The bus rumbled along the winding roads, the windows fogged slightly from the cool morning air. Yuki sat with Shun in the back, the cabin assignment still nagging at the edges of his thoughts. Shun talked animatedly about camp activities, games, and who might end up in which cabin, but Yuki's attention kept drifting.
Kenji had been assigned a different cabin, just a few rows ahead. Yuki's chest tightened every time he caught a glimpse of him through the window, leaning casually against the seat, headphones around his neck, the soft curve of his lips almost always playing into a small, serene smile.
The first day of camp was a mixture of team games and arts workshops. Yuki found himself constantly aware of Kenji, their eyes meeting fleetingly during group activities. They didn't speak much, but the quiet moments were loaded — shared glances, faint smiles, and small brushes of fingers when passing materials.
But that evening, tension finally broke.
They had been assigned to set up the campfire area. Yuki was carrying a stack of logs when Kenji stepped in front, trying to organize the circle of stones.
"Yuki, no, the bigger ones go over there," Kenji said, pointing. "It'll be more stable that way."
Yuki frowned, shifting the logs in his arms. "I know how to do it, Kenji. I've built campfires before."
Kenji's brow furrowed slightly. "I'm just trying to help—"
"I don't need your help!" Yuki snapped, voice louder than he intended. The logs nearly slipped from his arms.
Kenji blinked, momentarily stunned. "Yuki—"
"Just… let me do it, okay?" Yuki muttered, huffing, walking off toward another corner of the site. His cheeks burned. He hadn't meant to yell, but something about Kenji's calm, controlled demeanor always pushed at his nerves in ways he didn't understand.
Kenji watched him go, silent, jaw tight. "Yuki…" he murmured, voice low, but he didn't follow. The tension between them lingered like smoke.
That night, Yuki lay on his bunk, staring at the ceiling. He replayed the argument over and over, the sound of his own raised voice echoing in his mind. He hated that it had escalated so quickly, hated that the first real fight between them had left such a sour taste.
Kenji, in his cabin, stared out the window at the moon reflecting on the lake. He thought about Yuki's stubborn expression, the slight flare of his temper, and the tight line of his lips when he'd walked away. Kenji wanted to go after him, to fix it, but pride — and fear of making it worse — kept him frozen.
For the next couple of days, they avoided each other slightly, still exchanging glances but speaking less than usual. Every shared activity felt like walking a tightrope. Both of them missed the soft comfort of their nightly walks, the easy smiles, the quiet warmth that had grown between them.
Back at school, several days later, Yuki found himself lingering by the piano studios, hoping Kenji would show up. When he did, a calm smile played on his lips, though his eyes carried a shadow of guilt.
"Kenji…" Yuki said softly, unsure how to start.
Kenji's gaze met his, steady and open. "Yuki… I'm sorry too," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to push, or make you feel…" He trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid, but it hung between them.
Yuki's chest felt tight, but he stepped closer. "I… I overreacted," he admitted. "I shouldn't have snapped. I'm sorry."
Kenji's lips curved into a faint, warm smile. "Then… let's not let that fight define us, okay?"
Yuki nodded, relief washing over him. "Yeah… okay."
There was a brief pause, the kind that felt both fragile and electric. Yuki looked up into Kenji's eyes and felt that same warmth, that same soft heartbeat of hope he had felt during their walks and quiet nights.
Without thinking too much, Yuki reached for Kenji's hand. Their fingers intertwined naturally, fitting perfectly, as if they had always belonged together.
Kenji's expression softened completely, and he squeezed gently. "Yuki… I think… we should stop pretending. I want to be with you. Really with you."
Yuki's heart leapt. "You mean… like… officially?"
Kenji nodded. "Yeah. Officially. You and me."
Yuki grinned, cheeks flushing, and leaned slightly closer. "Okay. Officially."
They stood there, hands entwined, small smiles spreading across both their faces. No dramatic declarations, no intense fireworks — just quiet, warm certainty. The tension from camp faded, replaced by something soft, safe, and hopeful.
In the following days, the pair walked through school with that subtle, easy intimacy that had been growing between them. A brush of hands in the hallway, a shared lunch, quiet conversation under the cherry blossom trees. They weren't shouting it to the world, but the small gestures spoke volumes.
Shun still appeared around them sometimes, cheerful and oblivious to the quiet shift, but Yuki found himself looking at Kenji more often now, noticing the small curve of his lips, the way his hair fell over his forehead, the soft tilt of his head when he listened.
And Kenji, in turn, couldn't stop watching Yuki laugh at some small joke, the way his fingers fidgeted when he was nervous, the way his eyes lit up when talking about music. Every glance, every brush of fingers, every quiet smile was a new heartbeat shared between them.
By the end of the week, the fight at camp was nothing more than a distant memory. They had kissed again — softly, tenderly — under the cherry trees in the quiet of the afternoon, a gentle reaffirmation of the connection they had been building.
It wasn't perfect. They still had moments of awkwardness, slight jealousy, or teasing tension. But it was theirs. And that was enough.
As Yuki walked beside Kenji after rehearsal one afternoon, the sunlight catching his hair and making his eyes glint, he felt a quiet certainty bloom in his chest. This — this closeness, this warmth, this small, perfect happiness — was something he didn't want to lose.
And as Kenji glanced at him, smiling softly, Yuki knew that no matter what small fights or misunderstandings came next, they would face them together.
Because now, they were no longer just brushing past each other in tentative friendship. Now, they were together. Officially.