"Flavors"
Jirou liked the days when he could see Marui. He liked when he had the chance to watch his idol’s game, and when he could cheer when pink-haired boy won, and when they would walk to Marui’s house afterwards (because Jirou’s was too far, and he always went to Rikkai Dai rather than Marui going to Hyoutei) and spend a few hours together before he had to go. He liked the sound of Marui’s voice, and the sight of his smile, and the taste of the many, many flavors on his tongue.
It was green apple gum the day they first kissed, and that was what Jirou associated with him the strongest, and the one that appeared most often. But sometimes it was different. Sometimes it was chocolate, or maraschino cherries, or the more subtle and harder to recognize blend of tiramisu. It was hard to figure out what would be next, unless they stopped at a café at the way home or Marui dug out a pint of ice cream when they reached his house, but Jirou loved guessing. His success rate was almost zero, even though Yanagi could’ve told him all he had to do was go with “green apple” every day and he would be right more times than not, but that didn’t stop him from trying.
“Chocolate?” he asked, one day, as he pulled away and opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. “And…”
Marui watched him, and maybe that was amusement in his voice as he replied, “Marshmallows.”
“Mm!” Jirou nodded enthusiastically, grinning. “And whipped cream!”
“How do you even recognize the taste of whipped cream?” Marui demanded. “It doesn’t really taste like anything.”
“But Bunta likes it, right?” Jirou laughed, a laugh that never failed to make Marui smile in return. “So shouldn’t you be able to figure it out too?”
“Maybe,” Marui allowed. “Is it really that much fun to guess what I ate every time?”
“Mm!” Jirou nodded sagely. “Because it changes what Bunta tastes like.” Marui raised an eyebrow, giving him a strange look that he didn’t take note of.
“Ne, ne. What do I taste like?”
“You…?” Marui thought about it for a moment, and he was snickering a little as he replied, “Jirou.”
Jirou pouted a little, blond locks falling into his eyes as he whined, “Eh? Can’t you do better than that?”
“I’m a genius. You don’t need any better.” Marui adopted an arrogant look, reaching over and poking Jirou in the forehead and pushing him back.
“Besides, you taste good. Isn’t that enough?”