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“I don't appreciate being cockblocked, Ahoge-chan.” Shidou's whisper is a fire against Yoichi's ear as his hands crawl under Yoichi's jacket first and then creep higher and higher up his body, smooth movements across Yoichi's skin feeling like slithering snakes — they make him tremble, and he hates it with all his being.
“The hell are you even talking about,” Yoichi forces himself to speak, his voice hoarse and full of air even though he loses one with each new Shidou's touch; his brain barely works, still lagging from all the work he's done on the field, and even more so from whatever Shidou is doing to him right now. “C’mon, let go, I need to shower—”
Shidou grins, his toxic pink irises taking over his feline pupils, making them seem longer and thinner — like that he looks even more psychotic than ever, and Yoichi never knew it was possible until now.
“Nah, Ahoge-chan, you're gonna be fine,” he says, drawling out the words, and Yoichi's scowl only deepens in response. “Sweat is only natural.”
Fucking perv, he thinks, turning his face away once Shidou gets too close, tongue out as if to prove his words by licking Yoichi's cheek.
He sighs, pulling away as much as he can — which isn't a lot, considering the fact that he's pinned against the wall — in an attempt to get at least some personal space. “Shidou, I'm serious. Stop fucking around—”
“And fuck you instead?” He chuckles, cocking his head to the side with a surprisingly innocent smirk, the one that doesn't go well with his vulgar words; it's like he is actually just a playful cat and not the “devil” everyone calls him. The contrast confuses Yoichi a bit too much for his liking: it's hard for him to tell if Shidou's just joking or if he's really trying to annoy him, and Yoichi already has big problems with understanding people's expressions.
“Tch.” He purses his lips, ignoring Shidou's electric stare that sends sparks all over Yoichi's body, and the perspiration begins to form on it again, making him feel even hotter, stickier, nastier. “Shidou, stop your stupid jokes or whatever this is and—”
His answer steals the oxygen from Yoichi's lungs almost literally and kind of bare handedly — he believes Shidou would pull such a trick out if he's given a chance to, and imagines Shidou's palms diving deep inside his chest, ripping his skin in half and breaking his ribs, then gripping Yoichi's lungs to squeeze the air and blood and everything that's left out of them. It shouldn't be as agonizingly arousing as it is, Yoichi knows, but he can't help the erection growing between his legs; Shidou's hands, wrapped around his throat like vines, press harder on his neck, choking him, and he whimpers too lewdly for someone who doesn't like it, his vision blurring, mind racing and blood rushing to both his face and his crotch, his own hands holding Shidou's wrists, trying to break free, but Shidou's so fucking strong it's basically impossible to even simply move.
Yoichi ignores — he tries to, really — the weird sensation burning in his lower abdomen at this difference in their physical strength, but the inside heat scorches him so bad it feels good.
The fuck, he curses mutely, as excited as he's terrified. The possibility of fainting basically flirts with him, the darkness growing before his eyes as he desperately tries to blink it away.
Suddenly, everything stops as Shidou releases the grip, and Yoichi gulps the air down greedily, his chest rising and falling, head still light and dizzy, the spots of many colours flying in front of him as he squeezes his lids shut to stop himself from seeing them, but the dots only haunt him more, gleaming brighter in the darkness he sees instead of disappearing completely.
His throat hurts, obviously so, and it's hard for him to swallow; Shidou's palms are still there, around his aching, sweaty neck, ghosting lightly over the marks he surely left — Yoichi can feel them burning on his skin like a freshly applied brand.
“Ah, I wish you could see yourself at that moment!” Shidou's expression is the same as the one he has on the field, his excitement perverted and vulgar, his gaze lustful, his smirk twisted and predatory — Yoichi sees it all even though his vision is still blurred. Shidou grins wider, his face so close to Yoichi's the tips of their noses touch. “You're so hot, Ahoge-chan. I'm even kinda glad you stole from me, because it means I can punish you.”
Yoichi raises his eyebrows before pinching them together, his nose scrunching up in annoyance as he turns away for a second again, disliking Shidou's proximity even more after those words — the move does nothing though, because Shidou's nose still touches his cheekbone in the end, lips only couple of inches away from Yoichi's feverish skin. He tries not to think about it.
When his breath gets a bit more stable, Yoichi asks, as politely as he can, “What's the shit you keep yapping about?!” He shoots Shidou a glare, seething, but the devilish smirk on that mouth never falters. “I didn't steal from anyone, my goals are my hard—”
Shidou bites his bottom lip before letting out a quiet laughter, his half-lidded eyes clouded with primal, carnal desire, looking at Yoichi like at the piece of meat. It's uncomfortable, but also Yoichi likes it a little, the feeling of being treated like an object making him feel like his insides are getting licked by the dancing tongues of flame, painfully hot. Shit.
“I'm also hard.” Shidou chuckles, pressing their hips together, and Yoichi gasps, his knees getting weak and shaky at the slight yet unexpected friction, his gaze wandering somewhere else bashfully, completely avoiding Shidou's face. He wants to cry as if he is a little boy again, except he isn't — that means he's supposed to actually do something instead of shedding useless tears. Yoichi grits his teeth, and Shidou lets out a tiny moan.
“Mm, keep going,” he whispers into Yoichi's ear, rolling his hips once again, a bit harder this time, “you being mad only turns me on more.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Yoichi growls, trying to breathe in and out to not let the panic get the better of him. His voice wavers, pretty audibly, as he spits, “You're a fucking degenerate, I…” he gulps, and then murmurs hoarsely, too hesitantly for it to sound threatening, “I'll kill you.”
“A-ah, yeah, like that.” Shidou moans, and his teeth, unexpectedly sharp, scratch Yoichi's neck where the hairline ends and then lower, sinking right into the flesh of his shoulder; Yoichi cries out in pain, trembling even more, feeling how badly his skin is getting ripped. “Fuck, you even sound so pretty. I think I'm gonna explode too soon.”
He pulls a little away, licking Yoichi's blood from his upper teeth, and smirks. “You need to stop being this erotic, A-ho-ge-chan. I don't wanna cum into my pants.”
This is so wrong, this is so wrong, this is so wrong. Yoichi wants to cover his ears; Shidou speaks like he is the one to blame, like Yoichi provoked him so much Shidou didn't have a choice but to corner him and fuck his brains out, and it makes Yoichi feel so dirty.
“It didn't seem to bother you on the field,” he still bites back, willing to appear tough, but his tone is so pathetic like he's a kitten trying to roar at the lion. He's deeply ashamed of himself. Shidou makes him feel miserable. He hates it, mentally, logically, or whenever this hatred comes from, but his body wants more: more humiliation, more pain, more of this bitter aftertaste Shidou's actions leave on Yoichi's tongue. His eyes burn and he sniffs as quietly as he can, still not wanting to show his weakness. He has pride, too, even though his adaptability makes him throw it away at times.
“So you do watch me on the field,” Shidou notices, too pleased with a slip Yoichi regrets he has made. “And you were trying to appear innocent. So sly.” Before Yoichi can fight back again, he adds, dramatically, “The goal doesn't have an actual womb, though.”
Shidou's response is weird and vague, and his irises glisten with an emotion Yoichi can't find a definition for, with a hint Yoichi can't grasp at all.
“What?” he wheezes out, confused, his temples pulsing to the point it's hard for him to tell if the noise getting into his brain is an actual sound or if it's caused by the headache. He scrutinizes Shidou's face until jigsaw pieces finally begin to collect themselves, not creating a full picture yet, but still making things a bit easier to understand. Yoichi's eyes widen. “Wait, neither do I—”
Shidou snickers, and only now Yoichi realises that those large hands are squeezing his thighs, lifting him up by them slightly. When the fuck did he even manage to do that?!
“Shidou, hands off—”
Of fucking course that doesn't work, Shidou's fingers gripping his skin only harder. “You're so light,” he says with a dangerous grin. “So easy to just throw around~”
“Shidou—”
“Oh, don't worry, Ahoge-chan, I'm not gonna do that… yet.” He laughs, but Yoichi doesn't see anything funny in this situation, his heart contracting fearfully in his chest. He looks around: they're in the corridor that leads to the field, so there's no cameras and no one else except for them both. The others are probably in the dorm already. He isn't sure if he wants someone to search for him or not, his pride hurting at the thought of his rivals, his friends stumbling upon him in this pathetic state.
Fuck, he's actually so lost and scared and excited and… and there's too much going on in his head. He shuts his eyes for a moment again, seeking for at least some type of comfort, his heartbeat rapid and wild. He's terrified as he never was before.
“Shidou,” Yoichi repeats desperately, and this desperation in his voice is probably what makes Shidou finally listen. Yoichi purses his lips before saying, “Okay, I… I guess I did say some offensive stuff during our match, and I'm sorry for that. My goals, though, are my achievements…”
“O-ho-ho, stop right there, Bluey,” Shidou interrupts, with another laughter again, yet his nails dig deeply into Yoichi's trembling thighs, causing them to shake even more — and only now Yoichi notices that his shorts are slightly pulled up by the edges. He gulps, panting again, his dick jerking up and throbbing at the pain while Shidou's eyes stare at him with violent mirth, as if seeing through him. “ ‘Your’ achievements were achieved with that lame ass hero's help. He cockblocked me the whole time, and I didn't like it.”
Shidou sounds offended but not by the act of marking itself — it's a part of the game after all, even Shidou isn't that hypocritical to be mad at it. Why is he offended then, Yoichi wonders?
He licks his dry lips, gaze hazy, dick painfully stiff, and mind clouded. “I…” Yoichi tries to speak, but the words just don't want to go all the way to his tongue. He tries again, until something at least barely comprehensible leaves his throat, “T-that's how strategy works…” He hates how faint his tone sounds. He is truly pathetic.
Shidou clicks his tongue, his nails scratching the inner side of Yoichi's thighs, and Yoichi lets out a small “ouch!”, arching his back. “Don't care~!” Shidou grins maniacally. “I wanted you to be my rival, not some boring copycat.”
He looks crazy, horny, and obsessed. Yoichi feels like his insides are getting squeezed under this gaze. Obsession, huh…
Switches suddenly go on in Yoichi's brain, more puzzle pieces coming together. Obsession, obsession, he repeats in his mind thoughtfully, Shidou is also obsessed with me, just like Rin and Kaiser are?
Yoichi frowns. Something about his assumption seems wrong, but what, how, and why — he himself can't tell.
“Kunigami isn't just a copycat,” he murmurs, discontent after Shidou's last degrading remark, with his own confusion tugging at the strings of his annoyance even more. “He's just… He's just a bit lost.”
He's not the one you're harassing now though, Yoichi notes mentally, salt seeping from his brains to his mouth, soaking into his tongue until it feels numb from the tip to the core. He doesn't like how mean Shidou is, and his thighs hurt from the position they're in, Shidou's tight grip making the soreness in his muscles even worse.
Shidou's expression turns blank for a second and then gets back to looking livid once again. “Don't tell me you wanna defend him, Ahoge-chan?” He pouts, but his eyes stare at Yoichi darkly, like he's about to pounce at him for the wrong answer. Then, Shidou grins, drawling out playfully, “Don't disappoint me,” as his nose gets buried in the crook of Yoichi's bruised neck. He stuffs his lungs with the lingering scent of Yoichi's — actually, their common — shower gel, catching the whiff of salt.
He's like a petulant child who wants to monopolize all the attention from his parent, however the innuendos Yoichi barely manages to read are practically screaming at him about some weird possessiveness behind the sly smirks and crinkled eyes, glowing bloody red deep in Shidou's irises. Yoichi gulps, the ache between his legs is almost impossible to ignore; Shidou's heated body is like a thick blanket on a hot summer day, suffocating and heavy, and he isn't even on top of Yoichi… yet.
Shidou's tongue draws a line across Yoichi's sweaty skin, collecting the beads of perspiration as if they're pearls, the treasure he needs to cherish, his palms sliding higher up to cup Yoichi's ass, forcing a shameful squeak out of Yoichi's throat.
“Shidou, please, I don't—” I don't want this, Yoichi tries to say, but he bites his lower lip to silence himself, a bit unsure about his own desires: his body needs Shidou and his rough hands and the poison with which he intoxicates Yoichi's entire being, but his mind wants him to stop. Or… or not?..
Shit!
He sniffs, his nose and eyeballs stinging again. Why even after all those years his first reaction to something stressful is to cry? He's so wretched.
“Ah, you're so beautiful when your fire’s all out,” Shidou whispers passionately. “You make me want to take you apart, piece by piece… Starting from your sexy brain, of course.” Then he laughs again, the resonate sound vibrating in Yoichi's head like it's made by a gong in a mountain area.
Yoichi doesn't have a response to those words, to the fucked up confession he never asked for, and it's not like Shidou awaits for it anyway. He releases Yoichi's thighs suddenly, finally letting him stand on his own — though with this suddenness Yoichi almost falls instead of being on his feet — but immediately pins him against the wall again, with his hand reaching to Yoichi's waistband to pull it down and expose what's hidden underneath the wet fabrics.
Shidou whistles. Yoichi clenches his jaw again, eyes dropped to the floor in embarrassment.
“You're not wearing anything,” he says with the widest grin. “And you dare to call me a freak? How delusional.” His fingers touch Yoichi's cock, wrapping around its head like a ring, and Yoichi shivers, trying to hold back his moan. “Hm, you're too bashful for someone who played the whole game without panties.”
Panties, he said… Yoichi's face burns, the blush covering not only his cheeks but also his neck and his ears. He purses his lips, gulping, but even his saliva feels dry. Shidou chuckles, leaning closer, murmuring hotly, “I want to hear you crying and begging for and under me, Ahoge-chan.”
“I-I won't…” Yoichi mumbles in a weak voice, panting heavily.
“You will.” Shidou rubs his tip, watching how the sticky pre-cum stretches from Yoichi's tiny dickhole to Shidou's thumb as he listens to Yoichi's shaky sighs and pathetic mewls. He licks his lips with an expression that seems like a wordless threat itself. “I'll make you.”
Yoichi wants to argue, but he can't. He knows Shidou will, and something in him flutters at the mere idea of it, even if he wants — tries — to hate it.
Shidou kneels before Yoichi, unexpectedly, with his tongue out, spreading Yoichi's butt cheeks with his large palms, and Yoichi blinks rapidly before opening his mouth in surprise.
“W-wait, the hell are you— A-ah!”
Yoichi's head falls back on the wall, his eyelids closing until he sees the birth and death of the billions of stars and galaxies, the thick tip of Shidou's tongue teasing his clenching hole, so hot and wet and willing to enter… Yoichi is delirious, even more so than before, his legs barely able to keep his body standing on the ground.
It's only the tip, but Yoichi already feels funny and weird and so fucking hot he's about to pass out, if not pass away; he whines, louder than he wants to, louder than is considered appropriate, to the point the walls begin to tremble, his hips rocking back into the touch, his brain so fried by the arousal he forgets about anything else.
Shidou scoffs, pretty audibly, and the sound of his mocking joy ties Yoichi's guts into the shape of animals like they're balloons. He gulps, already on the edge somehow; perhaps, he was too pent up before — considering Blue Lock’s lack of privacy and Yoichi's soccer-centric brain, it's possible that he just forgot to take care of his other needs. Because there's no way he would like his ass getting eaten! Right?
“Shidou, I…” He bites his bottom lip, barely seeing things through his half-lidded eyes as Shidou sucks his rim like it's a five star meal, slurping sounds ringing across the space, only worsening Yoichi's shame and arousal. “S-stop until it's not too… l-late…”
And Shidou… obeys. Surprisingly so.
Yoichi raises his eyebrows at first, slight disappointment panging at the heart kept behind his ribs. His breath is loud, and his unstable sighs echo all around the corridor as the feeling of shame once again takes over his brain after this small yet very sobering moment. Was everything really just a cruel joke?..
Yoichi's teeth dig into the flesh of his wounded mouth; the freshly appeared lump in his throat steals his ability to speak and he stares at the floor mutely, avoiding to even glance at his own legs and feet.
Shidou hums, sounding too pleased. “Why the long face, Ahoge-chan? Didn't you want me to stop?”
Fuck you, Yoichi wants to say. Fuck you and your stupid games, pervy freak!
But he can only whimper and tremble like a miserable little thing he is. That's so unlike him, so unlike his current self, as if he has returned back to the days where he was an empty shell, a graveyard for his childhood dreams. Yoichi pants, squeezing his eyes shut, lashes trembling rapidly, bashfully, fearfully, like the wings of a butterfly fleeing from something it finds harmful. Shidou makes him feel both alive and dead, the pain is as much a medicine as it's a poison, and Yoichi's head spins and aches, aches and spins, nausea twisting up his stomach.
Shidou says something, then slides his fingers inside Yoichi's ass, and it hurts so much Yoichi has to bite his tongue until it bleeds to kill the scream that was about to rise up his throat. He hates the way his body is letting that happen and how it's reacting to Shidou like his actions are a bliss and not a nightmare.
Yoichi is so, so sick. Shidou's digits are long enough to touch and abuse this sweet spot inside him, the dry friction causing him electrifying agony bordering on masochistic delight. He shakes from this odd mix of complicated feelings running in his veins, gulping, but even his spit feels dry.
One, two, three, four… Four fingers are moving inside him, but every time Yoichi is near the finishing line, he gets led astray by Shidou's hindering hand, his thumb and index wrapping around the head of Yoichi's cock to prevent his release. Yoichi cries, still trying to hold back, but tears come out of his eyes on their own, leaving a burning trace on his cheeks, another one of Shidou's ways of claiming him, of branding him. Yoichi despises himself for giving in, for giving up and letting Shidou win in this little, deranged game of his, but he was never taught its rules. He never knew games such as this one even existed.
Yoichi is weak and dizzy, and his mind races when Shidou pulls his own dick out of his shorts; it's so big it can easily tear Yoichi apart from the inside, and both terror and excitement fill up his heart as he thinks about it. He gulps; suddenly, his mouth waters, his eyes glued to the way pre-cum glistens on Shidou's thick head…
Shidou smirks, catching Yoichi's hungry gaze. He runs his lips over Yoichi's cheek, whispering sultry, “Say, ‘I'm very sorry, Shidou-nii~’.” His voice is playful and full of mirth, of pleasure, and that causes Yoichi so much anger… if only he could show it, and, well, experience it clearly, without a spicy additive in the shape of inappropriate, absolutely fucked up enjoyment. Yet, he collects all his pride that already litters the ground, and tightens his jaw, shaking his head in stubborn revolt.
Shidou sighs dramatically, rubbing himself against Yoichi's hole, his cock hot and hard and so enticing Yoichi has to bite his bottom lip again to remind himself of his poor position and how wrong it is to want something like that in the first place.
“So you're gonna act ‘cool’ and prideful? Ah, a pity, really!” Shidou says, putting on a tearful act. “I think you're hotter when you're broken…” He thinks for a moment and then adds, “but not fully, because it's not fun without a little fight, don't you think?” The usual cocky grin spreads across his face; his dick throbs right against Yoichi's pulsing entrance as he pushes the tip in slowly. Yoichi's mouth falls open in a silent cry, his hips shaking, attempting to get as far away from the intrusion as possible.
“I… I think you're fucking nuts…” He pants, “and should be… l-locked up…”
Yoichi barely manages to say the words, his voice cracking into the loud whine at the feeling of Shidou trying to get inside him, of Shidou trying to worm his way under Yoichi's skin and somewhere deeper. It's very dry, so dry Yoichi can't help the screams and whimpers that escape his aching throat as Shidou moves further, his thick cock basically ripping Yoichi apart just as he imagined.
“Ahh, your pussy is so tight,” Shidou says, moaning lewdly, overdramatically, his breath scorching Yoichi's already feverish cheek, and as he bottoms out, Yoichi starts to cry even harder, feeling weird somewhere in his belly. He sniffs, closing his eyelids, shame-stricken.
“T-that's not—” he breaks off, whimpering, because of Shidou's fingers digging into his weak, trembling thighs as if trying to reach the flesh itself, hips thrusting roughly into Yoichi's hole, and he can feel the way their skins rub one against another inside him, lacking any kind of lube. This burning pain is striking in the worst way possible, and Yoichi can't believe something in him actually likes it a little — or… or a lot?
Shidou shushes at him, then says some stuff that absent-minded Yoichi can't pick up on, too busy with bawling his eyes out; when he looks, finally, up at Shidou's face, still barely seeing his features through the veil of tears, he can hardly recognise the hot pink irises: though bright as used to be, they still somehow got eaten by the black hole of Shidou's pupils, now reminding him more of a limbal ring, thin and barely perceptible… if it weren't for the toxic colour. Or, perhaps, everything is just a dramatic effect of Yoichi's traumatic experience, a mask, a filter over Shidou's face that he now will forever see on him, on everyone? He doesn't know. He doesn't care.
At least he wants to believe that he doesn't.
Shidou's cock twitches inside him, as if heating up with each passing second — Yoichi feels like he's getting fucked by a red-hot iron stick, no less. He bites down on his lip, his body somehow only going closer and closer to the edge, to the end of the cliff, to the precipice. His eyes roll on their own, so hard he can almost see his own brain, his fingers finally finding the way to Shidou's back to claw the uncut nails into it through the wet jacket.
When Yoichi almost cums, Shidou slows down a little for a moment just to say, “Nuh-uh, Sproutie, you're not cumming until you beg me for forgiveness.” Yoichi can hear the smirk in his voice and the narcissistic delight in the way he speaks, but when Shidou touches his dick again, a hope begins to sparkle in Yoichi's heart. However, it goes out, dying as fast as it has appeared into the world, because Shidou's fingers form a ring around Yoichi's head once again.
The worst part is the fact that Shidou continues to fuck him. It hurts, and Yoichi probably even bleeds, but it also feels so unbearably good to be wanted so animalistically, to be ravished so hard like he is needed. Like Shidou's gonna die without him.
Yoichi is done for. His toes curl from both pain and pleasure, his eyelashes flutter rapidly as he blinks, trying to deal with the tears blocking his vision. Shidou's fingers are still wrapped around Yoichi's tip, squeezing it lightly but firmly, his touch feeling as sharp as a blade would. And if Shidou is a blade, then Yoichi is a paper it cuts, a paper it carves into a desired shape.
Once Yoichi gets wet and unusable, completely ragged, will Shidou throw him away? He hopes yes; he hopes not.
“I…” He gulps, his voice shaking for some reason as he tries to speak between his disgraceful noises. “I'm sorry…”
Shidou stops, then glances at him, a gleam of surprise in his eyes. He grins, “What did you say again, honey?” His cock, deeply buried in Yoichi's ass, pulses intensely. Yoichi looks down: it even has reached his stomach, and seeing the bulge makes Yoichi realise why exactly there was an odd feeling in his belly.
Yoichi clenches his jaw before repeating in a wavering tone, “I'm sorry…” He closes his eyes and adds quietly, unsurely, “Shidou-nii…”
He wants to die because he has no idea how he's going to live after that.
There's a moment of complete silence, complete stillness: no sounds, no actions, nothing. Somehow, it makes Yoichi feel even worse. He trembles.
“...Fuck,” Shidou's voice suddenly says. “Look at me, Ahoge-chan. Now.”
And Yoichi looks, forcing his teary eyes to open while Shidou's own glow lustfully in his direction.
“Fuck, you're so hot when you cry,” Shidou whispers, starting to move again . “I can't help but thirst for your cute little cunt. It wants to be filled with me and my cum, doesn't it?” He laughs hoarsely. “Ah, if only I could knock you up... To put my pups inside you and just—” He curses quietly, his tempo rising, and he thrusts so fast Yoichi can barely breathe, only whining frantically in response to every dirty word thrown at him, “—b-breed you…”
Shidou finishes after a couple seconds, his seed flowing out of his dick inside Yoichi's stomach as if trying to get right into the womb… if it existed.
Yoichi pants, oversensitive and overwhelmed and just so… over. His cock is still painfully hard and the warm load Shidou has blown in him makes him shiver even more. He's nasty and sticky and tired and aroused…
He looks up at Shidou through his wet lashes and hopes that he doesn't seem as broken and as desperate as he feels.
Shidou watches him with a weird, uncharacteristic affection — or, maybe, Yoichi is just seeing things again…
He smirks, pushing his bangs back from his sweaty forehead. “Sorry, sweetheart, but the time's out.” He fixes his clothes casually, as if nothing has happened, while Yoichi still has to process everything they have done. Everything Shidou has done.
He comes to his senses only when Shidou is already about to leave, his slow yet confident steps echoing around the corridor, a thunder in Yoichi's ears.
His eyes water again, a lump once again forming in his throat. “H-hey, wait—”
Shidou turns to him, wearing another of his perfectly histrionic smiles. “Oh, what's wrong?” He makes his worry to be very obviously fake. Yoichi ignores the sharp ache in his heart, pursing his lips not to weep like a kid; he already embarrassed himself enough today. Then, Shidou begins to act again, “Ah, I see! You wanted to have your little death too… Hm.” He frowns, as if thoughtfully, then smiles sweetly again. “Isn't that fair, though? You stole my explosion, and I stole yours. Eye for an eye, right, Yocchan?”
Yoichi's heart freezes, then starts to leap in his chest and rattle in his brain, causing his head to hurt even more. Only his parents call him this fondly, them and no one else, and for some reason it sounds so different when Shidou says it… Like a prayer told by an unrepentant sinner's lips. Like an apology from someone who isn't sorry.
He scowls at his thoughts and drops his eyes to the floor. What the fuck is wrong with me.
“Till the next time, Ahoge-chan!” Shidou flashes him a toothy grin, his pose relaxed, his hands on his hips. Yoichi hates how calm and pleased, how collected he seems while Yoichi is a lost mess, a poor soul that accidentally wandered into a labyrinth, a small prey that mopped itself into a corner for a predator to eat. A fly in the spider's web.
When Shidou walks away, leaving behind only a pain in Yoichi's whole body and heart and a disgusting feeling of sperm dripping down Yoichi's thighs along with the perspiration that has soaked all of his clothes, Yoichi falls to his knees, powerless and fragile. He feels like he's about to puke and faint and die.
He tries to breathe, but can only choke on his tears and loathe himself for the feebleness of his spirit.
“Fuck,” he mumbles, his hands and arms trembling, barely able to stand. He would love to just lie down and fall asleep, but he's afraid that once he does that, this moment will haunt him like the nightmare it is. “Why am I always the one to pay the price?!”
All of Yoichi's jigsaw pieces lay on the ground, scattered around uselessly — garbage they are, now he admits, he has to; there's no full picture in his mind, he isn't even sure if it exists at all, his head occupied by fear and the deafening buzzing of venomous insects, of the murder hornets.
A tear drops on his open palm, an acid on his skin; it burns through deeper layers of his tissue, damaging him severely. Yoichi blinks, empty and dull.
“I only wanted to play soccer… To become the best…”
He sniffs and sighs, his mind clearing up little by little. Right, if he wants to be the best he needs to learn how to overcome any obstacles, including this one or such… He shouldn't let Shidou break him.
Yoichi gets up, adjusting his clothes. His eyes and nose sting and he winces, hissing at the acute ache in his lower half.
Collecting all the pieces of his puzzle, along with his hurt pride, from the floor, he tries to ignore every uncomfortable feeling and thought he owns. Those are not his. It's not his fault. It's not Yoichi who has brought this situation upon himself.
And even so… Next time he will keep in mind for his strategies to be more careful. Just in case, just in self-defense. He doesn't want to be accused of stealing any more.