Midorima Shintaro nearly drops his lucky item of the day when he walks into the living room. Kise and Aomine are curled up together on the couch. Kise has his head tucked securely under Aomine’s chin, and Aomine’s arm hold Kise close. Luckily, Midorima’s fast reflexes prevent his limited edition Totoro teacup from breaking. After Midorima has calmed down somewhat, he does what any sane person would do- he goes and wakes Kuroko.
When Akashi wakes up at 6:13 on the dot, he knows something is amiss. For starters, he doesn’t smell any coffee. He doesn’t even hear the tea kettle going off. That means Kise isn’t in the kitchen. There is only one reason for Kise not to have a hot cup of tea waiting for Akashi- Aomine Daiki.
Aomine groans and mumbles incoherently before tightening his hold on his warm pillow.
“Aomine-kun, if you don’t wake up, Akashi-kun will be angry.” Kuroko shakes Aomine again.
“You too Kise. You need to get up.” Midorima chimes in, tapping Kise. Aomine cracks one eye open to glare at them before pulling the blanket over his head. Kuroko sighs at Aomine’s childish behaviour.
“Aomine-kun. If you aren’t up in five seconds, I’m going to give your stash of magazines, the stash under the bed to Akashi-kun.” Kuroko says.
Aomine throws the blanket off and shakes Kise.
“Oi! Wake up!” Aomine growls.
“What?” Kise yawns sleepily.
“Hurry up and make breakfast before Akashi gets here.”
Despite the fact that Akashi looked like he wanted to stab him, Aomine is pretty sure that he’s going to have a good day. He’s confident that Kise will turn down the date after spending a night on the couch with Aomine. Kise’s easy to please like that. He’s nothing more than a puppy who will do anything for attention. With that thought in mind, Aomine cracks his knuckles and prepares himself for a grueling day of work.
Kise cares for Momoi. He really does. That doesn’t mean that they’ve never argued before. Kise cringes every time he remembers how he begged Momoi to tell him which high school Aomine was going to. Kise remembers tell her that he didn’t care if Aomine hated him. Kise just needs to be near Aomine. Kise’s sure that he can fix Aomine. Sure, Kise’s not quite sure how yet, but he’ll figure it out. Kise would fix Aomine. Not Kuroko.
It hurts each time Kise remembers how Momoi trusted Kuroko with the task of bringing the smile back to Aomine’s face. It was almost as if she didn’t believe Kise could do it. Kise wants to say that he knows more about Aomine than Kuroko does. He wants to say that he understands Aomine more than Kuroko does. Kise knows what it’s like to hate something that you love. It’s happened to him with all the previous sports he’s played. Maybe he hasn’t figured out how to enjoy them again, but that doesn’t mean he won’t. Kise wants to fix Aomine so badly. Because, if he fixes Aomine, the reason for Aomine’s smile will be Kise.
Of course Kise doesn’t get his happily ever after. It’s Kagami and Kuroko who bring the old Aomine back, the Aomine who loves basketball.
Kise remembers the emptiness he felt when he heard that Touou had lost- to Seirin.
Aomine likes to have rough sex right after a magazine featuring Kise’s photos is published. Most of the time, it’s because he’s angry since there’s usually more girls following Kise around. It pisses Aomine off, the way they hang all over Kise, all over what belongs to Aomine.
After Aomine’s finished, Kise slumps against the wall; bite marks litter his shoulder, providing a lovely red contrast against his pale skin. Kise doesn’t dare complain about the marks. Sure, his agent is furious when Kise makes up excuses for why he can’t do another shoot for a few weeks, but it’s worth it. Kise tells himself that the bite marks mean that Kise is important enough to Aomine, important enough for Aomine to mark as his. Kise sometimes wishes the marks would last forever.
“Hello to you too, Daiki.” Haizaki Shogo smirks. Haizaki is dressed smartly in a suit and and his hair looks similar to how he styled it during middle school. His eyes rove over Kise’s outfit appreciatively, causing Aomine to glare.
“What is he doing here!?” Kagami turns to Akashi.
“Aomine Daiki. Kagami Taiga. Behave yourselves.” Akashi orders. Kagami and Aomine remain silent, but continue to glare at Haizaki.
“Ryouta. I have arranged for Shogo to be your date.”
“Akashicchi…” Kise hesitates. Kise and Haizaki have never actually settled things, and Kise feels nervous. Aomine wants to shove Kise behind him, away from Haizaki’s gaze.
“I do apologize Kise, for my behaviour at the Interhigh.” Haizaki says, sensing Kise’s discomfort. “It’s fine if you don’t want to go on a date with me, I understand. How about we call it an apology dinner instead?” Haizaki suggests.
“I… I guess so…” Kise slowly answers.
“Great! Let’s go!” Haizaki grins, and offers his arm to Kise.
“Shogo.” Akashi’s calls out.
“Hm?”
“If you don’t have Ryouta back by ten, there will be consequences.”
“If you make Kise-chin uncomfortable, I’ll crush your head.”
“Today is lucky day for Cancers.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll have him home by ten.” Haizaki smiles winningly.
Akashi nods and ushers the Kise and Shogo out the door.
Aomine’s instincts scream for him to go after Kise. Instead, he spends dinner viciously stabbing at the meat in the soup.
The best sex Kise has ever had is the day after he gets his ear pierced.
Kise meets up with Aomine during lunch, and Aomine takes one look at Kise’s ear before dragging him up to the roof. Once on the roof, Aomine pushes Kise’s back against the door, and leans forward to examine the piercing. Kise squirms under Aomine’s unrelenting gaze.
It’s blue.
Y-yeah. Do you like it?
Then Aomine promptly kisses Kise. It’s not sweet. It’s rough and dominating. Kise can tell from the way Aomine pulls Kise close, that Aomine is pleased. Aomine wastes no time in getting Kise undressed. Kise hisses when he feels his back scrape roughly against the wall. The pain is soon forgotten as Aomine tugs at Kise’s earring. Kise’s ears are one of his sensitive spots, and Aomine takes full advantage of that.
You’re mine.
Yours.
Kise whimpers when Aomine enters him. Pain turns to pleasure as Aomine shifts, hitting that spot with accuracy. Kise wraps his legs around Aomine’s waist, pulling Aomine in deeper. Aomine sets a fast pace and Kise cries out with the each thrust. Aomine voice is low and husky in Kise’s ear, chanting mine over and over again. Kise can only moan his approval.
Pairings: Ao/Kise (this chapter), Kaga/Kuro, Taka/Mido in later chapters.
Disclaimer: Kuroko no Basket is not mine. No trademark infringement or profit taken from the writing of this story.
Rating: T
Summary: Of feelings and things that can make them forget any grief or suffering.
Phase 01: Kise Ryouta.
Kise’s admiration to Aomine was not a secret for anyone else. Every member of Teikou Middle School Basketball team knew the blond man started basket purely because he had seen Aomine’s play. Even when they both entered different high schools, it didn’t take long for both the Kaijou and Touou Basketball Team members to realize the model basket ball player was looking up at the troublesome Touou’s ace.
Truth be told, Kise’s admiration had ran deeper than what people thought. At first, yes, he was just dazzled by Aomine’s play. For someone who could pick up any styles in sports as easily as he was, almost nothing could excite Kise anymore. He had never understood people’s enthusiasm in sports, until he met Aomine. The ace of Teikou was the first person Kise saw who really played basketball with all his heart. Kise was charmed from the first sight, more so when he realized the exceptional skill Aomine had. For the first time in his young life, Kise felt challenged to actually try copying someone else’s play style.
Two years Kise ran after Aomine’s back, failing each and every time to catch up with the other man. Two years Aomine gave the blond an arrogant smirk while extending his hand, picking Kise off of the ground over and over again. Two years were a long enough time to change Kise’s admiration into something else; something deeper, more intense and more frightening than anything Kise had ever felt before.
Two years were enough time for Kise to realize he loved the man he once admired.
If someone asked what had actually changed the admiration into love, the blond would need to take some time to ponder his answer. There were so many things—too many things about Aomine that Kise noticed. Small things that made him adored the man more and more with every passing seconds. Nevertheless, if he was asked, Kise would surely try to answer, a nostalgic, loving smile already morphing his lips even without his realization.
The first thing that actually Kise noticed was Aomine’s intense navy blue eyes. Those eyes were always shining with excitement, with so much love and happiness whenever they were having one-on-one. Those navy blue orbs would shine with intensity whenever a game turned difficult for them, reflecting the sharpness of the man’s mind while strategizing the moves he would take—or listening to Akashi’s instructions very closely. However, Kise was hooked for the first time when that amazing navy blue irises glanced at him, just for mere seconds, with warmth and hints of smile still lingering inside.
It was the beginning, but it didn’t stop at that.
Once he was hooked by Aomine’s eyes, Kise’s treacherous mind started to take in the other small details about the tanned man. It was such small things, like how Aomine’s hand felt so warm whenever they engulfed his paler one as he helped Kise standing up just when the small forward was feeling so tired already from his failed attempts in catching up at the taller man. Aomine’s hand was gentle yet firm and they lingered for moments even when Kise was already standing in front of him, as if telling Kise to not stop trying. It was Aomine’s way of saying he would keep waiting for Kise to catch up with him and Kise hated him more for making his feeling for the other man ran even deeper.
It just got worse after that.
Kise couldn’t look away from Aomine after that. He couldn’t even count how many time he caught himself looking at the tanned man after and in between practice, with his feelings shown to everyone else who cared to see. Kise always berated himself whenever he found himself doing that, hastily turning his face away from the tempting image of Aomine Daiki wiping at his sweat with his tank, showing hints of tanned skin from where the tank had ridden up without a care in the world. Of course, it only worked for few minutes before Kise’s treacherous honey brown orbs shifted back to Aomine’s form, watching as rivulets of sweat trailed ever so slowly down the man’s neck, pooling on the junction where neck met shoulder. Kise always had to gulp down the saliva suddenly gathering in his mouth after he saw that.
It had gotten so bad until finally Kise couldn’t handle himself anymore.
When he started to stare at Aomine’s red lips, moist and glistening from the popsicle the Teikou’s ace had just eaten, and had to hold in his desire to steal a taste of those delicious looking flesh, Kise knew this obsession he had was getting out of his hand. He hastily stood up, surprising both Aomine and Kuroko, before stammering out an apology and feeble excuse as he left his teammates. Kise’s heart was beating very loudly in his chest, it almost felt they would burst without notice at any moment. Kise’s face burned, even without looking he knew he was blushing red.
Kise was losing his mind. He just couldn’t get Aomine out of his head and it became even harder when Aomine started to invade Kise’s dreams, kissing and caressing the blond until Kise woke up with a hoarse shout, sweat and other body fluids dirtying his pajama. It was at that moment Kise knew he had to do something about his problem.
It almost felt like walking towards his own execution when he finally approached Aomine in the locker room once the other members had walked home. Kise couldn’t even look at Aomine, afraid the man could read his expression as easily as an open book. The loud beating of his heart sounded deafening to Kise’s ears and he had to remind himself to just keep breathing in and out steadily.
The confession stumbled out of Kise’s lips in a rush. He was almost afraid Aomine couldn’t understand what he had said. The tense silence settling down in the room after seemed to proof his worry. Kise took a deep breath, readying himself to act like nothing was wrong, to cover his awkwardness and true feelings with a laugh—like usual. But then Aomine walked towards him, gently lifting Kise’s face with his fingers and then kissed him.
Kise’s eyes widened in surprise. It was the first time he had ever kissed someone with eyes wide opened, but he just couldn’t close his brown orbs, afraid the soft, moist touch of Aomine’s lips on his was only a figment of his imagination. Once the taller man broke their kiss and stepped back, Kise finally realized he was not dreaming. His lips still tingled, nerve endings alive with sensations he had never felt before. However, the one thing convincing Kise he was not dreaming was the light red blush decorating Aomine’s face. The ace of Teikou was blushing. Aomine never blushed in Kise’s dreams. Not even once.
Then Aomine’s arms worked their way around Kise’s shoulders, pulling him into an awkward yet warm hug and Kise finally reached his decision: Out of all the things that made Kise adored Aomine, it was the warmth of his hug he loved the most. Because once he was blanketed so securely in that warmth, Kise knew nothing would ever matter anymore. As long as he had that warmth, Kise would be able to smile, no matter what kind of problems he might have to face later on.
Slight AU aokise drabble: Along with modeling Kise also sells himself, one night he tells Aomine and tries to seduce him…
Requested by anon. “Kise, that’s a terrible joke. You really think I’d believe that?”
Aomine’s unsure of how the conversation started. They were playing video games in his bedroom, cursing and whining during each game. After multiple rounds Aomine successfully beat the blond every time. Just moments ago he suggested they take a break. It was beginning to become tiresome. Where was the fun if he kept winning?
“I’m telling the truth, Aominecchi.”Kise proceeds.
The statement was outright ludicrous. Once again he’s unable to process how the conversation came about, and why Kise was saying such things.
“Don’t tell such lies. There’s no way in hell you’re selling yourself out for fun.”Frowns the ace.”People keep those kinds of shameful jobs to themselves, they don’t brag about it. That’s why I think you’re lying.”
There’s a slight pout on the other’s face,”Ne, I’m comfortable with telling Aominecchi this.”He pauses,”I can always prove it to you.”
“Don’t be stupid.”Retorts Aomine.
The copycat takes a sharp inhale of breath before his cheeks go crimson. Kise may flirt with the girls and attract all sorts of attention but he’s not loose. The thought of him seducing a woman(or man) for that matter seems ridiculous to the taller teen. Stealing a glance over at Kise he confronts an expression on the teen’s face that he’s never seen before.
A lustful undertone promenades across amber eyes.
Aomine suddenly finds his back on the bed and the said teen straddles his groin. He’s unable to move as bewilderment settles within his muscles, weighing him down to the mattress.
Well manicured hands slip under Aomine’s shirt. The gentle fingers caress the muscles that ripple beneath tan skin.
“I’m quite good at seducing my customers.”Purrs Kise, his eyes glaze over with fervor,”I’ve been wanting to try and seduce Aominecchi for awhile now…”
The blond subtly rocks his pelvis against Aomine’s groin. His erection grinds against the other’s. It sends shivers of stimulation through Aomine. The friction between them is instantly unbearable. He feels a familiar heat that grows between his legs.
His body wants Kise. And Kise wants him.
The tanned teen could care less about the other’s personal engagements as his body prickles with fever and desire.
In a swift maneuver Aomine pins Kise below him on the bed. This time, the latter of the two is flushing with shock.
“You’re pretty good Kise, I’ll give you that but, never in a million years am I letting you top me.”
There’s a collective smirk between them before Aomine captures Kise’s lips, completely giving into the blond’s efforts.
An aokise drabble: Aomine stumbles upon Kise getting berated by a fellow student.
Requested by anon. The ace of Teiko strolls down the empty hallway towards the basketball courts. School may have ended for the day and there was no scheduled practice but Aomine felt the desire to shoot a few baskets.
His destination lies up ahead and the teen realizes he won’t be the only one occupying the courts.
A subtle voice filters through the air that Aomine thinks nothing of. Though as he reaches the open doors there’s something about the voice that arouses concern. The words spoken are hardly casual, they’re threats. However the persistent threats aren’t empty, they’re full of bone chilling promise.
With uncertainty the teen steps into the gymnasium to gaze at the source of such diction.
Azure eyes go wide with panic.
An unmistakable blond is held by the collar of his shirt. Kise’s head hangs low, avoiding eye contact with the other, as his body slumps lifelessly against the wall he’s up against. The fellow student tightens his grip on the fabric and flashes a devilish grin at the victim. When his free fist raises by a mere inch Aomine no longer idles.
“Get the hell off of him!”He bellows, resentment burning through each word.
The student peers over at the tallest and smirks. His hold on Kise relinquishes as Aomine confronts him.
“What the hell are you doing?”
The student laughs.
His fallacious chuckle echoes off the gymnasium walls and sends a shiver down the tanned teen’s spine.”I was just having a little fun.”The smirk fails to diminish, it directs to the frigid heap on the floor,”Isn’t this something. The ace had to save your pathetic ass. Someone as weak as you should have never taken Haizaki’s place.”
The taunts abolish Aomine’s composure,”Bastard.”
His own fists begin to clench with animosity. Before he can act on his irrational thoughts the student rushes off the courts. The decision was a wise one though Aomine wishes he got a in punch before the guy cowered away.
When he looks at Kise on the ground every extent of his wrath eradicates. Aomine isn’t the most compassionate male yet he’s not insensitive either. He sits in front of the blond. Pity arouses within him when he sees the other’s face. The impeccable complexion which Kise takes pride in is now tainted. His lip is split open and fresh blood reposes around the wound. The jaw line is red with friction and prepares for bruises.
“Kise…”Aomine reaches out to the blond in desperation though the attempt is swat away by Kise’s own palm.
The blond tries to curl his body inward as he begins to tremble. Though Aomine is unable to see honey eyes agony dances across his face. A single tear cascades along the quivering cheek.
Aomine doesn’t care how much the copycat will fight him but he’s in dire need of comfort. He quickly hurdles Kise into his arms. For a moment the body lays barren against him until the other teen grabs a fistful of Aomine’s uniform. Like a pressured dam, Kise’s walls break. Sobs rebound off the gymnasium as the dreadful sound rings in Aomine’s ears.
“A-Aominecchi..”Whimpers Kise.
“It’s alright. I promise not to let anyone hurt you like that again.”
The two sit in the vast gym until the blond robs himself of tears.
Warnings: unbeta-ed, English isn’t my native tongue, possible OOC-ness because there are still so little info about Fushimi and Yata’s relationship, and I’m onboard the Fushimi/Yata ship, so that’s how this will end. 6000-something word of stupid high school!AU.
So lazierthanyou’s amazing art gave me feels. And her Scepter 4 ask blog is hilarious, but it also gave me unexpected feels. Some scenes in this fic are based on her arts, both on her ask blog and her [K] high school!AU art. Also, many references to [K] Web Radio Drama.
This is intended to be silly, but even before halfway through my Fushimi/Yata feels explodes and then I have Munakata/Fushimi feels and Munakata/Awashima feels and even Mikoto/Munakata feels and I decide, fuck this, I’m screwed anyway, let me just throw this out before drowning in feels completely. There’s a neater-formatted version of this fic in my LJ if you’d prefer, by the way.
There’s always Misaki in his life. A constant presence even in Saruhiko’s first memory as a four-year-old child, where Misaki stumbles about around him and their Mothers in bright orange overall stained with chocolate ice cream when the three of them spent an afternoon in the park. Saruhiko had been a skinny kid, then, watching over Misaki smearing ice cream all over his stubby cheek while their Mothers giggled above their heads.
Sometimes he remembers a time when Misaki had to sleep over at his house; how the two of them curled up in his Mother’s couch with his Mother’s gentle voice lulling him to sleep. The memory is hazy, like it doesn’t even belong to him, but he remembers Misaki’s hand folding into a small fist, resting an inch from his fingers as his Mother’s voice reverberated “… a red thread that connects one to one’s destined person…” and he remembers touching Misaki’s pinky finger lightly with his own. He remembers the way Misaki’s eyelashes fluttered for a moment, and he doesn’t remember the rest (he thinks he’d probably fallen asleep) but he recalls how Misaki was clutching his fingers when he woke up.
It’s strange, how he remembers it so clearly on the day Misaki entered his middle school, grinning broadly at him when they bump into each other in the hallway after the welcoming ceremony. He plucks Misaki’s ridiculous hat off and bends down to place a kiss right on his lips, short but hard, and laughs when Misaki splutters.
Misaki shoves him, but instead of shoving him back, Saruhiko grabs his shoulder and kisses him again.
Awashima-senpai, who is conveniently standing by, simply takes out her camera and captures the moment. The next day, there’s a huge poster of them kissing plastered on the school’s announcement board, framed with a controversial “HOTTEST COUPLE OF THE YEAR?!” beneath it, glittering pink under the sun.
Misaki gapes and threatens to kill him if he doesn’t take the poster off the board that very second. Saruhiko shrugs, pinches Misaki’s cheek just because he can, then wandered off to get himself a copy of the picture.
By the time the cultural festival comes around, the manga club, led by none other than Awashima-senpai, printed out a series of BL manga which characters look suspiciously like Saruhiko and Misaki.
——o0o——-
They aren’t a good match, people say.
——-o0o——-
Misaki doesn’t talk. He yells.
“I’m doing it,” Saruhiko says and clicks his tongue, staring dubiously at the so-called fried rice in the bento box on his lap. It’s red, and there are slices of pineapple in it. It also doesn’t look edible.
Misaki crosses his arms. “You said the same fifteen minutes ago!”
“I just have to prepare myself, geez.” Saruhiko raises his spoon. “Okay. I’m starting.”
“You’d better, I had to wake up at fucking five in the morning to cook—wait, you bastard, what are you doing?!”
“Picking off the pineapple.” Saruhiko says, because it’s just the most logical thing to do now. Who eats fried rice with pineapple in it? “I don’t know why you put pineapple in fried rice, Misaki, did you misread the recipe?”
There’s no answer, and it’s weird because Misaki is never silent. Saruhiko looks up to find an angry gaze directed at him, and then Misaki’s expression simply closes up. “Give it back.”
“What? I’m eating it.”
“Give it back, dumbass!” The bento box is swept away from his lap, and Misaki is standing up. Saruhiko blinks, and honestly he’s thinking to apologize when Misaki yells again, “Oi, Kumamoto! Got a damn fried rice I made this morning, you want some?!”
Kumamoto, as it turns out, gobbles the whole thing right in front of Saruhiko. Misaki is giving him smug looks, probably because Saruhiko is making an envious face right now, especially when Kumamoto put the bento box down, sighs in satisfaction and says, “Man, Fushimi, I dunno why you’d pass on Yata-rice. It rivals the best restaurant’s, that’s for sure.”
He leaves, and Misaki closes the bento box with a victorious grin. Saruhiko says, “I’ll teach you math and history. And English.”
Misaki smirks. “You do my homework for a month, I’ll cook it for you every Monday.”
“Two weeks.”
“Three.”
“Deal.”
——-o0o——-
Saruhiko hears, but doesn’t listen.
“Did you hear?” Misaki begins, sprawled on his stomach on Saruhiko’s bed, skin glistening with sweat and hair sticking out wildly, ruffled by both the strong wind from the electric fan and Saruhiko’s touch. “About the Red King.”
Summer is incredibly hot, and Saruhiko’s family hates air conditioning on principle. He tosses a cold water bottle that Misaki catches without even looking, and sits back down on the edge of the bed. He lets his fingertips touch Misaki’s hip, running them slowly down to his thigh and then back up. “Yeah, he’s made quite a commotion, huh?”
“He takes over a school. A fucking school, just a month after he transferred, and he’s a freshman.” There’s awe in Misaki’s voice, a tone Saruhiko isn’t sure he likes. “That is fucking amazing.”
He presses a finger on the small of Misaki’s back. “Ashinaka High, is it?” He muses. “Isn’t that where Awashima-senpai goes to school now? The entrance exam is awfully hard, she said.” He bends down, places a kiss on Misaki’s collarbone, and clicks his tongue, “Wait, that’s where Mom wants me to go next year.”
Misaki tenses when he gently bites the skin and mumbles, “You’re going to tutor me whenever you can on every single subject, got it?”
“Sure.” Saruhiko takes away the water bottle and slips a hand under Misaki’s shoulder to flip him onto his back. Misaki flicks him on the forehead; he ignores it in favor of leaning down to catch Misaki’s lips, feeling a hand slipping up his back, fingers raking through his hair.
He opens his eyes, and catches the sun rays falling onto Misaki’s hair, shades of orange and red so bright it almost blinds him.
——-o0o——-
Awashima tells him she’s surprised they last this long. Saruhiko ignores her, and questions why she doesn’t join the manga club, but the student council instead.
——-o0o——-
He graduates. Misaki gives him a pocketknife as a present, grinning mischievously when Saruhiko asks suspiciously where he buys it. Instead of answering, Misaki distracts him by shoving a hand inside his pants, and just like that, Saruhiko forgets.
He gets into Ashinaka High fairly easily. On the welcoming ceremony, he dozes off, only blinks awake when he catches Awashima-senpai on the stage, all pristine and elegant in her royal blue student council uniform. Her shoes made a staccato noise on the wooden stage; it echoes when she stops before the microphone to announce the new student council president.
Munakata Reishi comes into his life then, and he is perfect.
——-o0o——-
“So I heard HOMRA stops the bullying in your school,” Misaki says when he comes home. “They say the members beat them up.”
“HOMRA also threatens to spread their dirtiest secrets if they didn’t stop.” Saruhiko kicks Misaki’s skateboard with his right foot, ignoring Misaki’s glare at his deed. “Apparently someone named Totsuka sneaks everywhere and takes picture of people’s dirty little secret. He films them sometimes.”
Misaki barks a laugh. “Nothing they don’t deserve.”
——-o0o——-
He joins the student council after Munakata stops him in the hallway and tells him, “I need a left hand. Come to the student council office after school, you can pick up your uniform.”
Awashima-senpai doesn’t say anything, just looks at him like she knows what’s going on in his head. She has a stack of document on her desk that she’s working on, but she spares a small smile when Munakata taps her shoulder. Saruhiko accepts both the royal blue uniform Munakata hands over to him and his first job: containing a video of one of the teachers harassing a female student sexually that’s been going around courtesy to HOMRA.
“Obliterate every single one of them.” Munakata orders. “We won’t let Suoh Mikoto runs havoc in this school anymore.”
Saruhiko learns that that’s how Munakata does things: he orders people around, precise and tactful, and no one would ever even think to defy him. There’s something in his presence that draws Saruhiko’s eyes on him all the time, something that makes Saruhiko does his job anyway, even if he doesn’t like doing things he doesn’t have to do, even if he does it lazily. Munakata’s gaze makes his throat closes up sometimes, and it’s annoying because Saruhiko hates not being in control of his own emotions. He hates it even more when Munakata smirks like he knows how Saruhiko feels.
He contains the video and destroys every single one but the original. Munakata gives him this smile, the one that makes the tips of his fingers tremble, and says, “I know you’re the one I need.”
It shouldn’t make his breath stutters, but it does anyway. He scowls and pushes past Munakata harshly, trying to ignore the warmth spreading from where their shoulders brush. Awashima watches from the corner of the room, intent and careful, then brings him another stack of paperwork to do. He scowls harder.
“Stop leaving your work to other people,” Saruhiko grumbles, half-heartedly reading the newest paperwork for the cultural festival. He isn’t going to finish this stack anyway, Awashima would just get impatient and take away most of it to do it herself. “This is getting really troublesome.”
Munakata is leaning on his desk, silent and untouchable. He’s gazing out the window, a small smirk on his face. Saruhiko watches a shade of blue falls on Munakata’s face—bright blue the color of sky that matches the royal blue uniform of the student council. He tilts his head to turn to look at Saruhiko, deep and intimate like he’s sharing a secret. Saruhiko draws his hands into fists, because the urge to reach out and touch Munakata is overwhelming.
“I only leave my work to people I trust enough to do so. Only two, so far.”
Saruhiko looks away and swallows hard.
The teacher who harassed the female student is fired the next day. There’s a hateful glance directed at Munakata when the teacher walks out of his office.
——-o0o——-
He forgets his tutor session with Misaki one day. Misaki meets him on the way home, sliding down the street on his skateboard like he isn’t born to walk with his feet, a baseball bat in his hand. Saruhiko smirks and bends down to kiss him, but Misaki flits to his side and says, “Blue doesn’t suit you.”
“It suits me just fine.” Saruhiko replies, and Misaki makes a noise like a growl.
——-o0o——-
Misaki doesn’t answer his phone all afternoon.
Saruhiko clicks his tongue, irritated. He knows Misaki is probably busy playing baseball, but he’s been having trouble contacting his boyfriend lately. It doesn’t help that his mother just told him this morning about how Misaki has been getting home really late. It surprises him, because he doesn’t know anything about it, and suddenly he realizes that Misaki hasn’t really been talking to him.
Today’s student council meeting is discussing the upcoming cultural festival and the movement of HOMRA. He yawns openly, bored, fingers idly tapping on his phone. Munakata appears to be listening to whatever it is Goto is yapping about, leaning back on his chair, eyes closed as Awashima types rapidly on her notebook. Saruhiko hesitates, fingers hovering on his phone, over Misaki’s number, before finally making up his mind and taps on it.
He listens to it ring, lets it ring for a long time, before finally there’s a click and Misaki is yelling into his ear, “Goddammit, what?!”
For a moment, he forgets that he’s in a meeting. “Where the fuck are you?” he hisses, both irritated and frustrated at once. “You haven’t been answering my calls!”
“Don’t fucking talk to me like that!” Misaki shouted back, and Saruhiko is taken aback because for some reason, he sounds dangerous. “You know I’m fucking busy at this hour!”
Busy doing what, Saruhiko wants to ask, but he feels Munakata’s gaze from the other side of the room. He clears his throat, wills the heat threatening to crawl up his cheeks down, and forces calm into his voice. “Look, we’re not going to argue on the phone. I have a student council meeting right now.” He pauses, and thinks he can hear Misaki snarling on the other end of the phone. “We can argue till then. Good day.”
He doesn’t wait for Misaki’s reply, just disconnects the call and turns back to the meeting, where everyone is staring at him. Clicking his tongue, he puts a bored expression on his face, “Sorry about that. I’m having relationship issues with my boyfriend right now, so don’t mind me.”
He avoids Munakata’s gaze, because it turns even more intense, and focuses on the report of how HOMRA hacks into the school network to dig people’s dirty secrets.
——-o0o——-
He catches Awashima laughing softly over something Munakata says one day, and notices the lone rose Munakata leaves on Awashima’s desk.
He doesn’t say anything, just stares at the rose blandly before shrugging and goes home, leaving the paperwork untouched. Awashima is going to give him hell for that tomorrow, but he could care less.
He needs to not see the rose. He needs to not feel like he’s being thrown away. He needs to not think about Munakata, and his deep, intense gazes, and something in his chest gives a painful twinge.
Saruhiko realizes later that that’s how a broken heart feels.
——-o0o——-
Misaki pushes him away.
“Your mind isn’t here, dumbass.” He says, not yelling for once. “Go take a shower.”
He does, and when he comes back into the room, Misaki is gone.
——-o0o——
He sees Munakata with Suoh Mikoto, one day before the cultural festival. They were both standing under the school’s best cherry blossom tree, talking quietly, like they haven’t been waging a war for complete control and power over the school. Munakata has a small smile playing on his lips, and Suoh drops his cigarette on the ground before killing it completely.
“We have a truce for the cultural festival.” Munakata explains when he comes back to the office. There are only Saruhiko and Awashima, and the girl is about to go out to collect some reports from the class representatives. “He’s a very reasonable person to work with. Just not the type who would work well with me.”
“No one is the type to work well with you.” Saruhiko shoots back, dropping a stack of paperwork onto Awashima’s desk just as the girl slips out the room. There’s a sketch on Awashima’s desk, one she’s apparently working on instead of doing the paperwork today. Irritated because he’s been working his way through the paperwork himself, Saruhiko snatches the paper, scrutinizes the drawing, and freezes.
“She’s got talent, doesn’t she.” Munakata remarks from his seat, sounding like he’s known what Awashima’s been doing all his life. “That’s only one page. There’s more in her drawer.”
It’s panels and panels of him and Munakata, Saruhiko realizes in surprise when he takes out more pages from Awashima’s drawer. Some colored, and some are still just sketches, but there’s a story weaving between all those panels. Intense, heated and thick with feelings Saruhiko doesn’t even realize he feels. There are panels of kisses and smiles that tell him a thousand words, and pages of intimate touches that makes his cheeks burn.
Munakata’s fingers were resting on his hip by the time he flips to the last page. Saruhiko swallows, and when Munakata turns him around for a kiss, he doesn’t fight.
——-o0o——-
He touches Misaki even more desperately after that. He kisses until he nearly sobs with relief, recognizing the familiar warmth exploding in his chest when Misaki kisses back harder. He mumbles Misaki’s name into his mouth, trying to banish the guilt, the horrible guilt of the heat and desire he feels when Munakata claims him.
“I’m going to Ashinaka High!” Misaki says, grinning like he can’t contain the news anymore, bursting with the blinding brilliance that he is.
Saruhiko wants to cry, because loving two people hurts.
——-o0o——-
“So that’s your boyfriend,” Munakata says quietly over the welcoming ceremony. Saruhiko flinches, looks over to where Misaki sits. There’s a baseball bat on his side, and his skateboard is under his seat, and Saruhiko kind of wants to laugh over how absurd it is.
Munakata’s hand slips to rest on the small of his back. Saruhiko swallows.
“He doesn’t need to know.” Munakata assures.
——-o0o——-
“Blue really doesn’t suit you,” Misaki grumbles when they meet in the hallway.
“You don’t look good in red, either.” Saruhiko lies. “Thank God HOMRA doesn’t make you wear red uniform.”
Misaki punches him in the gut, and Saruhiko laughs.
——-o0o——-
Munakata kisses Awashima.
Saruhiko stares, until the two of them breaks away. Awashima’s cheeks are tainted lightly with red—that’s a good color, isn’t it? Red. It suits Misaki—and she clears her throat. Munakata, on the other hand, smiles and beckons him to come closer.
He does. He scowls when Munakata pulls him into his arms; their blue uniform a perfect shade of one entity and Saruhiko doesn’t know where one ends and one begins. He can feel Munakata burying his face onto his hair, feels Munakata’s chest inflates when he takes a deep breath, no doubt taking in Saruhiko’s scent with him.
“My two favorite people,” Munakata whispers. Saruhiko knows it’s sincere, and it hurts even more.
——-o0o——-
He doesn’t like Totsuka.
Totsuka smiles like he pities Saruhiko, eyes sad and understanding, but there’s a hardened edge on his gaze when he shows Saruhiko the picture.
He still remembers the exact moment that picture must have been taken. It was a particularly windy autumn day when the windows of the student council office had been open, blowing the curtain this way and that, and the office was empty except for the two of them, Munakata touching and holding him until he’s undone.
He visibly freezes, because it’s Misaki’s face that flits before his eyes. It’s Misaki’s grin and Misaki’s scowls, and the look in Misaki’s eyes when he pushes him away that night months and months ago, when all Saruhiko could think was Munakata and Awashima and the pain of a broken heart.
“I don’t intend to show him this.” Totsuka says quietly. “I don’t want Yata-chan to break. He’s one of ours, and we take care of our own. So it’s better if you’d just stop, Fushimi-kun.”
Stop what, Saruhiko wants to yell, stop what and with whom? Because like Munakata, he can’t choose. Like how Munakata desperately tries to keep both Awashima and Saruhiko in his arms, he wants to never let go of both Misaki and Munakata.
“I can’t.” He grits out, honestly. Totsuka smiles, like he appreciates the honesty, even if it isn’t the answer he wants.
“You’re a selfish person.” And it isn’t fair, how Totsuka speaks like he knows exactly how Saruhiko feels. “But you can’t make anyone happy this way. Not even yourself.”
——-o0o——-
“I’ll just think about it when the moment comes,” Munakata murmurs in his ear. “And whoever I choose, I’ll make peace with it myself.”
——-o0o——-
On Saruhiko’s birthday, Misaki bathes in lights.
His whoops spells out so much freedom it makes anyone jealous, and Saruhiko watches in awe as Misaki flies with his skateboard back and forth, the bright red and orange of his costume a contrast of the night sky. There’s no question to whom the gold medal of the skateboard competition falls. HOMRA is a cluster of celebration and victory on their corner of the benches when Misaki’s name is announced into the night breeze, but it isn’t where Misaki runs to.
The medal jiggles on Misaki’s chest as he throws his arms around Saruhiko’s shoulder, his echoing laughter so thick of happiness that Saruhiko wants to cry. Misaki tiptoes, kisses him hard, square on the mouth, catches his gaze, and says, for the first time, “I fucking love you.”
HOMRA comes in a huge wave of shouting and roars of victory, taking Misaki away from his arms with a final blinding grin from the younger boy. Saruhiko steps back, watches with a smile of his own, and thinks maybe, just maybe, he can make his choice now.
——-o0o——-
Totsuka is shot.
It happens in the school ground, and no one knows how. HOMRA explodes into one gigantic furious gang demanding revenge, and Saruhiko for the first time sees Munakata looking ruffled. It’s a dangerous time in school, where everything blends into grey area and no one knows when one side would explode and point a finger at the other side to blame. HOMRA is a ticking time bomb, and Munakata doesn’t like that one bit.
“Hey.” Saruhiko says, when he catches Munakata gazing out the window like he hasn’t been in school for days. “Don’t be an ass. Make yourself useful for once and sign this paperwork instead of spacing out all day.”
Munakata looks at him. From the corner of his eyes, Saruhiko sees Awashima puts away another stack of paperwork. She doesn’t smile, but there’s a tray of tea and cookies on the table next to her desk—obviously put aside for Munakata. He sighs, scratches the back of his head, and leans down to look into Munakata’s eyes.
“You’ve got both of your hands alright.”
Munakata tilts his head and captures his lips in a single smooth motion. Saruhiko lets his breath catch, and when they break off, Munakata’s gaze flits to the side, past him, lingers on where Awashima sits.
“Yeah, I do.”
——-o0o——-
He should have known that HOMRA would go through Totsuka’s pictures and films in search of clues.
Misaki is clutching the picture, knuckles white and face pale. But his gaze is a furious storm of rage, and Saruhiko finds himself admiring it. This is Misaki. His Misaki, so full of life and emotion and brilliance, and doesn’t the color red fit him very much?
“I suspected.”
“I love you,” Saruhiko tries, and Misaki flinches, face tight and closed off. He stares into Saruhiko’s eyes, long and hard.
“Traitor.”
——-o0o——-
Misaki is absent from school for the next two weeks. Saruhiko takes it in stride, ignores the absence of fried rice on Monday, ignores one glaringly empty spot when he sees HOMRA members together, ignores the absence of skateboard in the school hallway. It doesn’t work. He keeps expecting to see Misaki, even when the HOMRA members glare pointedly at him like he’s offended them personally.
The phrase ‘he isn’t here’ has never hurt him like this before.
“You’re not a good match for him,” Awashima says, handing him that old BL manga book that the manga club of their middle school made years ago. Munakata’s eyes follow the book, both in interest and mild jealousy. Saruhiko puts a hand on it, feels the crinkle on the edges of the paper, and looks up.
“We last for years, Awashima-san.”
“Which surprises me,” Awashima replies, then sounding thoughtful, “but I still love seeing you together with him.”
——-o0o——-
He passes the baseball field by accident after running some errands for the student council. It is empty, because everyone is supposed to be in class now, except it’s not.
Misaki is there, standing straight on the pitching ground all by himself, and Saruhiko finds himself halting into a stop, because he knows Misaki hates pitching. He likes being a batter, to run around and across the field, because that’s just how Misaki is, and that is why red suits him so much.
Then Misaki crumbles, right there in the middle of the pitching ground, down onto his knees and shaking.
His first instinct is to run over where Misaki is, to touch and make sure he’s okay, but before Saruhiko can even move, Kusanagi Izumo says, “If you go to him, I’ll kill you myself.”
The third-grader is standing under the tree just off to Saruhiko’s side, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. Saruhiko steps back, forces a shaky smirk onto his face. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Making sure that I don’t lose any more of my friends.” Kusanagi huffs out the smoke slowly, gaze lingering on Misaki’s figure on the pitching ground. There’s something wrong with the picture, and Saruhiko’s fingers itches to make it right. Misaki isn’t meant to stay on his knees like that. Misaki is meant to stand, to leap and fly because he’s a symbol of freedom, of youth and of life.
He hates that he can’t do anything about it, that it’s him who causes Misaki to crumble like that. He hates that Kusanagi gets to watch over Misaki because he’s also part of HOMRA and Saruhiko isn’t. He hates that he’s wearing the royal blue uniform while Misaki shines in red, and hates it even more that he can’t let go of the uniform.
——-o0o——-
“Misaki,” he calls, when Misaki’s back on his skateboard on the school hallway.
Misaki stops, glares at him like he’s the bane of his existence.
“Don’t get so personal with me, Traitor.”
——-o0o——-
“You’re not happy,” Munakata whispers. “Does it hurt you so much, that he left?”
Saruhiko closes his eyes and scowls. “Doesn’t make any difference now.”
Suoh is a similar existence to Munakata. They’re fucking Kings of the School, both are so above anybody else that they’re just untouchable. It’s got to be lonely, Saruhiko muses, but that’s exactly what they have to pay for power. They keep people close, but they can’t let them in. Even if some people manage to see what’s inside, Saruhiko knows there are things mere people just won’t understand—that he himself won’t understand—because they are Kings and he is not.
Saruhiko isn’t sure he likes his position now. He tells Awashima so, and her face smoothes a little, the way it always does when they talk about Munakata. She stays quiet for a moment, without stopping the scritch-scratching of her pen against the sketching paper. Then she says, “I don’t know. I just want to stay by his side, that’s it.”
“What happens if it’s no longer enough?”
“It will have to be.” Her gaze flicks to find his, calm and solid. “You’re used to be owned by someone you own. It’s very different, is it, with Munakata?”
Saruhiko shrugs, because he can’t argue with that. Nobody owns the King, after all. Still, he’s seen the way Munakata and Suoh exchange glances—one of a kind, they are—and he doesn’t want to know what happens if circumstances let those mutual feelings grow, because Suoh is also a King and he’s got a much better chance to sneak his way into Munakata’s heart compared to Saruhiko.
“He’s known for a while, even before Totsuka.” Awashima tells him blandly. Saruhiko freezes, because that’s impossible, there’s no way Misaki could have found out about what Saruhiko has been doing with Munakata before Totsuka’s picture. His finger taps the desk in a staccato noise, anxiety knotting in his shoulders.
Awashima stops her work to look up. “He talks to Izumo all the time.”
——-o0o——-
Kusanagi and Awashima have this odd relationship between them, in which Awashima loves to bully him around and Kusanagi hates Awashima on principle. But sometimes, Awashima comes to the coffee shop near the station where Kusanagi works part-time and stay awhile, just to annoy each other and talk about everything and nothing at the same time.
When Saruhiko comes to the café and sees Kusanagi, the third-grader groans.
“Seri-chan sent you here.” He deadpans, looking harried. “Fuck, I hate her.”
Saruhiko chooses to ignore the fact that Awashima and Kusanagi are on first name basis. He sits down, orders a latte, but Kusanagi gives him black coffee just because he can.
“I’m not paying for this shit.” Saruhiko says.
“Don’t expect you to. Shut your trap and finish your business before any of the members come, I don’t need another night stumbling on Yata-chan wandering around drunk and depressed.”
Saruhiko frowns. “He drinks.”
“We all do. Tame stuff, but Yata-chan gets overboard when he’s depressed.” Kusanagi sits down on the seat opposite him. “He doesn’t like to drink; he just likes the sensation of forgetting everything and letting loose.”
“Awashima-san told me he knew.”
“Suspected, for a long time. Thinks it’s odd that you wouldn’t quit the student council even if it’s obvious that you hate all the work.” Kusanagi slips a cigarette between his lips, lights it with a lighter. The puff of smoke swirls between their heads. “Hates that you keep forgetting to tutor him, back when he’s trying to get into Ashinaka High so hard. Be grateful, Totsuka and I took over tutoring him when he comes begging to join HOMRA.”
“He never begs.”
“Nope, yeah, I lied. He wrecked havoc here asking for the King, I had to take him down before he gets me fired.”
Saruhiko sips the coffee, makes a face at how disgusting it is. “What do you put in this?” He puts it down. “He couldn’t have known. If he did—“ he trails off, unable to continue the sentence, because if that’s true, then Misaki had been sticking with him knowing consciously Saruhiko is hurting him. Saruhiko just can’t fathom that.
“All he needed was one evidence. Totsuka’s picture was the last straw.” Kusanagi lazily twirls the cigarette between his fingers. “He said you’ve never listened to him anyway, that’s nothing new, but since you got into Ashinaka you don’t even hear his voice anymore, no matter how loud he yells.”
——-o0o——-
He mumbles into Munakata’s ear, distracted with thoughts of Misaki and the night Misaki pushes him away, of Misaki and the look in his eyes when he told Saruhiko to go take a shower, of an empty room and silence yawning wide when he comes out of the shower.
He wonders, what was it that I didn’t hear then?
He wants to make it right. He wants to make Misaki soar back up in the sky, free for a moment before crashing down back onto the ground and into Saruhiko’s arms.
“Would it make it easier for you,” Munakata says, carefully buttoning his uniform back. “If I told you that I choose Awashima?”
Saruhiko stares. “Do you?”
“No,” Munakata answers honestly. “But if it makes you happy, then yes.”
——-o0o——-
Misaki nearly clips him on the head with his baseball bat, but Saruhiko manages to duck and throws his whole weight onto Misaki’s figure, pinning him down on the pitching ground. It’s ten at night, and Saruhiko can smell alcohol in Misaki’s harsh breath.
“Get off me!” Misaki yells, outraged and frustrated. “Get off me, traitor!”
“No.” Saruhiko grits out, putting his weight even more fully on top of Misaki when the younger boy attempts to buck him off. “For fuck’s sake, Misaki, stop yelling, I heard you.”
“Fuck off.” Misaki spat bitterly, but there’s a thin layer of something wet in his eyes. Saruhiko tenses, preparing himself for a headbutt, but Misaki ceases to move under him. They were both breathing hard, the smell of alcohol strong enough to make Saruhiko dizzy, but Misaki isn’t drunk. His eyes still shines with lucidity and hatred, and Saruhiko isn’t going to let him forget this moment.
“No.” He replies, firmly. “Stop yelling. I heard you.”
“You’re a fucking liar.” Misaki hisses. “What, getting some from that student council president bastard isn’t enough for you, is that it?”
“I chose.” Saruhiko grits out, hating the way his voice breaks because it had been painful to let go of Munakata. “I chose you.”
“Like I fucking care! Get the fuck off me!”
“You care.” Saruhiko presses, desperate and scared, because if Misaki doesn’t want him anymore, he doesn’t know what to do. “You care, because you’re still yelling, even when I heard you, and right now I’m fucking listening to you, stop yelling. I’ll listen, okay, I’ll listen to you forever, would you just—“ he breaks off, panting, and he’s shaking and this, this whole thing, is fucking ridiculous. “Would you just stop yelling and talk to me, Misaki.”
There’s the sound of a sob, painful and raw, and Saruhiko only realizes that it’s Misaki’s when the younger boy yanks his arms from Saruhiko’s hold, pulls him by the lapels of his uniform down and crushes their lips together.
Saruhiko groans, because this is what he wants, this is what he’s been missing, this heat, this freedom, this scorching fire that’s so red and alive and so Misaki. It burns him from the inside, makes him want to cry and it’s so, so painful and yet it feels right.
“Fuck you.” Misaki breathes against his mouth. “I hate you. I hate you so much.”
——-o0o——-
When graduation comes along, Awashima shoves him the BL manga she’s been working on. The cover is him and Munakata, a tangle of limbs and royal blue uniform, glasses askew. Saruhiko takes a glance on it and comments, “Wow, you’re not trying to be subtle anymore, Awashima-san. What an improvement.”
Misaki is right behind him, silent and watchful for once. Awashima spares them a smile.
“You’re not a good match. Both of you.” She pushes Saruhiko hard until he stumbles backwards, bumping into Misaki, and reflexively lets an arm around Misaki’s waist to avoid knocking him down. Awashima clicks her camera, and Misaki splutters.
“It’s for the cover of my next project.” She says matter-of-factly. Then her face softens as she looks into Saruhiko’s eyes. “Are you going to see him?”
Misaki tenses in his hold, and Saruhiko can’t answer.
——-o0o——-
Munakata is waiting, though, on the gate. Misaki stops in his track, looks up at Saruhiko and scowls.
“I didn’t do anything.” Saruhiko says honestly.
“Fuck this.” Misaki runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. “You have one kiss. One fucking kiss, and that’s it. You push your luck, I’ll fucking set Shouhei and Kamamoto on you, see if they won’t tear you apart.”
He hesitates, but Misaki’s eyes are hard. “Go.”
This is a closure, Saruhiko hears instead, and he squeezes Misaki’s hand before letting go. He jogs over to where Munakata is standing, tall and elegant and dignified like the King that he is, but the smile curving on his lips when he sees Saruhiko approaching still makes Saruhiko’s breath stutters.
“Thank you for coming,” Munakata says. “I thought you aren’t going to say goodbye.”
Saruhiko shrugs. “I thought I wasn’t going to.”
“What do I get then?”
“One kiss.” Saruhiko answers, glancing back to where Misaki stands, gaze boring deep into his back. “That’s it.”
“Then I won’t waste it.” Munakata’s hand reaches the back of his neck, brings him forward. Their glasses knock when they kisses, and Saruhiko makes a face, but Munakata laughs warmly into his mouth and swipes his lips with his tongue, and just like that, Saruhiko goes limp in his arms.
It feels like an eternity when they breaks off, breaths mingling.
Munakata steps back, puts a hand on his shoulder and tells him, “I’ll leave the student council to you.”
Saruhiko smirks. “Leaving your work to others until the very last, fuck you.”
Munakata’s laughter is soft and free, and Saruhiko watches him turn back and waves him goodbye.
——-o0o——-
“I’m not gonna kiss you until you wash your mouth a thousand times, dumbass.” Misaki tells him, and he laughs, because it’s worth it.
——-o0o——-
Misaki’s eyes are red.
“Kiiiiiiingggg,” he whines into Saruhiko’s pillow. “Why do you have to graduate, everything is not going to be the saaaaaame.”
Saruhiko sits down on the edge of his bed, bopping the back of Misaki’s head with a water bottle. “Your loyalty to him is insane.”
“Fuck you. King is a thousand times hotter and more awesome than you.”
“Do you guys have orgy in HOMRA?”
“Fuck no, that’s creepy. No way I’m letting Bandou touching me.”
“You talk like you’ve had sex with Suoh Mikoto.”
“God, I wish. Who doesn’t?”
Saruhiko leans down, bites the shell of Misaki’s ear and enjoys the shiver wrecking the younger boy’s body. His fingers trail down Misaki’s spine, giving enough pressure on the spots he knows Misaki’s sensitive at. He inhales in Misaki’s scent, the smell of sweat and a bit of dust and skin burning under the sun, red and alive and free.
“Red suits you,” he says against Misaki’s skin. Misaki wriggles, turns onto his back, brings his hands to keep Saruhiko’s face in place.
“Blue suits you, too.” He grumbles grudgingly, and Saruhiko laughs when they meet for a kiss.
-
-
04.09.2012 в 00:34Midorima Shintaro nearly drops his lucky item of the day when he walks into the living room. Kise and Aomine are curled up together on the couch. Kise has his head tucked securely under Aomine’s chin, and Aomine’s arm hold Kise close. Luckily, Midorima’s fast reflexes prevent his limited edition Totoro teacup from breaking. After Midorima has calmed down somewhat, he does what any sane person would do- he goes and wakes Kuroko.
____________________________________________________________________
When Akashi wakes up at 6:13 on the dot, he knows something is amiss. For starters, he doesn’t smell any coffee. He doesn’t even hear the tea kettle going off. That means Kise isn’t in the kitchen. There is only one reason for Kise not to have a hot cup of tea waiting for Akashi- Aomine Daiki.
____________________________________________________________________
“Aomine-kun. Aomine-kun, wake up.”
Aomine groans and mumbles incoherently before tightening his hold on his warm pillow.
“Aomine-kun, if you don’t wake up, Akashi-kun will be angry.” Kuroko shakes Aomine again.
“You too Kise. You need to get up.” Midorima chimes in, tapping Kise. Aomine cracks one eye open to glare at them before pulling the blanket over his head. Kuroko sighs at Aomine’s childish behaviour.
“Aomine-kun. If you aren’t up in five seconds, I’m going to give your stash of magazines, the stash under the bed to Akashi-kun.” Kuroko says.
Aomine throws the blanket off and shakes Kise.
“Oi! Wake up!” Aomine growls.
“What?” Kise yawns sleepily.
“Hurry up and make breakfast before Akashi gets here.”
“Too late Daiki.”
____________________________________________________________________
Breakfast is rushed and Akashi is cranky.
“Be home by six.” Akashi instructs to Kise. Kise nods fearfully.
“Of course Akashicchi!”
“Shintaro, if you’re even a minute late with dinner, I will have you washing dishes and gardening for at least a month.”
“Understood.”
____________________________________________________________________
Despite the fact that Akashi looked like he wanted to stab him, Aomine is pretty sure that he’s going to have a good day. He’s confident that Kise will turn down the date after spending a night on the couch with Aomine. Kise’s easy to please like that. He’s nothing more than a puppy who will do anything for attention. With that thought in mind, Aomine cracks his knuckles and prepares himself for a grueling day of work.
____________________________________________________________________
“Shin-chan?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why are we here?” Takao asks.
“Today is an unlucky day for Gemini. We need to purchase the lucky item for Kise.”
“Shin-chan, I’m pretty sure that pepper spray isn’t a lucky item.”
“Don’t be stupid Takao. This is just in case. The lucky item for Geminis is a limited edition Hello Kitty personal security alarm.”
“…”
“You’re going to need to go get it while I see the next patient.”
“What!?”
____________________________________________________________________
Kise cares for Momoi. He really does. That doesn’t mean that they’ve never argued before. Kise cringes every time he remembers how he begged Momoi to tell him which high school Aomine was going to. Kise remembers tell her that he didn’t care if Aomine hated him. Kise just needs to be near Aomine. Kise’s sure that he can fix Aomine. Sure, Kise’s not quite sure how yet, but he’ll figure it out. Kise would fix Aomine. Not Kuroko.
It hurts each time Kise remembers how Momoi trusted Kuroko with the task of bringing the smile back to Aomine’s face. It was almost as if she didn’t believe Kise could do it. Kise wants to say that he knows more about Aomine than Kuroko does. He wants to say that he understands Aomine more than Kuroko does. Kise knows what it’s like to hate something that you love. It’s happened to him with all the previous sports he’s played. Maybe he hasn’t figured out how to enjoy them again, but that doesn’t mean he won’t. Kise wants to fix Aomine so badly. Because, if he fixes Aomine, the reason for Aomine’s smile will be Kise.
Of course Kise doesn’t get his happily ever after. It’s Kagami and Kuroko who bring the old Aomine back, the Aomine who loves basketball.
Kise remembers the emptiness he felt when he heard that Touou had lost- to Seirin.
____________________________________________________________________
“Relax Ryouta.”
Kise flinches at Akashi’s tone. In fifteen minutes, his “date” is supposed to arrive. Kise can’t stop fidgeting.
“Gomen Akashicchi.” Kise sighs.
“Here Kise.” Midorima hands Kise a brown paper bag.
“Eh? What’s this Midorimacchi?”
“Just open the bag, idiot.” Midorima huffs.
Kise opens the bag and grins at the contents.
“Pepper spray and a personal security alarm?”
“These are the lucky items for Geminis today.” Midorima explains.
“Lies~!” Takao laughs.
“Don’t worry Kise-chin. I’ll crush that guy if he makes you cry.” Murasakibara pats Kise’s head.
“Do you want some eggs before you go?” Kuroko asks.
“Wah~! Kurokocchi’s eggs are the best! I want one!” Kise grins.
“Next time Ryouta. Your date has arrived.” Akashi announces.
____________________________________________________________________
Aomine likes to have rough sex right after a magazine featuring Kise’s photos is published. Most of the time, it’s because he’s angry since there’s usually more girls following Kise around. It pisses Aomine off, the way they hang all over Kise, all over what belongs to Aomine.
After Aomine’s finished, Kise slumps against the wall; bite marks litter his shoulder, providing a lovely red contrast against his pale skin. Kise doesn’t dare complain about the marks. Sure, his agent is furious when Kise makes up excuses for why he can’t do another shoot for a few weeks, but it’s worth it. Kise tells himself that the bite marks mean that Kise is important enough to Aomine, important enough for Aomine to mark as his. Kise sometimes wishes the marks would last forever.
____________________________________________________________________
“What the hell Akashi!?” Aomine snarls.
“Hello to you too, Daiki.” Haizaki Shogo smirks. Haizaki is dressed smartly in a suit and and his hair looks similar to how he styled it during middle school. His eyes rove over Kise’s outfit appreciatively, causing Aomine to glare.
“What is he doing here!?” Kagami turns to Akashi.
“Aomine Daiki. Kagami Taiga. Behave yourselves.” Akashi orders. Kagami and Aomine remain silent, but continue to glare at Haizaki.
“Ryouta. I have arranged for Shogo to be your date.”
“Akashicchi…” Kise hesitates. Kise and Haizaki have never actually settled things, and Kise feels nervous. Aomine wants to shove Kise behind him, away from Haizaki’s gaze.
“I do apologize Kise, for my behaviour at the Interhigh.” Haizaki says, sensing Kise’s discomfort. “It’s fine if you don’t want to go on a date with me, I understand. How about we call it an apology dinner instead?” Haizaki suggests.
“I… I guess so…” Kise slowly answers.
“Great! Let’s go!” Haizaki grins, and offers his arm to Kise.
“Shogo.” Akashi’s calls out.
“Hm?”
“If you don’t have Ryouta back by ten, there will be consequences.”
“If you make Kise-chin uncomfortable, I’ll crush your head.”
“Today is lucky day for Cancers.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll have him home by ten.” Haizaki smiles winningly.
Akashi nods and ushers the Kise and Shogo out the door.
Aomine’s instincts scream for him to go after Kise. Instead, he spends dinner viciously stabbing at the meat in the soup.
____________________________________________________________________
The best sex Kise has ever had is the day after he gets his ear pierced.
Kise meets up with Aomine during lunch, and Aomine takes one look at Kise’s ear before dragging him up to the roof. Once on the roof, Aomine pushes Kise’s back against the door, and leans forward to examine the piercing. Kise squirms under Aomine’s unrelenting gaze.
It’s blue.
Y-yeah. Do you like it?
Then Aomine promptly kisses Kise. It’s not sweet. It’s rough and dominating. Kise can tell from the way Aomine pulls Kise close, that Aomine is pleased. Aomine wastes no time in getting Kise undressed. Kise hisses when he feels his back scrape roughly against the wall. The pain is soon forgotten as Aomine tugs at Kise’s earring. Kise’s ears are one of his sensitive spots, and Aomine takes full advantage of that.
You’re mine.
Yours.
Kise whimpers when Aomine enters him. Pain turns to pleasure as Aomine shifts, hitting that spot with accuracy. Kise wraps his legs around Aomine’s waist, pulling Aomine in deeper. Aomine sets a fast pace and Kise cries out with the each thrust. Aomine voice is low and husky in Kise’s ear, chanting mine over and over again. Kise can only moan his approval.
-
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18.10.2012 в 00:33Writer: Amariys
Words count: 1236 words
Fandom: Kuroko no Basket
Pairings: Ao/Kise (this chapter), Kaga/Kuro, Taka/Mido in later chapters.
Disclaimer: Kuroko no Basket is not mine. No trademark infringement or profit taken from the writing of this story.
Rating: T
Summary: Of feelings and things that can make them forget any grief or suffering.
Phase 01: Kise Ryouta.
Kise’s admiration to Aomine was not a secret for anyone else. Every member of Teikou Middle School Basketball team knew the blond man started basket purely because he had seen Aomine’s play. Even when they both entered different high schools, it didn’t take long for both the Kaijou and Touou Basketball Team members to realize the model basket ball player was looking up at the troublesome Touou’s ace.
Truth be told, Kise’s admiration had ran deeper than what people thought. At first, yes, he was just dazzled by Aomine’s play. For someone who could pick up any styles in sports as easily as he was, almost nothing could excite Kise anymore. He had never understood people’s enthusiasm in sports, until he met Aomine. The ace of Teikou was the first person Kise saw who really played basketball with all his heart. Kise was charmed from the first sight, more so when he realized the exceptional skill Aomine had. For the first time in his young life, Kise felt challenged to actually try copying someone else’s play style.
Two years Kise ran after Aomine’s back, failing each and every time to catch up with the other man. Two years Aomine gave the blond an arrogant smirk while extending his hand, picking Kise off of the ground over and over again. Two years were a long enough time to change Kise’s admiration into something else; something deeper, more intense and more frightening than anything Kise had ever felt before.
Two years were enough time for Kise to realize he loved the man he once admired.
If someone asked what had actually changed the admiration into love, the blond would need to take some time to ponder his answer. There were so many things—too many things about Aomine that Kise noticed. Small things that made him adored the man more and more with every passing seconds. Nevertheless, if he was asked, Kise would surely try to answer, a nostalgic, loving smile already morphing his lips even without his realization.
The first thing that actually Kise noticed was Aomine’s intense navy blue eyes. Those eyes were always shining with excitement, with so much love and happiness whenever they were having one-on-one. Those navy blue orbs would shine with intensity whenever a game turned difficult for them, reflecting the sharpness of the man’s mind while strategizing the moves he would take—or listening to Akashi’s instructions very closely. However, Kise was hooked for the first time when that amazing navy blue irises glanced at him, just for mere seconds, with warmth and hints of smile still lingering inside.
It was the beginning, but it didn’t stop at that.
Once he was hooked by Aomine’s eyes, Kise’s treacherous mind started to take in the other small details about the tanned man. It was such small things, like how Aomine’s hand felt so warm whenever they engulfed his paler one as he helped Kise standing up just when the small forward was feeling so tired already from his failed attempts in catching up at the taller man. Aomine’s hand was gentle yet firm and they lingered for moments even when Kise was already standing in front of him, as if telling Kise to not stop trying. It was Aomine’s way of saying he would keep waiting for Kise to catch up with him and Kise hated him more for making his feeling for the other man ran even deeper.
It just got worse after that.
Kise couldn’t look away from Aomine after that. He couldn’t even count how many time he caught himself looking at the tanned man after and in between practice, with his feelings shown to everyone else who cared to see. Kise always berated himself whenever he found himself doing that, hastily turning his face away from the tempting image of Aomine Daiki wiping at his sweat with his tank, showing hints of tanned skin from where the tank had ridden up without a care in the world. Of course, it only worked for few minutes before Kise’s treacherous honey brown orbs shifted back to Aomine’s form, watching as rivulets of sweat trailed ever so slowly down the man’s neck, pooling on the junction where neck met shoulder. Kise always had to gulp down the saliva suddenly gathering in his mouth after he saw that.
It had gotten so bad until finally Kise couldn’t handle himself anymore.
When he started to stare at Aomine’s red lips, moist and glistening from the popsicle the Teikou’s ace had just eaten, and had to hold in his desire to steal a taste of those delicious looking flesh, Kise knew this obsession he had was getting out of his hand. He hastily stood up, surprising both Aomine and Kuroko, before stammering out an apology and feeble excuse as he left his teammates. Kise’s heart was beating very loudly in his chest, it almost felt they would burst without notice at any moment. Kise’s face burned, even without looking he knew he was blushing red.
Kise was losing his mind. He just couldn’t get Aomine out of his head and it became even harder when Aomine started to invade Kise’s dreams, kissing and caressing the blond until Kise woke up with a hoarse shout, sweat and other body fluids dirtying his pajama. It was at that moment Kise knew he had to do something about his problem.
It almost felt like walking towards his own execution when he finally approached Aomine in the locker room once the other members had walked home. Kise couldn’t even look at Aomine, afraid the man could read his expression as easily as an open book. The loud beating of his heart sounded deafening to Kise’s ears and he had to remind himself to just keep breathing in and out steadily.
The confession stumbled out of Kise’s lips in a rush. He was almost afraid Aomine couldn’t understand what he had said. The tense silence settling down in the room after seemed to proof his worry. Kise took a deep breath, readying himself to act like nothing was wrong, to cover his awkwardness and true feelings with a laugh—like usual. But then Aomine walked towards him, gently lifting Kise’s face with his fingers and then kissed him.
Kise’s eyes widened in surprise. It was the first time he had ever kissed someone with eyes wide opened, but he just couldn’t close his brown orbs, afraid the soft, moist touch of Aomine’s lips on his was only a figment of his imagination. Once the taller man broke their kiss and stepped back, Kise finally realized he was not dreaming. His lips still tingled, nerve endings alive with sensations he had never felt before. However, the one thing convincing Kise he was not dreaming was the light red blush decorating Aomine’s face. The ace of Teikou was blushing. Aomine never blushed in Kise’s dreams. Not even once.
Then Aomine’s arms worked their way around Kise’s shoulders, pulling him into an awkward yet warm hug and Kise finally reached his decision: Out of all the things that made Kise adored Aomine, it was the warmth of his hug he loved the most. Because once he was blanketed so securely in that warmth, Kise knew nothing would ever matter anymore. As long as he had that warmth, Kise would be able to smile, no matter what kind of problems he might have to face later on.
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19.10.2012 в 01:25Requested by anon.
“Kise, that’s a terrible joke. You really think I’d believe that?”
Aomine’s unsure of how the conversation started. They were playing video games in his bedroom, cursing and whining during each game. After multiple rounds Aomine successfully beat the blond every time. Just moments ago he suggested they take a break. It was beginning to become tiresome. Where was the fun if he kept winning?
“I’m telling the truth, Aominecchi.”Kise proceeds.
The statement was outright ludicrous. Once again he’s unable to process how the conversation came about, and why Kise was saying such things.
“Don’t tell such lies. There’s no way in hell you’re selling yourself out for fun.”Frowns the ace.”People keep those kinds of shameful jobs to themselves, they don’t brag about it. That’s why I think you’re lying.”
There’s a slight pout on the other’s face,”Ne, I’m comfortable with telling Aominecchi this.”He pauses,”I can always prove it to you.”
“Don’t be stupid.”Retorts Aomine.
The copycat takes a sharp inhale of breath before his cheeks go crimson. Kise may flirt with the girls and attract all sorts of attention but he’s not loose. The thought of him seducing a woman(or man) for that matter seems ridiculous to the taller teen. Stealing a glance over at Kise he confronts an expression on the teen’s face that he’s never seen before.
A lustful undertone promenades across amber eyes.
Aomine suddenly finds his back on the bed and the said teen straddles his groin. He’s unable to move as bewilderment settles within his muscles, weighing him down to the mattress.
Well manicured hands slip under Aomine’s shirt. The gentle fingers caress the muscles that ripple beneath tan skin.
“I’m quite good at seducing my customers.”Purrs Kise, his eyes glaze over with fervor,”I’ve been wanting to try and seduce Aominecchi for awhile now…”
The blond subtly rocks his pelvis against Aomine’s groin. His erection grinds against the other’s. It sends shivers of stimulation through Aomine. The friction between them is instantly unbearable. He feels a familiar heat that grows between his legs.
His body wants Kise. And Kise wants him.
The tanned teen could care less about the other’s personal engagements as his body prickles with fever and desire.
In a swift maneuver Aomine pins Kise below him on the bed. This time, the latter of the two is flushing with shock.
“You’re pretty good Kise, I’ll give you that but, never in a million years am I letting you top me.”
There’s a collective smirk between them before Aomine captures Kise’s lips, completely giving into the blond’s efforts.
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19.10.2012 в 01:26Requested by anon.
The ace of Teiko strolls down the empty hallway towards the basketball courts. School may have ended for the day and there was no scheduled practice but Aomine felt the desire to shoot a few baskets.
His destination lies up ahead and the teen realizes he won’t be the only one occupying the courts.
A subtle voice filters through the air that Aomine thinks nothing of. Though as he reaches the open doors there’s something about the voice that arouses concern. The words spoken are hardly casual, they’re threats. However the persistent threats aren’t empty, they’re full of bone chilling promise.
With uncertainty the teen steps into the gymnasium to gaze at the source of such diction.
Azure eyes go wide with panic.
An unmistakable blond is held by the collar of his shirt. Kise’s head hangs low, avoiding eye contact with the other, as his body slumps lifelessly against the wall he’s up against. The fellow student tightens his grip on the fabric and flashes a devilish grin at the victim. When his free fist raises by a mere inch Aomine no longer idles.
“Get the hell off of him!”He bellows, resentment burning through each word.
The student peers over at the tallest and smirks. His hold on Kise relinquishes as Aomine confronts him.
“What the hell are you doing?”
The student laughs.
His fallacious chuckle echoes off the gymnasium walls and sends a shiver down the tanned teen’s spine.”I was just having a little fun.”The smirk fails to diminish, it directs to the frigid heap on the floor,”Isn’t this something. The ace had to save your pathetic ass. Someone as weak as you should have never taken Haizaki’s place.”
The taunts abolish Aomine’s composure,”Bastard.”
His own fists begin to clench with animosity. Before he can act on his irrational thoughts the student rushes off the courts. The decision was a wise one though Aomine wishes he got a in punch before the guy cowered away.
When he looks at Kise on the ground every extent of his wrath eradicates. Aomine isn’t the most compassionate male yet he’s not insensitive either. He sits in front of the blond. Pity arouses within him when he sees the other’s face. The impeccable complexion which Kise takes pride in is now tainted. His lip is split open and fresh blood reposes around the wound. The jaw line is red with friction and prepares for bruises.
“Kise…”Aomine reaches out to the blond in desperation though the attempt is swat away by Kise’s own palm.
The blond tries to curl his body inward as he begins to tremble. Though Aomine is unable to see honey eyes agony dances across his face. A single tear cascades along the quivering cheek.
Aomine doesn’t care how much the copycat will fight him but he’s in dire need of comfort. He quickly hurdles Kise into his arms. For a moment the body lays barren against him until the other teen grabs a fistful of Aomine’s uniform. Like a pressured dam, Kise’s walls break. Sobs rebound off the gymnasium as the dreadful sound rings in Aomine’s ears.
“A-Aominecchi..”Whimpers Kise.
“It’s alright. I promise not to let anyone hurt you like that again.”
The two sit in the vast gym until the blond robs himself of tears.
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20.10.2012 в 01:26Title: Shout All You Want (I Might or Might Not be Listening)
Fandom: [K] anime, Project K.
Pairings: Fushimi Saruhiko/Yata Misaki, Munakata Reisi/Fushimi Saruhiko, Munakata Reisi/Awashima Seri.
Warnings: unbeta-ed, English isn’t my native tongue, possible OOC-ness because there are still so little info about Fushimi and Yata’s relationship, and I’m onboard the Fushimi/Yata ship, so that’s how this will end. 6000-something word of stupid high school!AU.
So lazierthanyou’s amazing art gave me feels. And her Scepter 4 ask blog is hilarious, but it also gave me unexpected feels. Some scenes in this fic are based on her arts, both on her ask blog and her [K] high school!AU art. Also, many references to [K] Web Radio Drama.
This is intended to be silly, but even before halfway through my Fushimi/Yata feels explodes and then I have Munakata/Fushimi feels and Munakata/Awashima feels and even Mikoto/Munakata feels and I decide, fuck this, I’m screwed anyway, let me just throw this out before drowning in feels completely. There’s a neater-formatted version of this fic in my LJ if you’d prefer, by the way.
There’s always Misaki in his life. A constant presence even in Saruhiko’s first memory as a four-year-old child, where Misaki stumbles about around him and their Mothers in bright orange overall stained with chocolate ice cream when the three of them spent an afternoon in the park. Saruhiko had been a skinny kid, then, watching over Misaki smearing ice cream all over his stubby cheek while their Mothers giggled above their heads.
Sometimes he remembers a time when Misaki had to sleep over at his house; how the two of them curled up in his Mother’s couch with his Mother’s gentle voice lulling him to sleep. The memory is hazy, like it doesn’t even belong to him, but he remembers Misaki’s hand folding into a small fist, resting an inch from his fingers as his Mother’s voice reverberated “… a red thread that connects one to one’s destined person…” and he remembers touching Misaki’s pinky finger lightly with his own. He remembers the way Misaki’s eyelashes fluttered for a moment, and he doesn’t remember the rest (he thinks he’d probably fallen asleep) but he recalls how Misaki was clutching his fingers when he woke up.
It’s strange, how he remembers it so clearly on the day Misaki entered his middle school, grinning broadly at him when they bump into each other in the hallway after the welcoming ceremony. He plucks Misaki’s ridiculous hat off and bends down to place a kiss right on his lips, short but hard, and laughs when Misaki splutters.
Misaki shoves him, but instead of shoving him back, Saruhiko grabs his shoulder and kisses him again.
Awashima-senpai, who is conveniently standing by, simply takes out her camera and captures the moment. The next day, there’s a huge poster of them kissing plastered on the school’s announcement board, framed with a controversial “HOTTEST COUPLE OF THE YEAR?!” beneath it, glittering pink under the sun.
Misaki gapes and threatens to kill him if he doesn’t take the poster off the board that very second. Saruhiko shrugs, pinches Misaki’s cheek just because he can, then wandered off to get himself a copy of the picture.
By the time the cultural festival comes around, the manga club, led by none other than Awashima-senpai, printed out a series of BL manga which characters look suspiciously like Saruhiko and Misaki.
——o0o——-
They aren’t a good match, people say.
——-o0o——-
Misaki doesn’t talk. He yells.
“I’m doing it,” Saruhiko says and clicks his tongue, staring dubiously at the so-called fried rice in the bento box on his lap. It’s red, and there are slices of pineapple in it. It also doesn’t look edible.
Misaki crosses his arms. “You said the same fifteen minutes ago!”
“I just have to prepare myself, geez.” Saruhiko raises his spoon. “Okay. I’m starting.”
“You’d better, I had to wake up at fucking five in the morning to cook—wait, you bastard, what are you doing?!”
“Picking off the pineapple.” Saruhiko says, because it’s just the most logical thing to do now. Who eats fried rice with pineapple in it? “I don’t know why you put pineapple in fried rice, Misaki, did you misread the recipe?”
There’s no answer, and it’s weird because Misaki is never silent. Saruhiko looks up to find an angry gaze directed at him, and then Misaki’s expression simply closes up. “Give it back.”
“What? I’m eating it.”
“Give it back, dumbass!” The bento box is swept away from his lap, and Misaki is standing up. Saruhiko blinks, and honestly he’s thinking to apologize when Misaki yells again, “Oi, Kumamoto! Got a damn fried rice I made this morning, you want some?!”
Kumamoto, as it turns out, gobbles the whole thing right in front of Saruhiko. Misaki is giving him smug looks, probably because Saruhiko is making an envious face right now, especially when Kumamoto put the bento box down, sighs in satisfaction and says, “Man, Fushimi, I dunno why you’d pass on Yata-rice. It rivals the best restaurant’s, that’s for sure.”
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20.10.2012 в 01:26Misaki smirks. “You do my homework for a month, I’ll cook it for you every Monday.”
“Two weeks.”
“Three.”
“Deal.”
——-o0o——-
Saruhiko hears, but doesn’t listen.
“Did you hear?” Misaki begins, sprawled on his stomach on Saruhiko’s bed, skin glistening with sweat and hair sticking out wildly, ruffled by both the strong wind from the electric fan and Saruhiko’s touch. “About the Red King.”
Summer is incredibly hot, and Saruhiko’s family hates air conditioning on principle. He tosses a cold water bottle that Misaki catches without even looking, and sits back down on the edge of the bed. He lets his fingertips touch Misaki’s hip, running them slowly down to his thigh and then back up. “Yeah, he’s made quite a commotion, huh?”
“He takes over a school. A fucking school, just a month after he transferred, and he’s a freshman.” There’s awe in Misaki’s voice, a tone Saruhiko isn’t sure he likes. “That is fucking amazing.”
He presses a finger on the small of Misaki’s back. “Ashinaka High, is it?” He muses. “Isn’t that where Awashima-senpai goes to school now? The entrance exam is awfully hard, she said.” He bends down, places a kiss on Misaki’s collarbone, and clicks his tongue, “Wait, that’s where Mom wants me to go next year.”
Misaki tenses when he gently bites the skin and mumbles, “You’re going to tutor me whenever you can on every single subject, got it?”
“Sure.” Saruhiko takes away the water bottle and slips a hand under Misaki’s shoulder to flip him onto his back. Misaki flicks him on the forehead; he ignores it in favor of leaning down to catch Misaki’s lips, feeling a hand slipping up his back, fingers raking through his hair.
He opens his eyes, and catches the sun rays falling onto Misaki’s hair, shades of orange and red so bright it almost blinds him.
——-o0o——-
Awashima tells him she’s surprised they last this long. Saruhiko ignores her, and questions why she doesn’t join the manga club, but the student council instead.
——-o0o——-
He graduates. Misaki gives him a pocketknife as a present, grinning mischievously when Saruhiko asks suspiciously where he buys it. Instead of answering, Misaki distracts him by shoving a hand inside his pants, and just like that, Saruhiko forgets.
He gets into Ashinaka High fairly easily. On the welcoming ceremony, he dozes off, only blinks awake when he catches Awashima-senpai on the stage, all pristine and elegant in her royal blue student council uniform. Her shoes made a staccato noise on the wooden stage; it echoes when she stops before the microphone to announce the new student council president.
Munakata Reishi comes into his life then, and he is perfect.
——-o0o——-
“So I heard HOMRA stops the bullying in your school,” Misaki says when he comes home. “They say the members beat them up.”
“HOMRA also threatens to spread their dirtiest secrets if they didn’t stop.” Saruhiko kicks Misaki’s skateboard with his right foot, ignoring Misaki’s glare at his deed. “Apparently someone named Totsuka sneaks everywhere and takes picture of people’s dirty little secret. He films them sometimes.”
Misaki barks a laugh. “Nothing they don’t deserve.”
——-o0o——-
He joins the student council after Munakata stops him in the hallway and tells him, “I need a left hand. Come to the student council office after school, you can pick up your uniform.”
Awashima-senpai doesn’t say anything, just looks at him like she knows what’s going on in his head. She has a stack of document on her desk that she’s working on, but she spares a small smile when Munakata taps her shoulder. Saruhiko accepts both the royal blue uniform Munakata hands over to him and his first job: containing a video of one of the teachers harassing a female student sexually that’s been going around courtesy to HOMRA.
“Obliterate every single one of them.” Munakata orders. “We won’t let Suoh Mikoto runs havoc in this school anymore.”
Saruhiko learns that that’s how Munakata does things: he orders people around, precise and tactful, and no one would ever even think to defy him. There’s something in his presence that draws Saruhiko’s eyes on him all the time, something that makes Saruhiko does his job anyway, even if he doesn’t like doing things he doesn’t have to do, even if he does it lazily. Munakata’s gaze makes his throat closes up sometimes, and it’s annoying because Saruhiko hates not being in control of his own emotions. He hates it even more when Munakata smirks like he knows how Saruhiko feels.
He contains the video and destroys every single one but the original. Munakata gives him this smile, the one that makes the tips of his fingers tremble, and says, “I know you’re the one I need.”
It shouldn’t make his breath stutters, but it does anyway. He scowls and pushes past Munakata harshly, trying to ignore the warmth spreading from where their shoulders brush. Awashima watches from the corner of the room, intent and careful, then brings him another stack of paperwork to do. He scowls harder.
“Stop leaving your work to other people,” Saruhiko grumbles, half-heartedly reading the newest paperwork for the cultural festival. He isn’t going to finish this stack anyway, Awashima would just get impatient and take away most of it to do it herself. “This is getting really troublesome.”
Munakata is leaning on his desk, silent and untouchable. He’s gazing out the window, a small smirk on his face. Saruhiko watches a shade of blue falls on Munakata’s face—bright blue the color of sky that matches the royal blue uniform of the student council. He tilts his head to turn to look at Saruhiko, deep and intimate like he’s sharing a secret. Saruhiko draws his hands into fists, because the urge to reach out and touch Munakata is overwhelming.
“I only leave my work to people I trust enough to do so. Only two, so far.”
Saruhiko looks away and swallows hard.
The teacher who harassed the female student is fired the next day. There’s a hateful glance directed at Munakata when the teacher walks out of his office.
——-o0o——-
He forgets his tutor session with Misaki one day. Misaki meets him on the way home, sliding down the street on his skateboard like he isn’t born to walk with his feet, a baseball bat in his hand. Saruhiko smirks and bends down to kiss him, but Misaki flits to his side and says, “Blue doesn’t suit you.”
“It suits me just fine.” Saruhiko replies, and Misaki makes a noise like a growl.
——-o0o——-
Misaki doesn’t answer his phone all afternoon.
Saruhiko clicks his tongue, irritated. He knows Misaki is probably busy playing baseball, but he’s been having trouble contacting his boyfriend lately. It doesn’t help that his mother just told him this morning about how Misaki has been getting home really late. It surprises him, because he doesn’t know anything about it, and suddenly he realizes that Misaki hasn’t really been talking to him.
Today’s student council meeting is discussing the upcoming cultural festival and the movement of HOMRA. He yawns openly, bored, fingers idly tapping on his phone. Munakata appears to be listening to whatever it is Goto is yapping about, leaning back on his chair, eyes closed as Awashima types rapidly on her notebook. Saruhiko hesitates, fingers hovering on his phone, over Misaki’s number, before finally making up his mind and taps on it.
He listens to it ring, lets it ring for a long time, before finally there’s a click and Misaki is yelling into his ear, “Goddammit, what?!”
For a moment, he forgets that he’s in a meeting. “Where the fuck are you?” he hisses, both irritated and frustrated at once. “You haven’t been answering my calls!”
-
-
20.10.2012 в 01:26Busy doing what, Saruhiko wants to ask, but he feels Munakata’s gaze from the other side of the room. He clears his throat, wills the heat threatening to crawl up his cheeks down, and forces calm into his voice. “Look, we’re not going to argue on the phone. I have a student council meeting right now.” He pauses, and thinks he can hear Misaki snarling on the other end of the phone. “We can argue till then. Good day.”
He doesn’t wait for Misaki’s reply, just disconnects the call and turns back to the meeting, where everyone is staring at him. Clicking his tongue, he puts a bored expression on his face, “Sorry about that. I’m having relationship issues with my boyfriend right now, so don’t mind me.”
He avoids Munakata’s gaze, because it turns even more intense, and focuses on the report of how HOMRA hacks into the school network to dig people’s dirty secrets.
——-o0o——-
He catches Awashima laughing softly over something Munakata says one day, and notices the lone rose Munakata leaves on Awashima’s desk.
He doesn’t say anything, just stares at the rose blandly before shrugging and goes home, leaving the paperwork untouched. Awashima is going to give him hell for that tomorrow, but he could care less.
He needs to not see the rose. He needs to not feel like he’s being thrown away. He needs to not think about Munakata, and his deep, intense gazes, and something in his chest gives a painful twinge.
Saruhiko realizes later that that’s how a broken heart feels.
——-o0o——-
Misaki pushes him away.
“Your mind isn’t here, dumbass.” He says, not yelling for once. “Go take a shower.”
He does, and when he comes back into the room, Misaki is gone.
——-o0o——
He sees Munakata with Suoh Mikoto, one day before the cultural festival. They were both standing under the school’s best cherry blossom tree, talking quietly, like they haven’t been waging a war for complete control and power over the school. Munakata has a small smile playing on his lips, and Suoh drops his cigarette on the ground before killing it completely.
“We have a truce for the cultural festival.” Munakata explains when he comes back to the office. There are only Saruhiko and Awashima, and the girl is about to go out to collect some reports from the class representatives. “He’s a very reasonable person to work with. Just not the type who would work well with me.”
“No one is the type to work well with you.” Saruhiko shoots back, dropping a stack of paperwork onto Awashima’s desk just as the girl slips out the room. There’s a sketch on Awashima’s desk, one she’s apparently working on instead of doing the paperwork today. Irritated because he’s been working his way through the paperwork himself, Saruhiko snatches the paper, scrutinizes the drawing, and freezes.
“She’s got talent, doesn’t she.” Munakata remarks from his seat, sounding like he’s known what Awashima’s been doing all his life. “That’s only one page. There’s more in her drawer.”
It’s panels and panels of him and Munakata, Saruhiko realizes in surprise when he takes out more pages from Awashima’s drawer. Some colored, and some are still just sketches, but there’s a story weaving between all those panels. Intense, heated and thick with feelings Saruhiko doesn’t even realize he feels. There are panels of kisses and smiles that tell him a thousand words, and pages of intimate touches that makes his cheeks burn.
Munakata’s fingers were resting on his hip by the time he flips to the last page. Saruhiko swallows, and when Munakata turns him around for a kiss, he doesn’t fight.
——-o0o——-
He touches Misaki even more desperately after that. He kisses until he nearly sobs with relief, recognizing the familiar warmth exploding in his chest when Misaki kisses back harder. He mumbles Misaki’s name into his mouth, trying to banish the guilt, the horrible guilt of the heat and desire he feels when Munakata claims him.
“I’m going to Ashinaka High!” Misaki says, grinning like he can’t contain the news anymore, bursting with the blinding brilliance that he is.
Saruhiko wants to cry, because loving two people hurts.
——-o0o——-
“So that’s your boyfriend,” Munakata says quietly over the welcoming ceremony. Saruhiko flinches, looks over to where Misaki sits. There’s a baseball bat on his side, and his skateboard is under his seat, and Saruhiko kind of wants to laugh over how absurd it is.
Munakata’s hand slips to rest on the small of his back. Saruhiko swallows.
“He doesn’t need to know.” Munakata assures.
——-o0o——-
“Blue really doesn’t suit you,” Misaki grumbles when they meet in the hallway.
“You don’t look good in red, either.” Saruhiko lies. “Thank God HOMRA doesn’t make you wear red uniform.”
Misaki punches him in the gut, and Saruhiko laughs.
——-o0o——-
Munakata kisses Awashima.
Saruhiko stares, until the two of them breaks away. Awashima’s cheeks are tainted lightly with red—that’s a good color, isn’t it? Red. It suits Misaki—and she clears her throat. Munakata, on the other hand, smiles and beckons him to come closer.
He does. He scowls when Munakata pulls him into his arms; their blue uniform a perfect shade of one entity and Saruhiko doesn’t know where one ends and one begins. He can feel Munakata burying his face onto his hair, feels Munakata’s chest inflates when he takes a deep breath, no doubt taking in Saruhiko’s scent with him.
“My two favorite people,” Munakata whispers. Saruhiko knows it’s sincere, and it hurts even more.
——-o0o——-
He doesn’t like Totsuka.
Totsuka smiles like he pities Saruhiko, eyes sad and understanding, but there’s a hardened edge on his gaze when he shows Saruhiko the picture.
He still remembers the exact moment that picture must have been taken. It was a particularly windy autumn day when the windows of the student council office had been open, blowing the curtain this way and that, and the office was empty except for the two of them, Munakata touching and holding him until he’s undone.
He visibly freezes, because it’s Misaki’s face that flits before his eyes. It’s Misaki’s grin and Misaki’s scowls, and the look in Misaki’s eyes when he pushes him away that night months and months ago, when all Saruhiko could think was Munakata and Awashima and the pain of a broken heart.
“I don’t intend to show him this.” Totsuka says quietly. “I don’t want Yata-chan to break. He’s one of ours, and we take care of our own. So it’s better if you’d just stop, Fushimi-kun.”
Stop what, Saruhiko wants to yell, stop what and with whom? Because like Munakata, he can’t choose. Like how Munakata desperately tries to keep both Awashima and Saruhiko in his arms, he wants to never let go of both Misaki and Munakata.
“I can’t.” He grits out, honestly. Totsuka smiles, like he appreciates the honesty, even if it isn’t the answer he wants.
“You’re a selfish person.” And it isn’t fair, how Totsuka speaks like he knows exactly how Saruhiko feels. “But you can’t make anyone happy this way. Not even yourself.”
——-o0o——-
“I’ll just think about it when the moment comes,” Munakata murmurs in his ear. “And whoever I choose, I’ll make peace with it myself.”
——-o0o——-
On Saruhiko’s birthday, Misaki bathes in lights.
His whoops spells out so much freedom it makes anyone jealous, and Saruhiko watches in awe as Misaki flies with his skateboard back and forth, the bright red and orange of his costume a contrast of the night sky. There’s no question to whom the gold medal of the skateboard competition falls. HOMRA is a cluster of celebration and victory on their corner of the benches when Misaki’s name is announced into the night breeze, but it isn’t where Misaki runs to.
The medal jiggles on Misaki’s chest as he throws his arms around Saruhiko’s shoulder, his echoing laughter so thick of happiness that Saruhiko wants to cry. Misaki tiptoes, kisses him hard, square on the mouth, catches his gaze, and says, for the first time, “I fucking love you.”
-
-
20.10.2012 в 01:26——-o0o——-
Totsuka is shot.
It happens in the school ground, and no one knows how. HOMRA explodes into one gigantic furious gang demanding revenge, and Saruhiko for the first time sees Munakata looking ruffled. It’s a dangerous time in school, where everything blends into grey area and no one knows when one side would explode and point a finger at the other side to blame. HOMRA is a ticking time bomb, and Munakata doesn’t like that one bit.
“Hey.” Saruhiko says, when he catches Munakata gazing out the window like he hasn’t been in school for days. “Don’t be an ass. Make yourself useful for once and sign this paperwork instead of spacing out all day.”
Munakata looks at him. From the corner of his eyes, Saruhiko sees Awashima puts away another stack of paperwork. She doesn’t smile, but there’s a tray of tea and cookies on the table next to her desk—obviously put aside for Munakata. He sighs, scratches the back of his head, and leans down to look into Munakata’s eyes.
“You’ve got both of your hands alright.”
Munakata tilts his head and captures his lips in a single smooth motion. Saruhiko lets his breath catch, and when they break off, Munakata’s gaze flits to the side, past him, lingers on where Awashima sits.
“Yeah, I do.”
——-o0o——-
He should have known that HOMRA would go through Totsuka’s pictures and films in search of clues.
Misaki is clutching the picture, knuckles white and face pale. But his gaze is a furious storm of rage, and Saruhiko finds himself admiring it. This is Misaki. His Misaki, so full of life and emotion and brilliance, and doesn’t the color red fit him very much?
“I suspected.”
“I love you,” Saruhiko tries, and Misaki flinches, face tight and closed off. He stares into Saruhiko’s eyes, long and hard.
“Traitor.”
——-o0o——-
Misaki is absent from school for the next two weeks. Saruhiko takes it in stride, ignores the absence of fried rice on Monday, ignores one glaringly empty spot when he sees HOMRA members together, ignores the absence of skateboard in the school hallway. It doesn’t work. He keeps expecting to see Misaki, even when the HOMRA members glare pointedly at him like he’s offended them personally.
The phrase ‘he isn’t here’ has never hurt him like this before.
“You’re not a good match for him,” Awashima says, handing him that old BL manga book that the manga club of their middle school made years ago. Munakata’s eyes follow the book, both in interest and mild jealousy. Saruhiko puts a hand on it, feels the crinkle on the edges of the paper, and looks up.
“We last for years, Awashima-san.”
“Which surprises me,” Awashima replies, then sounding thoughtful, “but I still love seeing you together with him.”
——-o0o——-
He passes the baseball field by accident after running some errands for the student council. It is empty, because everyone is supposed to be in class now, except it’s not.
Misaki is there, standing straight on the pitching ground all by himself, and Saruhiko finds himself halting into a stop, because he knows Misaki hates pitching. He likes being a batter, to run around and across the field, because that’s just how Misaki is, and that is why red suits him so much.
Then Misaki crumbles, right there in the middle of the pitching ground, down onto his knees and shaking.
His first instinct is to run over where Misaki is, to touch and make sure he’s okay, but before Saruhiko can even move, Kusanagi Izumo says, “If you go to him, I’ll kill you myself.”
The third-grader is standing under the tree just off to Saruhiko’s side, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. Saruhiko steps back, forces a shaky smirk onto his face. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Making sure that I don’t lose any more of my friends.” Kusanagi huffs out the smoke slowly, gaze lingering on Misaki’s figure on the pitching ground. There’s something wrong with the picture, and Saruhiko’s fingers itches to make it right. Misaki isn’t meant to stay on his knees like that. Misaki is meant to stand, to leap and fly because he’s a symbol of freedom, of youth and of life.
He hates that he can’t do anything about it, that it’s him who causes Misaki to crumble like that. He hates that Kusanagi gets to watch over Misaki because he’s also part of HOMRA and Saruhiko isn’t. He hates that he’s wearing the royal blue uniform while Misaki shines in red, and hates it even more that he can’t let go of the uniform.
——-o0o——-
“Misaki,” he calls, when Misaki’s back on his skateboard on the school hallway.
Misaki stops, glares at him like he’s the bane of his existence.
“Don’t get so personal with me, Traitor.”
——-o0o——-
“You’re not happy,” Munakata whispers. “Does it hurt you so much, that he left?”
Saruhiko closes his eyes and scowls. “Doesn’t make any difference now.”
——-o0o——-
-
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20.10.2012 в 01:28Saruhiko isn’t sure he likes his position now. He tells Awashima so, and her face smoothes a little, the way it always does when they talk about Munakata. She stays quiet for a moment, without stopping the scritch-scratching of her pen against the sketching paper. Then she says, “I don’t know. I just want to stay by his side, that’s it.”
“What happens if it’s no longer enough?”
“It will have to be.” Her gaze flicks to find his, calm and solid. “You’re used to be owned by someone you own. It’s very different, is it, with Munakata?”
Saruhiko shrugs, because he can’t argue with that. Nobody owns the King, after all. Still, he’s seen the way Munakata and Suoh exchange glances—one of a kind, they are—and he doesn’t want to know what happens if circumstances let those mutual feelings grow, because Suoh is also a King and he’s got a much better chance to sneak his way into Munakata’s heart compared to Saruhiko.
“He’s known for a while, even before Totsuka.” Awashima tells him blandly. Saruhiko freezes, because that’s impossible, there’s no way Misaki could have found out about what Saruhiko has been doing with Munakata before Totsuka’s picture. His finger taps the desk in a staccato noise, anxiety knotting in his shoulders.
Awashima stops her work to look up. “He talks to Izumo all the time.”
——-o0o——-
Kusanagi and Awashima have this odd relationship between them, in which Awashima loves to bully him around and Kusanagi hates Awashima on principle. But sometimes, Awashima comes to the coffee shop near the station where Kusanagi works part-time and stay awhile, just to annoy each other and talk about everything and nothing at the same time.
When Saruhiko comes to the café and sees Kusanagi, the third-grader groans.
“Seri-chan sent you here.” He deadpans, looking harried. “Fuck, I hate her.”
Saruhiko chooses to ignore the fact that Awashima and Kusanagi are on first name basis. He sits down, orders a latte, but Kusanagi gives him black coffee just because he can.
“I’m not paying for this shit.” Saruhiko says.
“Don’t expect you to. Shut your trap and finish your business before any of the members come, I don’t need another night stumbling on Yata-chan wandering around drunk and depressed.”
Saruhiko frowns. “He drinks.”
“We all do. Tame stuff, but Yata-chan gets overboard when he’s depressed.” Kusanagi sits down on the seat opposite him. “He doesn’t like to drink; he just likes the sensation of forgetting everything and letting loose.”
“Awashima-san told me he knew.”
“Suspected, for a long time. Thinks it’s odd that you wouldn’t quit the student council even if it’s obvious that you hate all the work.” Kusanagi slips a cigarette between his lips, lights it with a lighter. The puff of smoke swirls between their heads. “Hates that you keep forgetting to tutor him, back when he’s trying to get into Ashinaka High so hard. Be grateful, Totsuka and I took over tutoring him when he comes begging to join HOMRA.”
“He never begs.”
“Nope, yeah, I lied. He wrecked havoc here asking for the King, I had to take him down before he gets me fired.”
Saruhiko sips the coffee, makes a face at how disgusting it is. “What do you put in this?” He puts it down. “He couldn’t have known. If he did—“ he trails off, unable to continue the sentence, because if that’s true, then Misaki had been sticking with him knowing consciously Saruhiko is hurting him. Saruhiko just can’t fathom that.
“All he needed was one evidence. Totsuka’s picture was the last straw.” Kusanagi lazily twirls the cigarette between his fingers. “He said you’ve never listened to him anyway, that’s nothing new, but since you got into Ashinaka you don’t even hear his voice anymore, no matter how loud he yells.”
——-o0o——-
He mumbles into Munakata’s ear, distracted with thoughts of Misaki and the night Misaki pushes him away, of Misaki and the look in his eyes when he told Saruhiko to go take a shower, of an empty room and silence yawning wide when he comes out of the shower.
He wonders, what was it that I didn’t hear then?
He wants to make it right. He wants to make Misaki soar back up in the sky, free for a moment before crashing down back onto the ground and into Saruhiko’s arms.
“Would it make it easier for you,” Munakata says, carefully buttoning his uniform back. “If I told you that I choose Awashima?”
Saruhiko stares. “Do you?”
“No,” Munakata answers honestly. “But if it makes you happy, then yes.”
——-o0o——-
Misaki nearly clips him on the head with his baseball bat, but Saruhiko manages to duck and throws his whole weight onto Misaki’s figure, pinning him down on the pitching ground. It’s ten at night, and Saruhiko can smell alcohol in Misaki’s harsh breath.
“Get off me!” Misaki yells, outraged and frustrated. “Get off me, traitor!”
“No.” Saruhiko grits out, putting his weight even more fully on top of Misaki when the younger boy attempts to buck him off. “For fuck’s sake, Misaki, stop yelling, I heard you.”
“Fuck off.” Misaki spat bitterly, but there’s a thin layer of something wet in his eyes. Saruhiko tenses, preparing himself for a headbutt, but Misaki ceases to move under him. They were both breathing hard, the smell of alcohol strong enough to make Saruhiko dizzy, but Misaki isn’t drunk. His eyes still shines with lucidity and hatred, and Saruhiko isn’t going to let him forget this moment.
“No.” He replies, firmly. “Stop yelling. I heard you.”
“You’re a fucking liar.” Misaki hisses. “What, getting some from that student council president bastard isn’t enough for you, is that it?”
“I chose.” Saruhiko grits out, hating the way his voice breaks because it had been painful to let go of Munakata. “I chose you.”
“Like I fucking care! Get the fuck off me!”
“You care.” Saruhiko presses, desperate and scared, because if Misaki doesn’t want him anymore, he doesn’t know what to do. “You care, because you’re still yelling, even when I heard you, and right now I’m fucking listening to you, stop yelling. I’ll listen, okay, I’ll listen to you forever, would you just—“ he breaks off, panting, and he’s shaking and this, this whole thing, is fucking ridiculous. “Would you just stop yelling and talk to me, Misaki.”
There’s the sound of a sob, painful and raw, and Saruhiko only realizes that it’s Misaki’s when the younger boy yanks his arms from Saruhiko’s hold, pulls him by the lapels of his uniform down and crushes their lips together.
Saruhiko groans, because this is what he wants, this is what he’s been missing, this heat, this freedom, this scorching fire that’s so red and alive and so Misaki. It burns him from the inside, makes him want to cry and it’s so, so painful and yet it feels right.
“Fuck you.” Misaki breathes against his mouth. “I hate you. I hate you so much.”
——-o0o——-
When graduation comes along, Awashima shoves him the BL manga she’s been working on. The cover is him and Munakata, a tangle of limbs and royal blue uniform, glasses askew. Saruhiko takes a glance on it and comments, “Wow, you’re not trying to be subtle anymore, Awashima-san. What an improvement.”
Misaki is right behind him, silent and watchful for once. Awashima spares them a smile.
-
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20.10.2012 в 01:28“It’s for the cover of my next project.” She says matter-of-factly. Then her face softens as she looks into Saruhiko’s eyes. “Are you going to see him?”
Misaki tenses in his hold, and Saruhiko can’t answer.
——-o0o——-
Munakata is waiting, though, on the gate. Misaki stops in his track, looks up at Saruhiko and scowls.
“I didn’t do anything.” Saruhiko says honestly.
“Fuck this.” Misaki runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. “You have one kiss. One fucking kiss, and that’s it. You push your luck, I’ll fucking set Shouhei and Kamamoto on you, see if they won’t tear you apart.”
He hesitates, but Misaki’s eyes are hard. “Go.”
This is a closure, Saruhiko hears instead, and he squeezes Misaki’s hand before letting go. He jogs over to where Munakata is standing, tall and elegant and dignified like the King that he is, but the smile curving on his lips when he sees Saruhiko approaching still makes Saruhiko’s breath stutters.
“Thank you for coming,” Munakata says. “I thought you aren’t going to say goodbye.”
Saruhiko shrugs. “I thought I wasn’t going to.”
“What do I get then?”
“One kiss.” Saruhiko answers, glancing back to where Misaki stands, gaze boring deep into his back. “That’s it.”
“Then I won’t waste it.” Munakata’s hand reaches the back of his neck, brings him forward. Their glasses knock when they kisses, and Saruhiko makes a face, but Munakata laughs warmly into his mouth and swipes his lips with his tongue, and just like that, Saruhiko goes limp in his arms.
It feels like an eternity when they breaks off, breaths mingling.
Munakata steps back, puts a hand on his shoulder and tells him, “I’ll leave the student council to you.”
Saruhiko smirks. “Leaving your work to others until the very last, fuck you.”
Munakata’s laughter is soft and free, and Saruhiko watches him turn back and waves him goodbye.
——-o0o——-
“I’m not gonna kiss you until you wash your mouth a thousand times, dumbass.” Misaki tells him, and he laughs, because it’s worth it.
——-o0o——-
Misaki’s eyes are red.
“Kiiiiiiingggg,” he whines into Saruhiko’s pillow. “Why do you have to graduate, everything is not going to be the saaaaaame.”
Saruhiko sits down on the edge of his bed, bopping the back of Misaki’s head with a water bottle. “Your loyalty to him is insane.”
“Fuck you. King is a thousand times hotter and more awesome than you.”
“Do you guys have orgy in HOMRA?”
“Fuck no, that’s creepy. No way I’m letting Bandou touching me.”
“You talk like you’ve had sex with Suoh Mikoto.”
“God, I wish. Who doesn’t?”
Saruhiko leans down, bites the shell of Misaki’s ear and enjoys the shiver wrecking the younger boy’s body. His fingers trail down Misaki’s spine, giving enough pressure on the spots he knows Misaki’s sensitive at. He inhales in Misaki’s scent, the smell of sweat and a bit of dust and skin burning under the sun, red and alive and free.
“Red suits you,” he says against Misaki’s skin. Misaki wriggles, turns onto his back, brings his hands to keep Saruhiko’s face in place.
“Blue suits you, too.” He grumbles grudgingly, and Saruhiko laughs when they meet for a kiss.
——-END——-