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There was one.
Clouds streaked across the sky in long, gnarly ropes. The sun tore through an opening, harsh and hot, to burn the bench he sat on.
Kaito shifted uncomfortably. Small prickles of wood bunched up into his gym shorts. Kickball had left Momota tired and famished.
He pulled out a paper bag and wolfed down his lunch: a sandwich, some crackers, a small milk.
…But he was still hungry. Kaito frowned. His stomach creaked alongside the old, moldy seat.
“You can have some of mine”
Momota looked up to see a boy: short, lanky and awkward. He squeezed to sit on Kaito’s right side. Using flush knuckles, his classmate pushed a jar of kiwi towards him.
“Mine too!” Light as could be, someone else moved to fill the space on Kaito’s left. “My mom overpacked, like always” She placed down a container of strawberries, wiping her thumb haphazardly across the lid.
The jars go clink! as they clash. Kaito couldn’t help but notice her bracelet. It dangled floppily from her wrist. A big, bejeweled Dahlia rattled the glass as she pushed the jar even closer.
Momota looked between them both.
There were now three.
Three of them talking as they ate, careless (as most children were) to the way the clouds blew overhead and cast a dark shadow on the field. Ice flowed from the tip of his nose all the way to the very bottom of his toes, and yet, by facing the breadth of two wonderful gifts…
Kaito had never felt warmer.
Beautiful Girl, beautiful Boy, beautiful life. From then on, he didn't have much of a need for anything else.
Or he wouldn’t have, if age hadn’t caught up to him first.
“You’re soooo stubborn. Just open up already!”
Something sharp presses into Kaito’s jaw. He turns to face the voice, the sugar at his back. A juicy blueberry leaks from a fork, so he takes a bite—
Sour!
Momota nearly coughs up the fruit.
“What the hell is that?” Red skin follows his sleeve, Kaito practically wipes his face raw. “Poison??”
Kokichi— who’s just as sour— laughs. He cups the bowl of berries to show off his work: a winter wonderland of kimchi seasoning stings both their eyes.
“Gross, dude!”
His partner, his love, his confidant. How lucky is he to have found someone like that…
Kokichi bambles on (“You’re too easy!” He clicks his tongue, “Haven’t you learned by now? Idiot!”), though Kaito isn’t listening. Soft touches, soft eyes; Kaito chases his fingers, caught in the way they rise up and gingerly clean a smear at his temple.
Kokichi’s love is akin to a densely-packed coconut. Hard shell, yet tender enough to crack and indulge the delicious inside. They’ve worked through tears and sweat to make the blood thick between them.
So if you really think about it, they’re practically married! The only problem is they don’t have a license for it. Or a legal title. Or Mr. and Mrs. Momota’s permission.
…Infact, his grandparents know jack squat about their relationship. Nada. Zero. Nothing at all.
And Kaito feels incredibly, incredibly guilty about it. Hence why they’re here today, sitting at the bar while his grandma and grandpa prepare lunch.
Kaito Momota has something to prove, regardless of how it makes his stomach do backflips into oblivion.
No challenge is too great, of course. Kaito is like the sky, he knows no bounds! He looks across the island, memorized by his grandma’s stirring.
Slender boy, kind hearted girl. That was the day that Kaito understood he was different.
Would his grandparents understand it, too?
“Gran?”
His grandma turns. Her face is puckered by years of weatherment. Looking so kind, so tender… will she look at him the same, even after she knows?
Operating the fridge with one hand to lean a few glasses into the other, his grandpa chuckles. “Come on son, spit it out. Not like you to clam up!”
He chokes on air. Oh god. He had this! His grandparents LOVED Kaito, therefore, they’ll have to love this part of him, too.
But was there any way to know for sure?
Reluctantly, Kaito comes to a silent conclusion. He picks at his coat, winding his fingers round loose threads. He looks to Kokichi for reassurance.
His boyfriend’s face is now solemn. Ouma nods and amidst an uncomfortable truth, Kaito Momota hopes.
“I’m bisexual,” Reaching for his boyfriend, Kaito finds the universe in the underside of a mellow palm. “And Kokichi isn’t just my roommate.”
Kaito interrupts himself to peck each of Kokichi’s knuckles. His lips are chapped, but for once, Ouma pretends not to mind.
“He’s my boyfriend”
His grandpa frowns.
Fuck.
And his grandma nearly loses her ladle to the soup…
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckkkk.
“You mean, like…?” Mr. Momota is looking anywhere but his grandson, refusing to meet his eyes—
refusing to love him as he used to.
Mrs. Momota doesn’t speak, but she doesn’t have to. Actions were enough to crack Kaito’s heart in two.
As she moves to cover the pot, he’s cut off from the kindness that was once there for him, open and ready and so, SO warm… and Kaito breaks.
Such hatred had no place in his head, nor his home. Momota gets up abruptly; his chair cries out against the tile. In his rush, Kaito accidentally knocks over the berry dish and sends it clattering to the ground. Ouma’s disappointment is unclear, just the same as everything else. Tears split betwixt bitter eyes and pierce both their chests.
A painting rocks from its hinges as Kaito basically rips, tears through the backdoor and onto the patio.
Space was the only place he truly belonged.
Apparently, the world had no room for someone like him.
Stupid.
Kaito was stupid, and usually, that didn’t matter.
Or rather, it used to roll off a lot easier. Insults were laughed away, tongue light as it talked about the universe and its multitude of stars.
Life was brilliant. Life was everywhere.
So much so, that he would travel through any abyss for Kokichi, to find them a new home where they could just be.
Be without judgment and shame and old eyes to watch on with great sorrow.
He just wishes that home was here, beside his elementary toys and various astrology books.
A great adventurer would take a hundred knives to the face over being tied down! Describing this… icky, prickling… feeling as “longing” wouldn’t be right, no way, no how.
...Even so, Kaito Momota used to be a name worn with pride.
Now that he’s been thrown out, could he still call it his?
“You’re ugly when you sulk”
Two slender, pale arms sling around his shoulders. His boyfriend’s chin bares down and parts Kaito’s usual up-do. One piece falls flat, awkwardly cuffing one ear.
“You just don’t get it, do you?” Momota mumbles. Frustration is the only thing keeping his lungs from falling straight down to his stomach.
Maybe then the acid would burn all this terribleness away, he presumes, and that would put some fire back into his spirit…
Content to ruminate in his own sadness, he barely registers when he’s been undoubtedly, and indubitably slapped.
“W-” Kaito pulls himself from the wall.
“Who knew you could be so dumb? The one who doesn’t get it is you.”
There’s a small humming noise. Trifling, tender fingers trail the sound and massage his skin. In this moment, Kaito could compare it to the weight of a manager’s grip, supporting the muscle of their super-star wrestler... Hot breath shadows his nape: very sturdy, signing forgiveness.
Momota can feel his eyes water all over again.
“Because I know allll kinds of things. For one,” Kokichi picks up a nearby delphinium as he talks, “your hair hasn’t been washed in six days”
Kaito laughs. Ouma tightens his grasp.
“Two, I’m going to drown you to clean it”
Cast aside by his despair, Kaito had forgotten about one thing: that there had always been a person at his side, whether it be by him or on opposing teams. Without fail, they have always come together in the end. Kaito may have lost his grandparents, but he’d never lose Kokichi.
Never.
The delphinium is thrust behind Kaito’s bangs. Thrown against the sun’s glow, the petals melt into the shape of perfectly calloused hands.
“Three, because I love you”
“Really?”
“Nope!” Ouma sings, “That was a total lie— sorry~”
Love. That meant love. Kaito had always been prideful to have deserved— no, EARNED— such a title.
Kaito’s chest rises as Kokichi’s falls. They were Inconsistent, mismatched, completely out of sync, but so good together. Momota can’t help but think delphinium smells ten times sweeter when you are here.
“...however, your grandparents sure do. One hundred and ten percent.”
At Kokichi’s insistence, Kaito tries to peer back, to get a read on an expression that’s hidden, yet still glowing against him. But before he can, he hears the back door open.
It’s the smell of sizzled sausages, of nights where he was sick and his grandmother would bring him a glass of milk and oatmeal. Of mornings where he couldn’t speak, of mornings where it was all he could do.
When he was cherished, as his authentic self.
The way he is now, by all his loved ones.
“We may not understand it” His grandma carries over a bowl of rice and puts it in the thick of Momota’s palms. She’s dribbled a bit of kimchi on top, the same way he has since he was a boy.
His grandpa steps in: “But you’ll always be our boy, Kai. No matter who you love, our love for you won’t ever change.”
Kaito soars past the sky and past the stars. He flies right up to the moon, where gravity can not hold him down, and he can freely venture by virtue of their loyalty.
He wipes his face clean. Momota’s teeth gleam below the afternoon haze.
To think so low of his grandparents…
Of course they loved him.
Mrs. Momota moves to kiss his smiling cheek.
Of course.
Kokichi was right. Kaito was a total buffoon.
…And he couldn’t have been happier for it.
“You guys...!”
Unable to contain himself anymore, his tears are liberated. They drop down his shirt, and sink through his grandparent’s clothes. He wraps them into a hug, never wanting to let go of them, or the affability of their food, ever again.
Despite some protesting, Kaito twists through Koichi’s forearm, pulling him deep into the embrace.
It’s warm, it’s summer, it tastes like fruits and spices and jasmine rice.
He’d spend his entire life exploring all the different flavors the world had to offer, knowing that his favorites were right here, dulcet bliss weightless in his mouth, cheeks, heart.
The couple picks a few more delphinium from the garden. Both rush inside to see who can set the table first, and though Kokichi beats him to it (by only by a second, Kaito will forever add...), Momota’s dimples laud a big, adoring grin.
Kaito Momota is many things. A daredevil to his grandparents, and a total, adorable dork to his boyfriend. But above all, he is thankful. Thankful to circle an antique Chabudai, blessed to hold Kokichi’s hand from under it.
He’d conquer the entire galaxy, if only to come home for a beautiful dinner, crafted by a beautiful family— beautiful girl, beautiful boy, which he picked hadn’t mattered anymore. Momota was adored all the same— forevermore.