#popeefics

Miyata side-eyed Ippo, considering his offer. On one hand, Miyata could use a break. He certainly wasn’t exhausted; his breathing didn’t even flinch as he ran. However, he was a bit thirsty.

On the other hand…it would be a blow to his pride. Despite both attending the same gym, Makunouchi Ippo was essentially his rival. What kind of rival would he be to have a laugh over juice like a couple of toddlers?

“Ah—we’re on the way to my house right now, so we can drop by!”

Miyata sighed. It was easier to go with the flow of things than to waste his breath arguing. He simply followed Ippo to his house, both still running the way there.

Admittedly, Miyata wasn’t exactly being honest with himself when he said he and Ippo were rivals. Well, they were rivals, but it wasn’t the whole truth. Over the past few weeks of knowing Ippo, Miyata has begun to develop certain feelings.

It’s normal to admire someone from afar, especially someone with great skill and dedication to their future. Yes, Miyata had convinced himself that was all it was. Just half-baked admiration. Acknowledgment of Ippo’s innate talent. But Miyata wasn’t entirely sure if it was normal to be falling in love with Ippo.

Just thinking about those words made Miyata dizzy. Falling in love? That was the only way he could describe it. He never really understood what that meant until he spent time around Ippo, because it truly did feel like he was falling in love with him. Miyata was in love with Ippo’s determination, his energy, his passion, his humble demeanor, his shyness…

And maybe Ippo also just so happened to have a nice face. Initially, Miyata had bitterly likened his baby face to a dumpling, but the more he looked at it, the less stupid it became and the more endearing.

Miyata was stupidly in love. Focusing on boxing helped only slightly, distracted him temporarily from whatever thoughts he was having.

Sure having a crush was embarrassing on its own, but it was made even worse by the fact that Ippo was a guy. Even if he wanted to have any sort of relationship with Ippo, he knew it was futile. He wouldn’t have the same freedom a man and a woman could have together.

Although the few queer resources—magazines, books, shows and movies—he had sifted through excited him with their glimpse of real life same-gender couples, the secret kisses and hushed murmurs of affection, when one really thought about it, it was sad. Forbidden love was charming until simply holding hands in public became a safety hazard.

“Here we are!” Ippo said cheerfully, snapping Miyata out of his thoughts. He stopped in his tracks and looked up at Ippo’s house. Right, Ippo and his mother owned a fishing boat rental business, so his house was a simple shack that bore their business’ title. It looked small, but homely. Ippo turned to Miyata expectantly as they approached the door, so Miyata bowed his head and turned the doorknob.

“Pardon my intrusion,” Miyata muttered as he entered Ippo’s abode. As he shuffled his running shoes off, Miyata looked around. The inside was simple and cozy. The pleasant smell of a delicious meal wafted through the air. Miyata waited for Ippo to remove his own shoes before following him into the house proper.

“Ah! Ippo! Welcome home!” Ippo’s mother emerged from the kitchen. “Goodness, you’re early! I was making lunch for myself…if I had known you would be home early, I would’ve made some for you!”

Miyata shuffled his feet awkwardly behind Ippo, earning the attention of his mother.

“Hm? Is this a friend, Ippo?” His mother questioned, the corners of her lips quirking up in a pleased smile.

Ippo blushed and looked away. “Y-yeah. I- he’s just visiting really! Well, we were doing some running, and I wanted to come over for a break. Um, we usually eat later, so no need to worry about lunch.” Ippo looked over at Miyata with a smile. Miyata met the gaze of Ippo’s mother, and he nodded in agreement.

“I see. Well, make yourself at home, Miyata-kun,” Ippo’s mother offered happily.

“Thank you,” Miyata replied.

Ippo pointed to a room in the back. “Um, you can wait in my room. I’ll bring some juice, Miyata-kun.”

Miyata nodded once again, and watched Ippo amble toward the kitchen before retiring to Ippo’s bedroom.

It was…strange being in there. Ippo seemed to keep his living space relatively tidy. There was a sports magazine here and a lone sock there, but overall it was kept clean. He noticed a bulletin board above Ippo’s desk that was covered with all sorts of pictures and papers. School award certificates, magazine cut-outs, photographs…Miyata turned away, unsure of whether he deserved that glimpse into Ippo’s life. One’s bedroom was a personal space, after all.

“Juice delivery!” Ippo swung the door open gently before closing it behind him. Miyata was offered a can of orange juice, which he accepted with a hum of acknowledgment.

It was oddly quiet as they popped their drinks open and took a sip. Ippo sat on the edge of his bed. Miyata wasn’t exactly sure where he was supposed to sit, or whether he should sit at all, so he remained in place by Ippo’s desk, quietly sipping.

“So,” Ippo began, waiting for Miyata to regard him. “Um, sorry if my room is a mess.”

“It’s fine.” Miyata took another look around, and Ippo watched him anxiously. He noticed Miyata’s eyes fall on his bulletin board again.

Ippo grinned sheepishly and approached the board. “Ah, this thing is a mess, but…I have some photos that I kept of the guys from Kamogawa gym. A-and me. And you, too…maybe only a couple, though.” He scanned the board on the wall before his eyes brightened at the sight of a specific photograph. He unpinned it from the wall and presented it to Miyata.

Miyata remembered that photo being taken. Ippo had intended for Yagi-san to take a photo of just him and Miyata, but Aoki, Kimura, and Takamura had squeezed in at the last second. The pained expressions on Ippo and Miyata’s faces had become the laughing stock of the gym that day. Ippo had to take the photo home before one of the guys could get their paws on it.

Yes, Miyata remembered that photo being taken. He remembered his body being squeezed tightly next to Ippo’s. He had to take a cold shower afterwards, embarrassingly.

“I guess our faces do look funny,” Ippo admitted with a smile. Miyata couldn’t help but smile a little as he looked down at the photograph. If Miyata had looked up right then, he would’ve noticed Ippo’s face grow redder than a brand new pair of boxing gloves at the rare sight.

Ippo pinned the photo back onto the wall and returned to his can of juice.

“I remember that day,” Ippo said as he sat on his bed. He patted the spot next to himself, offering Miyata a seat. Reluctantly, Miyata accepted, although he sat farther away than Ippo had offered. Ippo’s amused face turned into a slight frown. “They called us homos over that photo, didn’t they?”

Miyata looked at Ippo, then down at his can of juice. He’d rather not recall that specific part. He preferred to drown that stuff out.

Ippo rubbed the back of his head. “Ah, I can't say I’m not used to it. I was bullied at school ‘cause I was gay,” he said quietly.

Miyata’s eyes widened as he turned to look at Ippo. Ippo looked over as well before he realized.

“I-I mean! I mean- I mean…n-not because I was actually gay, I-I mean, ‘cause I- they thought I was gay! Yeah!” Ippo’s face had gone so red, Miyata thought he might’ve passed out. “I-I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with-“

“Yeah, I get it.” Miyata couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed. What a shock that would’ve been.

Ippo swirled his can around, clearly wanting to continue the conversation without making it awkward again.

“I mean, I’ve had crushes on girls before. I’ve just never…done anything. What about you, Miyata-kun?” Ippo took a sip of his juice and swallowed nervously. “Well, you’re good-looking, so I’m sure you’ve had a girlfriend.”

Miyata’s heart nearly stopped at the sound of Ippo calling him good-looking.

“I’ve had a girlfriend before, yeah. Back in junior high, though. Nothing since.” Miyata wondered why he was bothering telling Ippo this. “What do you mean by you’ve never done anything?”

Ippo pursed his lips and clasped his can tightly. “I mean kissing and stuff.”

Miyata couldn’t help but snort at Ippo’s expense. “Well, it makes sense. You look like you’d be too scared to do that sort of thing,” he teased.

Ippo was flustered. “I mean…it’s just…scary? I don’t wanna choke on anyone’s tongue or anything!” He said with a shudder.

“What? No. It’s not…” Miyata sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was getting too heated over something so minor, he knew. “Do you even have a clue what a kiss is?”

“I- obviously!”

“You aren’t gonna be shoving your tongue down someone’s throat on the first kiss.”

“M-Miyata-kun, don’t be crass!”

Miyata let out another sigh. “Geez. Want me to just show you?” The words had jumped out of Miyata’s mouth before he could fully process them. His face began to heat up, and Ippo wasn’t doing any better.

“I…show me…what? How?” Ippo asked quietly, as if already knowing the answer.

Well, Miyata might as well go with it. Going with the flow for his own personal convenience was his thing, he supposed.

“I mean…I could kiss you.”

Wait, shit, no. What the hell was he thinking? This was so stupid.

“…okay.” Ippo pursed his lips and put on a determined face. He set his can of juice atop his bedside table and shuffled onto his knees. “Y-you can do it.”

Miyata was stunned into silence. He should’ve just ran out the door right then, but then again, it was his fault this was happening in the first place.

Deep down, something within Miyata told him that this was his chance. Even if he couldn’t date Ippo, it was his chance to just get closer to him, even for a minute.

And he had to show Ippo he wasn’t lousy at kissing, too. Damn his pride.

“Okay, uh. Here, I’ll put my hand like this.” Miyata rested his palm on Ippo’s cheek, making the other flush red. “And I’ll tilt your head a little.”

Ippo followed Miyata’s movements obediently. Miyata guided Ippo’s right hand to Miyata’s shoulder, letting him gently clasp onto it for purchase.

“If you need to pretend I’m a girl or something, you can,” Miyata instructed. Ippo nodded hesitantly. “Alright.”

The two of them only stared at each other. Miyata realized how silly this was. If he didn’t put a stop to this now, there would be no turning back.

Ippo mistakenly took Miyata’s hesitance as a cue for him to take initiative. And so Ippo did. He inched closer and closer to Miyata’s face until his lips barely grazed the other’s. Ippo’s lips were quite soft. In a fit of impatience, Miyata finally closed the microscopic gap between their lips. There were no fireworks, but it was very pleasant.

Ippo’s inexperience was clear as day. His lips remained completely motionless, as expected of someone who had no clue what he was doing. Miyata allowed Ippo to get used to the sensation before he tested the waters and showed Ippo what kissing was really about.

Miyata’s hand cupped Ippo’s cheek a little more firmly as he leaned into the kiss and opened his mouth to devour Ippo’s lips. He was still going slow and steady enough to not scare the poor guy off. Ippo seemed to be enjoying it judging by the gasp that disappeared into Miyata’s mouth. Miyata closed his lips again and began a steady rhythm. He grazed his teeth on Ippo’s bottom lip, earning another reaction from Ippo.

Ippo was still not moving. Miyata understood he needed some time to learn and get used to kissing, but it still felt really weird from Miyata’s perspective that Ippo wasn’t doing anything back. But Miyata forgot that Ippo was a very, very fast learner.

Soon enough, Ippo was moving his lips back, albeit shyly. Miyata welcomed the gesture, letting him fall into the pace he had set. Ippo became more comfortable with the kiss. His limbs relaxed, his hand sliding down Miyata’s shoulder to grasp his bicep.

The oxytocin rush was so intense that Miyata forgot he was kissing his friend-slash-rival and not someone he was dating. He was truly lost in the heat of the moment, lost in Ippo’s lips.

After a few more seconds, Ippo finally pulled away, gasping for air. His face was bright red, and he looked more winded than he did after an intense spar.

The two of them realized simultaneously what had just transpired, looking away from each other out of embarrassment. Miyata coughed into his elbow, hiding his shame.

“Well, um,” Ippo said after catching his breath. “I…that was…interesting.”

“You’re really an idiot, Makunouchi.”

“H-huh?” Ippo’s eyes widened, unsure as to why Miyata would suddenly say that.

Miyata met his gaze. “I mean, you know I like you now, don’t you?” He was panicking internally, desperately trying to rebuild his walls that were crashing down. Desperately trying to regain his usual stoicism to no avail. Ippo was more shocked at this than Miyata was.

“Like me?” Ippo asked meekly. “You…you do…?”

Miyata crossed his arms. He stared down at the carpet. “Yes,” he whispered.

What a fool he was. What a fool.

Ippo clasped his hands together gently and bit his lip. “I, um…I think I might like you too,” he admitted.

Miyata was in denial. He was angry at himself. “No. No you aren’t. You’re just saying that because we…because I kissed you,” he spat.

“N-no! No, Miyata-kun, really.” Ippo had a crease of worry in his brow. “I’m…I’m serious. I think I’ve liked you for a while now. I mean, we haven’t known each other for, um, super long. But…long enough for me to, um…”

Miyata looked up at Ippo.

“I…” Ippo was still stumbling over his confession. “…like you! A lot! R-romantically, I mean! Because you are amazing!”

“Amazing?” Miyata snorted in surprise and amusement.

Ippo nodded with a meek smile. “Yes. I…um, Miyata-kun, can we…” He trailed off, but Miyata already understood what he was trying to say.

So he leaned over and closed the gap between their lips again. Ippo accepted him wholeheartedly, deepening the kiss and grasping onto Miyata’s shoulders.

Funny how life worked. Just half an hour ago Miyata was fretting over his feelings for Ippo, and now they were kissing in his room. Maybe there was a god out there, watching over Miyata and his gay thoughts.

This kiss didn’t go on for as long as the last since the both of them needed to catch their breath. Ippo had a satisfied look on his face. He smiled like Miyata had just given him the answer to something he’d been pondering for months. Miyata knew because he was certain that he had the same expression on his face as well. He could certainly get used to this new discovery.

Once again, Ippo returned to his usual timid self. “I…um, so does that make us…” Ippo worried his lip, leaving Miyata to figure out the rest.

“Dating…? Yes, but as long as you don’t go easy on me.” Miyata gave him a smug smile. “We’re still rivals in boxing, you know. And I’ll still crush you.”

Ippo cracked a small laugh at the silliness of it all before nodding. “Same here.”

They sat there for a moment before Ippo perked up. “Ah! Right! Roadwork! We should get back to that, huh? I don’t wanna lose my rhythm!”

Miyata shrugged. “I’d much rather stay here with you. We can run extra fast back to the gym and train later.” He looked back at Ippo, whose face had started to burn up yet again at what Miyata had said.

“Right. Um, well, you can stay over for a while, then.” Ippo said with an adorable grin.

Miyata appreciated this new development. He wasn’t sure how long their relationship would stay a secret, especially with the society they were living in, but either way, he loved Ippo all the same.

The humid locker room felt even steamier, everything felt too hot and yet too cold, too loud, too hard, too soft, too cramped, too good. So good.

“Mmh…”

Makunouchi pulled away slowly from the kiss, softly smiling down at his kohai. Makunouchi’s gaze was warm, like the comforting heat of a fire on a much too chilly day, yet also unbearably hot, like having your AC cut off in the middle of the hottest day of the summer. Yamada didn’t mind being scorched beneath the watch of his lover.

Yamada shyly pecked Makunouchi’s lips again before looking back into his considerate senpai’s eyes. “M-Makunouchi-senpai…uhm…I-I like this…” Yamada wanted to crawl into a hole and die. He was seventeen, hormonal, and as smooth as sandpaper, so every sentence that tumbled out of his mouth was rather humiliating.

But the corners of Makunouchi’s eyes crinkled in a warm smile, and he cupped Yamada’s cheeks in order to plant another sweet kiss on Yamada’s oh-god-so-unworthy lips. Kissing Makunouchi was like the build up to a fight (which Yamada had only experienced a handful of), slow and steady at first, slowly circling his opponent with smooth and experimental movements.

Then as the two of them fell into a comfortable rhythm, they attacked, their lips pressing together slowly yet firmly before they would pick up the pace and battle passionately, tongues fluttering close with curiosity, eyebrows furrowed, starved hands still grasping at anything, everything. Two inexperienced lovers in the boxing gym shower stall, comforting each other with eager kisses and shy touches.

A breathy “Yamada-kun” escaped Makunouchi’s lips and disappeared between Yamada’s. Makunouchi had one hand planted on the nape of his kohai’s neck and the other ghosting along his waist. Yamada thought he was dying beneath Makunouchi’s touch. It was so overwhelming, but he only found himself needing more. It wasn’t enough. He wanted to feel Makunouchi everywhere all at once.

Yamada’s hands timidly explored beneath Makunouchi’s gym shirt, which was slightly moist with sweat and humidity. To Yamada, Makunouchi’s body was sculpted by the gods themselves.

Yamada would never have guessed Makunouchi was cut so perfectly beneath those loose sweaters and tees, if not for having rewatched his boxing matches for days on end just to see that gorgeous body for himself, again and again. He knew full and well how amazing Makunouchi looked beneath a shirt, and yet here he was, gaping like a fish out of water at those abs. They looked even better up close.

Makunouchi let out a shy chuckle at Yamada’s reaction. Not wanting to stay apart longer than they needed to, Makunouchi pulled Yamada close again and reignited their kiss. Emboldened by the gesture, Yamada reached down and caressed Makunouchi’s abs. They felt molten hot between his fingertips. God, Makunouchi couldn’t be real. He was too perfect. Did Yamada even deserve him?

That question was answered by Makunouchi himself as his grip on his kohai became more firm. The kiss deepened, eliciting a whine from Yamada as he let himself melt for his senpai. He was on fire. And he was definitely way, way, way too excited. Everything was just so, so, so. He loved Makunouchi, and Makunouchi…

A sudden gasp. “Makunouchi-senpai, please…”

“Hm?”

Yamada blushed and cast his gaze to the side. “N-nothing, sorry…” He kissed Makunouchi’s cheek apologetically. He didn’t mean to interrupt their moment.

But Makunouchi wasn’t disappointed, instead his lips quirked up as he leaned down to return the favor, a gentle kiss on Yamada’s forehead, then his cheek, then his nose.

“Hey, um…” Yamada’s lips twisted slightly. “I’ll let you shower, so…”

Makunouchi nodded. “Okay. You can wait for me, right?”

“Y-yeah.”

A quiet blossom of laughter. “Sorry, Coach has gotten me on some sort of awful training routine…”

Yamada smiled softly. “It’s okay.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah…”

Their eyes met. Clearly neither of them wanted to pull away from the other.

Makunouchi’s teeth flashed in an appreciative smile. “You can come over again for dinner. My mother loves company, you know?”

“I’d like that.” Yamada clasped his hands together and let them rest behind his back.

Makunouchi parted the shower curtain so Yamada could step out and reluctantly walk away. He could hear the shower turn on. He wondered if, maybe, eventually, he could see Makunouchi shower…ah, what was he saying?

As the locker room door swung open for Yamada, he felt the air of the gym hit him. It wasn’t normally cold, but it was cooler in comparison to the hot, steamy locker room.

“Hey, Ippo!” Umezawa greeted him one day. “How was training? Did the Chief push you too hard?”

Ippo sighed and let his shoulders and jaw relax as he hung his gym bag by the front door and toed his shoes off. “Ah, just another day really, nothing major going on anytime soon…” He casually strode over to where Umezawa was seated at the living room table and plopped down across from him.

Umezawa seemed to be doing some practice sketches. If Ippo had to guess, he might’ve been practicing anatomy or something like that. It looked like hard work.

Suddenly, Umezawa perked up, his eyes lighting up as if remembering something. “Ah! Um, Ippo…now that you’re home, could I ask for a small favor?” He began sheepishly.

“Oh! Sure, what is it, Umezawa-kun?”

“So, well…remember when I wanted to, uh, make a boxing manga? About you, ‘course…” He fiddled with his pen, clearly nervous. “And, well…well, I was wondering if I could…practice drawing you?”

Ippo blinked in surprise. “Ah! Oh, uh, like…a portrait? Of me? I mean, I would be honored!” Ippo chuckled bashfully.

“I-I mean, if it’s no trouble…! Really, it’s just so I can get a feel for drawing you consistently…in my preferred style…” Umezawa tucked his sketchbook in his arms. “…but I’ll probably do some more lifelike sketches first.”

“Um, should we do it now?” Ippo asked.

“Oh, sounds good! Wait, I mean, you just came home from the gym, so-“

Ippo waved Umezawa’s worries away. “Ah, no no! It’s fine! Honestly, I wouldn’t mind sitting still for a while…I need some rest, anyways.” To prove his claim true, Ippo sat up straight and put on a cool, determined expression, staring straight at Umezawa.

“Um…you should relax your face,” Umezawa requested.

“Oh! S-sorry.” Ippo did just that, watching as Umezawa’s gaze flickered between Ippo’s face and his own sketchbook.

Ippo felt a little awkward just sitting there silently. He wanted to fidget a little to break the tension, but he knew that would throw Umezawa off. He just had to stare right at Umezawa.

But staring into Umezawa’s eyes was…kind of odd. His eyes were a little intense, a hint of his old punkish demeanor still present, but they were also gentle and kind. Perhaps they were even a little tired-looking, strained from many days and nights working over a piece of paper, struggling to produce a work that would sell. Umezawa’s eyes contained chapters upon chapters of untold stories that Ippo wished he could sit down and listen to for hours.

Umezawa stared at him for a few seconds, his pen unmoving. “You have a round face…” he remarked, his free hand reaching out to cup Ippo’s cheek and gently tilt it back and forth.

“It’s unique. Most protagonists have a pretty sharp and perfect jaw. I like this shape on you, though.” He smiled warmly, eyes crinkling up as he scribbled on the page. “You have good looks.”

Ippo couldn’t help but just sit there and let Umezawa’s comments soak in. Usually people didn’t mention his appearance; probably because there wasn’t anything special about his face. He wasn’t stupendously ugly, but he wasn’t attractive either. Just…normal. Did Umezawa really think he looked nice? Maybe his artist instincts picked up on things others didn’t.

His passing thoughts were confirmed. “Ah, well, your face is just…nice to look at. You’ve got a nice nose. It’s a little asymmetrical, but honestly, I like that. Honestly, the way your face is structured…I guess people would call it…plain? But I find it charming, y’know? And your eyes, uh…” Umezawa caught himself rambling and trailed off, reimmersing himself in his work.

“Um…my eyes…?” Ippo prodded, curious as to what Umezawa had to say.

The other man paused before speaking again. “Well, uh…they’re…I-I honestly don’t know how to describe them. They just…look like they have a lot of history. Like they’ve seen a lot. I mean, not in an edgy way or anything…gee, I don’t know, just…” he put his pencil down and took a second to choose his words.

“I…stop me if this is weird, honestly. I know we…you know, it’s an unspoken thing not to talk about it, but…it’s like…if someone looked into your eyes, they could tell the pain you went through.” Umezawa swallowed harshly. He seemed to regret what he was saying, but pressed onward. “It’s…you know, when you were…when I used to treat you like… that.”

Ippo’s face fell a little, not because of any distaste toward Umezawa, but simply because he was reluctant to dredge up such memories. Images flashed in his mind of being kicked, punched, pushed…Ippo blinked them away rapidly, but the way Umezawa looked at him said it all.

“But…b-but also your eyes…they tell me you’ve overcome it.” Umezawa chuckled in spite of himself and returned to his sketch. “Ah, here I am, saying such weird things…h-honestly, just pretend I never-“

“You can tell that much just by looking at my eyes?”

Umezawa’s gaze darted back up to meet Ippo’s.

Ippo smiled shyly. “I mean, I know we have history and all, so you know that stuff. And about my boxing, but…what you say…I think it’s true.” Ippo realized his face had changed expression, so he relaxed it once again for Umezawa’s sake. But Umezawa wasn’t focused on his sketch at that moment.

“I love your eyes, Ippo.” Umezawa muttered, almost shamefully. “I like drawing your eyes, Ippo.”

Ippo’s face flushed at that.

“They’re…determined. Determined…and, um, intense, but also really kind and gentle…” Umezawa’s muscles tensed and untensed. “I-I- seriously, you should stop me or I’m gonna go all-“

Ippo shook his head. “No, Umezawa! It’s alright, really! Um, nobody’s ever really observed me like that before…” he admitted.

“When I look at you…your eyes,” Umezawa started, his own eyes filled with wonder. “Um…I feel like…the way you look at me…I’m being forgiven.”

Ippo was silent then. Umezawa didn’t dare to speak another word either; he couldn’t keep up the conversation they were having for another second. Sharing this much was dangerous to him. His easy going demeanor was going to shatter, and he would spill tears all over Ippo like a pathetic…like a…

Ippo stood up and rounded the table so he was seated right next to Umezawa. Umezawa couldn’t look at him, his gaze turned toward the ground in a manner he knew was undignified, but he just couldn’t look into those eyes. Not after all he had said.

But then Ippo’s hand was on his cheek, and his face was guided upward until he was looking at Ippo. He was looking at his lips, his nose, his ears, until finally he looked into his eyes. Ippo’s eyes were so beautiful, so fragile as he gazed at Umezawa. Umezawa felt weak with Ippo staring at him like this, but Ippo was weak around him too. Not in the way he used to be.

“Ippo,” Umezawa whispered, eyes flashing with intensity. “I’m gonna kiss you right now before I regret it…s-so if you don’t want me to…you better say it now.”

Ippo was stunned into silence. Not just stunned; he was silent in anticipation. He wanted Umezawa to kiss him. He wasn’t exactly sure what that meant for their relationship, but the desire was there, and Ippo’s lips wouldn’t move. So he shut them, and he waited.

Noting his compliance, Umezawa pulled Ippo close by the cheek and pressed their lips together. Ippo’s own hand swept across his cheek and felt a wet spot on Umezawa’s face.

Quickly shuffling away, Ippo stared into Umezawa’s eyes with a crease of worry on his brow. “Umezawa…? I’m sorry, are we…is this not right…?” He asked.

“N-no, it’s…” Umezawa sniffled and wiped his tear-stained cheek. “It’s fine. I’m just…emotional? Ahaha, so stupid, right…?”

Ippo shook his head with a frown. They gazed at each other, captivated with each other’s eyes before they resumed the kiss. This time, it went on uninterrupted. Ippo was pulled into Umezawa’s lap, and thus began a slow, sensual lip lock that lasted way longer than either would like to admit.

Occasionally, Umezawa would bite Ippo’s lip, eliciting a quiet gasp of surprise. Or Ippo would shift his hands about, resting them on Umezawa’s face, the back of his neck, his waist, his thigh, wherever it felt it belonged at that moment. Every once in a while they would pull apart briefly to gasp for air, but they wouldn’t remain even an inch apart. During these pauses, they would gaze into each other’s eyes longingly. The stories those eyes told could wait. Right now, they were having a conversation in the form of a kiss. A confession, an apology, then forgiveness.

Soon enough, a bit of tongue was introduced into the kiss. Ippo wasn’t very experimental; he was honestly too shy with these things. But it felt right. It felt pleasant. The world around them could fall apart around them and neither of them would be able to tear away from each other. In that moment, it was just Ippo and Umezawa. Ippo felt hot tears run down his cheeks as well. It was as if Umezawa had passed it onto him somehow. There wasn’t any sobbing. It was a quiet sadness that flowed freely between the two of them.

“Umezawa…” Ippo finally whispered against the other’s lips, breaking the silence. Umezawa was brought back to the present, although he still didn’t want to end their kiss. Neither did Ippo. Umezawa gently nipped at Ippo’s upper lip as punishment for interrupting their fun before pulling away with an indescribable expression on his face. He looked both hopeful and hopeless at the same time. Ippo couldn’t help but smile, which soothed the pitiful man’s worries.

“I love you,” Ippo said innocently, unknowing of the blazing fire that would set on Umezawa’s heart.

Umezawa’s eyes remained on Ippo’s lips before he scooted away and looked down at his paper. “Ah, um…I didn’t get too far into the drawing before we…” He flipped the page around to show Ippo. Only some facial guidelines and a rough outline of his face shape had been sketched. Ippo smiled in endearment.

“It’s perfect…so far,” Ippo said calmly. His eyes crinkled up, gazing between Umezawa and his sketch in adoration. Then his face fell and he looked away with an expression of embarrassment. “I-I…so, ah…what was that?”

He didn’t sound disgusted or even displeased, just surprised by what had suddenly occurred. Frankly, Umezawa felt the same. They sat in silence for a moment.

“Well…I guess it just felt right to kiss you,” Umezawa muttered, fingers raking up and down his arms anxiously. “D-dumb, right? God, you’re just perfect, Ippo. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Ippo shook his head slowly, awestruck.

“It’s true…I can’t believe you could forgive someone like me…” Umezawa cast his gaze down at his trembling fingers. “You’re kind, Ippo. But you…but I…”

Ippo took Umezawa’s hands and grinned. Just the sight of Ippo’s smile melted Umezawa’s worries away, or at least a little.

“You’re a good person, Umezawa. You’re talented, kind, reliable…you know, I used to be really weak, and now look at me…I’m a whole professional boxer,” Ippo said shyly. “W-what I’m saying is…I’ve grown, you know…just like you said, about the whole eye thing. And…you, you’ve grown too, Umezawa. I hate the things that happened to me, but I love the person you’ve become.”

What Ippo had to say next didn’t matter, because Umezawa was already falling apart in his arms. If Ippo told his past self that his high school bully would be crying in his arms in three years time, he would be speechless.

Seeing Umezawa like this, completely vulnerable in his grasp, made Ippo realize something. He didn’t have to say “I forgive you” to Umezawa. Ever since Umezawa had changed his course, day by day, Umezawa asked for forgiveness in tiny ways. The way he carried himself around Ippo, the favors he did without a second thought, the comfort he brought. And in turn, Ippo forgave Umezawa day by day, little by little. He believed that right then, Umezawa had finally redeemed himself fully of his past sins.

“I love- I- I love you, Ippo,” he sobbed unexpectedly. “Ippo…Ippo…”

Ippo simply stroked Umezawa’s hair through the pain, carefully soothing his muffled cries. Umezawa looked up and stared into Ippo’s eyes. His gaze kept flicking down to his lips, so Ippo did what the other was too afraid to do and brought their lips together.

“I forgive you,” the kiss said. “And I love you. I love the growth you’ve made. You are perfect. You are perfect, perfect, perfect.”

“No biting.”

“Yes, biting!” Now it was Sendo’s turn to pout while he gently thumbed over the faint bite mark he’d left over Ippo’s tan skin. “It don’t hurt, does it?”

Ippo pursed his lips and busied his hands with the hem of his sweater. “N-no, not very much, just…you know how…excited it gets me,” Ippo murmured, bringing his knees to his chest on Sendo’s couch.

“I do know,” Sendo replied with a smirk before leaning in to kiss Ippo’s neck. “Let’s be honest, ya love it when I mark ya up like this…don’tcha?”

Ippo was already starting to melt in his grasp, his shoulders relaxed, and he replied with a hardly noticeable nod of the head. That was all the permission Sendo needed.

Hot, velvety tongue laved over the side of Ippo’s neck, eliciting a suppressed moan from the shy, quivering man. Just around twenty minutes beforehand, they had raced here from Kamogawa gym, meaning Ippo had a delectable layer of sweat in all the right places. The heady, masculine scent and taste made Sendo mad with pure arousal.

“Takeshi, please, I…” Ippo whispered before ever so slightly tilting his head and presenting his beautiful neck. Every puff of breath that fell upon his now exposed neck sent shivers of anticipation down Ippo’s spine. Sendo couldn’t help but lick his lips and grin at the sight, like a ravenous tiger. And Ippo just gazed down at him, needy and blushing, a total turnaround from just minutes before. “I need…”

Sendo immediately pounced and began to greedily devour, cupping the nape of Ippo’s neck and sucking against the underside of his chin. Ippo couldn’t do much but softly moan and hold onto Sendo for dear life, clutching his thigh with one hand and the sleeve of his jacket with the other.

After alternating between the suction of his lips and the sharp prick of teeth, Sendo admired his work with a wolfish grin. He had only given him one hickey and Ippo was already a blushing mess.

And so Sendo began to slowly move down Ippo’s neck, sucking marks as he went. Ippo bit his lip and gently took Sendo’s head into his hand, massaging his scalp and occasionally tugging involuntarily when he bit too hard.

Then Sendo went back to licking Ippo’s neck, admiring the flush of red that had begun to blossom over the side. He did that. He made Ippo look this beautiful. Ippo’s face was somehow even redder, with a blissful and desperate expression to boot. The man was stupidly unaware of how sexy he looked right then. Sendo wanted to claim him like this every day.

“T-Takeshi…” Ippo gasped as Sendo trailed wet kisses down his neck and chest, then past his abdomen before he finally settled on his knees on the floor between Ippo’s legs. The position itself made Ippo blush and cover his mouth. Sendo grinned. Maybe later, he would take him up on that…but for now, he had a mission.

After getting those pesky jeans off, Sendo shamelessly began to admire Ippo’s godlike thighs. They were hard and thick, but softer on the underside where they joined his rear. Sendo pushed Ippo’s legs apart insistently to take in every last detail and burn it into his memory. There was a swath of stretch marks on each inner thigh. Tiger stripes, Sendo liked to call them, which never failed to make Ippo blush and smile in embarrassment.

But this time, Sendo just bent down and kissed them, worshiping the absolutely perfect body Ippo was born with.

Ippo moaned and bit his lip as Sendo sucked a deep mark onto his upper thigh. The suction of Sendo’s soft lips felt even better in such an intimate place. Ippo grabbed for fistfuls of nothing, his hands scrabbling around the couch for something to sink his fingers into before finally settling on Sendo’s fluffy brown hair. He continued repeating Sendo’s given name like a mantra, letting each syllable roll down his tongue and past his lips as if it was more effortless than breathing. He even began to gently roll his hips, and damn if that didn’t drive Sendo crazy.

“Ya look so good right now…” Sendo murmured into Ippo’s thigh, his sharp eyes fixated on Ippo’s face. “Ya look amazing, moanin’ ‘n’ fallin’ apart on me like this…s’like…you’re fuckin’ beautiful…”

Ippo let out a quiet chuckle before petting Sendo’s hair more softly, just taking in the sight of his boyfriend with delightfully crinkled eyes and a reflexive upturn of lips. An oddly sweet moment to share at a time like this, but Sendo certainly couldn’t complain. His chest tingled at the sight.

Then Sendo began to plant kisses on Ippo’s thighs, and the fun resumed as each became more wet and needy. Sendo was driven solely by the sounds that Ippo made, gasps and sighs and moans and whines, he just continued coaxing them out of him.

“Takeshi, no more t-teasing, I-I need…”

Sendo finally relented and smirked up at his boyfriend. “Hm? Ya need what, sweetheart?” He teased.

Ippo chewed his lip. “Y-you…please…”

“Hm? You’ll hafta wait ‘til I’m finished…”

“No—!”

“C’mon Ippo, what’s another half hour?”

“Mmh…” Creaking. “No…” It had slipped from his mouth. “Mm.” It was all he could say.

Divots were made next to him, cold knees against his skin. A figure. A red figure, reaching, chilled digits caressing his cheek. A hand over his eye, stroking. In his mouth, seeking. “Mm…”

Today I waked up and I burshed brushed my teeth. I waked up and I took a bath and I use lots of soap becose I need to stay nice and clean. The soap is blue. The tubb is white and the water is red.

“No…”

Creak, creak, creak, creak.

I goed to school today and I saw my friends and we played tag during reses, but also we did math which I dont like becose it is soooo boring.

Creak, creak, creak. Ah…so good. Creak.

I goed home and mom made diner and she made spageti which is my favorite food becose it is delishis. I love my mom and my family.

Creak.

When it ends, the red beneath his bedsheets unfurls. It was always there, beneath him, maybe beneath his blanket or his mattress or the floor or the Earth’s mantle. A bloom of deep red.

“Don’t tell.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t tell, okay?”

“O-okay.”

“Don’t tell.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”