Being in a high school full of potential threats usually left you tired, bruised and irritated. It was a feeling Murayama Yoshiki was more than familiar with, the sting of a split lip and the ache of a stretched muscle in his thigh. On more than one occasion, his friends had sworn they wouldn’t fight that hard next time, or that they wouldn’t run in so fast next time. Murayama couldn’t really relate, since there was nothing better than the hard burning down his throat when he was in the middle of fighting, the sting in his eyes from keeping them alert for too long. Pain was relative and Murayama was more than 80% sure by this point that most of his nerve-endings were damaged beyond repair.
Though, there was one important exception to that implication, an exception with blonde perfectly tousled hair and a smile that split the heavens open.
Ah, Murayama smiles to himself, Cobra-chan.
It wasn’t hard for him to fall for Cobra to begin with. After all, he considered fighting to be one of his top priorities and along the way, he had forgotten why he had started to begin with. Taking one hundred punches, dealing double the amount back. He never stopped to think of why he’d done it after it had passed, too embroiled in trading punches and barbed words with opponents he rarely considered worth his time. By the time Cobra marched into Oya high, Murayama was just excited to have someone to fight that might actually beat him, to feel somewhat alive again, to have an urge to get better once more. Murayama’s curse at Oya high had been climbing to the top and forgetting to share it with his friends and Cobra had been the one to remind him of that, to reignite his passion for fighting alongside his friends rather than just fighting to win. Irritatingly though, he’d been fighting for Cobra’s attention since to no avail. It was made more infuriating by the way he’d perk up every time he’d see a head of bleached hair, or try to casually rush down a side-street when he heard the distant sound of a motorbike.
Cobra had a lot to answer for.
However, Murayama finds himself completely ignorant to the sound of footsteps behind him this time, too busy angrily limping down the street and grumbling to himself. Damn Seki and Furuya for starting a brawl at the comic book store. Murayama can barely remember what is was about, only vaguely recalling pouring out onto the street to engage in a fight he hadn’t even started because of course, that’s what good friends do. Furuya only lived a street away from the store so naturally, his journey was much less painful than Murayama’s. Seki had called his mother to pick him up, which Murayama still found absurd. The woman was ridiculously coddling over him, something Murayama couldn’t relate to. Seki’s crying face was enough to make Murayama swear off fighting for the rest of his life. Murayama pauses to lean against one of the many streetlights lining the road, panting a little from the exertion of dragging one leg practically along the floor just to get where he was going.
“Murayama?” The voice is unmistakable and Murayama almost pitches himself off the street light instantly to avoid looking weak, before remembering that it would be a little late to pretend like he’s invincible to a man that’s both beaten him in a fight, and saw him battered and bruised after many more of them.
“Cobra-chan.” He replies as coolly as he can, nodding at Cobra and inwardly cursing the developing crick in his neck, wondering if he’s at retiring age. Inwardly he wonders if that time probably passed about two years ago, but he pushes back the thought.
“More fighting?” Cobra’s lips turn upwards slightly, Murayama’s stomach already raging with butterflies, cursing himself inwardly once more for being so easily affected by Cobra’s micro-movements.
“It’s pretty rich for you to laugh at me for that, Cobra-chan.” Murayama sniggers, though he regrets it when the pain from moving forward to laugh shoots up his right leg, having to hold onto the street light once more to steady himself. Ever the benevolent one, Cobra moves forward immediately, a concerned look on his face.
“Do you need to get to a hospital?” He asks, giving Murayama a once over and staring back at him, still concerned. Murayama would be lying if he said the thought of Cobra being concerned over him didn’t make him swoon.
“Nah, I’ve just fucked up my thigh, I think. Need to get home and rest.” Murayama replies, wincing as he stretches his leg out and back in, attempting to keep a neutral expression.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure fucking up your thigh constitutes as a reason to go to hospital.” Cobra replies dryly but shakes his head, probably knowing better than to argue his point with someone so stubborn. “C’mon.”
What Murayama was expecting was to be directed to Cobra’s motorcycle, yet when he turns his head around to look, he’s met with the realisation that Cobra must’ve walked this distance instead. Confused, he turns back to look at Cobra, only to see Cobra leant down with his arms slightly bent.
He can’t be serious.
“Really?” Murayama whines, wondering when his life became one of his favourite dramas. The worst part, he thinks, is that he’s actually excited at the prospect of getting a piggyback from Cobra. The humiliation….
“I’ve not got all night, Yoshiki.” The sudden switch to calling him Yoshiki makes Murayama feel light-headed, wondering if he’s going to wake up in his room, having fallen asleep watching a drama and dreaming about similar scenarios with the object of his affection. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Okay!” Murayama pouts, getting onto Cobra’s back and moving his arms hesitantly around Cobra’s neck, not wanting to put too much of a strain on him. Yet, Cobra moves up so quickly and adjusts Murayama, he wonders if he weighs anything at all to Cobra. The thought may have him almost drooling, a little. The feeling of Cobra’s muscles against his legs holding him up only makes him even more woozy.
“You okay?” Cobra asks after a few minutes of walking, moving his head to the left to glance at Murayama who almost throws his head away due to the closeness, a flush already creeping over his cheeks.
“M’good.” He mumbles, hiding his face near Cobra’s neck once more when Cobra’s head turns back forward, revelling in the feeling of being this close to Cobra and being carried by him. Perhaps this was the universes apology for gifting him with such idiotic friends who always start fights that Murayama has to swing his way out of for all of their benefit.
“My apartments this one,” Murayama grumbles, too comfortable where he is already though he can’t exactly direct Cobra the longer way round, “it’s on the 7th floor….”
“Okay.” Cobra replies, which isn’t what Murayama expected, though he forgets sometimes just how good Cobra is. That doesn’t change the fact he’d been walking now for almost twenty minutes with Murayama on his back already, not to mention the prospect of seven flights of stairs considering the shithole he lived in didn’t have a working elevator.
“Cobra-chan, you don’t have to, just put me down.” Murayama wiggles a little before Cobra’s arms firmly trap his legs from further movement, though not painfully.
“Shut up, Yoshiki.” He replies, marching inside the apartment block and towards the stairs, militant as ever. As he’s making his way up the stairs Murayama’s mind whirls a mile a minute with thoughts about how incredible Cobra’s strength and endurance must be, from relatively innocent thoughts all the way to the mind in the gutter ones. He had it bad. It was only made worse by Cobra’s insistence to turn his head and ask if Murayama was okay after every flight of stairs, like he wasn’t the one carrying an adolescent up several flights of stairs.
“Right!” Murayama almost bursts out, Cobra jolting slightly but his grip still firm as he comes to a stop in front of Murayama’s door. “Here is fine!”
Cobra lowers Murayama slowly, Murayama’s feet shakily touching the ground, though when he attempts to step forward too quickly Cobra’s arms slide around his waist with such speed, he can only fall forward into the chest he’s had more than enough dreams about.
“Mmmf-,” He grumbles, face pressed against a solid chest, with even stronger arms circled around him. It’s too much to handle. “Cobra-chan~”
“You were falling, what was I supposed to do?” He murmurs, his breath tickling Murayama’s neck and reminding him further of how close Cobra is, reigniting his flushed cheeks all over again.
“M’fine.” Murayama moves his head back to look at Cobra and is instantly taken aback by Cobra’s soft eyes that crinkle as soon as they land on him, the arms around his waist pulling him closer still. Before Murayama can protest, Cobra kisses him, chaste and awkward at first though it doesn’t take Murayama long to intervene. His fingers curl in Cobra’s hair as he loses himself in the feeling of finally being able to kiss Cobra, then Cobra bites his lip. Actually bites it. Murayama whines loudly, pulling away with pink cheeks and pinker lips.
“What was that all about, Cobra-chan?” Murayama’s voice is hoarse, his pupils blown wide, still leaning on Cobra to lessen the strain on his leg.
“Did you not like it?” Cobra’s voice is almost uneasy, his eyes shifting and his own cheeks starting to go a rosy pink colour. He bites his lip, looking at the floor.
“Of course I did, you idiot. How could I not like it?” Murayama glares, assuming Cobra is deliberately trying to get him to confess his undying love and embarrass himself, as if someone who looks like Cobra could ever be at all insecure or shy about anything like kissing someone. The nerve. “Don’t pretend like you’re embarrassed.”
“I’m not pretending.” Cobra replies, shaking his head and laughing quietly. “Why would I pretend?”
“I dunno. Just stop- Just stop being weird.” Murayama nuzzles his head near Cobra’s neck, appreciating the closeness and the warmth, the way Cobra’s hand instantly slips down to his lower back to just hold him there. Even such a small gesture is everything Murayama wanted and then more.
“Okay.” Cobra opens Murayama’s door, having already taken the keys from him. Surprisingly, his apartment isn’t messy, but rather spartan. The few items he does have around scream Murayama, though, like a heap of excess blankets on the couch no doubt from when he falls asleep watching the small tv. A few picture frames full of familiar faces from Oya high. Cobra pauses to let Murayama link his arm, helping him over to the couch after shutting the door behind them both. When he finally sits, he stares up at Cobra with twinkling eyes, a dangerous look. He pulls Cobra by the waist until he’s practically standing between Murayama’s legs, keeping his hands on Cobra’s hips to trap him there.
“What are you doing?” Cobra’s tone is stern but his smile is contradictory, staring rather affectionately at Murayama as though his shenanigans were amusing.
“What I’ve wanted to for a while.” Murayama replies, just running his hands over Cobra’s chest, even over his shirt and jacket. The fact he can still feel muscle makes him die inside of excitement overload but he attempts to remain calm, Cobra’s eyes following his movements. He slips one hand under Cobra’s shirt near his hip, running his thumb over the skin before sliding his hand over Cobra’s stomach, a choked noise escaping before he can quell it.
His abs. Oh my god.
“Feel something you like?” Cobra teases, leaning down to kiss Murayama, his hands cupping Murayama’s cheeks gently even though he’s kissing him like he wants to lose air. When he pulls away, he sits beside Murayama properly, taking Murayama’s jacket off and then following by taking his shoes off. For a moment, it all goes to Murayama’s head, before he realises normal people don’t take someone’s jacket and then their shoes off before initiating sex.
“Tease.” Murayama huffs, though when Cobra moves him to lie down he can feel the aching in his bones and the drooping of his eyes is unmistakable. As soon as Cobra’s arms link around his waist though, Murayama can only feel him, his warmth and gentle touch. It’s intoxicating.
“Just sleep.” He whispers, kissing Murayama’s shoulder and squeezing him softly.
Murayama partially hopes Furuya and Seki barge into his apartment like they usually do because they both have keys. Neither would believe this otherwise.