Chapter Text
Shidou Ryusei
“Remember when you used to play soccer with Sae?”
Blue painted nails rake through his blond-to-pink hair, in the same way someone would pet a cat. He can’t stand people touching his hair, ruining the gel and messing up the shape—and Karasu knows it. Karasu flashes him a small, rueful smirk, skimming his finger tips to his cheek and stabbing the spot where he currently had a pimple hidden by a pimple patch.
He scowled. Of course he remembered—it was the first and probably the last time he’d ever had any fun on a soccer field. Even now, Sae’s cries after he’d shattered his leg still haunted him, a constant reminder of his own destructive behaviour.
He shoved down the unwanted memories—Sae always picking him, always passing the ball straight to him—and frowned at his best friend.
It only widens Karasu’s devious grin. He snickers, digging the filed down nail deeper into his cheek; at this rate, he’s surprised that he hadn’t popped the pimple beneath the coloured bandage.
“No?’ he asked, “Should I find some pictures to remind you?”
“Cut the shit, Spike-head.” He snarled.
Karasu twisted his finger, digging it into the patch and creating an indent, he hissed and jerked away, swatting Karasu’s hand elsewhere and turning onto his side.
Yukimiya peered over from his book, staring at him as he kept his head laid on Karasu’s lap. It seemed like he was the only one who noticed that he was upset. But he knew better to ask about it in front of Otoya and Karasu.
Karasu realized by Yukimiya’s glance that his thoughts of something being off was right, poking at Shidou’s cheek and teasing him.
“Where’s our Shidou? I miss him. He’s usually more cheerful than this stranger in a Shidou suit.”
He rolled his eyes, a subtle grin appearing. He’s not surprised by Karasu’s behaviour: poking him both physically and psychologically to get a reaction. Not that he blames him. He’s been staring vacantly at the floor while his head remained resting on top of Karasu’s thighs. He’s usually the most obnoxious person here, so when he’s quiet he understands why they would be worried.
He sighed, “Any particular reason you’re talking to me in third person?”
Karasu sits back against the cushions releasing him from his dull claws to shrug. “Because you’re chronically in your head right now.”
Fine, he makes a valid point. Once upon a time, seemingly in an alternate universe, he was the life of the party with a smile permanently plastered on his face with his dick up someone ass. Shitting sunshine and pissing rainbows.
Whatever the fucking saying is.
He can usually fake it well enough to avoid concerned whispers or the maligned conversations behind his back. Or nagging texts from his Ama with questions about how to work the internet. Or the irritating and repetitive texts from his teacher reminding him more than 10 assignments are due in a week and that he could no longer ask for extra time.
Not that he cares though, it’s only a matter of time before his body is found offed in a ditch somewhere.
The key is to suffocate yourself with whatever buzz is nearby. Drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, whatever bullshit that could drive your already sick body with more diseases you can barely even handle. Waiting until the colours begin to blur together, the noise around you gets louder while everything else seems to slow down, until it all turns into a messy haze. To him, it meant being the foolhardy Shidou. To cruise on auto-pilot, flashing programmed smiles and repeating regurgitated, acceptable responses like, “Everything is great! I love life!” To pretend his heart isn’t a hollow organ taking up valuable real estate in his chest.
Nobody tells you the impacts of this miserable brain sickness. You're an inconvenience to everyone. Having a bad day? Hide those tears before you’re told to up the dose of your happy pills. Did your useless brain decide to focus on the same bullshit chained to your ankles since you were thirteen? Keep it to yourself before people start treating you different—guarded, afraid, reserved, whatever bullshit they do that makes you feel like an outsider.
“Aaaand there he goes again,” Karasu groans, flopping dramatically into the corner of the couch with his hand still in his hair. “Abducted by the little sadistic aliens in his head.”
For the first time all afternoon, he lets out the closest thing to a laugh: a scoff-snort. Karasu is the one of the only ones (other than Yukimiya and Otoya) who don’t handle him with kid gloves after all the catastrophe years ago—and he’s grateful for that, for the feeling of belonging that they give him.
Like right now.
He sighed, a soft smile appearing on his lips. “It’s just been a boring week, Spike-head. And plus, there is nothing explosive going on so what’s the point of being excited?”
Karasu huffs, “I know, right? Everyone is freaked out still after the shitshow you started with Barou.”
“The fight at Reo’s place?”
Karasu’s brow lifts, “What else, asshole? You two almost beat eachother to a pulp for no apparent reason.”
From the corner of his eyes he could see Yukimiya grimace, and he flashed him a roguish smirk before looking up at Karasu again.
“More like I beat him to a pulp, but whatever.” His voice smug.
“Yeah right crack-head.”
He gives Karasu the middle finger and pulled himself up into a sitting position. Crossing his legs like a child as he levels his unamused gaze towards the now sleeping Otoya.
His voice lowers in acknowledgement, “Remind me that I still need to fix my shit with Rin later.”
Yukimiya’s soulful orange eyes look at him. The earlier quietness has vanished; in its place is a look only his best friend can give him without making him feel like a pathetic piece of shit. Because from Yukimiya, sympathy doesn’t equate to pity.
“You really wanna go after Rin again? You two barely even talk anymore.”
He contemplated not answering, but it’s Yukimiya—he’ll just keep drilling him until he gives him the truth. The guy can detect lies like how a police dog sniffs out drugs.
He turned, “Why not?”
Yukimiya’s eyes flicked towards Karasu, only to receive a bewildered shrug in return. It seemed like Karasu was just as clueless as Shidou. So he turned his gaze towards him once more. “You’re not on good terms with Sae right now, dumbass. Picking a fight with his brother is only gonna make everything worse. What if you get stuck in the same class as him this semester—”
“Eh, whatever man.”
“Shidou.”
“Yeah?”
“Be honest.” Yukimiya’s eyes narrow, as if trying to pry the information out of his own skull. “Did you start something with Rin just to annoy his brother?”
He tipped backwards, his head falling on top of Karasu’s thigh again, making the guy wince at the sudden weight.
His none answer earns him a frustrated sigh from Yukimiya.
“Seriously, you two never had a problem until you started fucking with him out of nowhere.”
He’d deflate, but Yukimiya was half-right and half-wrong at the same time. Sae and him did have a problem—one that still persisted, and one that had originated entirely from his own fault. That was why he acknowledged being half-right. Yet Sae retaliated every single time he bothered him, and he refused to be the one who backed down first. Knowing Sae, he wouldn’t back down either.
He smirked, “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, four-eyes.”
Karasu sighs, preventing Yukimiya from debating him anymore. His pale hand landing onto his chest. “He’ll be fine, you’re worrying too much Yuki.”
By the subtle twitch in Yukimiya’s lips, it seemed like Yukimiya appreciated the reassurance from Karasu, yet his concern for him is entirely justified. The Itoshi family name is not one anyone would willingly associate with. Given that both brothers already despise Shidou with intense passion, approaching them even by a few metres would be akin to striking a match while being drenched and surrounded by gasoline all at the same time.
“Anyways, back to Barou...” Karasu trailed off to look at his leg, “Is your bruise okay now?”
He bit his lips, peeling the skin—as he tilted his head back to stare up at Karasu’s jaw from below, “It feels a bit weird when you ask me if I'm okay.”
“Is that supposed to be an insult?”
The corners of his eyes crinkle when he's holding in a laugh.
“Fuck you.” Karasu’s lips trembled with the effort of holding his smile back. He turned his head slightly, as if that could hide it, but the smile refused to be contained and bloomed with a chuckle anyway.
That’s when he finally decided to let his laugh free, and it was a laugh that came straight from the chest. His body becoming tense as he rolled over to hold his stomach as it convulsed for a brief moment.
Sometimes you gotta appreciate the youngsters, specially the ones who are an heir to a 700 billion dollar corporation and have an allowance of a man who’s in his mid 50s making near six figures every year.
It was only a 30-minute bus ride to the Mikage tower, but the entire trip buzzed with growing anticipation for the whole group. He still remembered Otoya slipping on the bus stairs, the fall hard enough to make the driver hiss under his breath and for him to laugh his ass off at the bus shelter. Startling all the other people who were about to get on.
Otoya was totally fine. He popped right back up and brushed himself off like nothing happened. Probably because there were several older ladies who had their eyes on him—like that’s believable.
Either way, the reason didn’t matter anymore. The group was bursting into laughter as they sprinted up the stairs, the earlier mess at the bus stop already dissolving into a hazy blur. By the time they reached the top floor—the one Reo (at least he thought his name was Reo) had bought out for the night—was pounding with music and the energy of a packed party had already swallowed them whole.
It was only a matter of time before he was holding in the smoke of a cigarette until it burned. Chasing it right after with stale beer then a full cup of liquor.
The flesh in his throat screaming as he swallowed every ounce of liquor that had spilled into his mouth. His head tilted back as he followed the last steps with another blunt.
He let his head rest against the couch cushions, his eyes fluttering closed as he savoured the feeling of every single drug—and booze—in his body. Running through his veins and changing every thought the second he could barely make it out.
When he finally opened his eyes, he just stared at the ceiling, unaware that he was laughing until the person beside him—Aki perchance? Didn’t know, didn’t care—rested a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t know shit about anything right now...except for a couple of things, like how Aki was the one feeding everyone (including him) these bullshit stashes of drugs.
His shoulders were quivering from laughter beneath Aki’s touch as Aki dragged his tongue slowly up his neck, lingering on his Adam’s apple. A warm bead of alcohol rolled down his jaw and into Aki’s open mouth.
He didn’t reciprocate, continuing to stare up at the ceiling as his mouth finally closed. The laughter stopping completely. Aki taking that as a signal to continue.
Tilting his head down, Aki grabbed his jaw and pressed his lips against his. His eyes landing onto Aki’s closed ones, unsure if he wanted to pull away or sink into the kiss as Aki made out with him. He couldn’t think straight--as mentioned before--so… there’s no point in fighting. Right?
Reluctantly, he raised his hand and placed it onto Aki’s leg, trailing up his knee and resting it right on his thigh.
Unconsciously, it reminded him of Karasu’s words from earlier.
“Remember when you used to play soccer with Sae Itoshi?”
His teeth sank into Aki’s tongue, his hand squeezing Aki’s inner thigh as if that could turn back time. Aki let out a low groan against his lips, his body shifting until he was half-draped over him, one leg slipping partially onto his lap.
He wasn’t sure why Sae kept slipping into his head while he was making out with a random guy (not exactly a random guy, but close enough), but right now the thought seemed to be loud enough that he remained strangely detached from every heated touch.
It was disturbing how easily something could slip away, even when it seemed firmly within your grasp. He remembered how quickly his bond with Sae had disappeared and slipped out of his own grasp. They had played soccer together for two straight years—back when his brother was still too young for high school. But the moment they stepped onto the pitch that day, that one year of connection vanished, as if it had never existed.
He’s talking about that dumb warm-up match when he broke Sae’s leg. Him and Karasu were snickering and giggling over nothing like idiots, picked on the opposite team as Sae. Otoya and Yukimiya were on the sidelines, so Sae got stuck with the nobodies and he was clearly very happy about that.
Hope he knows his grumpy face is hilarious, especially because it looks uncannily like Rin’s (Because they’re brothers, duh.)
Anyway, in the middle of the match Sae had the ball and was about to pass it towards a short-stack orge who’s name he could give less of a shit about—when the guy (him, he’s the guy the way) suddenly decided it’d be a brilliant, amazing idea to ram his entire body into Sae from the side.
And since Sae wasn’t exactly tall back then—still isn’t because he’s still able to look down at him, which absolutely pisses him the fuck off—he completely crushed him.
Just as Sae was about to pass the ball to the tramp, his leg twisted the worst way possible as he slammed him into the ground. A loud snap echoed before he shoved him off and curled into a ball, clutching his leg.
He remembered watching him weep like a baby, and he wasn’t sure what he felt in that exact moment. All he remembered was being dragged away by one of the coaches, nearly tossed to the side as he continued to stare at Sae’s body.
The weirdest part was the fact he could still feel like he was being watched by something—himself, maybe? His imagination can go as far as creating a transcending reality for him and himself only. Maybe some form of a mental health disorder, but whatever.
Because that’s all he could fully remember, shifting into another reality where creatures, things, phantoms—whatever they were, had snuck out of their rusted cages. And he could hear every single of their taunts merging with Sae’s cries and moans as he struggled to turn over. Then the physical feeling of feeling like he was choking, gasping and reaching up to grab his neck as if that could help with the strangling feeling of suffocating on his own air. His body treating his own breaths like poison.
Karasu and Otoya had gone to him first, while Yukimiya slipped away to find Sae. Maybe he knew that once the dust of this nightmare settled, the first question everyone would ask was about Sae. Or maybe… he just couldn’t stand the sight of him like this. The Sae who was always cold, always silent, always cruel with his words—now reduced to broken sobs that echoed through the pitch like something dying. Seeing him cry in front of everyone felt wrong. Like very wrong. As in hitting your grandma wrong.
Either way, he was glad that Yukimiya had chosen to go to Sae over him. No matter the reason.
But after that, Sae didn’t come back for over what was probably forty weeks(?).
299 days, 2 hours and 57 minutes to be exact.
Yes, he did count. Even set stop watches and timers in his sleep just so he could be accurate.
But for him when Sae came back, it felt like the world stopped spinning. Just kidding, it was spinning was too fucking fast. Gravity was completely suspended and at the same time meteors were flying down to earth and crash landing right onto him before he could even float away.
It was different for lashes; the first time after Sae came back, still with a cast on his leg and limping around on crutches, it was hate at first sight. An instant, visceral reaction fueled by months of worry, unresolved feelings, and hatred. It was as if their paths were destined to clash from the very moment they crossed each other again.
Aki yanked his hair, and it made him grunt and wince at the same time.
He glared at the guys closed eyes, pulled back out of his thoughts after drifting off again. Seriously, the guy he’s with right now is a genuine pain in the ass and he would pull away right now if he wasn’t all fuzz and limp.
Despite the assholes desperate attempts to keep his attention, his eyes drifted up towards the crowd of people. His eyes landing on one sick looking red head.
His cheeks—red from the buzz of alcohol and drugs—drain of colour as surprise lines his features. The hairs on the back of his neck prickle and lift.
Either he’s severely fucking gone or he’s finally cracked and now fully lost in his own transcending reality again.
Because there, standing alone in the corner of the swirling chaos of the party, bathed in flickering neon lights was Sae Itoshi.
He wasn’t sure why Sae was here, standing at the so-called “garden” (which was was nothing more than a pathetic excuse for a drink station) His arms tightly crossed over his chest. From the look on Sae’s face, he can tell that all the guests just looked like mingling faceless bodies to him.
Because Sae doesn’t know anyone here.
Despite his overwhelming popularity, he has never bothered to learn a single soul’s name, their character, or their ideology. To him, people are nothing more than fleeting noise and should never deserve his notice.
He smirked slowly against Aki’s lips as he continued to watch Sae Itoshi from afar. His hand glided from Aki’s thigh upward, fingers tracing a path with small swirls in between, until they pressed firmly against his chest. With a small push, he eased Aki away. Back just enough to break the kiss but still close enough to smell the reek of alcohol coming from Aki’s lips.
Only then did he meet Aki’s gaze after being lost for so long. Seeing how heavy his lids had become after making out with him—he’s not sure if Aki was genuinely kissing him, it was more like he was smacking his lips against his and calling it a day.
Aki looked like he was barely holding on, seconds away from completely losing himself… or passing out entirely.
His eye brow twitched, wanting to raise as he smelt the mix of stench and substances on Aki. Aki slings an arm around his neck, and it only makes the smell worse.
But he doubts he smells any better; he doesn’t even recall the last time he showered. His Ama had been working for a long time, staying out and probably away from his crazy shenanigans. So she hasn’t noticed that he’s been fucking sloshed for three days straight.
More like a week, but he’s fucking crushed right now. So time feels like a month but also a second all at once.
Not sure if she would have cared anyway, old woman stop caring about him as soon as she reached 70.
It’s clear she had given up on him becoming any better, the only rule in the house now is to “not die”. She used to call him all the time, begging to talk to him, but after too many declines, she stopped. Other distant relatives texted him once more than two years ago, and it’s clear he had become the elephant in the room. The problem she never asked for, and the problem who she thought would turn out different.
Sorry Ama.
He wonders if she noticed, could realize that his silence and his destructiveness was a way of telling her all along.
His solitude is a plea for company.
His self-destruction is a cry for help.
So why isn’t anyone listening?
If his own grandma deemed him a lost cause, he must be.
He pushes Aki fully off of him, placing a kiss behind Aki’s ear and as-well as a sexual promise as a whisper just so he could get a bit of Aki’s stash later incase of emergencies.
Discarded cigarette butts smush under his boots as he crossed the very well decorated room now smashed to pieces towards Sae. A few glazed stares scan him, but most of the strung-out regulars don’t bother to say anything to him.
But as fate would have it, a girl (whose name he could only remember because it was similar to Yukimiya’s) calls out towards him as he not-so-subtly approaches Sae from behind.
“Watch out for the garden!”
Like he said before, there is no garden; only the cups of alcohol rearranged in a pattern. Actually, now that he thinks about it, “the garden” is probably all the empty cups stacked on top of each other, creating a huge tower of red plastic cups.
None of it mattered anymore. Right now, that red asshole —not the damn cups— had his eyes locked on him.
Is there a thing for getting hard when someone looks at you with so much hatred in their eyes it almost feels like they’re about to burst into a million fucking pieces?
No? okay.
Because as he’s looking at Sae, he’s met with ice-cold fury. The glimpse of calm he had earlier witnessed had been extinguished. Never in his life had he been the scorching centre of someone’s blaze, and he’s currently loving it.
A big reason he’s loving it is due to the fact that it’s not just a random person, but rather the Sae itoshi.
Sae takes a step back, “Why are you here?”
He moved closer, refusing to drop Sae’s hardened stare.
“I feel like I should be asking you that, Lashes.”
The bastard scoffed, setting his still-full plastic cup down on the table with a dull thud. The liquid sloshed inside as his foot accidentally knocked against the table leg. Maybe downing all those substances earlier hadn’t been such a brilliant idea, he’s only now realizing how hard it actually is to stand up straight without obviously shaking.
He was fine. He could handle it. Still, he’d rather remember this night tomorrow. At least then he could piece together exactly why the hell Sae was even here.
Sae turned to leave, already looking for his usual escape. And treating him like garbage when he’s clearly a diamond among rocks.
He stumbled forward, slamming both hands onto the table on either side of Sae, effectively caging him in as if he was a rat that belonged in a cage.
Blinking away the blur of the drugs, ignoring the fuzzy tingling that was now slamming against his brain as he stared down at his lashes’ face. A stupid giggle escaped from his lips, bleeding and spreading through the music.
“You didn’t answer my question baby, why are you here?”
Sae’s hand raised, reaching up to place firmly onto his chest, his nails digging into the fabric of his black tank top.
It’s been so long since he felt Sae’s hands on him, and it almost refreshing how his cold hands feel against his warm skin.
“My business here has nothing to do with a fuckwad like you. Get lost.”
He leaned in closer, staring right into Sae’s light coloured eyes as they burn into his face. And for a moment, it was silent. The both of them stare at the barely empty space between them with a weight that definitely wasn’t fully anger. Smothering the both of them.
He watched as Sae’s nostrils flare, his eyes shimmering with fury. He saw Sae’s jaw clench before unclenching, his molars probably sore after acting so tense around him.
He finally broke the silence with a taunt.
“You’re here to see if your brother is sucking someone’s cock, aren’t you? If you are, I have a couple of ideas of who the lucky guy could be”
He has plenty of catchphrases, and most of them are wildly inappropriate. But one that isn’t—at least on the surface—is “I just happened to pass by.” In reality, that’s his polite way of saying he was shamelessly eavesdropping. He loves gathering the most random shit about people. Big or small. He thinks it’ll help him crack them open and see inside them. Figuratively or literally.
And what he’d said about Sae’s brother? It’s apparently true. Or, well, not necessarily. In reality Rin had a boyfriend who’s a little older than him. He didn’t know exactly who yet, but with just a few careful conversations, he could easily find out if he wanted.
The way Sae had reacted made everything click. That was why the bastard was even at Reo’s party.
He found it fucking hilarious—and a little arousing—how easily he could get under Sae’s skin. No matter how cold and untouchable Sae looked when others taunted or challenged him, he was the only one who could make that icy expression crack.
Not that Sae would ever throw the first punch—whether insults or physical fights. He’d only fight back if provoked first. Always so controlled and acting as sweet as a grapefruit.
After all, Sae was the golden boy. The prim, proper favourite who gives teachers metaphorical boners for. Always the top of the class, the one they shoved in everyone’s face whenever other kids stepped out of line.
It’s so obvious that Sae is trying to ignore him, forget about him or get rid of him.
Good luck wiping him out. He’s a roach that no one can get rid of.
But he—
THWACK.
Sae’s fist connected with his face.
His grip on the table vanished as he crashed hard onto his ass. His finger nearly jamming as he caught himself on a bad angle.
He shuddered, eyes wide with a mix of surprise and actual joy in his face.
Did Sae just...?
A slow, feral grin split across his bloody lips, teeth stained red as he stared up at Sae. His cheek was throbbing, including his gums and a couple of different teeth that were most likely loose now.
Who the fuck knew that the red head could punch that hard?
Okay wow, embarrassing me in front of my own thoughts? Kind of low, don’t ya think lashes?
“You’re so fucked.” He spat out before lunging at the redhead, crashing into Sae with full force. The two of them smashed backward into the flimsy plastic table.
It didn’t stand a chance.
Plastic tables aren’t exactly strong, so he wasn’t surprised when it literally fucking exploded beneath the two nearly full grown men with a loud crack. The metal bars that held the table up slipped and slid across the sweaty floors. The tower of empty plastic cups collapsed all over the floor and around them, the filled cups that were full of vodka, gin and whatever cheap shit was lying around were there too.
But now on the floor.
The floor around them was sticky and fully splashed with different dark and light colours with all sorts of flavours.
Sae flipped them over so he was on top and straddling his waist, seemingly disgusted with him and all the sticky things around him.
His hand shot up, a finger forcing itself into Sae’s mouth as he tried to shove him back—tried, and failed. Sae’s hands lifted in response, drifting left, then right, and every time his fist came down it felt a gentle caress for him. He was cackling, laughing widely as he watched Sae completely unravel before him and on top of him. Every ounce of fury was like a drug for him, stronger than any form of booze or blunt.
His heart is pounding so hard, so fast; he’s afraid it’s going to burst through his ribs. He felt like his face was made of playdough, Sae’s fists leaving an imprint every-time it kissed his face.
The best part is how Sae didn’t seem to care that his hand was in his mouth, the area between his thumb and index finger completely jammed between his teeth. He stared up at the overhead light bulb, fixating on it as his vision streaks. Morphing it into a mini sun.
Sae sank his teeth in hard, tearing through skin like the fucking animal he secretly is. The pain barely registered at first—until he looked down and saw his own blood pouring down Sae’s chin, dripping thick and messy all along his forearm, staining everything near it.
His smile stretches like one of those creepy clowns, not caring that people were trying to pull them away from each-other. He didn’t give a single shit. He only tightened his death grip on Sae’s shoulder and shirt, yanking the red-haired bastard even closer, desperate to keep him there so people could see how deranged he really was.
Until that split-haired freak finally ripped Sae away from him.
Oliver, right?
And of course, his beautiful, gorgeous Yukimiya was coming to his recuse. Hauling him off the floor even as his legs shook violently with a mix of excitement, adrenaline, and an aching want.
A deep and horrible want for more.
And fuck yes, he got more.
Sae ripped out of Oliver’s hold and launched himself forward like a goddamn missile. His fist connected clean under the jaw something he could only describe as a bone-shattering force.
The world exploded into a black and white—maybe rainbow?—fuzz, then dropped into nothing.
He was out cold before he even hit the floor.