The faint glow of paper lanterns outside filtered through the shoji screen, painting the tatami mats with soft orange light. Rin stood before the mirror, adjusting the folds of his dark indigo yukata, his black hair tied neatly back with a thin ribbon. He looked composed, refined—exactly the way he always did. But his reflection betrayed the faint flush in his cheeks, something he hated admitting was because of the man currently struggling behind him.
"...How do I even do this thing?" Kai's voice broke the calm, muffled with frustration. "Do I tie it into a knot or something? This stupid sash is like a snake trying to strangle me."
Rin turned his head slightly, catching sight of Kai in the reflection. The tall, broad-shouldered man looked completely out of place in the delicate yukata, the obi half-twisted around his waist, fabric uneven, his scowl both intimidating and childlike. Rin couldn't help the small laugh that slipped past his lips, light and rare.
"You're hopeless," Rin said, stepping closer. His long fingers moved deftly, tugging and straightening the fabric, tightening the sash into neat layers before looping it with quick precision. "Here. It's supposed to sit on your waist, not like you're about to go fight a duel."
Kai watched him intently, his earlier irritation melting into amusement. "Ohhh, look at you," he teased, his tone low and sing-song. "So domestic. My very own little housewife."
Rin froze for half a second, then pressed his lips into a thin line. "Shut up. Hold still or I'll tie this thing so tight you'll suffocate."
But before Rin could step back, Kai suddenly leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against Rin's cheek. Then another, warmer, lingering near his jaw. Rin stiffened immediately, his ears turning red.
"Kai—stop—"
But Kai wasn't listening. He slipped an arm around Rin's waist, drawing him closer, pressing a trail of slow, deliberate kisses down the curve of Rin's neck. "Mhm… you smell good," he murmured against Rin's skin, his voice husky, playful. He inhaled softly, nose brushing Rin's collarbone. "What is that? Soap? Or just you?"
Rin broke into quiet laughter, a sound even he didn't recognize—half annoyed, half giddy. He twisted in Kai's arms, trying to push him away, but Kai only tightened his hold.
"Stop, it tickles—" Rin's laugh spilled out unrestrained now, his body trembling with the effort of shoving Kai's chest.
Kai only grinned wider, eyes glinting with satisfaction. "Ticklish, are we? That's useful information. I'll keep it in mind."
"Idiot," Rin muttered, his serious tone ruined by the laughter still spilling from his lips. He finally wriggled free and adjusted the folds of his yukata again with unnecessary sharpness. His cheeks burned, but he forced his voice into composure. "My mom and Yuta are waiting for us. You don't want to miss it."
At the mention of Rin's family, Kai straightened a little, the teasing in his expression softening to something more deliberate. He reached out, brushing Rin's sleeve, his smile small but genuine. "Right. I wouldn't dream of making them wait. Especially not your mom—she's the only person who makes me feel like I need to behave."
Rin gave him a sidelong glance, skeptical. "Behave? You?"
Kai chuckled under his breath, leaning close enough that Rin could feel the warmth of his breath against his ear. "For you, maybe."
Outside, the muffled sound of festival drums began, the steady don-don-don echoing through the summer night. The scent of grilled food, sweet candied apples, and incense drifted faintly on the breeze seeping through the open window. Rin paused, letting it wash over him. Obon. His family. His home. For once, it felt like a world untouched by the chaos Kai usually dragged him into.
He exhaled slowly and finally allowed himself a small smile, so fleeting that Kai almost missed it. But Kai saw—and his chest warmed at the sight.
"Come on," Rin said quietly, turning toward the door. "If we're late, Yuta will never let me hear the end of it."
Kai followed, his grin irrepressible as he reached to take Rin's hand without hesitation. Rin stiffened at the gesture, instinct telling him to pull away—but for once, he didn't. His fingers remained in Kai's, warm, reluctant but steady.
And as they stepped into the night, lanterns glowing above them and the hum of laughter rising from the village streets, Kai thought—not for the first time—that this was the closest thing to paradise he'd ever touch.
The streets were alive that evening. Rows of lanterns swayed overhead, glowing softly against the indigo summer sky, their red and gold reflections rippling over the crowd below. The air smelled of fried octopus balls, sweet candied apples, grilled corn brushed with soy sauce, and faint incense drifting from the temple grounds. A taiko drum thundered somewhere in the distance, the beat steady and deep like the heartbeat of the festival itself.
Rin threaded through the bustling streets with practiced ease. His yukata swayed against his legs, each step precise, composed, his posture betraying that air of seriousness he carried no matter where he went. But his hand was firmly looped around Kai's wrist, tugging him along, because if Rin let go even for a second, Kai would get lost—or worse, distracted.
"Wow, look at that!" Kai's voice carried over the crowd, his head turning this way and that as he craned to look at food stalls, game booths, lantern displays, and even the kids running around with sparklers. His height made him impossible to miss; he towered over nearly everyone in the crowd, the yukata Rin had so carefully adjusted earlier stretched across his broad frame. His light hair caught lantern glow like a beacon, drawing stares left and right.
People whispered, some outright pointing—foreigners were rare enough here, and tall, broad-shouldered ones wearing a yukata even rarer. But Kai, oblivious as always, just flashed toothy grins at anyone who stared too long, as if he were part of the festival attraction himself. Rin felt his jaw tighten.
"Stop smiling like that," Rin muttered under his breath, pulling Kai back down into the stream of the crowd. "You're attracting attention."
"I can't help it," Kai shot back, his grin widening, leaning down to speak near Rin's ear. "I'm just happy. It's so lively. And you look ridiculously cute right now, so excuse me for not keeping a straight face."
Rin's ears reddened immediately, but he ignored the comment, quickening his pace. "Don't wander off. Stay close."
"Don't worry," Kai said, slipping his fingers through Rin's hand instead, linking them tightly. His grip was warm, shameless, and firm. "I'll stick to you like glue."
Rin opened his mouth to protest, but Kai was already tugging him toward a booth where takoyaki sizzled in neat round pans. "We're eating this first!" Kai declared like a child.
Within minutes, they were seated on a low bench, Kai burning his tongue because he refused to wait for the takoyaki to cool. Rin sat next to him with quiet composure, chewing carefully, eyes scanning the crowd the way he always did—alert, cautious, as if even a night like this couldn't erase his wariness. And yet, his lips curved faintly at the sight of Kai fanning his mouth, whining dramatically.
"Idiot," Rin murmured, passing him a bottle of cold ramune.
Kai gulped it gratefully, the marble clinking inside. "You love me."
Rin's response was a dry, "Unfortunate, isn't it." But his gaze softened, betraying him.
A voice suddenly cut through the crowd: "Rin! Kai!"
They both turned to see Rin's mother and Yuta waving near a lantern stand. Rin's mother looked radiant in her summer kimono, her hair pinned elegantly, while Yuta—shorter, mischievous, brimming with energy—was already darting toward them.
"Finally! You two are so slow," Yuta complained, tugging Rin's sleeve. His eyes flicked up at Kai, then narrowed mischievously. "And you let this guy wear a yukata? He looks like a sumo wrestler on vacation."
Kai laughed so hard heads turned. "That's a compliment, right? Thanks, kid."
Yuta rolled his eyes, muttering, "You're too loud."
Rin's mother stepped forward, smiling warmly, her eyes shining when they landed on Kai. "Kai, let me see you. Oh, you look wonderful!" She fussed with the edge of his yukata like he was her own son, ignoring the curious glances from passersby. "It suits you better than I expected."
Kai leaned down respectfully, though he was still grinning. "Thank you, okaasan. If Rin hadn't helped me, I would've tied myself into a knot."
Rin groaned softly, wishing the ground would swallow him. His mother only chuckled and patted Kai's arm affectionately. It was no secret that she had a soft spot for him—sometimes Rin suspected she liked Kai better than her own son.
Pictures were inevitable. Yuta pulled out his phone and dragged them all under a lantern arch, forcing Rin and Kai to stand together while he snapped picture after picture. Kai, of course, wrapped an arm around Rin's shoulders, leaning his cheek against Rin's temple, grinning like a fool. Rin tolerated it with a stiff expression, though the corner of his lips betrayed the tiniest upward twitch.
They ate everything—yakitori skewers, taiyaki stuffed with sweet bean paste, piles of shaved ice dripping with syrup. Kai insisted on trying every single stall, laughing with his mouth full, handing Rin bites off his plate despite Rin's constant scolding about hygiene.
At one point, Kai nearly wandered off when he spotted a group of kids releasing floating lanterns into the river. Rin caught him by the sleeve before he could disappear into the crowd. "Stay with me," Rin said sharply.
Kai only grinned down at him, eyes glinting. "Don't worry. You'll never lose me." He squeezed Rin's hand tighter, threading their fingers together again, this time refusing to let go.
When they reached the temple, Rin's family knelt to pray before the statue of Buddha. Rin did so with quiet reverence, his hands pressed firmly together, his bow deep and respectful. Kai… tried. He mimicked Rin's movements, but his eyes kept flicking to Rin instead of the altar, as if Rin was the only thing worth praying to.
Later, as the night wound down, they walked home through the lantern-lit streets, fireflies darting through the warm air. Yuta carried a bag full of festival snacks, their mother hummed softly beside them, and Rin—serious, reserved Rin—walked with Kai's hand still clasped firmly in his, his expression unreadable, but his silence oddly content.
Kai leaned close, whispering just for him, "Best festival ever."
Rin didn't respond. He kept his eyes forward, serious as always. But the corners of his lips curved just slightly upward—hidden in the dark, but not from Kai.