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Here you were again.
Alone.
Perhaps as the universe had always meant for you to be.
Stuck in your own head, stuck with yourself, unlovable and lonely.
You should try to get used to it. The life of someone as determined and stubborn as you was always lonely. It's a fact, simply. You driven types are the ones who will destroy anything and everything in your pathway if it didn't align to what you wanted.
You driven types drive everyone away. Ironic, wasn't it?
Get used to it.
This was just the way you are.
Kiyotaka Ishimaru, you are one sad person, aren't you?
Or, well, one sad robot.
You couldn't be human, seeing how heartless you are.
So damn pathetic.
I hope you heal someday because, where we stand, every little aspect of you is sick.
You're sick. You doubt there's a cure.
At this point, that much was painfully clear.
_____
Everything changed between the two of you.
You stayed in your dorm, he stayed in his. You didn't sit at breakfast or lunch or dinner together, you sat across the room from one another in class, you refused to talk. You refused to address him more than you had to when issuing detentions and, in said detentions, you did the same. He didn't try to reach out and neither did you.
It seemed like it had come to an end, and you felt…
Numb, maybe.
You wanted some semblance of closure, but closure meant discussing everything, and you couldn't do that with a brick wall.
You should take some accountability, though; you're not making yourself very approachable either, now are you?
Cold glares, furrowed eyebrows, business hours same time as school hours before you locked yourself in your dorm.
This was the same protocol as after your first confession, but… worse. Stiffer. Quieter. More painful.
You didn't even want to try to approach him.
… Okay, that was a lie. You miss him so much that you want to vomit anytime you think of him. You miss him so much that you're such you're dehydrated from how much you cry. You miss him so much that even glancing at him during class made you want to tear out your hair or rush over and yell in his face or storm out of the room, or, or-
Or you wanted to talk to him. You wanted to sort this out. You wanted to ask, "Are you feeling what I'm feeling?" and receive a simple "yes" or "no".
Because yes, even after all of this, you still… loved him.
You loved him with everything in you, and being away like this ached.
This was taking a toll on the both of you, you could tell as much. Oowada's grades had been slipping, he got more detentions than usual, he looked tired every single day. You had bags under your eyes, you dragged your feet when you walked, your once booming voice was now just "loud".
That's really sad.
And then, at the root of this all, were your carnal desires.
He looked attractive when he was angry, he looked attractive when he ignored you in the hallway, he looked attractive when he was glaring at you during a lesson.
Why did you even care about this right now? What, you were a little pent up? Oh, that must suck!
You lost your best friend. Read a fucking room.
You thought that he might be affected too, though. He was never a ladies man, always too nervous, leading to scaring them off, but, before everything, he sometimes would talk about sex like it was the daily news. How good it felt, how he wished he had it more, so on and so forth. Right now, he looked like he hadn't had anything.
Obviously, you hadn't either.
And you…
Okay. This idea was stupid and it would just hurt in the end, but you needed some kind of release. You're drowning in stress and your own hands weren't working anymore. This didn't have to be a repeat thing, you didn't have to talk this all through, it could just be for pleasure's sake.
Finally, just for pleasure's sake.
(And not… because you missed the feel of his hands on your skin.)
((Certainly not just because you missed him.))
One Friday night, you slipped a note under his door that read as follows:
I don't want to talk; I just want to have sex. I think we're both pretty pent up. If you want to do this, knock on my door as soon as you read this. I'll be waiting.
You didn't bother to sign the note, knowing that he'll know who it was from. You felt as if it was important to clarify that you didn't want to talk, seeing as how he had made it clear he didn't want to either, this was just to get rid of one of the many stressful factors.
Just. For. Pleasure.
Nothing more, nothing less.
While you wait, you open yourself up. You stifle sighs and groans by biting on your pillow, pressing as deeply as you can but unable to get too far, working yourself up to three fingers to get yourself ready. You had seen him go off with Kuwata and Hagakure earlier that night, so he'll be busy for a bit before he got your note. You'd might as well get yourself ready for him so you could make this quick and as painless as possible.
Earlier than expected, you got a knock. You pulled on your pants hastily and looked through the peephole, seeing him. Unlocking and opening your door, he greeted you with a nod and down turned eyes, walking inside. You lock the door behind him.
"I'm already ready," you tell him, walking over to the bed. You take out lube and a condom and hand them to him. "Do you want to do this?"
"Obviously, smart ass, I wouldn't fuckin' be here otherwise," he replied, and you frowned at the harsh words.
"It's important to be clear on each party's consent!"
"Ishimaru," he started, and the use of your last name did hurt a little bit. "Get your ass on the bed."
You pulled down your pants and underwear, laying down on the bed on your stomach, pillow under your hips. You're ashamed, but you're hard, pressed against the pillow and aching. You wanted to rut into the pillow and come, but you heard him shuffle around behind you and you waited. You pillowed your arms around your head and slid your eyes closed, just waiting.
Soon enough, the bed dipped under his weight. A warm hand splayed itself across your lower back and he paused for a moment before saying, "Tell me if you wanna stop."
Then, pressure. So much pressure as his arousal was pushed into you. It's as overwhelming as it was the first time, feeling almost heightened since you're not looking at him, but there's that fullness you've been craving so badly.
This was a good idea. This was a bad idea.
Two hands grabbed your hips and pulled you back, startling a moan out of you. You turned your face into the pillow and bit down, wanting to be as quiet as possible. It wasn't an easy feat, your eyes rolling back in your head as he switched nearly immediately from slow to fast and rough. It scratched that desire deep in you perfectly, being treated like this.
Treated without a care.
Treated like a toy.
No, this didn't hurt. Your heart had already bled out. It couldn't hurt anymore.
Sobs and gasps and whines escaped into your spit soaked pillow, muffled only by the sound of his skin slapping yours as he pounded into you. He was groaning and grunting under his breath and the sounds only heightened your pleasure because, still, some sick and deep desire in you wished to be…
… useful.
You just wanted to give him pleasure, you just… wanted him to find use in you.
You wanted to relieve him from his stress, you didn't want him thinking that he fell in love with you just because you're a good fuck, that was another stressor.
Ah, that's it, isn't it?
You think you trapped him into falling for you.
He didn't actually love you, no matter what he said, he was confused and overwhelmed and he said that because he couldn't understand why he loved being with you so much otherwise.
It's so easy to blend physical into emotional and you knew this.
Idiot.
If you hadn't accused him of feeling the same, if you had never confessed anything to begin with, maybe you could've still had…
… him.
A friend. Your bro. Mondo Oowada.
There wouldn't be this weird tension.
You two could still be okay.
Your broken heart shattered more.
The pillow got released from your mouth with a broken sob and whine when your orgasm hit you, mess spilling onto the blankets and pillow beneath you. A few thrusts later and you felt him trembling as he came as well, filling the condom. The sound of panting filled the otherwise empty room, a small whimper escaping you as he pulled out. You shut your eyes, ignoring the rush of tears and the swirling thoughts and the pounding headache.
"You… you good?" He asked, and he's too damn kind, checking on you after this, still. Why can't he be mean to you? "Want me to get you anything? Water?"
"... No," you responded, voice weak. "I just need… need rest. You can leave now."
And, peeking out of the corner of your eye, you could see his face fall, and, yes, it ached, but this was for the best. You'd be mean, you'd drive him away, he'd realize that he was never really in love with you.
He'd realize that he didn't feel the same as you.
"... Yeah, whatever," he eventually replied, standing from the bed and pulling on his boxers and pants. He spared you one last glance before he left the room, slamming the door behind himself. You let yourself lay in your own mess for a few more minutes until you couldn't bear it anymore, sticky and gross. You didn't even want to move.
On shaky feet, you undressed fully, dropping your shirt on the floor with the pants you forgot to fold. You pulled off the dirty blanket, adding that to the pile on the floor, staring at it all blankly.
There was some weird relief filling your chest, perhaps due to your most recent realization. It was a sour realization, making your throat burn as you finally allowed the tears building up to tumble out, making all of you ache. How could you do that to him?
How could you make him think he loves you?
Who could love you?
How could he ever love you?
You knew, you knew, from the start of this that you weren't good enough for him, that you were someone, something that could provide him physical pleasure, but nothing stable emotionally or romantically. You couldn't provide that in a way that was good for him. You thought you were good, but never good enough for him.
You knew this, you fucking knew this.
Idiot.
You think that the water in your shower that night burnt you. It was quick, but your skin was still red and raw afterward. You laid in your bed naked and cold, not energetic enough to dress and wash your blanket but not okay with the idea of still using it, even though the dirty area was only a small section.
You'd really rather not.
You think you'd feel sick if you did.
You fall asleep shivering that night, drowning in so much love sickness that it dragged you and your bones into a deep yet restless slumber.
It's what you deserved.
_____
The meaning of everything got blurry after this.
You kept meeting between notes passed between the two of you, never speaking more than just what you wanted to do and what you needed to do before it got there.
It was starting to get bad.
All over again.
You refused to face him when you connected as deeply as you physically could. You'd crumble more than you already do if you saw that line between his eyebrows as they furrowed with pleasure or that softened look in his normally sharp eyes as he looked down at you.
You tried to ignore everything.
You wanted him but you couldn't have that conversation. You just- you couldn't.
And he couldn't either, it appeared; you knew it took two to tango, but you didn't want to be the one to bite this bullet.
You both fill the role of the leader, of course, but with everything that had to do with this, you led everything.
You confessed.
You planned out your first time.
You… ended things.
And you started them again.
You couldn't be the first to talk. To communicate. Your tongue was thick and dry in your mouth, and every glimpse of his face felt like your last.
You just… you wanted him to speak to you.
You wanted to hear those words, those special words when they weren't whispered to you while you were "asleep".
You needed…
You just…
You're just...
You know what?
You're angry.
You're so pissed that you couldn't remember the last time you got this mad.
He wouldn't talk to you.
He wasn't saying anything.
You and him were in such a messed up situation that you couldn't even classify it.
What was it he called it?
Fuck buddies?
But you're not even friends anymore.
In the crudest of ways, you're a hole for him to fuck and he's a dick for you to use.
Disgusting.
You're mad at everything.
Yourself.
The situation.
The world.
… Him.
Why can't he just speak to you? Why did he have to confess while he thought you were asleep?
… Why can't you confess to him? You thought you tricked him into loving you, so why can't you express that fear? Why can't you break everything off if it makes you so mad?
Oh, right. Even after all of this, you're still scared about losing him completely.
If you love something, shouldn't you let it go? If it returns, then it's meant to be.
What a lovely little tale.
You composed another note, this one outright petty, and mustered up your strength and anger when you delivered it.
You waited outside his dorm room one morning and, when he exited, he looked up at you and surprise spread across his face before he quickly masked it. You swallowed and apparently took a moment too long to talk because he greeted you with, "The fuck do you want?"
You blinked and looked at his face once more before holding out a note to him, folded cleanly in half.
"You couldn't have given me this shit later? We ain't got time for anythin' if you wanna get to class on time," he said, holding the note and raising an eyebrow at you.
You nodded at the note. "Read it, Oowada-kun."
His lip curled and he opened the note. Skimming over it, he barked out a laugh, and then two, and then crumpled it up and dropped it on the floor. He then had the nerve to step on it and grind it into the floor like a burning cigarette.
"Y-You're a fuckin' joke," he said, and his voice trembled just a little. If it were anyone but you, you don't think they would've caught onto the shake. "Get lost!"
He's the one to walk away, funnily enough, steps fast and loud, and you couldn't find it in yourself to scold him for running. You returned to your own dorm, even though you should be heading to get breakfast and going to class.
As soon as you sealed out the outside world, you slid against the door and cried yourself sick.
For the first time in a while, probably for the first time in your eighteen years, you didn't go to class.
You didn't go to a single class.
And, that last flicker of anger that swam in your heart flickered, flickered, and…
Fizzled out.
Just like you.
_____
Oowada-kun,
Until we talk this out, let's stop our relationship. I'm not going to be the one to take this step; I believe it must come from you. I'm sure you're aware of my feelings, but I am unaware of yours… after all, I am not the one who refused to listen to what my best friend had to say when it was obviously important.
I'm going to believe myself delusional for my thoughts until you can tell me outright what you feel. For now, let's not see each other. It's what's best.
Kiyotaka
_____
But, of course, when it came to him, those rules you valued so much seemed to just slip away.
You weren't going to back down and cave from your desires. Your right hand was enough and it would continue to be enough until he talked. You needed initiative from him, the truth from him, and you knew that if you were the one to talk first, it would result in either a messy relationship or an explosive argument.
You didn't know if his feelings were genuine or ones that he developed because of the intimacy. Before, you thought it was the latter, but nowadays, you weren't sure.
Regardless, after that rejection after your first time, you couldn't be the first to speak. You knew that clear as day.
It's not like you had the time to think about it anyway. Despite the filthy side of you you kept hidden away, you were still the head of the Public Morals Committee, and you had duties to fulfill.
The weather grew colder as the winter festival came creeping up. There were plenty of preparations you had to focus on, and no one would care if you got wrapped up in your pathetic little "love" life. They only cared that you did what you needed to do to provide an amazing festival.
You're checking boxes off a list when you come across the next task. Carry up decorations from the basement into the second floor so that the upperclassmen could begin their preparations. You already knew that the boxes were heavy and the work was taxing and you would need help.
You felt… weird about asking for help. You much rather take multiple trips to do everything, but…
You didn't have time. You felt like you had no time these days.
Like you said, you couldn't even think about the situation with him. You didn't have the time to lament.
After classes let out for the day, you stopped everyone from leaving and went to the front of the room. After reading off the task and asking for help, a few hands went up. Namely, Ogami and Fujisaki's hands. The obvious choice was Ogami, as she was the strongest of the volunteers, but Fujisaki looked intense, waving her hand a bit as well. Your curiosity got the best of you, hand pointing at her.
"Yes, Fujisaki-kun?" You asked, and her eyebrows furrowed a little.
"A-ah, just Chihiro is fine," she started, but you shook your head a little. "But, um, I was going to say that- that Mondo should go with you."
You just blinked. Your gaze betrayed you, flicking up and looking at him, sitting in the back of the room. Your eyes met for the first time in a while and neither of you could look away.
You spoke again without looking at her, just staring at him, and maybe it was rude, but you couldn't look away. "Ah, I… wouldn't want to impose on Oowada-kun and have him do something he didn't volunteer for." You managed to pull your gaze away, seeing the way his expression twists into something angry. You look at Ogami. "Ogami-kun, could you help me out?"
She seemed to think for a moment before she slowly put her own hand down. Her gaze flickered between the two of you, to Mondo and his glowering rage and you, with your nervousness and now growing annoyance.
"I would like to volunteer Oowada as well."
You had a sneaking suspicion that that was, in fact, not what she was originally going to say.
Your eyes slid back over to him, and, now, he was standing. You could practically feel the anger that was his usual state rolling off him in waves.
"Whatever the fuck. I'll do it." He pushed to the front of the class and out of the door. Your eyebrow twitched and you didn't even look behind yourself as you followed him.
You didn't even give it a second to think about how cliche this all was.
"Slow down! You don't even know where we're going!" You called, walking just fast enough to catch up but not quite run. He was taller than you, strides longer, but you managed. You managed without breaking any rules.
You and your damn rules.
"This ain't the first time I helped you with this shit, hard ass," he responded, insult rolling off his tongue like it was nothing, and this was hardly the first time he had insulted you these past weeks, but it ached. The ever persistent hole in your heart throbbed and bled. "I helped you with that Fall festival. Decorations in the same place, right?"
"No, actually, those were the Fall specific decorations. We're getting the Winter ones now."
"Oh, my bad, princess," he sneered and you bristled.
"Don't call me that, you brute."
"Hypocrite."
When you two finally got to the basement, you both were fuming. You were red in the face, as was he, and you were cutting it just below a screaming match. You were still just below breaking the rules, yelling out in hallways like this, and when the storage room door slammed behind you, your voice pitched up a notch.
So did his. He grabbed you by your collar, rumbling the fabric, and twisted, holding you up on your toes. You wrinkled your nose in disgust as he shouted. "All you ever fuckin' do is run your mouth! You're such a bitch!"
You grabbed his wrist, tight, and tried to pry his hands off. "And you're practically a savage! Get your hands off and just help me with the boxes!"
"Maybe I don't wanna help you with these boxes, huh? You always wanna do every-fucking-thing by yourself, so maybe I'll let you do this too," he bit, and it hurt, because now, these fights were personal. Before you had ever been friends, ever been anything more, you two knew nothing about each other. Now… you knew too much.
You knew too much. "As if your fragile pride would let you let me be seen carrying these by myself."
He made a sound akin to growling and-
And…
You shook it off and stepped closer, finally getting his hand off. You jabbed a finger into his chest, moving him back a step.
"Get over your own ego and just help me," you continued, and his lip curled with anger, flashing his teeth. Your eyes were drawn to the movement and you lifted your gaze after what was maybe a millisecond too long. You could see that glimmer in his eye, the one that said he was right on the edge of a discovery, and you brushed over it before he could say anything.
Gross. Disgusting. You're insatiable. You're so fucking pissed but yet, you still…
He's sweating, he's that mad, face blotchy red in the low light of the storage room. His teeth were still bared and his fists were clenched, knuckles whitening. You had to avert your eyes as your breath caught. You turned around and made yourself busy looking for the boxes. You heard him walk up behind you, standing just feet away.
"You were barkin' just a minute ago and now you're all quiet. What? Cat got your tongue?" He asked, voice low, and you still couldn't speak. You caught your lip between your teeth and felt another rise of anger fill your heart.
The silence dragged on and thickened. Feet shuffled and, suddenly, he was standing right beside you. You were bent over, looking at a box, and he grabbed your chin, pulling you up and looking into your eyes. His face was flushed but you're sure it's nothing compared to yours.
So gross, so disgusting, so, just, so-
"Are you fucking serious?" He spoke, eyes wide. His irises, such a pretty color, were swallowed by his pupils that expanded with his realization. "Are you fuckin' getting off on this?"
"Shut up!" You responded, finally, looking away but not pulling away. "Let go of me! Let's just get this over with!"
He didn't say anything but he let go of you. You don't know if the sigh you let out was with relief or disappointment, but, either way, you pushed down your temptation and continued what you were doing.
That was, until-
Two large hands clamped down on your hips from behind you. You shot upright, unintentionally pushing yourself back into him. A solid chest, warm and strong, and you gasped when you felt a hardness pressing against the back of you.
Was he…?
"Mondo," you breathed and he squeezed you tight enough to hurt, making you whimper.
"We on a first name basis again, huh?" His voice was mean, like how you had wanted it to be when you first started this, but now that you had it…
You weren't sure how to feel.
"D'ya want this?" He asked, making his intentions clear. He was obviously still angry, and so were you, but he made a point to push you away a little and ask. He's just…
Mondo, no, Oowada…
You responded by grinding back and craning your neck back and gripping a fistful of hair on the back of his head, yanking him forward and crushing your mouths together.
He kissed like he was starving. You kissed like a dying man. Teeth clinked painfully but who are you to pull away from a kiss like this? You just kept at it, nipping at his lips and only ripping yourself away when you tasted blood. On his bottom lip, there was a small cut. Bringing your hand up to your mouth, you felt the same cut on your own.
Great. Just great.
He shoved you back, back colliding with the dusty wall, and he comes up to you, tilting your head up with a hand on the side of your neck. His other hand went to the front of your pants, grinding his palm into you. You whined and rutted into his hand, mouth parted with gasping breaths.
"You're such a desperate little bitch, aren't ya?" You swallowed and shook your head. No, no, you aren't, you're the same as any other teenager, anyone would act the same- "C'mon, don't deny it. Feel how hard you are from me yellin' at you."
Hand freehand slid to the front of your throat, cupping it gently, using the top of his hand to tilt your face up. He laughed at you, a mean laugh, and your hips bucked.
You're ashamed of yourself.
Is this really what you're doing?
Is this who you are?
You really are a desperate bitch.
You longed for his touch so badly that, even with the boiling of your blood, you let this happen because at least that meant he'd kiss you and touch you and hold you.
"Didja just want some attention from me? What, got jealous that I wasn't only lookin' at you? Who knew that this is how you'd react?"
That sentence.. threw you off a little. What was he talking about? You furrowed your eyebrows, both in pleasure and confusion, hand coming up to circle around his wrist.
"Wh-what…?" You asked, and he lifted an eyebrow.
"What're you askin'?"
"I got… jealous…? Of- of who?"
The gears turned for a minute before something dark glinted in his eyes. "Oh, so you didn't know?"
Your stomach dropped. "Know what?"
"Hagakure got me and Leon fake I.D.s," he started, and your eyes widened, lecture on the tip of your tongue. He continued before you could speak, and you knew that he knew you were about to scold him, despite what you're currently doing. "Went out to a club a while back and met the hottest chick I have ever seen. Man, you shoulda seen the way she was with me; she couldn't stop touchin' me."
Your heart thudded. What?
"I would've taken her back to my place if I coulda, let me tell you," Oowada continued, and a bitter taste filled your mouth. His voice was so fucking mean.
You blinked and blinked and had to break eye contact. Tears welled up in your eyes, harsh and fast, and the next sound you let out was a choked sob. His hand ground down harder and you tried your damndest to focus on the touch, grinding forward and chasing pleasure.
You come to the fact that he didn't take her home. You shake as you come down and you still won't meet his eye. You couldn't see clearly through the tears anyway.
That rage that filled you was split with something else now, something you've been feeling but decided to rear its ugly head again.
Heart break.
And what little drops of blood your heart had left started to drip out.
You shouldn't be doing any of this here. You couldn't count the amount of broken rules on one hand, not that you even wanted to think about that. All that was on your mind was him and some faceless woman. She was probably beautiful.
She was probably prettier than you could ever be. You're a man, a masculine man at that, and you've never felt insecure about your rough edges before, but now you wonder if he just wanted softer skin to grab at, longer hair to pull, something more distinctly feminine.
You… aren't sure of his sexuality. While you've somewhat come to terms with your own attraction, he's never said anything to you about his own, and you know he likes women, what, with how many failed crushes he had.
Did he even like men the way you did? Or were you a special case for him? Was he only sexually attracted to men?
Could he… get over it all that easily?
"Yo… Taka?" He said after a few moments, and you blinked and came back to yourself, looking up at him. The waterworks were still going and, maybe, through your blurry vision, you saw concern on his face.
Was he over it all?
Really?
"Dude," Oowada tried again and your hands came up, shakily, resting on his chest. It sounded like the air was knocked out of his with the way he wheezed at the contact. "What-"
"I want you to fuck me," you said, voice surprisingly level. You use the sleeves of your jacket to wipe your face clear of tears and drool, and, when you look up at him again, there's still clear irritation but something else too. You didn't want to think about that other emotion all that much.
If you could stop it, you weren't going to let him move on that easily.
He seemed to hesitate before he moved away from you and nodded towards the ground. "'S not a soft bed for your royal ass, but it'll do. Get on your knees."
You did so without a word. Before kneeling, you remove your pants and underwear and lay them out on the floor. They're going to be ruined after this but who cares?
Who even cares?
You kneel on top of them, removing your jacket as well and bunching it up like a pillow for you to rest your face on. You wrap your arms around it tight and lean your check on it, slipping your eyes shut.
"Got some bad news for ya," you heard him say after some shuffling.
"What is it?" Your voice sounds empty.
"I've got lube but no condoms. I assume you're too prim and proper to carry around condoms."
"It's inappropriate to carry around condoms," you reply, like a robot. You hear him scoff.
"So… what? You just want me to finger you or something?"
Why is he offering to do that when it gives him no pleasure?
Admittedly, it would hurt less emotionally if he did have a condom. There's something so intimate about doing it bare that you don't think you could stomach. After what he said though, about the girl and the club…
"I'm… okay going without one," you said, and you feel his hand rest on your hip.
"Yeah?"
"Yes."
"Good to hear." His voice was low and it made you shudder, but it also shook a little. The hand on your hip raised and came back down on your rear with a smack, jolting you. You bite on the jacket to muffle your cry.
Soon enough, you felt cold lube trickle down over your entrance chased by the warmth of his fingertips. He pushed in his finger, thicker than your own and rougher than he'd normally move. He's relentless, finding that one spot in you and hitting it with each thrust, moving from one to two to three quickly. By the time he says you're ready, your dick is hard and aching once more and the tears on your face are purely from pleasure.
He almost made it easy to forget the words he himself said.
And, quietly, internally, you can't help but be happy. She never got this. She never felt this. Hell, he probably didn't even remember her face.
(You wonder if she had black hair, pale skin, or red eyes. You wonder if she bore any resemblance to you.)
((You don't want to think about how you'd feel if she did.))
With another smack, you gasped and shook and then he pressed his arousal against your entrance. He pushed in without giving you a moment to adjust and the air is knocked out of your lungs, spit soaking the jacket now.
He filled you up perfectly, hitting every spot that made you see stars, so much closer without the condom. His hips met your rear, flush, and his hand came down, another smack that made you whine.
"Bet no one knows the little hall monitor gets fucked like this, huh?" Oowada breathed, leaning down to speak in your ear. He pulled out and pushed in again. "They don't know all about your genius plan."
You shake your head and gasp, "D-don't call me- ah!- that."
"What, genius?" Oowada asked, laughing, and he knew, he knew you didn't like that. "Why not? You act all fuckin' smart all the time. You act like you know everything."
He punctuated his sentence with a rough enough thrust that your arms slid out from under you. He gripped your hips tight enough to bruise and started moving you back to meet his thrusts. Conflicting emotions swirled throughout you, both at the treatment and the words. You were whimpering and moaning but you wanted to respond at least semi coherently.
"No- mm, no I don't! I feel like I- like I don't know anything." You don't think your resolve sounds that serious when you sound like this. "I don't… oh, please… I don't know a thing about you."
That seemed to surprise him. His hips stuttered and stopped for a moment before he was moving again, a bit slower this time around.
"... What?"
You turn to lay your face on your cheek, looking at him over your shoulder. You let out a sob, seeing his face, seeing the expressions he can't hide, seeing the flush on his skin…
Seeing the gleam in his eyes. Seeing the slope of his nose. Seeing the running eyeliner and that stupid hairstyle falling out of place. Seeing that cut on his lip that you left, the one you had on your own that matched.
Rules were something you valued. Something you needed. They structured everything and helped you to function. Sure, people called you rigid or a robot, but you liked the boundaries that rules came with. It helped you function.
You aren't a rule breaker. Well, at least, you weren't.
And then, Mondo Oowada.
A man who made you reevaluate everything you've always thought about rules. He broke them without a care in the world and it made you so mad, but it also made you want to follow him.
You wanted to break rules. You've never wanted to do that before.
You established your own rules for yourself, things that were easy to follow, rules about this friends with benefits thing, rules about your affection for him.
Rules like "don't face him while intimate, that'll make everything worse."
"Taka," he said, after you didn't respond. He pulled back and out and you absolutely whined at that. He tapped your hip. "Can you roll over? Onto… onto your back?"
Rules, rules, rules, follow your rules-
You rolled over, bringing your knees up and open. He slotted himself in between and thrusted back in. Your dick dripped precum onto your stomach and your hands flew above your head, clutching onto the jacket like a lifeline.
A rule broken so easily.
"What'd you mean when you said that?" He asked, voice breathless. His thrusts were getting messy, uneven. You knew that he was getting close and heat rushed through you at that. One hand came down to wrap around yourself, stroking in time with the thrusts. You're sinking so deep into something that you barely comprehend the question.
Your mind was so fuzzy, your body felt so warm, he was so hot inside you, you opened your mouth but nothing comprehensible came out. His hand slid down and gripped your thigh. Glancing down through bleary eyes, you saw fingerprint bruises on your hips.
Your orgasm hit you before you had a chance to mention it. Your moan is embarrassingly loud as you spasm around his dick. He groaned and doubled over, coming almost right after you, filling you up and making your body burn warmer.
After a few moments, he pulled out and you let out a small sound, thoughts fluttering through your mind still not making much sense. All you knew was him, his touch, his warmth, his, his…
Love.
The love he kept hidden from you.
The love that maybe, you didn't force on him but instead that he developed himself.
"Baby," you heard him saying, soft affection poking through the fuzz over your mind. You hum, aching at that pet name, looking up at him. You haven't moved but he's already dressed again. "You a'ight?"
No. You felt like shit.
Yes. You felt like you were in heaven.
"I dunno," you settled on, and he frowned. You felt that ache again; you didn't want to make him frown like that.
He left you for a moment, rummaging through bins of extra supplies and items before he found rags, walking over and wiping you down, cleaning you the best he could. He helped you to your feet and you were shaky, nearly falling over. Predictably, your pants were ruined, dust and dirt caked into them, but he helped you into your clothes again anyway. When you went to lace up your boots, he didn't let you, instead kneeling and doing it yourself.
"Can you walk?"
Of course you can. You're really good at walking.
You took a step and your knee buckled. He caught you and helped you lean against the wall. He looked concerned.
"Taking that as a no."
You didn't say anything. You were pretty embarrassed about what just happened. You watch, curious, as he slid off his jacket. You weren't expecting it when he swung it around your shoulders but you weren't complaining; you sunk into the fabric and the smell of him washed over you pleasantly.
You did yelp, though, when he scooped you up. You're expecting none of this, so embarrassing, and he started walking toward the door. He just barely made it outside before you spoke.
"The decorations…"
He chuckled. "I'll get 'em later."
"Oh." You tucked your face into his chest. It was easy to ignore the ache when he was being this nice. He wasn't being mean anymore. "What if… someone sees us?"
"Doesn't matter. They got something to say, they can say it to my fuckin' face."
For some reason, that made your chest warm.
You relaxed for a few moments as he walked, feeling the way you swayed in his arms with each step. He was so strong, you knew you weren't light by any means, but he showed little resistance when it came to carrying you.
Slowly, the fuzz was slipping from your mind and thoughts. That was comforting as well; you've never felt quite this out of it before and it was starting to make you a little nervous. However, with clearer thoughts, your worries about other things came back.
Emotions, relationships, etc. That was too much to discuss at this moment, so you shoved it down and focused on something more… time sensitive.
"Decorations," you said again, voice quieter than normal for no reason other than your tiredness. He held you a little closer and hummed. "I need… I need to get them to our upperclassmen."
"I already told ya not to worry about it." His voice didn't ease your worries. You should've had them up there by now.
"But what if I-"
"Kiyotaka." His tone is stern but not mean. Not mean. He's only being nice now, tone warm, gentle, almost. You don't think you've ever heard him sound like this before but… no, wait, you have. He only sounded like this around you. "I got it. Alright? I'll get Ogami or someone to help me carry 'em."
You think he's done but he isn't. He's quietly speaking to you as he walks. "You think I ain't seen you runnin' around lately? Makes me feel like shit. Couple a months ago, you would've asked me for help… I woulda offered."
You peered up at him and he's pointedly looking away and ahead. Sliding your gaze that way, his dorm room door was right there. You looked back up at him curiously and he opened the door, carrying you inside. He set you down at the edge of his bed and you glance around, taking in the messy state of the place. You didn't realize it, but his rough hands started gently working at the laces of your boots.
"You were right, ya'know?"
"Hm?" You responded, looking down at him. Your heart swelled. Your throat felt like it was closing up.
"'Bout my pride." Your breath caught. You hadn't meant that, you were angry, you said things you didn't mean- "Jesus, get that look of your face, I'm not- I'm not fuckin' mad at you about it. You were tellin' the truth."
"Mondo…" your voice trailed off as he tugged off your boots and set them to the side. He stood in front of you, wedged between your knees, and you stared up at him. You took him fully in.
Dark lines under his eyes, dark roots growing in and clashing harshly with bleached hair. Overall tired looking, and there was that gleam in his eyes again, but it looked… different. Off.
He blinked as he stared back down and that's when you realized why they looked different.
For the second time in your life, you watched as Mondo began to cry. For the second time in your life, you think you are the cause for his tears.
"Hey, no, Mondo-" you reached up and he stooped down low enough that you could cup his face in your hands. Then, he stooped even lower, low enough to catch your lips with his and the kiss was slow and deep.
Bittersweet.
Your broken heart pounded against your chest. It pounded hard enough that you thought it could break your ribs.
He pulled back and gasped, backing up only far enough to press his forehead against yours. His breath ghosted over your lips and you could taste the salt of his tears in your mouth.
"Mon…" you murmured and he opened his eyes and looked into yours. He was so close, he was blurry, but he refused to look away. You refused as well.
"Taka," he whispered, voice shaky. "Can you… can you give me some time? Please."
You have never heard him sound so sad before. So hopeful, either. You swallowed and nodded. You weren't even sure what he was asking for time for, but you could guess.
For that, you'd wait forever. It felt like you already had.
And for a moment, a brief moment, you… weren't disgusted with yourself.
Your body was sticky with sweat and you needed to shower desperately. You weren't crying anymore, but dried tear tracks were streaked on your face and your face was flushed. Your hair was mused and sticking up every which way, in need of a haircut. You definitely looked a mess, gross even, but…
You were content. You were okay. Your heart felt like it was filling up again.
You could wait. You were great at waiting. You've waited all your life for everything but, even if you hadn't, you knew you'd always wait for Mondo.
He pulled back and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Then, he stood fully and wiped hastily at his eyes.
"Thank you," he started, his voice taking on that embarrassed tone so you braced yourself, knowing he was bound to start yelling. He always did when he got flustered, and this time was no exception. "Well-! You go take a fuckin' shower, I-I'm gonna go rope Hagakure and Leon into fuckin' helpin' me with those boxes!"
He turned and left the room with a slam and, for probably the first time that night, you smiled. Just a little.
Drop by drop, your heart filled back up. It wasn't full yet, it probably wouldn't be for a while after all it's endured, but you could wait.
This was another one of your little rules.
Wait and be patient. Persevere and push through. You'll achieve your goals through hard work and patience.
This was a rule you wouldn't break.
_____
The Winter festival went exactly according to plan and you finally were able to relax.
Not that relaxing meant to you what it did to other people, but at least you could stop pulling your hair out over the stress of basically putting this all together yourself.
True to his word, Mondo gave the decorations to your upperclassmen. Kuwata wound up helping him out, and the only reason you knew this was because he came grumbling to you about it. Mondo gave him a smack on the back of his head and you couldn't hold yourself back from reprimanding him for using violence.
A week ago, he would've scoffed at you, maybe insulted you as well. That day, he grumbled out a "sorry" and went along his way. It may not have been much, but it felt like everything to you. You could deal with this sort of connection until he worked everything out.
You could deal.
Originally, you intended to attend the festival as only a means to make sure every event and booth was run smoothly, but the rest of the Public Morals Committee came as well and cut you loose of your duties pretty quickly in. You tried to argue it, but they wouldn't hear any of it and sent you on your way. You bumped into Fujisaki pretty early into your exploration and ended up walking through the festival together.
Maizono put on a thrilling performance that you stepped out in the middle of. You felt bad for it, but… everything was just too loud. The sound was everywhere, consuming you, and she sounded lovely, of course she did, but people kept bumping you and stepping on your shoes and singing along and it was just-
A lot.
The festival was empty at the moment, nearly everyone watching the show. It gave you time alone, to think and wonder and just breathe. The vendors were still at their booths, so you glanced at what they were selling, knowing full well you wouldn't buy anything.
These weren't things you needed. Don’t waste your money. You felt bad for getting their hopes up each time you looked, but you didn't have money to be spending with reckless abandon.
You're not stupid enough to do that.
You came across a booth with wooden statues and trinkets, little toys and what not. It caught your eye and looked for a moment longer than you had the other booths. Sitting at the booth was a student who had graduated multiple years back, you believed, the Ultimate Carpenter. You made small talk until a recognizable voice spoke up.
"Hey."
You turned to the side and there stood Mondo, standing at the same booth as you and looking at you instead of the table. You shifted your body to face him fully and offered a small smile. You internally blamed your reddened face on the chill in the air.
"Hi," you responded, honestly a little surprised that he was talking to you. You didn't mind, of course you didn't mind, it was pleasant.
You both turned toward the table but, out of the corner of your eye, you could see him fidgeting, almost as if he was nervous. You decided not to mention it.
On the table, there was a small wooden square, like a coaster, with a flower carved into it. It was small, simple, yet really pretty. If you were going to spend money on something you didn't need, it most likely would've been that. You dug your hands into your pockets to fight the cold.
"Heh, pretty stupid, isn't it?" You heard him say, and you turned to him, confused. "That coaster with the flower. Total amateur shit."
"Don't talk about someone's work like that!" You reprimanded, shocked. "I happen to think it's very nice!"
"Isn't it?" Spoke up the vendor. You both turned to look at him and he held up the coaster. "Dunno why he's talking about his own thing that way. He's just started this craft."
"He…" your heart thudded and you turned to Mondo to see his face burning a violent red. "You made it?"
"Shut up! Stop starin' at me like that!"
You looked back at the table. "How much is it?"
"Taka, don't you dare-"
"Three dollars. Special discount."
You took out three dollars and handed it to the vendor. It was the best money you had ever spent.
The coaster was smooth in your hands and you traced your fingertips over the ridges of the carving, smiling to yourself. You looked up at Mondo with a grin and he seemed to recede further into himself, blushing harder, if that was even possible.
You two left the booth, wandering the still empty festival. You were holding onto the coaster tight, turning it over in your hands.
"When did you make this?" You asked, and Mondo groaned next to you.
"Like, a week or so ago. Doesn't matter. Why'd you buy it? I know it's ugly as shit."
You turned to look at him as you walked. "I happen to think it's very nice! The details are incredible, I wish I had seen your woodworking sooner!" You looked back down at the piece. "Are you working with the Ultimate Carpenter?"
"Tanaka-san? Nah, not really… I was down in the shop and he came 'round and I… asked him to show me a few things. He shows me a few things everytime he comes to the shop now, actually." He wasn't looking at you while he spoke, rubbing the back of his neck with embarrassment, the motion surprisingly endearing. "Then he asked me to make somethin' for the festival and I wasn't gonna be a bitch and say no, so… yeah. Now you're holdin' it in your hands."
"And I'm glad to be. I'm happy to hear you pursued woodworking! I remember you mentioning your interest a while back."
Laying together in bed, his hand in your hair and your cheek on his chest. You're enjoying the rumble of his chest while he talked and you're slipping off into sleep. He mentioned woodworking and you hummed in acknowledgement but barely. You're floating in that in-between sleep and wakefulness, just listening.
"You do?" He asked, and he seemed surprised. You nodded, tilting your head a little. "Oh, damn, I thought you were asleep when I said that."
You opened your mouth to reply when an idea popped into your head. You knew something you could say, maybe something to propel him forward just a little, make him… think.
Think about what else he's said to you while you were asleep.
"I was almost asleep." You couldn't look at him while saying this. "There's a lot you've said to me when I'm like that. I've heard it all."
You were nervous. You were staring holes into the coaster with the intensity of your glare.
You slid it into your pocket before you braved a glance up at him. He was staring at you, like he was putting pieces together inside his head. Then, suddenly, he grabbed your hand and started pulling you. It was an easy task, keeping up with his strides, but you were startled and you were practically yelling at him while you walked.
He found a little divot in the outside of the school building, out of sight of anyone that may be walking around, and pressed you to the wall. Thank God your uniform and hand me down coat were thick, otherwise the cold bricks would be nipping into your skin.
"Ya keep… saying things, things I don't know how to take or what you mean by 'em," he finally said, looking down at you, hands on your shoulders, holding you there. You were nervous but you met his gaze head on.
"Like what?" You knew what he meant, but you wanted to hear the questions from him.
"Kiyotaka." A shiver ran through you and it wasn't from the cold. "What've you heard me say?"
Oh, I just heard you confess to me, no big deal.
Your hands came up to his shoulders and then slid around to the back of his neck. His hands slipped down to encircle your waist, almost moving like an instinct. You yanked him down, until your lips were brushing against his, not quite kissing yet.
"Kiyo," he started, again, and, before he could finish, you caught his mouth in a kiss. He kissed back, energy almost doubled yours, and you're moaning softly into the kiss.
The kiss turned heated quick, lips parting to nip and suck, tongues touching. His hand slid down from your waist to your hip, fingertips grazing the bottom of your shirt, then slipping up and under just a little. You startled at the feel of cold fingertips on your skin and you pulled back, breath heavy.
"Mondo, we're outside," you whispered, as if someone could hear you. You felt that pull, still, pulling you towards him, wanting to do everything and anything with him right here right now.
That's so immoral. That's so improper. How unfitting of an Ishimaru.
Shut up, stop thinking. Focus, focus.
"No one's 'round here. Besides…" He dipped his head and nipped at your neck, pushing your collar down and definitely wrinkling it. You let it continue, well acquainted with the feeling of his lips biting and sucking and marking you up, and groaned, head falling against the wall. "... tell me what ya heard me say and I'll stop."
You kissed him again, catching his bottom lip between your teeth and nibbling until you were sure it would be red and swollen by the time you were done. One of your favorite sights was him with kiss swollen lips and mused hair, and you intended to see just that.
Well, that was the intention. The ringing of a cell phone had him jerking away, you as well. The back of your head hit the wall and you blinked a few times. Looking up at him, he was facing away, on his phone. Faintly, you could hear Hagakure's voice. When you listened more intently, you could hear footsteps crunching on grass too.
He turned back to you with wide eyes and an expression that just screamed fear. He seemed to make a split second decision and he hung up the call then came closer, hand cupping the side of your neck, tilting your head up and leaving one last searing kiss. Then, he escaped from your little hide away.
"Yo! Why were you hiding back here?" That was Kuwata. "Wait a minute… were you meeting up with some chick? Is that why you look like… that? Can I go see her?"
"Can it, dickhead. Let's get going." That was him. His tone was just a bit sharp.
"Are you okay?" That was Hagakure. Out of the three, he had always been the most keen on when people weren't feeling alright. It surprised you, but it was nice.
"Never better."
Their voices faded and you were left reeling against the wall, not even noticing how your breath had quickened with the fear of being caught. It seemed like he feared the same thing, what, with leaving you here like that. It was perfectly reasonable, but it made you think.
You're always thinking, and you're thinking like a hypocrite.
He was… the kind that liked to talk about what he had or, sometimes, even, show it off. He was always showing off his bike, showing off his jacket, etcetera. When he made more wooden sculptures, you're certain he's going to start showing them off. He struck you as the kind that would also show off his… significant other.
He was always talking about you to others, saying how smart you were, how driven you were. You were his best friend and he never hid that fact.
You didn't want to publicly come out yet, but, maybe, eventually… it was too scary to think about. It was still a tough pill to swallow. Even then, it would only be to a small group, your classmates, your father.
With him, though…
You don't have the slightest idea what he identified as and you don't know if he would even consider coming out. With his current position, you figured he had more at stake… his whole gang, his friends… you've met his gang at a glance before, you've heard the way they talked about showing off "hot chicks".
Then, there was always that club girl he had met.
Maybe it would be easier for him to be with her.
This is when you realized that he never quite specified what you were waiting for him to tell you, and it's like that happy daze you were in came crashing down.
He asked you to wait. To wait for what? A confession? A carefully worded rejection?
What was with that reaction to the suggestion you remember his confession? Was he angry? If so, why did he kiss back?
Was he happy? Was he upset?
Why was he so hard to read sometimes?
When he eventually had you stop waiting, was he going to turn you down and say that no, he doesn't feel the same, he just liked your body? It was never affection?
At first, you thought you forced him to love you. Then, you thought that maybe he loved you on his own.
You never even considered the possibility of him lying to you, to himself, to try to alleviate the pain. Maybe it was just physical.
Maybe it was…
Oh, God.
Oh, hell.
You don't want to believe it's just physical, there's many things pointing to it not being just physical, but still.
What are you waiting for?
Against that cold brick wall, you slide down, face buried in your hands. The coaster was burning like a brand in your pocket and you almost wished your jacket was thin, you almost wished that you could feel the cold biting your skin until it felt warm. Until it burnt.
Until you burnt.
_____
Here you were again.
Alone.
Well, perhaps, not fully.
This Winter break was grueling. You haven't had anything to do to occupy yourself, teachers having refused to give you an indication of what work you will have next semester.
So, you did what you always did. Studied.
And studied and studied and studied.
You had come home for Winter break, so you spent time with your father. He had been excited to hear about how school was going, about the festival, about more. When he had asked about him, you couldn't say anything. You couldn't find it in yourself.
You didn't like crying in front of your father, you would be troubling him with your issues, but you couldn't hold back the tears at the thought. You hadn't said goodbye to him before break had started, you hadn't had the chance. Your time was occupied with cleaning up the festival, deep cleaning your room, packing, helping students finish up the last bits of their work, and general daily duties. You had occupied yourself so much that you didn't let yourself think.
You couldn't.
But now, you had too much time open to think.
Your father had been furious at the first sight of your tears and you reassured him that it was nothing he had done, but instead, you. You were always the issue, so it's not like now was any different.
Your father had taken a moment to think, had seemed to assess your state, and then had said, in a voice that did not waver, "If my first impression of him is correct, there is nothing you could've done to shake him off."
You hoped that was true.
You were nose deep in your textbooks rereading the same chapter for the third time when you heard a faint noise that steadily grew. By the time you whipped your head up to your window, you saw it.
A motorcycle.
His motorcycle.
"What the hell?" You questioned no one, just the air in your bedroom. With the winter season, it had gotten darker earlier, so despite it being the early evening, the sky was painted oranges, reds, and purples. You watched him park the bike outside your house and the sun glistened off the metal.
You practically darted down the stairs, startling the life out of your poor father who was looking out the window.
"Oh, God, I was about to come tell you that you had a visitor, Kiyotaka," he said after he had jumped, turning to look at you. Normally, you wouldn't leave the house at this time, but when you looked at him, he nodded towards the door. "Well? It would be rude to keep your guest waiting."
You bowed as a thanks and sat on the edge of a step as you put on and laced up your boots. It was a little lengthy, only lengthened with the way your hands shook, but as soon as you had them on, you swung open the door. Standing in front of it was him, his back now to the door. He raised a hand to his mouth and removed something, exhaling and smoke curling into the air, and you wrinkled your nose.
You shut the door behind yourself. "You shouldn't smoke. Not only are you underage but that is also extremely unhealthy."
He turned towards you and laughed a little, but put out the cigarette anyway. He crumpled it and shoved it in his pocket, which was unsanitary, but at least he hadn't littered. "You haven't seen me in a coupla days and the first thing you're gonna do is lecture me?"
"What are you doing here, Mondo?" You found yourself asking, leaning against your front door.
This question seemed to shake him. His breath hitched and he looked to the side before his eyes found yours again. He shrugged a little and when he spoke, his voice was unsure. "Can't I just visit my bro over break?"
His bro… "I'm inclined to believe that's not the full reason you're here."
He looked away again at that, kicking at the pavement. "Fuck, you got me. Can I… come in, though? Your old man home?"
"Yes, my… 'old man' is home. Why? You're not planning on…" Your face flared red.
"Jesus, Taka, no, not- no! I just… this ain't really a talk I wanna have when he's listening in an' shit."
That made sense. You allowed yourself a second to calm down before you entered the house. Your father was in the kitchen, leaning against the table, not even trying to make it seem like he wasn't looking at you two through the window. You know he couldn't hear and you knew his protective nature was the whole reason he was keeping an eye out.
"Ah, hey, Mr. Ishimaru," Mondo greeted, sounding awkward around him, as always. You didn't fully understand why he seemed so nervous around your father, he was the least threatening person you knew! Yes, he's a cop and yes, he is taller than yourself, taller than Mondo, even, but still. You decided not to question it.
"I've told you to call me Takaaki before and I'm telling you again."
"Ah, shit- I mean, shoot, yes, sorry. Hello, Takaaki."
"Better." Your father's gaze slid over to you and you looked at Mondo and then back to him. He hummed lightly and set the mug he was holding down on the counter. At the end of the counter was a ceramic bowl you made in 5th grade. He fished his keys out of it. "I have to go down to the station for a bit, honestly, probably a while. There's plenty in the fridge if either of you get hungry. I'll be seeing you, then."
You wondered if he was lying. You knew he was busy, but you didn't think he had actually been called in. You sent a silent thank you as he walked out, having ruffled your hair on the way past.
"Hm," was all Mondo said before he turned to you.
"Well?" You started. You sat down again and began unlacing your boots to tug them off. "He's gone and I still don't know why you're here."
"Damn, who pissed in your cereal?" He said, and you glared up at him, getting off one boot and working on the other. "That's not a happy face."
"Mon." You saw the way he tensed at the nickname. "I'm trying to be patient, I promise I am, but I… I'm so confused on… everything concerning us."
"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" His face scrunched up.
"What are we?" You stood up after placing your shoes neatly to the side. This gave you a more even playing field, only having to look up a little to meet his eyes. "What did you come here to say?"
"'What are we'? We're bros?"
"Bros who kiss and have intercourse?" You looked at him incredulously and he looked away. Despite the chill, you could see him breaking a sweat. "Are you serious-"
"Fucking fuck buddies, friends with benefits, that's what we fucking are, Ishimaru! That's all we were!" He cut you off, and then immediately looked regretful. That valve in your heart twisted and blood dripped out. "No, fuck, that's not what I- please-"
"If you're… if you're going to reject me… please leave," you mumbled, now looking at the floor yourself. Your vision swayed a bit.
"Wha- huh?"
"I can't take that right now. If you're… if you'd rather pursue that girl you met, I understand."
"The girl I met…?"
"The club one." You looked up and he looked a mix of angry and confused. "I get it. I don't want you to feel like you have to lie to me anymore."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" You flinched at his harsh tone.
"If you want to date her… I can't say that I understand, but it sounded like you liked her-"
"Kiyotaka, I fuckin'-! Half of that shit was made up! I never wanted her, all I- all I fucking wanted was you!"
And time… froze. Your words stuck in your mouth like honey and you looked up at him. Without permission, the tears that had budded in your eyes began to fall.
"... What…?"
"That girl… fuck, I don't even remember her name- well, if that doesn't prove she meant nothing to me, I don't know what will." He ran his hands down his face and took a heavy breath. He moved further into your own house and you followed, realizing you were just standing in the entryway. You ended up in the kitchen, standing in the archway as he put distance between the two of you, standing in the middle of the room. "I'm sure she's lovely or whatever, but I don't give a single damn about that chick. I never did. It was always you."
"Me…?" Your voice sounded weak and pathetic even to yourself. The tears kept coming. He was staring at the tiles as he spoke, voice low and shook ever so often.
"That night, I… was so mad. I was so fucking pissed, and I knew it was about that letter you gave me but I didn't… I couldn't deal with that. So, I went to a club. Leon got fuckin' piss drunk and Hagakure wooed some girl with crystal ball predictions or some shit, so I was sitting at the bar by myself. Then, I see this girl looking at me and… Kiyo, she looked just like you." He looked at you then. "She had long black hair and she was pale and she came about to your height. And I thought 'hey, maybe I'm angry just 'cause I'm pent up, maybe I'm angry just 'cause I liked his body, whatever', so I wanted to force myself to like her."
He took a break for a moment, sucking in a breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was smaller than before.
"But I couldn't. She wasn't you, she was nothing like you. Every time she touched me, I fuckin'- shit, I felt like hurling. I think she could tell, I don't care. Made no sense because I know I like girls, I know that, but she just… you were all I could think of. Maybe I would've had somethin' with her if I had met her before I knew you, but now? I don't… I don't want anything with anybody if it isn't you. And that's fucking terrifying."
You couldn't believe what you were hearing. You recognized, faintly, that you were shaking. Some of the words didn't even register fully. You just knew the basic core message.
He likes you.
He likes you.
"Mondo," your voice came out choked and he looked at you. His face was full of that heartbreaking fear again.
"Kiyotaka," he replied, and then he took a few steps closer, closing some of the space. "What did you hear me say when you were 'asleep'?"
"I…" you swallowed and tried again. "You confessed to me."
He inhaled and exhaled shakily. "I shouldn't have… I shouldn't have done that."
Your heart was pounding. You weren't sure if it was still spilling blood or not. "Why not?"
"I was a coward for confessin' like that, knowing- ah, well, thinkin' you didn't hear me. I shoulda just… I shouldn't have shut you up like that… after our first time. I shoulda let you talk."
"Mondo…"
"It's fucking- God, I'm scared confessing all of this right now because it's just- it's new." He came closer to you, not close enough yet to touch, but close enough that even with your blurry vision, you could see the stuttery rise and fall of his chest, the wetness in his eyes, the flush on his face. "Taka, baby, doll."
The pet names made you blush. You swallowed again and wiped your eyes. He took that final step and his hands came up, cupping your face.
"You make me feel somethin' I've never felt before. This feeling scares the shit outta me, but it's for you, if it's for you… that's okay. I'm sorry I haven't told you 'til now."
You covered his hands with your own and a sob fell from your mouth. How long have you wanted? How long have you waited… You couldn't even… it was…
"I love you, Kiyotaka. I love you so much."
There was an overwhelming section of you that didn't want to believe this. You couldn't just- you can't get everything just because you wanted it. That isn't how things work for you! It's never been how they work! This isn't real.
"Baby, hey, babe, look at me, c'mon, please, I think you're freakin' out."
It felt like all the air had been sucked from your chest and you looked up when he tilted your chin up. A gasping sob left you when you met his eyes and his thumbs rubbed your face, gathering tears. You lifted shaky and weak arms to wrap around him and he pulled you into a hug so tight that it felt like all the broken pieces of you finally, finally came together.
You didn't feel gross. You didn't feel disgusting. You didn't feel like a disappointment. You didn't feel all those shitty things you felt before and that dark part of your brain clicked off.
For a moment, just a moment, you were just Kiyotaka Ishimaru.
You were an anxious teenager going through the ups and downs of his first true love.
There was nothing wrong with that.
You followed the breaths he took, ear pressed to his chest and hearing how his heartbeat raced. When you stopped trembling like a leaf, you spoke into the fabric of his jacket. "Really?"
"Yeah, yes, really," he said, and close up like this, you could feel and hear his words, and it was the best comfort possible. You could also hear that tremor in his voice clearer, but it had steadied more after he got out his confession. "So much, baby."
"I love you too," you managed to say, and then felt the sharp exhale followed by a shaky laugh. He held you tighter, somehow. "I'm so in love with you."
He pulled back just enough that he could bend and you met him in the middle. The kiss you shared was long and full of so much love that you could cry harder. It tasted of salt, of smoke, of words unsaid. It felt like a promise and, God, finally.
You had to break it to breathe because multitasking was something you were incapable of at the moment. You brought your lips together again after a second or two, your hands traveling up to cling at his back almost desperately. Your fingers curled in fabric and his hands moved back up to your face. Lips parted in the kiss and soft bites and licks were shared, nothing too intense.
Nothing too fast. You were savoring each other at the moment, it was like nothing else existed. It was like you weren't in the middle of your kitchen and it wasn't like your father could walk in at any moment.
It was just you and him. No one else.
The kiss broke again and he leaned his forehead against yours, breathing in your air. "I'm like, fucking crazy about you." He laughed a little. "It's funny, before any of this shit started, Leon wouldn't stop going on and on about how I'm 'whipped' for you. I guess he was right."
You knew enough slang by this point to know what that meant. You laughed a little as well, the sound watery.
He moved in to kiss you again, but before he could, you stopped him. You needed to clarify one thing.
"Mondo."
"Yeah?"
"How do you… um, well… what is your…" How to phrase this… well, the easiest way was- "... do you like men?"
He paused for a moment before he took a breath and… shrugged. What?
"I think I do, I mean, I've seen dudes before and thought they were attractive or whatever. The pull I feel to you, though, is like… something else, it's so intense. That sexuality shit is the other scary thing to me, God, I don't even wanna fuckin' think about how my gang'll react… I don't think I'm ready to tell anyone about us yet, sorry."
"Us?"
"... Yeah, us. I mean, I figured we'd be datin' now, I mean-" He looked a bit nervous.
"So… like lovers?" The word made you feel warm and fuzzy.
He blinked a few times and then got out something that sounded like "Oh my God, you're so fuckin' cute" before he kissed you hard. You kissed back eagerly before he pulled away again. "Yeah, yeah, like lovers or boyfriends. We can tell people in time, just… not right now. Especially not while I'm still figuring this shit out."
"No, no, that's okay, take your time. Believe me, I need it too."
He grinned at you and kissed you again, and you could feel yourself getting addicted to these kisses. You were surprised when his hands left your face to travel lower, first your back, then your waist, then your hips. Then, he bent down further without breaking the kiss and slid one hand down the back of your thigh, lifting you like you were nothing. You yelped but didn't complain, looping your arms tight around his neck.
"God, I just wanna take you apart," he was saying, mostly to himself, you think, and you tilted your head to the side with a sigh when he started kissing along your neck, pausing for bites. You weren't even thinking about marks; it's scarf season, if he left any, it didn't matter too much.
That's the kind of thought that would disgust yourself. How improper, how vulgar. You pushed these thoughts out because no, you deserved this. You could have your cake and eat it too and not feel guilty just this once. You wanted to work on never feeling guilty again for this, but it would be a long process. For now, though, you refused to allow any guilt to swarm you when you pulled his head back to look him in the eye.
"Make love to me, Mondo."
He looked at you again, his eyes wide, before he nodded and moved in again, kissing you. He walked you back until your back was pressed against the wall. His kisses were hard enough that part of you was concerned that your lips would bruise, but you didn't care; you wouldn't mind the reminder that the bruises would bring.
One hand was clutching the back of his shirt while the other was twined in his hair, tugging lightly. His head fell back with your pulls, separating with a gasp. He pulled you off of the wall and hooked his chin over your shoulder as he started walking further into your house. It was hardly his first time over and your house was rather small, so he found your room with ease. He came up to your bed and leaned down, pressing you into the bed and covering you with his own body, hands planted firmly down on either side of your head. You stared up at him and he blushed, hard.
"Why're you looking at me like that?" He asked, looking to the side before looking back at you. You smiled a little.
"I love you."
"Oh, God." His face only burned brighter. He leaned down, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "You're gonna say that all the time now, aren't ya?"
"Yes." He groaned and you stifled a laugh. "I've been waiting for a while. I am making up for the missed time."
Again, he just looked at you with widened eyes. "... How long have you liked me?"
It was your turn to blush. Your hands came up to your face and he took your hand in his own, moving it away. You swallowed before answering.
"I'm… not sure. Probably… maybe since we became friends? I…" You saw the way his breath caught when you confessed that. "I had never had a friend before you so I… thought that was always how friends make you feel. Then, I befriended Fujisaki-kun and realized it… wasn't. It took a while for me to confess anything to you."
Another "Oh my God" came from him before he was hiding his face again. A moan was pulled from your mouth when he met the skin with teeth once more, surely marking you. His hands came down to fiddle with the buttons of your jacket, making slow work of them as he kept kissing along your neck. As his lips trailed up from your jaw and back to your mouth, you pushed yourself up a little so you could shed your jacket. He broke the kiss and took it from you, folding it like he had your first time, and set it on the ground beside your bed. He shed his own jacket then and folded that as well, placing it beside your own.
You had the urge to say those three little words again. It was such a small thing, but that consideration never failed to make you warm. Sure you definitely liked when things were fast and messy, but you had to admit that you loved this slow progression. You loved taking your time to analyze every detail about him, to gage his reaction to everything, to have him look at you in amazement when you didn't do anything special except smile up at him.
You were never good at analyzing people's moods or thoughts based on their actions, mostly relying on their words. This was why you never made friends: people got tired of telling you what they were thinking. You couldn't read a room right, you were always picky about, well, everything, and you were annoying.
But he never seemed to care. After he befriended you, he didn't seem to mind voicing his thoughts when you said you were struggling. He didn't mind accommodating you when you were picky about the foods you ate, about the clothes you wore. He didn't mind, and you grew to realize more small things about him.
The quirk of the corner lips when he was amused. The line between his eyebrows when he was irritated. The flash in his eyes with anger and the gleam with curiosity. The widening of his eyes when he was shocked or amazed, and the overwhelming softness when he was looking down at you before speaking those three little words.
"I love you."
You pushed yourself up higher to kiss him again, and he met your intensity perfectly. One hand carded through your hair while the other caressed your side, slowly pushing your shirt up until the palm of his hand met your skin. You hissed into his mouth at the warmth, his hand dragging up and leaving a hot trail in its wake. You wanted to be fully encompassed by his warmth.
Your hands came down to unbutton the small buttons on your shirt, grip unsteady with the distraction of his mouth. When he pulled back to remove his own (and fold it as well), you were able to get your own off and fold it before dropping it on top of your jacket.
His eyes immediately dropped to your chest and you did the same, always a big fan of it. Your eyes roved over the tan and scarred skin, evidence of hard work and activities with his gang, activities you most likely didn't want to know of. Your head was tossed back when his tongue met your chest, biting down again (he seemed to like to bite a lot, not that you were complaining), moving upward and around your nipple. His teeth closed around it and you whined, hand coming to his head again, and he left a kiss before moving further down.
Deft hands undid the button on your pants and pulled them down along with your underwear, leaving the entirety of you bared to him. It was hardly the first time and, most likely, hardly the last, but the vulnerability of it never changed. He stood and folded your clothes before removing his own, and you both showed your purest forms to one another.
He was all warm tanned skin and scars and you were all pale and scarred up as well. You were imperfect, you knew that, you had your own muscles, of course, but not to the intensity that he had them. You were softer in places than you'd prefer, and you knew your body shape wasn't always the most masculine. You could feel that haze creeping over your mind, the haze that held you in a chokehold and forced you to think about every little aspect of everything-
A kiss was pressed to your mouth. You blinked but he pulled back before you could kiss back. His hand came up to cup your cheek.
"Focus on me. Not whatever you're thinkin'. You got nothing to worry about right now." He traveled down your body, leaving a trail of kisses as he went. First your mouth, again, then jaw, neck, collarbone, chest, all the way down to your thighs. He spoke against the skin there. "It's just you and me, now. Just us."
"Just us," you breathed, and he smiled. That was before he started biting and sucking marks into your thighs, lifting one of your legs to be over his shoulder. You were trembling as he did this, hands gripping the sheets. His kisses would skirt upward, occasionally, nearing your arousal but not quite making contact yet.
You let out a loud startled whine when he grabbed you by the base and licked over the tip. Your knees went to close inward but were stopped by his body being between your legs. Both your knees were pulled over his shoulders and he folded his arms around you, hands locking on your stomach as he lowered his head on you. His mouth was so warm and you were restless, throwing your head this way and that, moaning and gasping and whimpering. You shuddered, hard, when he moaned around you.
He kept going until you felt yourself teetering on the edge, and you pulled at his hair, pulled him up and off, and he frowned when he was up. You breathed a laugh, shivering as you came down and he made a confused hum.
"Why'd you stop me?"
"I want to-" You cleared your throat against the embarrassment you felt. "I want to come while you're in me."
He groaned at this, but then looked even more confused. "You've got the stuff for that?"
Sitting up and scooting back, you felt blindly around in the side table until you found the tube you were looking for. A bottle of lube, half empty. You handed it to him and he studied it for a moment, eyebrow raising.
"We weren't messin' around like this last time I came over, right? Think I'd remember fuckin' you into this bed."
"Vulgar!" You exclaimed, swatting at his chest, and you continued speaking before he could make whatever smart comment you knew he was about to. "And no, we weren't. It's- it's important to own that sort of thing, just in case!"
"Yeah, yeah. I'm assuming you own condoms too, then, doll?"
That, you didn't. And you suspected he knew you didn't based on the tone of his voice. You blushed and raised your hands to cover your face. "Please shut up."
"Don't be all embarrassed." He sounded mischievous, and you removed your hands to look at him. He was pouring some lube on his fingertips, then rubbing his fingers together and lowering them. "It's hot to imagine you doin' that."
"Vulgar- oh!" You couldn't get out your full thought, his index finger pushing in you and clearing your thoughts. You fell back on your bed, shifting your hips and spreading your legs to allow more room for him. He took advantage of this, lifting your leg again until it was over his shoulder, pressing his nose into the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. He kissed you softly and he pressed inward, moving his hand slowly to allow you to adjust. "Oh, please, more."
He ignored you for a few moments, just pressing in and out, but then pushed in with two fingers and you let out a breath. The stretch didn't hurt, exactly, you just needed a moment, and he knew that. When you signed, he took it as his sign to start pushing in and out, and you moaned at the motion. Curling his fingers up, he brushed over that one spot in you that made you jolt. You could feel him smirking against your skin when he pressed into it, hard.
"Love," you groaned, and that smirk fell, quick. You cracked open your eyes and saw the way he was staring at you, complexion flushed and stare almost unbelieving. "Wh-what?"
"You're just…" He couldn't seem to put it into words, mouth opening and closing. Finally, he settled on, "Baby, I'm so weak for you."
You smiled and lifted a hand. What were you reaching for? You weren't really sure, but he seemed to know, letting your leg fall and leaning down, body pressed against yours, kissing you. You lost yourself in the kisses, sounds swallowed up by him as he pressed in a third finger.
After a bit of this, he pulled back and pulled his fingers out. He sat up on his knees and poured out more lube, spreading it onto himself. He looked up at you and you nodded. He pressed into you, slowly, and you couldn't break the eye contact that had been established, gasping as he moved. He filled you up, as he always did, and you could already feel tears pricking your eyes again.
"You okay, babe?" He asked, his voice strained. You hummed and nodded. Then, you reached up and he bent close enough that you could wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close.
"I- Ah, oh, Mondo- I love you," you managed to get out, and he pulled back before pushing back in, fully, flush against you. He caught your lips and kissed you soft and sweet, long, breaking only to whisper against your mouth.
"I love you too, Kiyotaka."
It continued like this, a slow push and pull, and it was so overwhelming, moving slow like this, making love. You had grown used to the hurried pace, the damn race to the finish, that the slow pace was almost too much to handle. It gave you time to think about everything, to feel everything, to watch the way he tensed and sighed and groaned under his breath at his own pleasure.
You were reaching the peak shockingly fast, melting to his touch, melting into him and him melting into you. You held on, never wanting this to end. You sniffled and realized the tears were now falling and when he opened his eyes to look at you, you mustered up a smile, one of which he matched.
That urge to say it again hit. You wondered if you were saying it too much, you wondered if he thought those words could lose their meaning. You didn't think they could, words so powerful never could, but did he think the same?
You didn't know, but he seemed to read your thoughts, bending and kissing you again before saying, "I love you so much."
You tightened your hold around his neck and whimpered. Your leg twitched and he moved only a little faster, a little harder. "I love you too."
You came with a whine and he moved through it, extending it, until he came as well. It was warm, so warm, and you refused to let go of him. He seemed to feel the same, holding on tight. Unfortunately, eventually, he had to let go and pull back. You fussed at him about cleaning up and he rolled his eyes playfully, scooping you up and carrying you to the bathroom. You also fussed about being able to walk yourself, but you had to admit that you swayed on your feet when he set you down.
You went to turn on the shower and he jolted when he felt how hot you had it. "Damn, babe, you tryna roast your skin or some shit?"
He turned it cooler, and when you stepped into it, it was a pleasant relief to you. It was only warm, not that burning rain you had forced yourself to grow used to, and it was almost like a reward. It was… nice.
You washed his hair and he washed your body, carefully and fully. You leaned into him as he did so, enjoying his roaming hands and soft touches. He kissed you under the downpour and you felt exhaustion settle into your bones, emotionally and physically worn out for the day.
You both dried yourselves off after the shower and walked back to your room. He changed the sheets while you dug through your (limited) closet in search of something that would fit him. You came across one pair of oversized hand me down sweatpants, which he changed into, and you pulled on flannel pajamas which he (lovingly) made fun of you for.
Laying down next to him, you didn't even recognize it when the front door opened, nor did you recognize it when you heard your door creak open a little. He held onto you tightly, fingers playing with your hair. Your face was in his chest and the sound of his heartbeat was lulling you to sleep.
Once more, as you drifted off, you heard the soft rumble of his voice as he confessed five words you now know to be fully true.
"I'm in love with you."
And, despite your drifting, you knew this to be true:
Somehow, someway, your desires were requited. Somehow, someway, the universe had allowed you to not be alone.
Somehow, someway, by some possibility… a cure for you had been discovered.
Now, you decided, was the time to begin working on it.
You opened your eyes against your tiredness and stretched up to kiss him long and sweet before pulling back and meeting him with six words of your own.
"I'm in love with you too."