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Michael watches with an absent mind the tedious work of Yoichi’s hands as he cuts and peels one of the red, almost-glowing apples they bought earlier at a nearby farm. Just like for everything he does, he is focused and meticulous, not sparing a glance at Michael, when he has been doing nothing but intensely observing him. Yoichi’s fingers, long and slender, are quick and precise, and soon enough, he is picking another apple from the basket, leaving slices of fruit on the plate.
The blond sighs, his head and mind a mess. He woke up a bit groggy and disoriented in his room this morning, around five or five and a half, which should be way too early for his body to give consent to wake up on a weekend. They still have yet to figure out what they should do today. They just mechanically went to the neighbors’ house, like they always do on sundays when Isagi is in Germany. Yoichi grabbed Michael’s wallet from his shorts’ pocket to pay for the apples, and Kaiser did nothing about it. His thoughts were keeping him from doing anything.
He pouts, gets up from his chair, takes a step towards the little foldable table they bought for convenience a week ago - with Michael’s money that was supposed to go towards a new tattoo -, and bends over it to grab three slices. He feels Yoichi annoyingly pulling on his hair strands as they brush against his cheek.
“Stop trying to distract me, that won’t get you my attention.” Yoichi grunts without looking up even once from the knife in his hand. His German is still a little bit hesitant, but he already is miles away from the broken sentences he spoke two weeks ago. Michael cannot help but be impressed at how quickly he picks up the language. “And those are mine, peel your own damn apples.”
That little fucker.
“I’m not trying to get your attention.” He tries to draw holes in Yoichi’s skull with his eyes and, as if to prove a point, grabs three other slices and chews on them in a purposely, annoyingly loud way. “What can be so interesting about peeling apples, anyway ?”
He pouts, and Yoichi does not so much as spare him a glance.
“And I bought these, by the way, so it’s only fair that you peel them for me.”
He hears Yoichi hold a breath and a badly concealed insult, as well as a whispered ‘you do realize that what you said doesn’t make sense’. He is almost relieved that his little tactics to get under the other man’s skin are still working even after so many years, and he preens. But Yoichi still would not look his way.
“Hey- what they fuck are you-” Yoichi seethes and tries to get off of his chair as Michael just, just puts his elbow on his head and lets his entire weight crash onto him, like the annoying little bastard he is. Teasing Yoichi is always so fun, Michael thinks gleefully. He always has a frown when he gets annoyed, and the tips of his ears turn a bit red.
Finally, Yoichi is looking at him. Deep, clear blue eyes try to suck him in and push him away at the same time. They throw daggers at him in annoyance, but their color is so mesmerizing that he forgets what he has to say next, his mind a mess and chaos and he can’t form a single comprehensive thought except ‘you’re finally looking at me’.
“Michael, would you please get off of me ? You fucking brat-” And Kaiser’s heart does a funny thing where it suddenly stops beating and starts to squeeze onto itself and he is left breathless, as if he was still fourteen years old. And he’s not, so clearly he should stop letting his heart do such things. Those emotions are not like him, not anymore, and should never have been (even with those damn Freddy Mercury posters in his room).
Except that everything is complicated when Yoichi’s cute frown is involved. He wants to hate him and antagonize him, go back to the way their relationship was like over ten years ago when they barely knew the other person, when they would spend their time throwing a fit every time they had to sit remotely close to each other, before becoming friends and something else. Something weird. Something with ugly mixed feelings that left Kaiser hanging.
Something that comes back every time they meet, at five, at nine, at fourteen. Something that came back once again two weeks ago at eighteen, five years gone since the last time, when still, still, getting a reaction out of Yoichi is still the highlight of Michael’s day, but now, the sight of a bare neck or sharp collar bones makes him feel hot and bothered.
His mind wanders a bit to recent memories of red shoulders and nose, and whines under Germany's merciless summer sun. The mark between sun-kissed and fair skin where the waistband lies. Forearms spotted with shadows of leaves from the tree. Fingers grabbing handfuls of wheat that would end up in Michael's t-shirt. Pink cheeks, pinker lips, and red tongue behind smooth-edged teeth. Bloody knees after a fall. And the calm sea behind Yoichi's blue eyes.
He wants to believe he can get rid of these feelings he has somehow always had, and every passing minute, he is reminded with the fact that it is close to impossible and that in one word, he’s doomed.
So, when Yoichi’s slight annoyance turns into quiet anger, like it rarely does nowadays, he settles on sighing dramatically, and casually leaves the scene- as casual as he could make it seem to be.
“Well, since the apples are clearly more interesting and important than me, I’m taking a nap.” Michael says in a fake neutral voice, heading towards the laid, not-so-white, thick blanket, where pillows are put into a make-shift bed. “Don't bother me.”
He misses the way Yoichi rolls his eyes with a small grin, and how he whispers a small “idiot” as he carries on his task.
Michael, always his over-dramatic-self, pouts but cannot really stop himself from taking small glances at Yoichi every once in a while, who makes sure to leave cute-shaped apple slices onto a plate for when Michael stops pouting.
Half an hour later, the little apple-bunnies watch over them both sleeping peacefully from the bright yellow foldable table.