wrong with that statement, I may have to dump you," he threatened, but Kinjou just chuckled, fully aware that his romantic lines were actually needling.

"At least sleep on it before making any rash decisions," he insisted, finally pulling his hand away and curling it up by his face. "I'll be right here beside you when you wake up."

Arakita followed suit, removing his hand from where it cradled Kinjou's face and instead covering his own face with a groan of embarrassment. "You need to shut up now. Before you kill me with sap."

"Can I at least say goodnight?"

"Do whatever you want."

Kinjou grinned at the permission. "Goodnight... Yasutomo," he tested the name on his tongue, just when Arakita thought his feelings couldn't be stirred up any further.

"Goodnight, Kin-chan," he replied on a choked whisper.

Chapter 10

Chapter Text

In the days that followed, even after returning to the reality of campus life from a weekend dedicated to cycling, the novelty of having a boyfriend still didn't fade.

It wasn't as though things had changed all that much between Kinjou and Arakita, but every time that their eyes lingered or they purposefully brushed against each other Arakita's insides fluttered, and he had a fight the urge to smile. To his teammates, he probably seemed more surly than usual, overcompensating for the joy he felt inside with exaggerated rage. He yelled to cover for his blushing, and scowled with all his might just to stave off spontaneous grinning.

But Kinjou knew better; he had the insider's view. He noticed the way that Arakita grew warm whenever he whispered into his ear and the way his eyes lit up when they landed on Kinjou in the club locker room. He knew the real significance of his own new nickname, not to mention, he had inside info on the surprising softness of Arakita's lips, matched only by the gentleness of his smile when no one else was looking.

Machimiya seemed to know that something was up, but couldn't quite guess the source, despite trying. Often.

"Your dog died," he attempted, ever reliable in his utter lack of decency or tactfulness. "You had a bad lay," he tried again, and although Arakita had gotten pretty good at just tuning out the cackling menace, he couldn't stop a look of incredulous shock from breaking through at that one. "Oh? Am I on the right track?" Machimiya sing-songed, latching on now that he'd finally gotten a reaction.

"You really think anyone out there would screw my ugly mug?" Arakita responded, trying to dispel this line of questioning but inciting more speculation, instead.

"Maybe if she was drunk enough," Machimiya answered, proving once again that his understanding of other humans barely extended beyond his own nose. And in his world, everyone was straight, and skirt chasing was the second greatest sport in the world.

"Even if some girl out there was drunk enough to try it, I sure as hell wouldn't be. Cycling sober these days, remember?" Arakita punctuated with a roll of his eyes.

"Seriously? A man doesn't need to be drunk to want a little lady action," Machimiya smirked and waggled his eyebrows. "Unless more than just your face is defective." He swatted playfully at Arakita's crotch with the back of his hand. It might have hurt, if not for the padding in their cycling shorts. Arakita yelped and slapped his hand away, but Machimiya kept it up with an attempted ball grab from the other side.

Flailing ineffectively at Machimiya's continued assault, he raised his voice, "Watch it, hom*o! My dick works fine!" A few heads turned at the outburst—just a handful of cyclists still finishing up at their lockers, including Kinjou, whose expression subtly hardened. With a manufactured sense of calm, he strode toward the bickering pair and slipped an arm around Arakita's waist, laying his hand possessively atop his hipbone.

"Machimiya, are you making a pass at my boyfriend?" Kinjou asked, with his voice pitched low. He drew Arakita into himself, until they bumped sides.

After a moment of surprised shock, wherein Arakita's face turned cherry red, his head snapped to the side, and he hissed "Kin-chan!" as though shushing him now would counteract the fact that he'd just shamelessly announced their relationship to Machimiya, who himself seemed unable to judge Kinjou's sincerity.

Pulling his hands back and wiping them on his shorts as though they might now be contaminated with dick germs, Machimiya gave a nervous laugh. "Heeey man, I don't swing that way. Ladies only." His gaze flitted between the faces of Kinjou and Arakita and the unsubtle placement of Kinjou's hand. Unconsciously, he took a step back, perhaps hoping to retreat from whatever line he had inadvertently managed to cross.

"Oh, just a friendly case of sexual harassment then, was it?" Kinjou continued cordially, smiling in a way that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Kinjou!" Arakita said again, more forcefully. He could hardly believe—yet at the same time wasn't surprised—that Kinjou had just swept in to protect his worthless virtue. If Machimiya weren't such a dick and didn't deserve an honest tongue-lashing from time to time, he might have been pissed on top of being vaguely incredulous.

Machimiya tried to laugh it off, but he was being pushed into defensive mode. "Don't take it so seriously. We're just a couple of guys horsing around! A little push and shove between friends doesn't mean anything," Machimiya argued.

"Oh, but I'd say that grabbing a grown man's penis through his shorts constitutes more than just a 'friendly' encounter," Kinjou immediately countered.

A long and and calculating look followed. Kinjou and Machimiya were sizing each other up like a pair of angry mutts. Arakita could just as well have walked off, and the other two probably wouldn't have noticed. However, Kinjou's hand on his hip held him firmly in place. Eventually Machimiya, having finally reached the conclusion that Kinjou was being 100% serious with his claim-staking accusations, broke the tension by backing down, saying, "Whatever, man. I'll lay off with the touching. And since me being straight ain't a good enough excuse, you should know that I don't trespass on another man's property." He conceded casually, tossing his hands up in surrender.

Kinjou's expression turned smug, satisfied that Machimiya was backing down, and apparently unaware that his boyfriend's attitude had switched from tolerance to rage. Arakita was first put off by the fact that he was being ignored, disturbed by the thoughtless infringement on his space from both sides, and now he was downright offended that Machimiya would refer to him as just a thing with an owner.

"Property?" he echoed darkly. Machimiya and Kinjou went stiff. "That what you think of every girl who has a herself a guy, Machimiya? And you!" he turned his attention from Machimiya to Kinjou, wrenching out of his grip and staring him down. "Wipe that f*cking grin off your face if you know what's good for you. I said I'd try this dating thing because you treat me like an equal, so watch the way you stake your claim!" Kinjou began to grimace as Arakita's tirade continued. "I didn't need you to step in! I didn't even care about Machimiya's roughhousing! He's a grabby little asshole! It's what he does! I know full well that when I hang with this f*cker, he'll do something offensive sooner or later. And I've grown to accept it as the price of his friendship. You, however! You should know better than to suddenly act like you own me!"

Seemingly unaffected by any of Arakita's comments on his character, Machimiya took a few more steps back, easing into his escape from the sudden lover's spat. "I'm just gonna go..." he quietly announced.

"Go eat an ass," Arakita commanded, effectively dismissing him.

"Still prefer puss*," Machimiya noted on his way out, as though his sexuality still required justification. At least he was gone now, jogging off to grab his stuff and leave, as most of their other club members already had.

That left just Kinjou and Arakita, the former looking sheepish and the latter looking pissed, with his arms crossed and his toe tapping in fast rhythm. "What'm I gonna do with you?" he spat, though the words carried less venom than he'd intended.

"Kiss and make up?" Kinjou suggested, though he struggled to make his voice light; there was caution in his tone. He was obviously aware that he'd screwed up and wasn't sure how much that would backset their fledgling bond. Arakita certainly didn't want to let him off the hook, but he didn't like to see him suffer in uncertainty either.

"Later," he allowed, but didn't open his stance. Nevertheless Kinjou relaxed. "Right now, we need to talk boundaries," Arakita continued. "I don't want you barging in to save me every time I raise my voice."

"He was touching you inappropriately," Kinjou cut in.

"And I was handling it," Arakita countered, though Kinjou looked skeptical. Arakita stared back, daring him to challenge the notion that Arakita had Machimiya under control. But Kinjou couldn't safely say that the moment wouldn't have passed with no damage and no hurt feelings on either side, if he hadn't stepped in like he did.

"...I didn't like it," Kinjou conceded, truthfully, letting out a huff and dropping his gaze. His hands balled into fists at his sides.

"So you're the jealous boyfriend type." Arakita noted lazily. His tone was almost that of a question, but not quite.

"That should have been obvious," Kinjou said, eyebrows raised.

"Well, you're gonna have to work on that," Arakita countered pointedly.

Kinjou continued carefully, as a shadow passed over his eyes. "...Are we not monogamous?" he asked darkly.

Arakita scoffed. "Of course we're monogamous! But if your possessive streak is gonna flare up every time I get into a bit of roughhousing, we're gonna have some problems. I gotta be me, and you gotta respect that," he said.

"I do!" Kinjou affirmed quickly. "I do. I respect your...wildness. And it would be a shame to even try and tame you." He spoke with a mixture of awe and resignation, as though he didn't want to acknowledge the fact, but he knew it was true. His shoulders slumped, and he released a heavy sigh. "Just promise me one thing?" he asked and carefully reached out to brush his fingertips over Arakita's biceps.

"Promise what?" Arakita responded, unwilling to agree until he knew the stipulations.

"If there's anything I can help you with, please let me support you, at least from time to time. I know you're fully capable of taking care of things on your own. Like with Machimiya, I overstepped my bounds." Arakita nodded to affirm that bit. "But even if you don't really need my help, it would make me happier to be there for you," Kinjou finished his request.

Arakita absorbed the words and nodded slowly. "I'll let you know," he promised, though he expected it to take a lot of practice. "Same goes to you I guess, if you need anything." He'd be a dick if he didn't return the offer.

"I'll hold you to that," Kinjou grinned and his eyes sparkled. Suddenly, Arakita's grudging assistance at Kinjou's magic show came to mind, and he prayed that offering to help wouldn't lead to a repeat performance.

"Are we good now?" Kinjou asked.

"Yeah, we're good. We can kiss and make up if you wanna," Arakita affirmed, finally letting his arms drop down to his sides.

"Right here? In public?" Kinjou asked, surprised, though he did take a step forward into Arakita's space.

Technically, they were alone and off to the side of the clubroom. All of their teammates had already cleared out, but the door was wide open and there was a chance that anyone could walk in, so it wasn't exactly private. Either way, Arakita wasn't especially worried. "Why not? Knowing how much Machimiya likes to talk, the whole team and half the school will know about us by tomorrow, if they don't already."

Kinjou wasn't sure whether to feel at all ashamed or purely pleased that his claim on Arakita was about to enter common knowledge. Regardless, he couldn't help grinning. "What if..." Kinjou slid his hands down to Arakita's hips and dropped his voice, "I'd like to commemorate our first lover's spat with more than just a kiss?"

"f*ck," Arakita cursed both inwardly and outwardly, scared that he'd be sporting a boner in his form-fitting spandex if this conversation took a certain turn. "What did you have in mind?" he asked, against better logic.

Kinjou leaned in, so he could whisper against Arakita's ear, "Ever had a blow j*b?"

"f*ck!" Arakita cursed again, louder this time, and shut his eyes against the mental assault. "If you're offering, then we're going back to my apartment asap."

"I'm offering." It was Kinjou's dual-desire, both to please and to rise above the others in Arakita's life. He wanted to give Arakita something that no one else had, and no one else ever would, as long as they continued to work things out.

Already, Arakita was grabbing Kinjou's hand and dragging him toward their lockers. He pulled out an oversized windbreaker and zipped it up over his jersey, in spite of the summer heat, and then grabbed his rucksack, not even bothering to check the contents. There were a couple odd books and worksheets littering the shelves, but if they were at all necessary, Arakita didn't care. That would be a problem for late-night-study-cramming Arakita, not about-to-get-sucked-off-for-the-first-time Arakita.

Arakita made a beeline for his bike, with Kinjou close behind. "If I speed and crash, it's all your fault," he called to his boyfriend from over his shoulder.

"Perhaps I should take the lead, then," Kinjou offered, as the more prudent of the pair.

"Whatever, you know the shortcuts," Arakita more or less agreed, as he straddled his bike and tried to adjust his position on the seat discreetly.

"No worries, I don't intend to dawdle," Kinjou promised, but before he could put his feet to the pedals, Arakita quickly reached behind his neck and twisted his head to the side, to where Arakita could press a hard—borderline violent—kiss against his lips. It was short, but nevertheless, it promised so much more.

"Forgot to do that earlier. Now we can go," Arakita explained, and let go of Kinjou in favor of his handlebars.

Kinjou barely wasted another moment. His gaze was dark and laser-focused as he clipped his shoes into his pedals and hunched over his bike. He was prepared to ride as though his life depended on it, though as it turned out, it was a miracle that the always-reliable Kinjou didn't send them careening off the road to their speedy dooms instead.

To be fair, they'd never made it back to Arakita's apartment in such good time.