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Misaki knows.
He always knew that Saru was the one in a million kind of person. If the two of them were the characters of a fantasy novel, then Saru, rather than himself, would be the one that attracts everyone’s attention.
And now he is right there, in his blue uniform—though he never wear it properly, wearing the iconic annoying grin on his face, and with all the indolence in the world—nothing seems to attract him, they say.
That’s not true.
Except me.
Until his skating board clashed with Saruhiko’s blades, and he felt the power, not the same one that flows in his own vein, but a much stronger one-one that mixes the mighty strength of RED, and one colder, firmer one of the BLUE, running through his ex-bestfriend’s body. He always surpasses him, both in the past and in the future.
He is the only one in the world blessed with powers from both clans.
There was the clatter of his baseball bat and Saruhiko’s dagger. Of course it’s quite easy for Misaki to dodged them, but the point is-they were so close the second before, so close that Misaki can count Saru’s long and curly eyelashes.
“How was it like-Mi↑sa→ki↓? Being defeated by your own color of Red by me?”
Don’t. Please don’t say my name in that voice.
He heard once, when the clan of Red gathered in the bar and those teens sometimes talk about the clan of Blue, some with a disgust while some with disdain. When he first knew that Munakata Reishi, the Blue King, once told Fushimi.
I’m very fond of you. Fushimi-kun.
How can he say that to the face of Saruhiko? So bluntly?
Misaki tried so hard to control himself not to explode before Awashima-san, one of the two superiors of Saruhiko in Scepter4.
He remembered even this truth was told by Saru’s cousin, Aya. She wasn’t the only girl who had a crush on Saruhiko in middle school. Almost every morning Misaki had to open Saru’s locker and got drowned by love letters written to Fushimi.
After finish reading some of the letters, for a long time Misaki himself couldn’t even distinguish
His own feeling between the admiration of those girls towards Fushimi Saruhiko.
After all, he was so dazzling.
In his eyes.
Until that day, they met again on the battle field. Those battles were so common that they almost meet five times a week. Even Katsuka-san would say to Anna, with his smile--the softest smile in the world.
Everyone seems to be happy tonight.
Even now.
With five more daggers cut through his white shirt and literally pinned him on the wall-with one between his legs, two tore up his sleeves and another two just beside his cheeks.
And there was the traitor, strode towards him, within a few seconds he was standing right before him.
Without a sound the young man with dark blue eyes
Oh, f**k.
He didn’t want anyone to see this embarrassed situation, it looks like the vanguard of HOMRA was weak enough to submit his obedience to those man in blue.
But he can’t even decide his own fate now, from this tricky angle he can’t even wave his metal bat to beat this fucking Saru.
Then he feels the icy tip of the blaze on his chin.
It was like a bomb of irritation exploded in his blood. He would love to have a battle with his enemy, anytime, and Yata-san is never afraid of pain.
But he can’t bear his opponents suddenly turn his sword’s cutter edge to the back of his blade and lies it across his neck.
We are not supposed to be like that.
“OH, shit! Stupid Saru! Stop it!!! Or I swear I’m going to beat--“
The man on top of him drowns out the rest of his words in a soft kiss.
For the first time in his life, Yata has nothing to say in a circumstance that make his mind blank and heart beats like this. Even Kusanagi-san may grin in comfort that someone can finally make Yata-chan silent for a moment.
Saur’s tongue got into his mouth and touched his, which sent a shrill down his spine, but he couldn’t help but struggle a little. The only light shed on them was from the dim street lamp. Saruhiko put himself close to the smaller with an almost hugging position, so the redheaded one can see nothing but only him.
Misaki couldn’t push him away.
His jaw was gently but firmly grabbed and lift up to gratify the wish of the taller one. He must have sunk in this kiss because he can smell only the scent of Saruhiko, he can only see the shadow given by Saruhiko, he can only feel the warm, soft lips of Saruhiko—
He can only think of Saruhiko now.
Okay, fine.
Fushimi can feel the body in his arm softened.
He lifted his eyelids surprisingly, only to find his Misaki blushed with closed eyes.
--You win, Stupid Saru.
But to be clear, I, Yata Misaki, your only and best friend in middle school, the one you should be responsible for, the vanguard of the Red King, the one who cares you the most, spare your life this round of the game.