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“What’s your favorite poem?”
Kaminari smiles at the question. Nobodys ever asked him questions after info dumping. They normally just give him an annoyed look and switch subjects. But Shinsou is looking at him with something caught between interest and adoration. He wants to know more.
They’re sitting in Shinsou’s junker of a car in the parking lot of some diner. The sign lights are bleeding through the windows, leaving everything casted in red and blue. Some shitty indie band is humming softly through the speakers. They’re both drinking slushies. Shinsou went for blue raspberry while Kaminari preferred cherry. Kaminari can see the faint tint of blue dye on Shinsou’s lips.
“I can’t pick just one.” Kaminari answers Shinsou’s question. “That’s like asking me to pick a favorite kid.”
“Make an attempt.” Shinsou teases, with a lazy grin.
Kaminari sighs. “God, okay. Um… Well... I like basically everything Brigit Peegen Kelly has written... And Crash Test Dummies of an Imperfect God by Dean Young is really good but he’s kind of sexist and racist which sorta ruins it, but seperate the art from the artist I guess… Art Poetica by Monica Gomery, Stamps by Kristen Tracy, Five Years Later by Alberto Rios… There’s too many! I can’t pick.” He whines.
Shinsou lets out a huff of a laugh. “Okay, okay… Well, uh, what’s your favorite right now. Like, top of your head, in this very moment, down to the second. What’s your favorite right now? ”
Kaminari looks at Shinsou for a moment, considering. The lights are bringing out the sharp arcs of his cheekbones, panes of red and blue across his face. There’s a barely visible trace of the blue sugary tint on his lips. It’s just them. Shinsou asked Kaminari to hang out during break, picked him up in his car, and took them to this parking lot to drink slushies so it could be just them .
He knows exactly what his favorite poem is right now. “Um… There’s this Richard Siken poem. I forget what it’s called. I don’t think it has a real name. But it’s… 24? I think? In his book You Are Jeff. it’s 24. That’s my favorite poem right now .”
Shinsou leans his head against the car seat, turning it to look at Kaminari. “How does it go?”
Kaminari blushes. Because of the way Shinsou is looking at him. Because of the tone of the night. Because of how the poem goes. “Um, I… Are you sure you want to hear it?” He asks. His voice is quiet, part of him not believing Shinsou actually wants to be putting up with him right now.
But Shinsou just nods dutifully. “Please.” He adds, looking at Kaminari with something that can only be described as adoration.
Kaminari swallows hard. “Okay… I, uh… I actually have this one memorized. I, uh, I do that sometimes with my favorites.”
There’s a small smile on Shinsou’s face.
Kaminari starts to speak. “You’re in a car…” He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for all the ways this could go wrong. “You’re in a car with a beautiful boy and he won’t tell you he loves you… but he loves you .” Kaminari looks at Shinsou who just sits up more, smile getting a bit bigger, interest piqued.
Kaminari turns to look down at his lap. “And you feel like you’ve done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt…” It’s true. That’s exactly how Kaminari feels. He feels the pressure of his parent’s expectations for him to be a nice Christian boy, and his friends’ limited views of who he is, and even hero society’s idea of what a hero is supposed to be and who they’re supposed to love. “And you’re tired, ”
But he feels the pressure outweighed by whatever he feels for Shinsou. “You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re-” He looks up at Shinsou who's sat up fully and is now looking at him with some sort of urgency.
Kaminari looks back. “ You’re trying not to tell him that you love him .” He pauses for a moment before he continues, breath caught on the words.
He looks back down at his hands. “And you’re trying to choke down the feeling- '' He thinks his voice might crack with emotion there. He’s digging his fingernails into his palms so hard he can see them crack open into red but then he feels Shinsou’s hands cover his, prying up his fingers and cupping his hands gently.
Kaminari doesn’t turn to look at him this time, instead looking at their joint hands. “And you’re trembling, but he- He reaches over and he touches you- Like a prayer for which no words exist.” He looks up and is faced by Shinsou who’s scooted closer.
Their noses nearly touch and Kaminari drops his volume so his words are so quiet they must only exist in the space between them. “And you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you don’t even have a name for.” There’s a moment of silence before Kaminari takes a shaky breath and speaks again. “That’s it.” He says. “That’s the poem.”
Shinsou lifts one hand to gently cup Kaminari’s face and wipe away tears which Kaminari didn’t even realize were there until he feels them wetly smudged away by Shinsou’s thumb.
“I’m gonna kiss you, okay?” Shinsou says, both patient and urgent. Kaminari nods.
And he does
.