synopsis ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ you and nanami talk about your firsts.
it’s quiet. the air is thick with warmth and tired laughter and the buzz of the tv you forgot to mute.
nanami’s sitting against the headboard, half-dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants, glasses sliding down his nose. his arm is heavy around your waist, and your legs are tangled up in his. there’s a leftover mug of tea on the nightstand, long gone cold, and the faint scent of his cologne clings to your sheets.
you’re laying on your side, head resting against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. it’s slow. steady.
“hey,” you say quietly, fingers brushing over his ribs beneath his shirt. “can i ask you something?”
“mm?” he hums, eyes still trained lazily on the tv. “you can ask me anything, sweetheart.”
you love when he says that. like there’s nothing he wouldn’t give you.
“when was your first kiss?”
that gets his attention. he tilts his head down, one eyebrow raised. “my first kiss?”
“yeah,” you smile, poking at his chest. “don’t act like you’re surprised. you knew it was coming.”
he exhales slowly through his nose, like he’s trying not to laugh. “you do have a habit of catching me off guard.”
“that’s part of my charm.”
“it is.” he pauses, looks thoughtful for a second. “it was in secondary school. i was fifteen.”
you blink up at him. “oh?”
he shrugs. “i was… quiet. the girls thought i was boring.”
you make a scandalized noise and grab his face in both hands. “i would have kissed you. every day. multiple times.”
he rolls his eyes but smiles. “i believe that.”
he huffs a quiet laugh, like he’s remembering something embarrassing. “not particularly. i was nervous. i didn’t know where to put my hands. and it was over in about four seconds.”
you giggle, dragging your fingers along his jaw. “i wish i could’ve seen teenage kento. awkward and flustered.”
“you still can,” he says dryly, “whenever you decide to make me do anything public.”
he runs his fingers through your hair, slowly, gently. “what about you?”
you bury your face in his chest. “do i have to tell you?”
he kisses the top of your head. “only if you want to.”
you sigh, your voice muffled. “it was… stupid.”
you pull back enough to look at him. “i was thirteen. i kissed a boy at summer camp. he told me afterward that he only did it because his friends dared him to.”
the crease between nanami’s brows deepens.
“i punched him,” you add quickly, “right in the stomach.”
his mouth quirks. “good.”
“yeah.” you grin, pride lingering through it. “i made him throw up.”
you both laugh softly. it fades into something gentle and close.
“but it made me feel like i wasn’t… kissable,” you admit, eyes flickering down. “like something was wrong with me.”
nanami is quiet for a beat, and then he leans in, presses a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.
“there’s nothing wrong with you,” he says softly, against your mouth. “you’re the most kissable person i’ve ever met. annoyingly so.”
you smile against him. “annoyingly?”
“i want to kiss you all the time. it’s distracting.”
he kisses you again—longer this time, sweeter. his hand cradles the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. when he pulls away, your lips are a little swollen, your cheeks warm.
you tuck yourself closer to him. “what about your first time?”
he pauses, breath catching slightly.
you lift your head. “too much?”
he shakes his head immediately. “no. no, just… you’re very good at asking questions that no one’s asked me before.”
you smile softly. “we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want—”
“i want to,” he says, and his voice is quiet but sure. “it’s easy with you.”
you wait, fingers playing gently with the fabric of his shirt.
“it was in university,” he says eventually. “i was nineteen. i wasn’t… ready, really. but i thought i should be. everyone else had already done it. there was a girl in my economics class who was interested. we didn’t know each other well. she was nice. i liked her.”
he pauses, his hand still petting your hair.
“we didn’t talk again after that night.”
you look up at him, eyebrows drawn. “was it bad?”
“no,” he says honestly. “just… empty. i think i felt lonelier afterward than i did before.”
you press your cheek to his chest again. “i get that.”
“what about you?” he asks quietly.
you smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “i was eighteen. it was with my boyfriend at the time. high school romance. we thought we were gonna get married or something.”
“he cheated on me,” you say simply. “with someone else in our friend group. and then told everyone i was ‘bad in bed’ to cover his own guilty ass.”
nanami’s jaw tightens along with his hold around you.
“i don’t really care anymore,” you say. “but back then… it made me feel like i’d done something wrong. like i’d messed it all up. like i’d been too much or not enough or something.”
you don’t say anything for a few seconds, and neither does he. his hand strokes your hair slowly. grounding you. anchoring you.
“he was wrong,” nanami says finally, and his voice is so firm, so steady. “so wrong. about everything.”
you look up at him again.
“you’re kind. generous. thoughtful. funny. beautiful. and—”
you hold up a finger. “if you say ‘good in bed,’ i’m gonna roll off the bed and die.”
he smirks. “i was going to say incredible in every way.”
you melt instantly, throwing your arms around him and hiding your face in his neck. “you’re so embarrassing.”
“yeah, but i didn’t think you’d be so nice about it.”
he squeezes your waist. “what, would you rather i said something cold and detached?”
“maybe just a little unhinged.” you grin. “like ‘i’d commit tax fraud for your pussy.’”
he shakes his head slowly. “you are the most ridiculous woman i’ve ever loved.”
you look at him, eyes wide. “you love me?”
he blinks. like he hadn’t even realized he said it.
“no, no, you said it,” you grin, practically climbing into his lap. “say it again.”
he groans softly. “you’re going to make it weird.”
“kento,” you say sweetly, kissing his cheek. “say it again.”
he exhales. “i love you.”
you press another kiss to his jaw. “again.”
“i love you,” he says, a little more breathless this time.
you kiss his lips. “again.”
“i love you,” he murmurs against your mouth.
you smile so wide your cheeks hurt. “i love you too.”
he pulls you in tighter, hands warm on your waist, forehead resting against yours.
“can i tell you something?” you whisper.
“i think… my real first time was with you.”
“not like, that first time,” you clarify, cheeks warm. “i just mean… you’re the first person i’ve ever felt really safe with. the first person who didn’t make me feel like i had to perform or shrink myself or pretend. you were the first one to make it feel like… like maybe i wasn’t broken.”
nanami wraps both arms around you and pulls you tight against his chest.
“you were never broken,” he says softly. “you’ve always been whole. they just didn’t know how to hold you.”
your eyes sting a little. you bury your face in his shoulder and whisper, “you make everything better.”
he kisses your temple, your cheek, your nose.
“so do you,” he says. “you make me feel like i deserve softness.”
you smile through the lump in your throat. “we’re such saps.”
“terrible,” he agrees, smiling.
you shift so you’re lying on top of him now, your nose brushing his, your body warm against his.
“what about our first kiss?” you ask softly.
his eyes soften. “that was the best one.”
he nods. “you were babbling nervously the whole time, and then you tripped and fell into me, and kissed me right on the nose.”
you groan. “don’t remind me.”
“i think about it every day.”
you kiss him. properly, this time, like you mean it. like it’s the last one or the first one or maybe both.
you pull back, just enough to whisper, “can i give you another first?”
he exhales, his hands already sliding up your thighs. “you already have.”
titsay
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