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“No way.”
“But come on, bro!” Gaku folds his hands together as if praying. “This is, like—y’know…! A once-in-a-lifetime kinda thing!”
“Gaku…” Takumi pinches the bridge of his nose. Trying to wrap his head around this is doing more harm than good.
“And it literally is once-in-our-lifetime; Tsubasa’s gonna get Moko on my ass if I don’t at least try this crap out! Do you want me to die, huh?! Get turned into a carpet?! Are you really so heartless and cruel and…”
Takumi opens his mouth to shut up Gaku’s gaslighting, before slowly setting his lips in a firm line. It’s better not to feed into him when he’s acting like this.
“So, ugh… Let me get this straight…”
“...And that's the long and short of it!” Tsubasa bounced on her heels, trying to stop herself from flapping her hands as she held up her latest invention. “Then it was just the finishing touches, and bam! The Hypno-O-Matic! Or…I guess it should be called the Hyp-no-Matic? I’ll work on the name later, hehe…”
Gaku snapped awake right as Tsubasa finished her three and a half hour spiel about the blueprinting, procurement, and construction of the small toy gun that was in her hands.
“T-That’s totally…awesome?”
“I know—I’m so glad you think the same; I mean, you were so locked in that I started rambling again!”
Gaku almost felt bad for scampering off to dreamland while Tsubasa was pouring her heart out, but the plastic gun being put in his grip brought any and all self-reflection to a grinding halt. The stupid thing was tiny, just barely as big as his hand and light as a feather. He almost couldn’t believe there was so much metal and wires and thingamajigs making it tick.
“So…you seriously couldn’t find anyone to test your mind control thing?”
“D-Don’t call it that…! It might recreate some of the effects of Sirei’s D.C.R.T., but it’s completely humane. I think. Well, I’m certain it won’t work without the other party’s consent, that’s for sure.” Tsubasa was back to infographic mode, reiterating what Gaku probably would have known if he had paid attention to her earlier speech.
“Uh-huh.”
Tsubasa glared at Gaku, noting the dried drool on his chin as he yawned.
“Believe me, Gaku, I’d ask anyone else if I could.” Ouch. “But everyone’s so busy this week, and it was down to you and Yugamu. If someone got cut into pieces because of me, I don’t think I could forgive myself…”
“O-Oh, yeah… But why don’t you just handle it?”
“I tried with Darumi, then Takemaru, but no dice. It’s likely the pitch and tone of my voice that’s the issue, so I decided to let one of the boys have a crack at it before going back to the drawing board…”
What the heck? This thing’s a piece of junk, then.
“Shut it, Gaku!” Damn, he said that out loud. “You’re gonna test my Hypno-Matic, and you’re not gonna try it on any of the girls, you perv!”
“Wha-a-a-at…? Then what the hell’s the point?!”
“Gaku…!”
“And then she threw a wrench at you,” Takumi concludes.
Gaku forlornly rubs a sore spot on his forehead. “Well…”
“If she tried it two times and nothing happened, why are you even bugging me about this…?” Takumi rises from his bed, clearly trying to put the conversation to rest.
Gaku loosely grabs his shoulder, trying to sound as casual as possible. “Takumi, Tak-ster, Tak-manian Devil—”
“Stop.”
“Lemme just prove this entire thing is B.S. and I’ll never bring it up again. Ever.”
“...”
“...”
“No…”
“Come o-n-n-n-n…!” Gaku flops on Takumi’s bed, kicking his feet. “But what if it does work, man?!”
“I thought you just said it was B.S.?”
“So what if I don’t think that, huh? What if I think this whole thing’s actually a little cool? You gonna take away one of the few kinda cool things in my life?”
Takumi sighs, picking up the toy Gaku brought with him. This is…really stupid. No offense to Tsubasa, but a plastic ray gun replicating what the giant (and frankly, horrifying) contraption in the Infirmary did to Eva is laughable. Ha. Ha.
It’s stupid. Very much so. But…he sort of understands where Gaku’s coming from. To want to test something so outrageous out, Takumi means. It doesn’t mean it’s going to work, but at least they can put this behind them so Gaku can pester Takumi about normal things like cheating at mahjong and trying to find the Gift-O-Matic’s secret catalogue.
“I’m not that evil, Gaku.” He tosses the toy, rolling his eyes exasperatedly as Gaku reacts too slowly and almost drops it.
“So—So we’re doing this?!” Gaku practically leaps off Takumi’s bed, face turning red with excitement. “Serious, Takumi?! You’re being deadass?!”
“Yes, now let’s prove this thing doesn’t work before I change my mind.”
Gaku fumbles around with the gun, vibrating as he marvels at the thing that’s finally going to add a little awesomeness to this boring-ass week (if it works). “Y-Yeah, right…! If this works, I’m gonna—uh, I’ll make you—”
“Don’t say steal Hiruko’s panties.”
“Huh?”
“Or take a picture of Kurara crying…”
“Wuh…?”
“And if you make me record Kyoshika saying she loves you, I’ll get Ima to—”
“What the hell?! Why would I do any of that crap?”
“I…” Takumi can’t answer that, honestly. It just popped into his head. “It’s…certainly in character for you…”
“Get real.” He turns the dial on the left side of the gun. “Alright, Takumi, sit your butt down.”
“Yes, sir…” Takumi groans sarcastically, making himself comfortable on the foot of his bed.
“There’s gonna be a flash—like taking a picture for your Complex I.D.—except I have to do it… Four times?”
“Don’t tell me you forgot, Gaku…”
“...F-Five times! Totally. It’s four—crap, I-I mean five times. And I think I have to count down. Y’know, like, ‘five, four, three…’”
“I get it.”
“Then let’s do this!” Gaku points the tip of the gun in front of Takumi with a flourish, which only earns a laugh. “Take this seriously, man!”
“S-Sorry, pfft… This is just so dumb…”
“I-I guess so…” Gaku chuckles a little too. “O-Okay, for real now. Look, hahaha, dude! Look at the pointy thing here!”
“Fine, fine…” Takumi, still giggling under his breath, leans forward and tries looking at the small antenna sticking out of the gun’s barrel.
“You ready?”
“I was born ready.”
“Then this is number five!”
As soon as those words leave Gaku’s mouth, the finger sitting comfortably in the trigger guard moves slightly and pushes, the trigger of the toy sliding until a faint click echoes throughout the room.
In an instant, Takumi’s dorm is filled with a blinding white light. It completely absorbs every color it touches in the microsecond it’s released before disappearing just as quickly, returning everything to how it should be. Takumi blinks rapidly, his smile from just the moment before faltering significantly. Gaku’s immediately seized with the urge to ask if he’s okay, but doing that would fuck up the countdown and break the hypnotism’s hold on his mind (or whatever Tsubasa said). So he swallows his concern.
“This…is number four.”
The trigger is pulled again, Gaku’s finger pushing with a bit more desperation now. White scalds the world for only an instant more, and when Gaku’s eyes quickly adjust, he sees Takumi's expression completely devoid of any traces of his earlier high spirits. His countenance is completely neutral, eyes fixed squarely on the barrel of the toy.
“Th-Three…”
White again. Then normal again. Gaku doesn’t even blink this time, gaze locked on Takumi to see what happens next. Takumi’s lips become parted slightly, his left eye twitching as he inches forward ever so subtly, face a centimeter closer to the antenna that’s capturing his attention. Gaku’s breath hitches.
“Two…”
Gaku finds himself mirroring Takumi, unable to keep his mouth from hanging open as he peers into Takumi’s irises. Or lack thereof. Takumi’s pupils have expanded so much that the purple of his eyes is virtually impossible to see. It’s like…two black voids. Nothing behind them except a faint reflection of Gaku.
“O-One…”
There’s no fanfare or level-up jingle. The dorm stays completely silent, save for Gaku’s mildly labored breathing, as Takumi stares forward blankly. Gaku remains still for nearly half a minute before slowly lowering the ray gun. Takumi, however, has no reaction, eyes trained solely on Gaku’s torso. He blinks and steps to the side, and again, Takumi remains stonelike.
“T-Takumi…?” Gaku squeaks, biting his nails. No response.
Aren’t mind-controlled people supposed to be all like ‘tell me what to do, master,’ or something? Is Takumi broken? Tsubasa’s gonna wring his neck!
“Uh…” Gaku stutters, stepping right in front of Takumi and snapping his fingers. No dice.
“C-Can you hear me, dude?”
“...Yeah.”
Okay, nice. At least he isn’t a total vegetable. Gaku circles Takumi, utterly disconcerted with the situation he now finds himself in. He reaches a shaking finger out and pokes Takumi’s cheek, grimacing in worry that it’ll break him out of his spell.
“...”
Takumi remains seated as Gaku touches his face, like a porcelain doll. Huh. The scene is…sort of goofy, actually. Gaku pokes at Takumi a bit harshly, then decides to take a leap of faith and pinch his cheek, pulling the skin pretty harshly. The real Takumi would start flipping his shit, wouldn’t he? ‘Gaku, knock that off!’ and stuff. This is so outrageous it borders on funny.
“H-Hey…” Gaku tries stifling a laugh, seeing if Takumi can do more than just sit still. “Uh… Stand up.”
Without a second’s delay, Takumi rises from his spot, making Gaku stumble backwards. He quickly composes himself and waves his hand in front of Takumi’s face, chuckling when he remains as impassive as ever.
“Balance on one foot!”
Takumi tries, at least, but he sways in his spot due to his piss-poor sense of balance. Gaku guffaws, almost doubling over in laughter.
“Okay, man, hahaha…! Okay—S-Stop, bro.” Takumi stands normally again. “Say, ‘Gaku’s the biggest badass in Last Defense Academy.’”
“...Gaku is the biggest badass in Last Defense Academy.”
“Hahahahaha! Damn, dude!”
Gaku halfheartedly punches Takumi’s arm. “You think I’m just so-o-o-o awesome, huh?” He asks sarcastically.
“Not…really.”
Gaku's laughing instantly ceases.
…What?
Wait, this is, like, hypnotism. Not brainwashing. Two different things. Eva can’t tell the S.D.U. about the invaders or how the Commanders work because her memories are totally screwed, but Takumi’s still…Takumi. Even if he acts like a robot now.
“Er…” Gaku hesitates, his eyebrows furrowing. “Do you think I’m at least…a little cool?”
“Kind of…”
“Really?!” It’d be pretty embarrassing for Takumi to see him getting so hyped over something so small, but Takumi’s not here. Well, he sort of is. Gaku chooses not to think about it too deeply. “What makes me cool, huh?”
“I think…you’re reliable…”
“A-And?”
“And…you're pretty funny…”
Duh! Gaku's the funniest guy at this stupid academy, bar none. Why doesn't Takumi tell him that more often? Or at all?! Gaku presses his thighs together, ignoring the spark of something sizzling in his core.
“G-Go on, bro! I didn't tell you to stop…!”
“You're…the best cook at the academy…”
He internally fistbumps himself. Hell yeah! Kurara's a one-trick pony, but Takumi knows a jack of all trades is where it's at! Gaku involuntarily shudders at the praise, bouncing on his heels.
“Your Class Weapon…is awesome, too…”
“I-I know that, dude…” Everything feels too hot, and Gaku's breaths come out in quick bursts as he tries not to rock back and forth. He leans slightly against Takumi for support. It's all good. Takumi doesn't mind.
“And I—I think you…”
Takumi's mouth stays open in silence, momentarily breaking Gaku out of his haze. It almost looks like he's struggling to hold something back.
“W-What…?” Gaku frowns, suddenly irritated. “What, man? Waddya think about me?”
“I—I think you're…you look g-good…”
“...”
A strangled sound rips out of Gaku's throat, akin to a shriek crossed with a gasp. What?!
“And you—”
“Woahwoahwoahwoah—Back up, dude. You think I look good? Me?!”
“Uh-huh…”
“But, like…!” Even though it feels like molten lava's being poured over Gaku's skin, he's compelled to press further. His (not blood-related) parents might have called him cute, but…nobody's ever said he looks good or handsome or whatever.
He can't believe it. Takumi is playing a practical joke on him even while hypnotized. “How—I don't—Why do you—”
“Your eyes are nice… You ha—have nice…eyelashes…”
Gaku's face burns as he digests what he's hearing. He's never even thought about that—that something like his eyes could be appealing. He'd avoid looking in the mirror whenever possible because his gaze would always lock on his lanky torso and hairy body, and stupid bowl cut.
He never focused on his eyes. His long lashes and monolids. That's girly shit.
“Is that it?” Gaku's voice is smaller than he ever thought possible.
“Ye—No…”
“Then—what else, Takumi?!”
“I—I don't know.”
“What the hell are you talking about…?” Gaku grabs Takumi's shoulders, shaking him. “How do you not know?”
“It's—hard to…”
“I don't care, man! Just—”
Gaku, while continuing to furiously shake Takumi, trips over himself, sending the pair falling onto the bed.
Like this, basically straddling Takumi while he stares at the ceiling, Gaku realizes he's hard. Well, he's been hard. For a while. And he feels like a bona fide pervert for it. Are some nice words from a guy all that it takes to give him a stiffy? He swallows harshly as the familiar feeling of shame washes through him.
And it only rolls through him harder, practically drowning him, as he slowly grinds down on Takumi's thigh.
He's disgusting. He's fucking gross and Takumi's in there, deep down, but he's never gonna get this ever again, is he? Takumi thinks he looks good and that he's a good cook, and it's the nicest shit anyone's ever said to him in his 17 years of living. It's probably the nicest thing he'll ever hear about himself.
“Just tell me,” Gaku whines.
“I—” Takumi's blank countenance breaks slightly, contorting into a small grimace. “I…like all—of you…”
It's too much. Gaku's gonna blow a load into his clothes at this rate.
“Do you…think about me?”
“Yes…”
“D-Do you…” Gaku shifts his position, palming himself through his jeans. “Do you think—think about how I look?”
“Yeah…”
“E-Even when you're alone?”
“Sometimes…”
“Me too,” Gaku admits hastily. He instantly regrets it, walking back his comment as if Takumi is in any state to judge him. “Like, you're—a handsome guy, y'know… You—all the girls like you, and stuff…”
“...”
“Keep talking, Takumi, I—” Gaku slips his hand past the waistband of his pants, gripping himself through his boxers.
“About you…?”
“Sure. Y-Yeah, anything.”
“I—Sometimes I wish you—could…do that barbecue again…”
“What?” Gaku bucks his hips into his hand, squeezing the tip of his cock. “I—I mean I could, dude… That’d be cool…”
“You did, b-before… The first time…”
Oh, yeah. Takumi’s first rodeo before he redid the hundred days over again. His explanation of everything he went through was so long that Gaku barely remembers any of the finer details—things were confusing, then it went to shit, is what he took away.
“Sure, man. You—You like my cooking, right…?”
Takumi nods, and Gaku nearly moans, imagining Takumi with a bashful expression on his face. He hisses as he pulls his pants and underwear down in one fluid motion, sweaty fingers working over the length of his dick.
“Yeah—Yeah, I’ll… I’ll plan a barbecue and shit. ‘Cause, you—You asked, and—” Gaku bites his bottom lip, wheezing.
“Okay.”
“Mhm.” As one hand furiously wrings his cock, Gaku leans against his elbow, letting his other hand run through Takumi’s red hair. He really is a pervert, huh? It’s not like anyone expected anything different from him. Self-fulfilling prophecy and all that.
“I wish you—” Takumi chokes back something, and Gaku digs his face into the crook of his neck.
“Tell me—Takumi, you… You gotta tell me, dude.”
“I wish—you were yourself more.”
Gaku stops his masturbation, and with it, his breathing. There was a disturbing amount of clarity behind Takumi’s words that has Gaku pulling back to check his eyes. Just as black and empty as before.
“I…” Gaku’s mouth is suddenly dry. Despite the cold flash that has goosebumps prickling his arms, he still resumes his stroking. “I don’t—”
“I wish you stopped tanking your likability, Gaku.”
Gaku’s thumb swipes over his urethra, oozing precum like a leaky faucet. “I don’t, man…”
“You do. You—told me.”
“When did—I didn’t…!”
“In—” Takumi’s mouth twitches downwards. “In front of—the fire… You told me, and I…”
“...”
Gaku is stunned into silence. The fire? What the fuck is he saying? Gaku unconsciously leans his face closer to Takumi’s, their noses nearly touching.
“I didn’t—I wish I—gave you the sewing kit again…”
Gaku doesn’t understand. “Why?” is what he asks, hand tightening around his aching cock.
“Because…you talked to me when I did…”
“We always talk, dude.”
“Not—Not like that…”
It burns. There’s a burning behind Gaku’s eyes, and he belatedly realizes he’s crying.
“Oh.”
“Yeah…”
He digs his face into Takumi’s chest, getting tears and snot on his sweater. Scrambles for purchase on a bed that isn’t his as his toes curl, grip hardening as his orgasm threatens to overtake him.
“Takumi—” Gaku sniffles. “Takumi, I—I like you, man. I—I think I like you, Takumi—You’re so strong, and I—”
Sparks dance behind Gaku’s eyelids as he screws his eyes shut, biting Takumi’s clothes to stop the overflowing of mortifying bullshit from spilling past his lips. He speeds up his masturbating, thrusting his hips up so harshly it nearly causes him to fall forward.
“I-I do too,” Takumi says. “I—think…I like—”
Gaku slams his lips against Takumi’s as he cums, fingers curling around scarlet locks and pulling. He doesn’t return the kiss, lips remaining tightly sealed, but Gaku can’t be bothered to give a rat’s ass as lightning strikes his form, travelling up his spine and turning his brain to mush. Semen spills over his fingers and stains Takumi, coating both in fat white spurts. Gaku quickly deflates, falling on top of Takumi as he tries catching his ragged breath.
Damn it.
After two or so minutes, the cooling spunk on his fingers becomes too gross to ignore, and he peels himself off Takumi dejectedly.
“Do you—” Gaku pauses as he looks for a napkin. “Do you like me like that?”
“I don’t…understand the question.”
Gaku throws his hands up in defeat, dashing to the bathroom and rolling a giant wad of toilet paper, wiping his soiled hand before trying to clean up Takumi’s sweater.
“Like a…” He shouldn’t say it. “....relationship.”
“I don’t know.”
Of course. Of course, even when literally mind-controlled, he still finds a way to be evasive—give the everyman answer. Like how the leader’s supposed to. Post nut clarity’s hitting like a freight train, and Gaku lets himself be cradled by the thick blanket of bitterness.
“You like Nozomi, don’t you?” It’s not phrased as a question.
“I…don’t—”
“Don’t answer that.” Gaku throws the ball of toilet paper into Takumi’s trash bin. “C-Change your sweater already, man. Fuck.”
Takumi obeys, casually sliding his top off like Gaku didn’t just wring his dick on it. He walks to his closet and slips an identical one over his undershirt.
“Give me that.” Gaku snatches the dirty one from Takumi’s hands. He’ll burn it if he can. Or just stuff it under his bed.
“G-Go to bed. Go to sleep and—” Gaku pauses. “—and when you wake up tomorrow, you won’t remember any of this. You’ll hang out with your girlfriend and do normal shit.”
“...Okay.”
Takumi crawls under his covers, pulling the blanket up to his chest before closing his eyes. Gaku stares at his fluttering eyelids, the rise and fall of his chest as his breathing evens out, his pinkie finger twitching.
And he leaves, toy gun in hand.
I wish you were yourself more.
He is. Gaku’s always himself.
I wish you stopped tanking your likability.
Tough shit. That’s who he is.
And he’s not changing.