Notes:

TITLES I DON'T EVEN ;A;Anyway just a short thinglet. Spoilers for chapter 27!Hope you enjoy (◡‿◡✿)

Truffle-Colored Kiss

Hori had planned her revenge perfectly — or so she thought.

All she needed was money, and once she scraped together enough, she took a train to a bakery — not Miyamura's. She scanned the cakes there, and after some strategizing decided on one crowned with a truffle, rather than a gleamy glazed strawberry (pretty, but probably too soft for her purposes). She carried the cake back and hid it in the fridge, behind a salad, where it would be safe from Souta and Kyosuke. By the time Miyamura-kun knocked on the door, the cake had been transferred onto a small plate, and was ready to go.

"Just in time! I have a present for you. Sit down sit down sit down!" She waved her hands at him until he took a place by the table, and when she swept the cake down in front of him with a flourish, Miyamura-kun's surprise dimmed to confusion.

"It's...cake?"

"What's the matter? You don't like it?" Hori sat down beside him.

"Ah, no, no — it's not that I don't like it — um —"

This was the reaction she'd planned for. She recited her next line, perfectly: "I know your family owns a bakery but I thought you might want to try something new once in a while."

"I — I see. Um...thank you. Was...was it on sale or something?"

"No, it wasn't! It's just a present. Isn't it alright for me to share some cake with you once in a while?" She smiled, as angelically as possible, and pushed the fork into his hand. After some hesitation he took it, and she steeled herself as the tines began to sink into the chiffon. He maneuvered perfectly beneath the spherical truffle, then lifted it, alongside a slab of green tea cream.

Get ready! Get ready! Get —

"Here, Hori-san," he said, smiling and holding the fork towards her, "why don't you take the first bite?"

What?

"No!" Hori cried. He jumped, startled, and she grabbed his wrist to steady him before the truffle fell. "Come on, just eat it already!"

"O—okay — just — let go of me first," he said, and Hori blinked, and released him. The skin of his wrist was pale from her grip.

"Um, sorry..."

"It's alright. Itadakimasu," he announced, and finally, finally, finally put the truffle in his mouth.

"Mmm," Miyamura-kun started to say, "it's goo —"

He stopped talking as Hori grabbed his shoulders. His eyes widened as she leaned up toward him, pressing her mouth against his. His lips (softer than she expected) parted in surprise, giving her the perfect opening; she moved closer, tilted her head, and with a flick of her tongue (and a not-so-cute but brief, wet suck) retrieved the truffle.

It had melted more than she thought it would — and it was hot, too, from his mouth. Still, she straightened, and smiled at him smugly, broadly, the truffle pinned between her teeth. She was flushed, but couldn't tell if it was more from pride or embarrassment.

"Ha!"

"Wh — wh —" His face was a vibrant red that spread all the way up to his topmost ear piercings. "H — Hori-san! What did you —"

"Payback," she said proudly, flipping the truffle back into her mouth.

"Payback?"

"For you stealing my candy! At Shindou-kun's place."

His brows furrowed; then arched in realization. "You mean — that one clay-tasting candy?! That — that was so long ago!"

"I've been planning for a long time," she told him, proudly.

"But didn't you say this a gift for me?"

"It is a gift! It's like a" — she searched her head for the word — "a Trojan cake."

Hori had planned her revenge perfectly — but hadn't accounted for what would happen afterward.

"Well," Miyamura said, "I want it back," and he put his hands on her shoulders, pulled her close, and kissed her. Hori gasped, and this time it was his turn to slip his tongue into her mouth, tasting, searching. After some time, it became pretty clear that the truffle was gone — that it had melted away completely, or been swallowed — but he couldn't bring himself to stop. Somehow, he thought that he could still taste the chocolate in her mouth — or maybe something sweeter — something that filled his belly and every part of him that touched her with a shuddery richness. Her tongue lifted against his and he felt the space in his chest filled up, leaving nothing for breath or blood, and just when he felt he was about to burst he stopped, feeling suddenly weak. For a moment they stared at each other, breath shallow and staggered.

The pounding in his ears subsided slowly, giving way to the clamor of traffic and birdsong outside, suddenly foreign. He swallowed.

"Was it okay?"

It was more than okay. She put her fingers to her mouth, gently. "Yeah," she told him, and, in lieu of elaborating, blushed more deeply. They sat, and then she raised a trembling finger to point to the corner of his mouth.

"You have some more there," she mumbled. She meant something else, and he understood.

"Okay," he answered, and raised his arms, putting them around her as she came closer and kissed the edge of his lips. No sooner did he finish than he met her mouth with his again fully, and they sighed — together, against each other, into.

His arms tightened, drawing her closer. She felt her hands moving too — clutching him — and then inching beneath his shirt, against the blue tattoos on his skin —

The door opened.

"Onee-chan, I'm home!"

A pause. And then, in confusion: "Onee-chan? Are you here?"

"Y-yes, I'm here! W-welcome home, Souta!"

"I'm home, Onee-chan! Oh, Ni-chan's here!" Souta cried happily. His eyes fell on Miyamura-kun, who was adjusting his shirt, and then on the cake on the table. "Oh, wow! Did you bring that, Ni-chan? Can I have some?"

Hori and Miyamura exchanged glances; then Miyamura smiled and pushed the plate toward Souta. "Here! It's all yours."

:::

They didn't have another chance to be alone together for a while after that — when Souta wasn't playing outside after school, Kyosuke was over, and when both of them were gone, Hori's mother was present. The few times the apartment was free, there always seemed to be a sale going on: either the kind that Hori attended excitedly to pick up eggs, or the kind that Miyamura needed to help out with at his family's bakery.

When they finally did have the apartment to themselves again, it happened before either of them had had enough time to muse on what had happened last time they were alone. Miyamura was standing outside the entrance of the school, waiting to say goodbye; but that day when Hori approached, she said, "Do you want to walk home?"

"Sure," he said. They were already halfway to her apartment when he had the presence of mind to ask: "Is anyone there?"

"No," Hori realized, eyes widening. They stopped walking; they looked at each other.

Then Hori raised her hand to his. He took it, and they continued.

:::

The tension in the apartment bore down on them, so huge that Hori was surprised the building wasn't creaking at the seams.

"Do you want a snack?" she asked, and Miyamura smiled at her nervously.

"Do you have more cake?"

She snorted. "No. Um," she said, "not that you…need it. Right? Cake, I mean."

"No," Miyamura said, sensing she was trying to say something else, "I don't need it."

She didn't say anything, and they grimaced at each other, no longer sure of what they or the other person was trying to communicate.

What had happened the last time — when it felt like they'd understood each other perfectly? They sat down at the table and after a while spread out their homework, though Hori couldn't manage to put anything to paper except graphite dust, shed by tapping her pencil restlessly against the table. She could tell Miyamura was disturbed too — he was usually pretty slow with his homework, but he usually managed to write down at least his name on his assignments.

Hori put the pen down and turned toward him, mouth open — then closed again, as she swallowed — and then, finally, open, and speaking.

"Hey, Miyamura. Can I see your tattoos?"

Miyamura fiddled with his pencil. For a panicked instant she thought he might just ignore her, must just write down his name on the top of the paper — but then he mumbled, "Okay."

It was a weird request. But if Hori wanted to see them, he didn't mind showing her. He set the pencil down — click — and then raised his hands to his shirt and unbuttoned, slowly, pulling the sides of his shirt back to reveal not just the blue biting whorls of his tattoos but a red flush hued down his neck and collarbone. He eased his shirt down over his shoulders, exposing his upper arms; then leaned back, propping himself up. He watched her as she reached out. Beneath her palm, colored goosebumps shuddered up his shoulder, his side.

She paused, apprehensive. It felt strange — so wrong — to be doing something for herself, something not for her family, or her academic obligations, or her nebulous future. Even as she sat there she thought, There's a sale somewhere, if I look. We're almost out of soy sauce.

But she didn't remove her hand. She kept it there, and her world narrowed and bloomed in the space they had between the wall and the table, in the heat growing between them.

Get ready. Her hand smoothed down his chest, his stomach, and on its way lower Miyamura shivered and said, "W-wait!"

She immediately withdrew, heart beating fast, her face so warm she felt dizzy.

"W-what?" She laughed shakily. "I-it's fine, right? It's — it's not like you have some really embarrassing tattoo or something down there, right?"

"I..." He took a deep breath, gulped it. "How...how did you know?"

"What?! You're kidding. You're just joking, right?" And then, when Miyamura just continued to look at her solemnly: "Where?"

"Right on it."

"Right...on..." It?

Well, he had so many tattoos; it shouldn't be that surprising. Right? It shouldn't be that surprising. Not even a little.

If he got one right on — wouldn't it have hurt? She wanted to ask, but she managed to restrain herself. However hard she bit her lip, however, she couldn't help the next question: "What…um...is it?"

Miyamura's face was grave. "It's your name."

"My —?" All the color that had accumulated across her face drained entirely, but not for long; Miyamura had burst out laughing, and in the next instant they were both doubled over, incredulous, laughter brimming in their eyes and knotting up their bellies and lungs, suffocating, exquisite.

When they finally came out the other side they were gasping, wiping their eyes. In the minutes past lay their fears, sloughed off and buried beneath a buzz of brightness. She smiled at him, beautifully.

You make me so happy.

They reached for each other. It still wasn't entirely easy, but at least they were unleashed. Unsurprisingly, Hori's name wasn't there after all, but she claimed him anyway, urged him quiet. Even though she was sure no one was going to come home at this time, suddenly it felt like anything was possible. They eased each other forward — past their usual personas, past even the faces they shared after school — to selves that were totally new, barely born, gasping their first breaths at the hands of the other.

Afterward it occurred to her that this was a Miyamura — Izumi — that she definitely didn't want anyone else to see.