How K.Ito met Kurorin

He nibbled on a french fry, elbows on the table as he half-slouched in his chair. Across from him, Ito licked his fingers clean of sauce before plucking a napkin from the holder and wiping his hands. Ito had first led him to a store to buy cigarettes, chatting all the while about his drummer's kids and the lack of love in the life of his rabbits before dragging him into the McDonalds next door. They ordered, found a place to sit and dug in, Ito with relish and Michihiro taking his time. They didn't talk much, and it didn't feel uncomfortable as it usually did for him, but as Ito looked at him, Michihiro knew that the peace wasn't going to last.

"Fifth album, huh?" Ito said, leaning over and taking a fry.

Michihiro's eyes narrowed as he picked up his half-eaten burger and took a bite. "Mm."

"Man, you're a hard worker," he replied and swiped another one his fries. Michihiro stared at him. "I wish I could work that hard."

"You're the one with the producing company," he replied, taking a swallow of water. Ito reached over to steal another fry and Michihiro smacked the back of his hand before he could touch them. "I'm eating that."

"You are not."

"I am too. See?" He took two fries and ate them quickly. Ito frowned and pushed his chair back.

"I want more fries."

"Then go get some. I'm going to eat all this."

"Fine."

"Good."

It was only after Ito went back to charm himself more french fries that Michihiro realized just what had occurred. He looked down at his food – more than he had eaten in the past week – and chuckled to himself, looking over at the window. Ito came back with fresh fries, caught the smile on his face and flopped down in his plastic seat.

"See? Told you it would be a good idea."

Michihiro looked at him and raised his water in a salute. "I bow to your wisdom, super wrestler Ito-san."

"Hey!"

Covering his mouth as he laughed, Michihiro watched Ito sputter and almost spill his fries all over the floor in his attempt to tell him off. After that, they quickly finished their food, their talk about the past good times, the fun they had during their travels and concerts, the photo shoots, back stage antics. The memories didn't seem to bother him as much, a thought that made his side of the conversation trail off as they walked, just enjoying hearing Ito's side of the past. It was odd, but it almost sounded as if he forgot pieces of that life.

"Kuroda?"

"Yes, Ito?"

They were standing outside near a small park, the trees covered with new leaves, a few people walking under the dappled shade, their voices a gentle murmur against the sounds of the city. Michihiro looked up at the trees, his hands in his pockets and his mind far away. Ito was standing close, a cigarette in his hand as he watched a courting couple walk by. He carefully tapped ash off and tilted his head, his cheeks slightly red when he spoke.

"I miss working with you."

Closing his eyes, Michihiro smiled, nodding in response. Ito laughed, the sound mingling with the traffic and the voices and he had to look up and away before he broke down. Ito threw his arm over his shoulders, leaning against him and blew smoke into his hair.

"You're so quiet, man."

He snorted, shoving his elbow into Ito's gut and hearing him laugh and wheeze at the same time. He grinned and started walking, Ito running to catch up. They fell into an easy pace, Ito quiet for once and Michihiro thought at how easy it was to accept this easy companionship. It was like the past five years had dried up and drifted away as leaves before a winter's wind. He stopped, hesitating to catch a cab and end their talk, catching the look Ito gave him.

"I'm heading home," he said, leaving it out there while looking at him.

Ito blinked and closed his mouth, his hands going to the back of his head. He colored and against the orange of his hair, Ito's face looked almost as if he rubbed his cheeks into tomato sauce. Michihiro waited for him to say something or move but all he did was fidget with his scarf. Closing his eyes, he turned away. Maybe he was just wishing for something that would not happen.

"Kuroda?" He stopped and waited, hearing Ito take a deep breath. "Do you regret. . . us?"

Michihiro felt the back of his neck tighten, a bitter aftertaste in his mouth and the peace of the day gone. He turned and leaned up, making Ito squeak and his eyes widening.

"I regret," he said, calm against the rawness of his thoughts. "That I did not say anything to you. I regret that I had to watch you set what we were doing aside to please Asakura. I regret I never spoke up over each act you made that made me wish I had never met you. And I regret that you are too much of an idiot to see otherwise."

Leaving him to stand there staring, Michihiro walked rapidly down the street, wishing to kick something and knowing that such a childish display would not prove anything but his bruised ego.