KISS ME AND SAY I’M FORGIVEN - Ippo Makunouchi x Masahiko Umezawa - 13+ advised (cut is for length not content)
*This fic has been crossposted on ao3 too, come drop by there if you enjoyed!!
Being the normal teenage boy he was, Ippo had a fondness for manga. The usual shounen fighting manga that lined up the magazine aisles, of course, but ever since he had taken up boxing, sports manga had interested him as well. He had a small collection of volumes on his shelf, too, from various series.
But Ippo’s interest in manga hadn’t been this strong before Umezawa had showed up at his door last year. The drawings he had shown Ippo shocked him. He never would have guessed that a former delinquent like him could be so artistically gifted…it was an honor to even be associated with someone like him, even if he wasn’t a big shot manga artist quite yet.
Having Umezawa as a friend granted him a special glimpse into the life of a mangaka—in training, at least. Watching him draw was impressive; each stroke carefully placed, hatching and crosshatching as perfectly as a machine could…there was no doubt Umezawa had been cultivating this skill for years upon years, pouring hours upon hours into his craft.
Ippo was enchanted.
“Hey, Ippo!” Umezawa greeted him one day. “How was training? Did the Chief push you too hard?”
Ippo sighed and let his shoulders and jaw relax as he hung his gym bag by the front door and toed his shoes off. “Ah, just another day really, nothing major going on anytime soon…” He casually strode over to where Umezawa was seated at the living room table and plopped down across from him.
Umezawa seemed to be doing some practice sketches. If Ippo had to guess, he might’ve been practicing anatomy or something like that. It looked like hard work.
Suddenly, Umezawa perked up, his eyes lighting up as if remembering something. “Ah! Um, Ippo…now that you’re home, could I ask for a small favor?” He began sheepishly.
“Oh! Sure, what is it, Umezawa-kun?”
“So, well…remember when I wanted to, uh, make a boxing manga? About you, ‘course…” He fiddled with his pen, clearly nervous. “And, well…well, I was wondering if I could…practice drawing you?”
Ippo blinked in surprise. “Ah! Oh, uh, like…a portrait? Of me? I mean, I would be honored!” Ippo chuckled bashfully.
“I-I mean, if it’s no trouble…! Really, it’s just so I can get a feel for drawing you consistently…in my preferred style…” Umezawa tucked his sketchbook in his arms. “…but I’ll probably do some more lifelike sketches first.”
“Um, should we do it now?” Ippo asked.
“Oh, sounds good! Wait, I mean, you just came home from the gym, so-“
Ippo waved Umezawa’s worries away. “Ah, no no! It’s fine! Honestly, I wouldn’t mind sitting still for a while…I need some rest, anyways.” To prove his claim true, Ippo sat up straight and put on a cool, determined expression, staring straight at Umezawa.
“Um…you should relax your face,” Umezawa requested.
“Oh! S-sorry.” Ippo did just that, watching as Umezawa’s gaze flickered between Ippo’s face and his own sketchbook.
Ippo felt a little awkward just sitting there silently. He wanted to fidget a little to break the tension, but he knew that would throw Umezawa off. He just had to stare right at Umezawa.
But staring into Umezawa’s eyes was…kind of odd. His eyes were a little intense, a hint of his old punkish demeanor still present, but they were also gentle and kind. Perhaps they were even a little tired-looking, strained from many days and nights working over a piece of paper, struggling to produce a work that would sell. Umezawa’s eyes contained chapters upon chapters of untold stories that Ippo wished he could sit down and listen to for hours.
Umezawa stared at him for a few seconds, his pen unmoving. “You have a round face…” he remarked, his free hand reaching out to cup Ippo’s cheek and gently tilt it back and forth.
“It’s unique. Most protagonists have a pretty sharp and perfect jaw. I like this shape on you, though.” He smiled warmly, eyes crinkling up as he scribbled on the page. “You have good looks.”
Ippo couldn’t help but just sit there and let Umezawa’s comments soak in. Usually people didn’t mention his appearance; probably because there wasn’t anything special about his face. He wasn’t stupendously ugly, but he wasn’t attractive either. Just…normal. Did Umezawa really think he looked nice? Maybe his artist instincts picked up on things others didn’t.
His passing thoughts were confirmed. “Ah, well, your face is just…nice to look at. You’ve got a nice nose. It’s a little asymmetrical, but honestly, I like that. Honestly, the way your face is structured…I guess people would call it…plain? But I find it charming, y’know? And your eyes, uh…” Umezawa caught himself rambling and trailed off, reimmersing himself in his work.
“Um…my eyes…?” Ippo prodded, curious as to what Umezawa had to say.
The other man paused before speaking again. “Well, uh…they’re…I-I honestly don’t know how to describe them. They just…look like they have a lot of history. Like they’ve seen a lot. I mean, not in an edgy way or anything…gee, I don’t know, just…” he put his pencil down and took a second to choose his words.
“I…stop me if this is weird, honestly. I know we…you know, it’s an unspoken thing not to talk about it, but…it’s like…if someone looked into your eyes, they could tell the pain you went through.” Umezawa swallowed harshly. He seemed to regret what he was saying, but pressed onward. “It’s…you know, when you were…when I used to treat you like… that.”
Ippo’s face fell a little, not because of any distaste toward Umezawa, but simply because he was reluctant to dredge up such memories. Images flashed in his mind of being kicked, punched, pushed…Ippo blinked them away rapidly, but the way Umezawa looked at him said it all.
“But…b-but also your eyes…they tell me you’ve overcome it.” Umezawa chuckled in spite of himself and returned to his sketch. “Ah, here I am, saying such weird things…h-honestly, just pretend I never-“
“You can tell that much just by looking at my eyes?”
Umezawa’s gaze darted back up to meet Ippo’s.
Ippo smiled shyly. “I mean, I know we have history and all, so you know that stuff. And about my boxing, but…what you say…I think it’s true.” Ippo realized his face had changed expression, so he relaxed it once again for Umezawa’s sake. But Umezawa wasn’t focused on his sketch at that moment.
“I love your eyes, Ippo.” Umezawa muttered, almost shamefully. “I like drawing your eyes, Ippo.”
Ippo’s face flushed at that.
“They’re…determined. Determined…and, um, intense, but also really kind and gentle…” Umezawa’s muscles tensed and untensed. “I-I- seriously, you should stop me or I’m gonna go all-“
Ippo shook his head. “No, Umezawa! It’s alright, really! Um, nobody’s ever really observed me like that before…” he admitted.
“When I look at you…your eyes,” Umezawa started, his own eyes filled with wonder. “Um…I feel like…the way you look at me…I’m being forgiven.”
Ippo was silent then. Umezawa didn’t dare to speak another word either; he couldn’t keep up the conversation they were having for another second. Sharing this much was dangerous to him. His easy going demeanor was going to shatter, and he would spill tears all over Ippo like a pathetic…like a…
Ippo stood up and rounded the table so he was seated right next to Umezawa. Umezawa couldn’t look at him, his gaze turned toward the ground in a manner he knew was undignified, but he just couldn’t look into those eyes. Not after all he had said.
But then Ippo’s hand was on his cheek, and his face was guided upward until he was looking at Ippo. He was looking at his lips, his nose, his ears, until finally he looked into his eyes. Ippo’s eyes were so beautiful, so fragile as he gazed at Umezawa. Umezawa felt weak with Ippo staring at him like this, but Ippo was weak around him too. Not in the way he used to be.
“Ippo,” Umezawa whispered, eyes flashing with intensity. “I’m gonna kiss you right now before I regret it…s-so if you don’t want me to…you better say it now.”
Ippo was stunned into silence. Not just stunned; he was silent in anticipation. He wanted Umezawa to kiss him. He wasn’t exactly sure what that meant for their relationship, but the desire was there, and Ippo’s lips wouldn’t move. So he shut them, and he waited.
Noting his compliance, Umezawa pulled Ippo close by the cheek and pressed their lips together. Ippo’s own hand swept across his cheek and felt a wet spot on Umezawa’s face.
Quickly shuffling away, Ippo stared into Umezawa’s eyes with a crease of worry on his brow. “Umezawa…? I’m sorry, are we…is this not right…?” He asked.
“N-no, it’s…” Umezawa sniffled and wiped his tear-stained cheek. “It’s fine. I’m just…emotional? Ahaha, so stupid, right…?”
Ippo shook his head with a frown. They gazed at each other, captivated with each other’s eyes before they resumed the kiss. This time, it went on uninterrupted. Ippo was pulled into Umezawa’s lap, and thus began a slow, sensual lip lock that lasted way longer than either would like to admit.
Occasionally, Umezawa would bite Ippo’s lip, eliciting a quiet gasp of surprise. Or Ippo would shift his hands about, resting them on Umezawa’s face, the back of his neck, his waist, his thigh, wherever it felt it belonged at that moment. Every once in a while they would pull apart briefly to gasp for air, but they wouldn’t remain even an inch apart. During these pauses, they would gaze into each other’s eyes longingly. The stories those eyes told could wait. Right now, they were having a conversation in the form of a kiss. A confession, an apology, then forgiveness.
Soon enough, a bit of tongue was introduced into the kiss. Ippo wasn’t very experimental; he was honestly too shy with these things. But it felt right. It felt pleasant. The world around them could fall apart around them and neither of them would be able to tear away from each other. In that moment, it was just Ippo and Umezawa. Ippo felt hot tears run down his cheeks as well. It was as if Umezawa had passed it onto him somehow. There wasn’t any sobbing. It was a quiet sadness that flowed freely between the two of them.
“Umezawa…” Ippo finally whispered against the other’s lips, breaking the silence. Umezawa was brought back to the present, although he still didn’t want to end their kiss. Neither did Ippo. Umezawa gently nipped at Ippo’s upper lip as punishment for interrupting their fun before pulling away with an indescribable expression on his face. He looked both hopeful and hopeless at the same time. Ippo couldn’t help but smile, which soothed the pitiful man’s worries.
“I love you,” Ippo said innocently, unknowing of the blazing fire that would set on Umezawa’s heart.
Umezawa’s eyes remained on Ippo’s lips before he scooted away and looked down at his paper. “Ah, um…I didn’t get too far into the drawing before we…” He flipped the page around to show Ippo. Only some facial guidelines and a rough outline of his face shape had been sketched. Ippo smiled in endearment.
“It’s perfect…so far,” Ippo said calmly. His eyes crinkled up, gazing between Umezawa and his sketch in adoration. Then his face fell and he looked away with an expression of embarrassment. “I-I…so, ah…what was that?”
He didn’t sound disgusted or even displeased, just surprised by what had suddenly occurred. Frankly, Umezawa felt the same. They sat in silence for a moment.
“Well…I guess it just felt right to kiss you,” Umezawa muttered, fingers raking up and down his arms anxiously. “D-dumb, right? God, you’re just perfect, Ippo. Has anyone ever told you that?”
Ippo shook his head slowly, awestruck.
“It’s true…I can’t believe you could forgive someone like me…” Umezawa cast his gaze down at his trembling fingers. “You’re kind, Ippo. But you…but I…”
Ippo took Umezawa’s hands and grinned. Just the sight of Ippo’s smile melted Umezawa’s worries away, or at least a little.
“You’re a good person, Umezawa. You’re talented, kind, reliable…you know, I used to be really weak, and now look at me…I’m a whole professional boxer,” Ippo said shyly. “W-what I’m saying is…I’ve grown, you know…just like you said, about the whole eye thing. And…you, you’ve grown too, Umezawa. I hate the things that happened to me, but I love the person you’ve become.”
What Ippo had to say next didn’t matter, because Umezawa was already falling apart in his arms. If Ippo told his past self that his high school bully would be crying in his arms in three years time, he would be speechless.
Seeing Umezawa like this, completely vulnerable in his grasp, made Ippo realize something. He didn’t have to say “I forgive you” to Umezawa. Ever since Umezawa had changed his course, day by day, Umezawa asked for forgiveness in tiny ways. The way he carried himself around Ippo, the favors he did without a second thought, the comfort he brought. And in turn, Ippo forgave Umezawa day by day, little by little. He believed that right then, Umezawa had finally redeemed himself fully of his past sins.
“I love- I- I love you, Ippo,” he sobbed unexpectedly. “Ippo…Ippo…”
Ippo simply stroked Umezawa’s hair through the pain, carefully soothing his muffled cries. Umezawa looked up and stared into Ippo’s eyes. His gaze kept flicking down to his lips, so Ippo did what the other was too afraid to do and brought their lips together.
“I forgive you,” the kiss said. “And I love you. I love the growth you’ve made. You are perfect. You are perfect, perfect, perfect.”
