Chapter Text
Sanzu Haruchiyo really likes his life right now. When he turned eighteen, he kind of decided to reinvent himself. He moved out of his older brother’s shitty apartment, leaving behind Takeomi’s unreasonable expectations and Senju’s annoying clinginess. He stopped bleaching his hair, dropped his mask and, finally, just let go.
Turned out, he enjoyed being loud way more than being silent, he enjoyed making people uncomfortable with his scars way more than hiding them behind the black piece of fabric he wore religiously starting from middle school. He enjoyed the attention, enjoyed seeing people fidgeting under his gaze, enjoyed feeling powerful instead of this constant buzzing that he wasn’t doing enough.
So, now, three years later, he has a very nice effect on people. No one dares to make a comment about his appearance, just one look is enough for others to hastily collect their things and free the spot Haruchiyo chose, be it a bench in a park or a table in a cafe.
Somehow, funnily enough, even despite two diamond scars on the corners of his mouth and his menacing attitude, he has no problem picking up a one-night stand here and there. A girl or a boy, they all run around him the moment he flashes a suggestive smirk in their direction.
“You’re done?” Haruchiyo looks down at two guys sitting by a table in a coffee shop, half-finished sandwiches on their plates.
“Does it look like we’re-“ one of them starts irately but shuts up the moment his gaze lands on Haruchiyo. His eyes grow comically big and he nods frantically like those bouncy stupid spiral toys. It takes less than a minute for both of the unlucky customers to gather their things and even clean the table, leaving in a hurry without daring to say another word.
Haruchiyo smirks as he flops on a chair and looks around the lively coffee shop with no other free tables. But a little burst of satisfaction for using his perfected to the point of art skill of intimidation dies down pretty fast. The loud sound of cups and kitchen utensils clinking, cheery laughs and constant chatter, all of it bangs on Haruchiyo’s eardrums and makes his head hurt even more.
He groans as he closes his eyes tightly in a futile attempt to wish the hangover away. Or not only hangover, he is one hundred percent sure he snorted something with that girl in a club yesterday night. Something shitty, judging by his awful headache and disgusting mood. Alcohol doesn’t make his head hurt like this.
To top it off, the guy he picked up was fucking awful in bed. He physically needs a cup of really strong coffee and then he can wallow in his disgusting mood through the weekend.
“You look like shit,” a body flops on a chair in front of him with a very nice compliment.
Haruchiyo glares at Baji, dejectedly noticing how fresh and collected he looks. Hair in a ponytail, ironed shirt, not even a hint of eye bags. Baji also looks smug. Very smug.
“You look like someone just sucked your dick,” Haruchiyo says with narrowed eyes.
Baji just grins, “Tora woke me up nicely.”
Haruchiyo rolls his eyes, his headache made him forget for a second that Baji indeed had someone to suck his dick first thing in the morning.
“Go grab me coffee,” he decides Baji at least owes him that much.
“What, too hangover?” Baji coos with feigned concern.
“Yes, so be a good friend and fuss over me,” Haruchiyo deadpans, but he knows a little desperation managed to seep through his voice anyway. It earns him a little snort and a cup of black coffee ten minutes later.
“Tora wants to go clubbing next Saturday,” Baji says as he takes a sip of his drink.
“And?”
“And you have to go with us because I’m not going through the trouble of choosing a place when I have you,” comes a nonchalant reply.
“Oh, like hell. I ain’t third-wheeling, you two are fucking obnoxious together,” Haruchiyo is quick to shoot down that offer.
He was stupid enough to go with them a few times, it’s a nightmare. Kazutora is fun on his own and Baji is fun on his own, but when they’re together it’s like the most sickly sweet cliches of couples in love come to life. Pet names, constant touching, kissing, and, once again, disgusting pet names. And they’re so whipped for each other it’s impossible to have any meaningful conversation or just anything that’s not watching them indulge in PDA. It’s bearable when they have lunch together or any other day activity, but clubbing? God, no, Kazutora dresses like the biggest slut and Baji just ogles him and then they practically fuck on a dance floor and leave in an hour or two to actually fuck. And that’s it.
“Bring someone else too, but you are getting us into some cool underground type of shit club. Tora bought a fishnet top, Haru. Fishnet,” Baji looks at him with meaningful eyes as if trying to translate the full importance of that piece of news.
Haruchiyo’s eyebrow arches skeptically, “as if he needs an excuse to dress like a whore for you.”
Baji smirks, “nope, but I wanna show him off.”
Which is a code for ‘I miss punching people.’
“Still no, I ain’t getting banned from a club on top of third-wheeling,” Haruchiyo shrugs and sips his coffee.
Baji rolls his eyes, “it’s a miracle you’re not getting banned on a regular.”
“I’m actually smart enough not to bite the hand that feeds me.” Believe it or not, there are not that many good clubs in a reasonable distance away from Sanzu’s apartment, so he learned to be polite just in a strictly required amount.
“Feeds you shitty party drugs?” Baji laughs, pointedly looking Haruchiyo’s sorry form up and down.
“Shut it,” Haruchiyo sighs, he can’t really debunk that accusation.
They chat some more, drinking their coffees and discussing whatever comes to mind. It’s a nice tradition, they meet up in this coffee shop practically every day when their schedules allow it. Haruchiyo and Baji were childhood friends, but they grew apart with time. They only reconnected thanks to a chance. Baji works in a pet shop that’s right across the street from the bar where Haruchiyo worked as a barman back when he was just starting to make a living for himself.
Haruchiyo owns that bar now. He can’t say it happened legally, a bit of blackmailing helped him out. But the previous owner, well, Haruchiyo still beat him up afterward till he was sure that dick was never going to work again. He didn’t go to the police just as he promised, he kept his word, see? Baji threw a party to celebrate that and then drunkenly complained to Haruchiyo about not inviting him and Kazutora to join the lynching.
Haruchiyo didn’t realize he missed having friends, he was not really successful in that department in his early teens, too quiet and reserved. But now, the way he is now, Baji is a perfect match for him. They’re both loud and suckers for some thrill, they’re both loyal and have each other’s backs. To be honest, Haruchiyo is even sure that if it wasn’t for him randomly meeting Baji again, he wouldn’t even acquire some of the core beliefs he holds now. In a way, and he will never admit it out loud, but Baji did help him grow out of that quiet bystander role.
Baji is in the middle of explaining how his petshop employer is a complete dickhead as his phone chimes with a new message alert. He unlocks in a second and, judging by his dilated pupils, it’s a text from Kazutora. Or a picture. Baji licks his lips and Haruchiyo knows for sure it’s a picture. Honestly, how can one person be this fucking infatuated?
“You’re drooling,” Haruchiyo informs flatly as he watches Baji staring at the screen with hungry eyes.
“Fishnet, Haru,” Baji says in quiet wonder, eyes never leaving his phone. “I love him,” he then adds like the sap that he is.
“Disgusting.”
Baji looks up from his phone with a wide grin, “don’t be jealous, you’ll find your love too. And then I’m gonna laugh at you drooling.”
Haruchiyo huffs, “yeah, sure. Me in a loving relationship. When did you become a comedian?”
“Oh, you’re gonna be just as insufferable as I am. Probably shitty as a boyfriend though, but I’m gonna be here to help you out!” Baji puffs out his chest proudly, says it all with annoying level of sureness.
“I don’t need your help with getting laid,” Haruchiyo snorts.
Baji’s phone chimes again and he raises his finger in a sign to wait while he drools over his boyfriend once again. Oh, it’s not a picture this time, Baji smiles fondly, literal hearts floating around him as he quickly types a reply.
“Getting laid and being in a relationship are two different things,” he then says as he locks his phone, that mature and slightly patronizing tone of voice makes Haruchiyo want to punch him.
“What makes you think I even want a relationship?” Haruchiyo raises his eyebrows mockingly, voice dripping sarcasm to retaliate for that condescending attitude.
“Because you like trying out new shit and you haven’t tried it yet,” Baji shrugs simply. “Plus, you are jealous of me getting blowjobs whenever I want, don’t hide it,” he then smirks smugly.
“I’m jealous of the consistent quality of said blowjobs, that dude almost bit my dick off yesterday,” Haruchiyo suppresses a shudder, the memory of it is too painful.
And, yeah, Baji was right about trying out new shit. Haruchiyo was scolded for a lot of things as a kid, was denied a lot of things as a teen. So, when he moved out and started making a life of his own, he was faced with a realization that he had a very limited idea about what he liked or disliked, what he needed and what he could live without. As if to compensate for all those years, he started to try out everything. He learned that he liked his hair pink and disliked wearing his mask. He learned that he liked loud music and flashing lights of nightclubs and disliked the quietness of his empty apartment. He learned that he liked sex and disliked waking up to strangers.
By now, he already has a pretty good idea of what makes him excited and what makes him disinterested. But there are still a lot of things he hasn’t tried, relationships being one of them. He’s not opposed to the idea in general. Of course, he dreads ever finding himself in Baji’s shoes, being this obnoxiously whipped over someone. But, at the same time, he is jealous of having someone to wake up to in the morning, someone you actually want to wake up to. And, thanks to Baji’s unfiltered mouth, he also maybe got jealous over the idea of waking up to someone sucking his dick. That part of being in a relationship sounds great.
“Guess what?” Baji’s grin gets bigger, eyes sparkling.
“What?” Haruchiyo asks carefully, that grin means Baji’s unfiltered mouth is about to overshare.
“Tora pierced his tongue, imagine the quality now.”
Fucking smug motherfucker.
“Fuck you,” Haruchiyo throws a napkin at Baji’s satisfied mug.
Baji laughs, the crumpled tissue doesn’t even reach him. “But, getting back to the point,” he then says with a serious face. “You have no problem with getting laid but I swear on Tora’s ass, you’re so fucking awkward when it comes to meaningful relationships.”
Haruchiyo arches his eyebrows skeptically, “and how do you know it, seeing as I didn’t have any meaningful relationships?”
“Because, Haru, you’re my best friend and I love and treasure you,” Baji’s lips stretch in a wide grin and Haruchiyo’s eyes grow big. He even feels his cheeks getting hot, can’t even come up with a sarcastic reply. Baji’s grin turns into a smirk. “See? You’re blushing,” he teases.
“Fuck you,” Haruchiyo mumbles, looking down at his empty cup and feeling his face getting even hotter.
The nightclub is filled with dancing people, loud music blasting through the speakers and colorful lights flashing. It’s one of Haruchiyo’s favorites, this club. The music is incredible and it’s popular among underground scene, so the crowd is pretty interesting. There are artsy types with elaborate outfits and then there are also delinquents with tattoos and scars. All of them coexist quite peacefully because no one wants to get banned from a place like this. And its ban policy is strict, really strict, one punch is enough to never be allowed here again.
He chose this one because he always has fun in it and the quality of party drugs here is considerably higher. And he will need a party drug to make up for the third-wheeling role he, unfortunately, was bullied into by Baji.
Haruchiyo throws a look to his left as he leans on a bar with a glass of Long Island in hand. Baji and Kazutora’s drinks stand forgotten as they make out, their hands roam each other’s bodies and even with music this loud Haruchiyo can hear a few moans here and there. There are already a few tears on Kazutora’s fishnet long-sleeved top, Baji shows his appreciation in very straightforward ways. And, okay, Kazutora does look hot in it, the pattern is big enough to only serve as a decoration rather than actual clothes, showing off his toned body. Not that anyone aside from Baji is safe to appreciate it.
A sigh escapes Haruchiyo as he watches the couple kissing hungrily, he knew it will end up like this. So, with another sigh, he takes a big gulp of his drink and looks around, trying to find a familiar frame of his usual dealer. Some coke or maybe molly, that will definitely lighten up his mood.
“Haru,” a breathless call of his name brings his attention back to Baji and Kazutora. They stopped kissing, yay.
“Hm?”
“Tora wants something fun,” Baji says as he leans a bit closer so as not to shout it at the top of his lungs. Kazutora nods a few times with pupils so blown as if he’s already on something fun.
“What exactly?” Haruchiyo asks tiredly, he knows he’ll find it for them either way. But he can at least act like it's bothersome.
“What’s the best shit to have sex on?” Kazutora asks him instead. Of course, those horny idiots.
“You tried molly?”
Both of them shake their heads negatively.
“Too bad, I won’t babysit you,” he shrugs with a smirk and takes a sip of his drink.
“C’mon! What’s the point of having a junkie friend if you can’t even get us drugs?” Kazutora whines childishly.
“I’m not a junkie, I have brains. That’s why I won’t give you shit you haven’t tried and end up as your sitter on a Saturday night,” Haruchiyo deadpans because he is honestly not in a mood to take care of their high asses. And it’s been two months since he did molly himself, his plan for today is to be the one high.
“Babe, he’s right,” Baji says placidly to his boyfriend.
Kazutora looks at Baji with narrowed eyes, then turns his gaze to Haruchiyo, “so you’ll babysit us on another day?”
In all honesty, Haruchiyo really doesn’t want to. But if he sacrifices one of his evenings to make sure those idiots do everything right, he won’t need to make sure of it later. Not so bad of an investment.
“Yes,” he replies with a tired sigh. Once again, he’s not above demonstrating what a chore it will be.
Kazutora grins. “Then next week, free up your schedule. By the way, you can watch,” he then adds with a suggestive smirk, making Baji roll his eyes.
“Baji gives me frightening details of your sex life as it is, I’m fine,” Haruchiyo replies with a snort and takes another sip of his drink, noticing with a bit of sadness how thawed ice considerably watered it down.
“Suit yourself,” Kazutora shrugs. His gaze returns to Baji, hands go up his torso with the same suggestive smirk playing on the lips. “Let’s go dance, daddy.”
Baji’s eyes widen for a second and Kazutora laughs as he tugs him into the crowd of moving bodies. Haruchiyo sighs, just as usual. On the bright side, since Kazutora already went to his daddy kink, they probably won’t come back to finish their drinks.
Haruchiyo grabs Kazutora’s Zombie cocktail and sips on a killer mixture of rum. His gaze returns to scanning the club in search of his dealer, some dumb delinquent but his shit is good. If he times everything right, by the time a pill takes effect those two idiots in love should already be safely home and fucking.
And, yep, as Haruchiyo looks at the dancing crowd, he sees glimpses of Baji and Kazutora dancing. If you can call it dancing and not just groping each other to the rhythm. Haruchiyo’s bet for today is forty minutes maximum, they’ll leave in forty minutes. How did he even agree to go with them? Again.
“Sanzu! My man, why such a long face?”
As if this club night needed something to get worse.
“Shion! My man, why such a dumb face?” Haruchiyo snickers. He can’t stand Shion but he admits that it is exceptionally hilarious, the way the idiot doesn’t understand that Haruchiyo’s comments are so fucking far from friendly banter.
And, of course, Shion laughs, his hand is wrapped around some poor girl. He leans down to her, shouting, “Sanzu has a nasty mouth. See, someone already taught him a lesson,” he motions with his hand to Haruchiyo’s scars.
Oh, if only this club was not the only place where Haruchiyo stumbles on Shion. He wants to rip his mouth apart with sadistic pleasure but, unfortunately, he can’t do it here. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, Haruchiyo reminds himself.
The girl chuckles nervously, sending an apologetic look to Haruchiyo. No need to apologize, he’s not the one who has to spend time with that embarrassment of a human being.
“What makes you think I didn’t do it myself?” Haruchiyo touches the scar on the right side of his mouth, eyebrows raised in mocking.
Shion laughs again, “crazy motherfucker!”
“Hey, I asked to look over our drinks!” Kazutora’s voice reaches Haruchiyo through the loud music just when a grabby hand snatches the cocktail away. “And who’s that?”
“An embarrassment,” Haruchiyo states flatly.
Kazutora laughs, “yeah, I can see that.”
“The fuck you can see!?” Shion shouts, enraged.
Really? Haruchiyo tries so damn hard for this shithead to realize how he barely tolerates him and it took Kazutora just one comment? Unfair.
Kazutora eyes Shion up and down skeptically and doesn’t bother to reply at all, just sips on his cocktail and turns his attention back to Sanzu. “Come dance with me, Baji went to take a piss.”
Usually, Haruchiyo would roll his eyes and say that Kazutora can survive five minutes without attention, but now it’s a perfect opportunity to leave the bar. He can find his dealer later.
“Sure,” he agrees easily and gulps down Baji’s unfinished Whiskey Sour.
“Sanzu, your bitch was disrespectful to me,” Shion grabs his upper arm, a stupid manic smile on his stupid face. Wrong choice of words.
“His what!? I’ll fucking rip your tongue-“
Haruchiyo sends Kazutora a warning glance. Kazutora takes a deep breath and raises his free arm in mock surrender. If Baji is a sucker for some fight it shouldn’t come as a surprise that the love of his life has a temper even shorter.
Haruchiyo wants to ‘kindly’ ask Shion to fuck off but that annoying laugh interrupts him. “Well, since he’s so obedient, make him apologize and it’s all good.”
Kazutora looks at Shion again and then giggles with a little tilt of his head. He hands Haruchiyo his glass and steps closer to that embarrassment, way too close. Fuck, that’s bad.
“Kazutora-“
“It’s fine, he’s right,” Kazutora says with a sweet smile as he briefly looks at Haruchiyo. No, it’s not. Haruchiyo places the glass on the bar counter, he knows what’s coming.
Kazutora eyes the girl by Shion’s side, “you can do better even for a one-night stand.” And his knee kicks Shion’s crotch, making him bend down with an even stupider expression on his face if that’s even possible. Kazutora leans to his ear, “I’m so terribly sorry.”
Okay, first, that was so fucking satisfying to watch, Baji really has amazing taste. Second, a barman already calls for security. Fuck.
“You fucking…” Shion mutters as he tries to straighten up.
“Shut the fuck up,” Haruchiyo spats, grabs Kazutora’s hand and leads him away into the crowd.
“Sorry-sorry, I know you said no fighting, but-“
“Oh, I can kiss for that, I’ve dreamed of punching him for months,” Haruchiyo flips Kazutora off. “But if I get banned from here, you better come up with a better apology.”
Kazutora says something else but they’re already by a DJ booth and the music is way louder here, so Haruchiyo can’t hear him. Just puts him right in front of the stand so Kazutora faces the DJ and hugs him from behind, hoping that the club’s security will have at least some trouble finding him that way.
“Oh wow, Baji’s gonna be jealous,” Kazutora laughs as he turns his head, starting to sway his hips to the rhythm.
“Shut it and make sure the security can’t see you,” Haruchiyo rolls his eyes.
Aside from this little misunderstanding, he does have fun. Kazutora can actually dance and not just grind on Baji’s crotch, what a miracle. And Kazutora is fun on his own, he sings to the songs he knows and blabbers about how smart Haruchiyo is for clubbing on weekends, he also badmouths some outfits and whines about Baji taking too long. Haruchiyo reminds him that it is hard to find people in the crowd, but only gets an elbow to his ribs.
The song changes and Kazutora yelps excitedly, “I love this one! This DJ is fucking lit!”
In all honesty, Haruchiyo rarely pays attention to DJs, he’s usually too busy being high or drunk or making out with strangers. But he’s not that drunk now and he faces the booth that’s practically a meter away from them, so he looks up. Wow.
You see, Haruchiyo has a very elaborate understanding of beauty, he had to form it and hone it during the past three years, same as any other thing he had to learn about himself. Haruchiyo likes blonds with downturned eyes, he likes his girls with flashy make-up and tiny waists and his boys a bit bored looking but with enough muscles to pin him against walls and fuck him hard. He doesn’t have more references as to the deep personal characteristics since he never had anything more than a one-night stand, so his understanding of beauty is mostly physical, appearance-focused.
That DJ right there? He’s fucking everything and more. Blond hair with blue highlights in a bun, two locks framing his face, perfectly bored downturned eyes. And his arms, fuck, those arms can definitely pin Haruchiyo against the wall. The muscles shift as he works on controllers, on full display in that loose black tank top. And, fuck, that tattoo covering just one side of his body, twirling around his right arm and probably going all the way down to his abs.
If Haruchiyo gets banned from this club before fucking that DJ, he will personally kill Kazutora.
And he will get banned because one of the security guys is making his way right to the booth, probably to search for the troublemaker from a vantage point.
“Why are you groping my boyfriend?” Baji laughs into Haruchiyo’s ear. Then his other ear is assaulted by Kazutora’s screech of Baji’s name. Ten minutes, god, they were apart for ten minutes.
Haruchiyo practically manhandles Kazutora into Baji’s hands and then turns Baji around so his frame could hide his short-tempered boyfriend.
“Stay like this. I’ll fucking murder both of you if I get banned from here,” he hisses into Baji’s ear.
“What did I do?” Baji asks him confusedly as he turns his head but Kazutora grabs his face and kisses him, sending a quick apologetic look to Haruchiyo before focusing his full attention on devouring Baji’s mouth.
As Haruchiyo turns around, he sees how the DJ listens to the security guy as he says something into his ear. His bored eyes land on Haruchiyo, then his gaze shifts to Baji and Kazutora. And then he grins, arches his eyebrow as if in question as their gazes lock on each other again.
Haruchiyo shrugs guiltily, he’s willing to put on any kind of performance just so he could come back here again and watch that tattooed hand push buttons and spin records.
The DJ says something to the security guy and… the guy leaves. Those perfect lips stretch into a smirk, purple eyes spark with a bit of amusement. Haruchiyo’s dream then mouthes a few simple words: ‘you owe me one.’
Haruchiyo doesn’t like debts, but he will gladly pay this one with his body. No, please, let him pay this one with his body. That DJ can do fucking anything to him. Baji said Haruchiyo will find his love too, right? Well, he just did.