Work Text:
June 2023
Kenji’s heart has been crawling up his throat since Ben invited him on a picnic. “Just us two,” Ben said lightly, like those words didn’t kick Kenji’s heart up to the start line of the racetrack between his ribcage, and his loose-cannon mouth. Confessing the long-brewing feelings Kenji’s done his best to ignore since Italy seems inevitable, like a ticking time bomb in the corner of the bedroom they share now— and Kenji can only blush at Ben's every touch, and listen to the time bomb beeping, slightly faster, every night.
They head to their favourite spot: the top of the hill overlooking the ranch-slash-farm the Watering Hole where the camp fam live. On the trek up up, the sun begins to set, elongating their already tall shadows to the point they look like “slendermen— or maybe spider man,” Kenji says, striking ridiculously comedic poses as he keeps one hand on the handle of Ben’s wheelchair, and pretends to shoot spiderwebs to stave off the burning awkwardness in his chest. Ben laughs, says, “you gonna get the costume, pretty boy?” and they’re teasing each other like usual, laughter drowning the apprehension that burns Kenji’s throat. They’re walking up the hill, higher and higher, their slenderman shadows reaching the top before they do, and then—
They’re at the top, gazing at the place they now call home: the house itself sitting squarely at the centre of paddocks, barns, and other buildings laid out like toys on a kid’s play table. Everything is bathed in a warm dusting of sunlight.
The sight never fails to take Kenji’s breath away. When Ben first brought him up here, Kenji could hardly speak at all. He finally understood why the camp fam named this place the Watering Hole. Only two other things in the world had ever made Kenji swell with majesty: the watering hole at Nublar, and the parasaurolophuses at sunset at his trailer back in Colorado. But those memories are tainted with a bitterness he can’t hope to scrape off his bones, and he’s never going back to Nublar in his life — so he can now safely declare the Watering Hole the best view he’ll ever see in his life.
And maybe, that view includes Ben beside him in his peripheral vision, the wind teasing his hair, his gorgeous face outlined by the sunset. He looks like an angel. He’s just out of reach for Kenji to hold his hand.
Ben spreads out the picnic blanket, grumbling when it blows into his face. Laughing, Kenji says, “let me help you, Benny boy,” grappling for the other two ends. Of course, Kenji misses the grab, stumbles forward, losing his footing — and lands with his nose smashed against Ben’s chest. Kenji’s face goes red, and he freezes like he fell face first into a dinosaur.
Ben’s soft chuckle tickles his ears. “You... okay there, Kenj?”
“Yeah.” Kenji pushes himself off Ben, daring to let his hands linger on his shoulders for a split second, touching the soft muscle his eyes know the exact shape of, before pushing himself away. He grasps for the picnic blanket again, and pins the corners to the ground.
Ben transfers out of his wheelchair to the floor and lies on his back, propped up by his forearms, and Kenji takes it as his cue to do the same. His foot is millimeters away from touching Ben’s. He can see it now: a playful knock. A gentle nudge. Something to make Ben laugh, smile, even notice him. Like Kenji’s a pathetic, lovestruck schoolboy willing his crush to know he exists. Kenji begs his foot to move, but the nerve signals get lost somewhere along the way down. His trainers — still the same as he wore for the month of chaos that was... everything — are all scuffed and ugly anyway. At least Ben has nice shoes.
(Ben offered a pair of his to Kenji, obviously. So did Darius. But Kenji refused. Something about Rich Boy Kenji feeling like a charity case raised hairs and unsheathed claws he didn’t know he had. He can buy his own shoes. The old, worn ones are just... more comfortable.)
Kenji reverted so hard in the opposite direction of being a rich brat, and refused almost all of his dad's dirty money he inherited, he ended up with almost no material possessions to call his own. He doesn’t need those. Not when he has the camp fam. Not when he has Ben.
But Ben’s side of the room is comfortably full of his belongings, and their closet is overwhelmingly full of Ben's clothes with a yawning gap where Kenji's feelings linger in place of his clothes. Ben's wall is plastered with posters, and a huge corkboard containing an eclectic, jagged mishmash of paper scraps and photos, and Kenji’s walls are sparse.
Since he scrapped his trailer and he shut down his rock climbing business (temporarily), he’s had three rucksacks’ worth of his belongings — courtesy of Mrs Bowman insisting he keep some things at her house for when he stayed over — a box of letters Ben wrote Kenji when he was getting through the breakup, and the clothes on his back to live from. He doesn’t mind it — really — but he’d love to look a little more presentable for B— for his own sake. There's a nagging part of him that feels like, if he won't make the effort, he doesn't deserve someone like Ben.
But with the way Ben’s looking at him, an ocean of blue and green tartan between them, all of those burning thoughts of inadequacy fade to the back of his mind.
“You thirsty?”
Kenji’s brain stalls. “Uh— yeah, guess so.”
“Good. I bought us some beers.”
“Please don’t say it’s that cheap shit from Walmart I hate.”
The glisten of two distinct, turquoise cans makes Kenji’s heart skip a beat. “You got the ones from the farmers market?”
“I know they’re your favourite.” Ben smiles softly. The can is still cold, and the condensation mixed with the sweat on Kenji’s palms makes it almost slip out of his grip. Kenji slips his finger under the tab, and opens it with a pop.
Ben raises his can to Kenji’s. “Cheers.”
Kenji smiles. This is the closest to a date he’ll ever get with him, and that thought alone is enough to ruin the moment. “Cheers.”
The cans are soon depleted. Then two other cans. They’re halfway through a third can each, and the world has gone pleasantly fuzzy like a peach — or maybe it’s just the sunset working its magic. Kenji’s always liked watching the sunset. Especially when he also gets to watch Ben. He’s so... handsome in that blue top. It's just a regular top, but it matches his eyes perfectly. Kenji loves his eyes. And the rest of him.
“...and then, Bumpy actually scared off that pack of compies!” Ben finishes the story he was telling that Kenji only half listened to.
“All with your flashlight?” Kenji laughs, bemused.
“Yeah— somehow she held it in her mouth.”
“You and Mae sure got up to some crazy shit in the summers you spent on Nublar,” Kenji says, unable to shake the tingling feeling, I should’ve done more than pay the bills for them. Somehow, Ben makes the thought of being on a dinosaur-infested island sound appealing. As long as Kenji can spend time with Ben, he’d follow him anywhere. Maybe he would go back to Nublar with Ben. Someday, if Ben is strong enough to, he thinks he would. The thought doesn’t scare him as much as it should. Kenji thinks of Ben fighting dinosaurs, and fights the raw urge to push him onto the blanket and kiss him senseless.
Before the conversation can die, Kenji says, “hey, speaking of, do you remember when I moved to Colorado?”
“Yeah.”
“And you wrote me letters?”
Ben immediately goes red. “You really kept those?” He says, genuinely sounding surprised.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I dunno... it’s dorky, I guess. ” He waves a dismissive hand; the gesture grates on Kenji, just a bit. “Yeah, I had no idea you still remembered. You didn’t exactly write much back.”
“Oh— yeah, I’m not a great writer,” Kenji says, trying to laugh off the discomfort swirling in his chest. He and Ben have both been with the wrong person at the wrong time, like they’re twin suspects at identical crime scenes. At least everyone involved is happier now. Ben has Gia, Brooklynn sort of has Darius in their own weird day, and Kenji has to sort his fucking feeings out before he ruins everything else.
Change the subject! He screams in his head.
“Hey, how are things going with you and Gia?”
Ben flinches, slapping on a last-minute smile badly disguising the initial impression of discomfort, and Kenji is struck with the instant dread he’s said something wrong. His lips part, and he’s all but ready to change the conversation, when Ben says five words that change everything.
“Me and Gia broke up.”
Kenji almost chokes on his mouthful of beer. His heart leaps into his mouth, thudding at the walls of his cheeks. He gulps it and the beer down with a grimace, and says slowly, “How— how come? How come you broke it off, I mean— sorry if that's personal,” he blurts, not realising how much he overstepped until it's too late. As usual. “You don't have to say.”
“No, it's okay, I don't mind saying,” Ben says with a smile that erases every last shred of humiliation from Kenji's voice. “We were growing apart since getting back... and with everything going on, all of us trying to heal from our trauma... I’m so occupied with fixing myself and getting better from... you know, it just didn’t feel right staying in the relationship. And with all the world media's attention on us, I didn't want to drag her into it.”
“Oh— okay.” Kenji squishes down the daring optimism rising in his chest — how can he even think of his own stupid crush at a time like this? Ben broke up with his girlfriend! His own feelings can wait.
But what else can he say — I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m also very happy, because I’ve fallen hopelessly in love with you and we’re both single so I have a shot now? Not a chance.
He finds his mind wandering to Mrs Bowman. Her steady advice got him through more rough patches in his teenage years than Kenji can count. So he conjures up her voice in his mind, and asks, “How are you feeling about it all?”
“Thanks for asking, Kenj. I appreciate that.” Ben smiles. “I’m sad. Obviously. But also, I kind of felt it coming the past few weeks. Less frequent texts, fewer nicknames, making excuses when we called, that sorta stuff.”
“So, when did you actually break up?”
“You remember when I went away from breakfast a few days ago to take a call? Then.”
“That recent?” Kenji stares, stunned. How can Ben be so okay with this? Kenji broke up with Brooklynn in the end, and he can't say he didn't see it coming, but he still cried on the bathroom floor for at least a day afterward. Ben’s handling this better than Kenji ever would. It pulls the magnet of Kenji’s heart both towards him, and further away. Because why would someone like Ben ever fall for a mess like Kenji?
“Yeah.” Ben shrugs. “Like I said, I felt it coming, so it was less shocking.”
Kenji reaches across, and tentatively squeezes his hand. “I’m sorry you’re sad though.”
“It’s alright,” Ben says with an easy smile. “This...” he gestures to the view before them, his eyes grazing Kenji’s for a heartbeat, “Cheers me up.”
Kenji’s heart flutters violently in his chest, as his face splits into a grin. “Me too.”
For a heartbeat, everything is perfect. The cows amble around their paddock, lowing in the distance. The air is deliciously warm, and the breeze provides a soothing blanket to offset the heat to the perfect temperature. Kenji spreads on his back and basks in the silence, gazing at the clouds scudding across the sky. There’s a quiet thud to his left, and Ben’s arm brushes Kenji’s. Kenji looks to the side, and sees Ben’s face, less than an inch from his: gorgeous and perfect — because every millimeter of it is pure Ben. His easy smile, his surprisingly long eyelashes, his crooked nose, his hair dancing around his head... Kenji could kiss every inch.
Ben sits up, and takes the deepest breath of air, as if he could drink in the view with his mouth and nose. “I’m never gonna get tired of this view.”
Kenji sits up too, and sighs softly. “Neither.”
“It’s so... peaceful. And it’s ours. Not to have, but ours to be had, if that makes sense?”
It doesn’t, but Kenji nods anyway. “Tell me more.”
“The Watering Hole has us. We’re all part of a family here, and it finally feels like it. Like we’re all part of something meaningful. Something that isn’t Nublar, or Mantah Corp, or Biosyn. Like we have a purpose that we chose ourselves. We could’ve gone back to our old lives, but we chose to be here. Together. It’s like—”
“Like we have freedom to choose who we get to be,” Kenji finishes, breathless, dizzy.
“Yeah.” Ben’s face lights up, like someone promised him everything he ever wanted. Or maybe, like he’s happy for the first time in his life, because this is everything he ever wanted. Freedom, he once told Kenji. All he wants is freedom. Freedom to choose. Freedom to live. Freedom to just be. (And what is more brave than freedom?) “Just like that.”
This, Kenji thinks, would be the perfect time to kiss him. He stares at Ben for a full five seconds, the thought lingering treacherously at the back of his mind, an ever-pulsing, do it do it do it thrumming beneath his skin. Now, Kenji. Do it now. Now now n—
Ben readjusts, moving away, and starts ranting about something Kenji doesn’t pay attention to. His heart is a shipwreck, going down like the Titanic, a million people screaming on board as they're dragged to death by the splintered remains of his heart. He’ll never be brave enough. He’ll never do it. Never...
No. He’s had his heart broken enough times.
He won’t let Ben break his heart again.
And he’s scared he’ll never feel this drunkenly, disastrously brave again.
So he slides a hand around Ben’s cheek, turning his face towards him, and kisses him.
Lips. Mouth. Skin. Teeth. Warm. Comfort.
For the most juddering, jarring, wonderful moment, that is all Kenji can think.
Then, his brain parts way for other thoughts. He and Ben are kissing. He is kissing Ben, and he is— kissing back? Is he? Kenji can’t tell, and his lips are locked on Ben’s so tight, he dreads the moment when he’ll have to break away from this ocean of pleasure, come up for air, and think about this.
Their first actual kiss was nothing more than a joke. A dare. So, Kenji treated it as such. But he can’t scrape away the memory: spin the bottle, Kenji spinning Ben, everyone laughing— “there’s no way he’ll actually do it—” “—oh yeah? Watch me—” then Ben grabbing Kenji’s face and pulling him in, his lips crashing, warm and wet and rough, onto Kenji’s, Kenji’s body leaning helplessly into Ben’s as his eyes fluttered shut...
The moment couldn’t have lasted. Kenji broke away, dizzy and dazed and, quite frankly, very confused. The camp fam laughed it off, so Kenji did too, and pretended to fall asleep that night.
But this... this is different. This is real, and raw, and he’s never felt more—
All at once, Ben pushes (actually pushes) him away, and the force takes Kenji by such surprise, he rolls right onto his back like an insect, looking up at Ben as if he tried to kill him.
Ben’s shock turns to panic in an instant, and he blurts, “I’m sorry!” Excuses begin to burble from his lips — “we’re drunk, I just broke up, I wasn’t thinking, I’m sorry, I never meant to hurt you, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m—”
So fucking sorry. Kenji could drown in the feeling. He’s sorry he did it. He shouldn’t have. He’s sorry for Ben, for putting him through that. Pleasure stands hand in hand with guilt: the twin feelings are written on Kenji’s bones with the ink of all the blood spilled for him to have the luxurious life he had. He knows what it’s like to live swamped by richness, by ease, by getting everything you ever want.
But he has to wake up someday. He has to open his eyes, and live with the guilt he unknowingly caused in the path of his own ignorant destruction.
So Kenji stands, looks into Ben’s eyes one final, gut–wrenching time, with a quiet, “I’m sorry. Just— forget this. I’ll get Yaz to take you down.”
Then, he sprints down the hill, his legs tumbling after each other in his body’s primal haste to get away. Ben might be pining after him. Kenji knows he isn’t. He doesn’t look over his shoulder to check.
(Run away from the mess before it can catch up to them — true camp fam style. Just like Ben running from one of his many explosions on Nublar. Just like Ben. Ben. Ben.)
Kenji sleeps on the sofa that night. The camp fam don’t ask him why.