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They hadn’t seen each other in a year when Kazuya spills his drink on him, accidentally or on purpose. It’s a stupid, cliché way to fall back into each other’s lives, so Mei resists until he can’t. It doesn’t take long.
“Did you come to see me?” Kazuya asks, pushing him against a wall, leaning close. “I thought you didn’t come to these parties anymore.”
“I’m here, aren’t I,” Mei says, tipping his head back so Kazuya can mouth at his neck. “Did you miss me?”
“Not a chance,” Kazuya says, but he sucks a hickey high up enough that even a scarf would barely hide it. It doesn’t fade for a week.
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Kazuya comes over again within a month. “I’m back,” he announces, not even knocking on Mei’s door before coming in.
Mei frowns. “I thought I locked that.”
“It probably opened when I touched it,” Kazuya suggests. “Because your room wanted to see me too.”
“Don’t—” Mei picks up his backpack and puts it on his chair, so Kazuya doesn’t have anywhere to sit but the bed. “I have a morning class tomorrow.”
“I’ll wake you up before I go,” Kazuya says, locking the door behind him. He goes to Mei’s bed like it’s his own, climbing under the comforter and making room for Mei.
“Who said I wanted you to stay?” Mei asks, but after they fuck, he puts his head on Kazuya’s chest, the rhythm of his breathing soothing, gentle, dictating.
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When Mei goes to buy coffee a couple days later, it’s Kazuya behind the register, his grin sharp-edged with razor blades.
“What can I get for you today?” Kazuya asks, cheerfully. As if he hadn’t just climbed out of Mei’s bed half an hour ago.
“You little—”
“I’m sorry, our drink sizes are small, medium, and large.”
“Fuck you,” Mei says, and Kazuya rings him up for a large iced coffee.
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I’m busy, Kazuya texts back, when Mei asks him if he’s coming over. Mei doesn’t lock his door, though, and Kazuya shows up at around midnight.
“I’m going to bed,” Mei says, as Kazuya watches him strip down to his briefs. “I don’t care if you stay or not.”
Kazuya steps closer and says, “I’m here, aren’t I?”, in a crude imitation of Mei’s voice. Just for the impertinence, Mei puts his mouth on Kazuya’s cock and doesn’t let him come for over an hour.
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Mei says, “I have a paper due tomorrow”, when Kazuya finds him walking to class.
“I’ll come over early, then.”
Kazuya does, and every time Mei starts a new paragraph, he sucks a new hickey into Mei’s collarbone.
“I’m going to look like I’ve been attacked,” Mei says, but he’s not really protesting. “I could file a report.”
“You could write your paper in that time,” Kazuya says, but after that he moves to Mei’s thighs, which is an improvement.
“Your paper is so long,” Kazuya says, after two hours. Mei’s sore all over, he’s hard and fucking pissed, and Kazuya’s lounging on his bed. “I’m bored.”
“I hate you,” Mei says, and Kazuya crawls under his desk to suck him off while Mei types the conclusion. At this angle, Kazuya doesn’t look like a stranger at all.
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“I need help cleaning my room,” Kazuya says, and Mei pretends to ignore him until Kazuya wads up a piece of paper and throws it at him. “Come over.”
“But you said your room is dirty,” Mei says imperiously.
He goes over at around ten, his clothes for tomorrow stuffed in his backpack, as usual. When he knocks, Kazuya opens the door in a maid’s costume.
Mei takes a step back. “What the fuck?”
Kazuya shrugs. “I thought I’d try it out. It fit, so I thought, why not?”
“I worry when you think,” Mei says, but he enjoys peeling it off of Kazuya anyway.
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“Come over,” Kazuya says, when they run into each other at the campus bookstore. “I got a new blender.”
Mei stares at him. “You can just say, I want to fuck, you know.”
“Isn’t it more fun this way?” Kazuya asks, but he doesn’t touch Mei.
Mei stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Whatever, if the blender comes into play, then I’m leaving.”
When he goes over, Kazuya’s only wearing a bathrobe, his skin flushed from the heat of the shower he just took. He looks like he’s just been fucked.
Then he smiles and says, “I’ll make you a smoothie.”
“I’m lactose intolerant.”
“I’ll just blend up fruit, then,” Kazuya says, undeterred. Mei sips the fruit and watches Kazuya do his physics homework, until he decides this is stupid.
“If you wait five minutes, I’ll be done with this,” Kazuya says, like he’s reading Mei’s mind. Mei kicks at his backpack under the table. “You’re being annoying.”
“I’m being—”
“Done,” Kazuya announces, and picks Mei up, taking him by surprise. Mei wraps his legs around Kazuya’s hips like it’s second nature. “Now I’m going to do you.”
“Don’t say shit like that, it creeps me out,” Mei says, as he pulls his shirt over his head. Kazuya puts him down on his bed, and presses his hand against Mei’s stomach to keep him in place, fingers splayed out.
“Promise you won’t move.” Mei glares at him, but obliges. Kazuya makes him come three times before he passes out.
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“Are you fucking anyone else?” Kazuya asks, as Mei’s on top, riding him, slowly, to really make it burn.
“Why would you ask that when you’re balls deep?” Mei asks back, and Kazuya laughs, pulling him down to kiss beneath his ear.
Afterwards, Kazuya asks again. This time, Mei rolls over so they’re facing each other, like they’re a couple.
“No,” Mei says.
Kazuya smiles. “Good.” His left arm is under the pillow, and he pulls at Mei’s wrist until Mei presses himself flush against him. Kazuya’s body heat is too much, but Mei endures it, buries his face in Kazuya’s neck, and falls asleep.
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The next time Mei goes over, Kazuya is trying to cut his own hair.
“You can’t do it like that, it’ll come out all uneven,” Mei snaps, and makes him stand over the trashcan so he can trim it himself. “If you want it to look better then I’ll give you the number to the place I go to.”
“I don’t know,” Kazuya says. “What if I walk out looking like you?”
“Don’t be mean,” Mei says, tapping the top of his head with the scissors.
“I want to hold hands,” Kazuya says, after he comes back from the shower. Mei’s sitting in Kazuya’s bed on his laptop, returning emails.
“Okay,” Mei says, slowly. He puts the laptop on Kazuya’s desk. Kazuya climbs into his bed next to him, hair dripping water everywhere.
“Look,” Kazuya says, reaching over and taking Mei’s hand. He swipes a thumb over Mei’s knuckles. “We’re holding hands.”
“Quit that, you’re being weird.” Mei doesn’t pull away, so Kazuya kisses him, soft and languid. “Why are you being like this?”
“What?” Kazuya asks. “You don’t like it?”
Mei does, but there’s no way in hell he’d ever admit that. “I’m going to suck you off,” is all he says. Kazuya grins, like he understands, and opens his legs.
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“Do you like bagels?” Kazuya asks, when he catches up to Mei on the sidewalk.
“I guess,” Mei says, and Kazuya leaves without saying anything else, walking in the opposite direction. That night, Mei locks his door, so he’s forced to go open it when Kazuya knocks.
“I brought you bagels,” Kazuya says, holding out a bag. There’s almost fifteen bagels in it.
Mei takes it and asks, “Where did you even get these?”
“They’re left over from today,” Kazuya says. Mei puts the bagels in his mini-fridge and lets Kazuya push him against the wall.
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“Are you fucking anyone else?” Mei asks, as Kazuya’s settling himself in next to Mei for the night. He’s got the post-orgasm glow going for him.
“Why?” Kazuya asks, fitting a leg between Mei’s two. “Are you jealous?”
Mei hits his arm. “No, you little shit, I’m just asking.”
“Okay,” Kazuya says, cupping Mei’s ass through his briefs. His nails are long, and Mei shudders when they scrape over his skin. Mei’s head is tucked beneath Kazuya’s chin, and he squeezes his eyes shut, to make sure he’s not dreaming.
“You’re being annoying,” Mei says, and something inside his chest hurts. This is stupid. “Leave before I wake up in the morning.”
“I always do,” Kazuya says, but he doesn’t.
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“Stop getting me bagels,” Mei says, because he has three bags of them now, just sitting in his fridge. “How much do you think I eat?”
“A lot,” Kazuya says, matter-of-factly. “You’re really heavy.”
Mei huffs. “If you were on top, you’d crush me.”
“Oh,” Kazuya says. He’s smiling. “Wanna find out?”
“No,” Mei says. That night, Kazuya fucks him with one of Mei’s legs over his shoulder, and no, he doesn’t crush him.
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“Come over,” Kazuya says. Mei doesn’t even know why he asks anymore. “I have to finish my history paper.”
“I’m not blowing you under the table, if that was what you wanted.”
“You talk like that in public, but you won’t in the bedroom?” Kazuya asks, nudging Mei’s arm with his elbow. Mei stumbles a little. “See you later!”
“Go away,” Mei yells, but he rubs his arm where Kazuya touched him.
Kazuya’s in sweats when Mei walks in.
“Lock it behind you,” Kazuya says, and Mei does. “Come keep me company.”
“If you want company, get a fish,” Mei tells him, but he opens his own laptop and finishes his lab report, their ankles brushing under the table.
Later, Kazuya says, “No.”
“What?”
“No, I’m not fucking anyone else.” He pulls Mei into his lap, his hands resting on the outer curve of Mei’s thighs. “Just you.”
“Okay,” Mei says, and kisses him.
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“Where are you going?” Kazuya asks, when he sees Mei about to cross the street.
“Back,” Mei says, making to step forward, but Kazuya tugs on his backpack.
“Come over,” Kazuya says.
“Now?” It’s not even six in the afternoon.
“Yeah,” Kazuya says, and Mei, because he never learned how to turn Kazuya down, follows him.
“I don’t have clothes for tomorrow,” Mei says, as Kazuya opens his door.
“I have a closet full of clothes,” he says. Mei doesn’t know how to explain, I don’t want to walk around smelling like you, because he actually really does.
“You’re being nice,” Mei observes.
Kazuya grins. “It’s my best trait.” It’s really not, though, because he fucks Mei with his fingers until he comes, untouched, and Mei thinks that he’s going to burst out of his skin from the overstimulation.
“Wasn’t that nice?” Kazuya asks, after Mei comes back from the dead.
“Shut up,” Mei says, but he puts his lips on Kazuya’s collarbone.
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“I’m not giving your shirt back,” Mei says, when Kazuya gets off his shift. “It fits and I like it.” It doesn’t actually fit; it goes down to the middle of Mei’s thighs, but it smells like Kazuya, so Mei goes to sleep with his face buried in it on nights they don’t spend together.
“I have a lot of other shirts,” Kazuya replies, picking up his backpack. Mei kicks at the ground.
“Hurry up.” Kazuya doesn’t, taking his sweet time retying the laces to his shoes.
“I want to hold hands,” Kazuya says, as they’re leaving.
“What?”
Kazuya reaches over and locks their fingers together. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”
“Whatever,” Mei says, but they’re both late for class because they’re walking so slowly.
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Mei says, “I need a sweater, I’m getting cold in my classes”, in lieu of a greeting.
“They should turn the air conditioning down,” Kazuya says, but lets Mei go through his closet. When Mei finds one he likes, Kazuya makes him put it on.
“I just wanted to make sure it fit you,” Kazuya explains.
“Of course it’s going to fit me, you’re bigger,” Mei grumbles, as Kazuya smooths his hands down the length of Mei’s arms.
“Not tonight,” Kazuya says, afterwards, when Mei’s straddling him in bed. “I’m tired.”
“I’ve been tired,” Mei protests, but promptly falls asleep to the cadence of Kazuya carding his hair, the rise and fall of his chest.
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The next time Kazuya shows up at Mei’s door, he’s soaking wet.
“You have an umbrella for a reason,” Mei scolds, as Kazuya shakes his head like a wet dog. Now there’s water everywhere. “Take your clothes off before you catch a cold.”
Kazuya tells him, “I don’t have an umbrella.” Mei finds sweats that are big enough to fit him, and pushes his own umbrella into Kazuya’s still-wet backpack when he’s not looking. Mei hasn’t used it since he got his new rain jacket anyway.
“Your clothes are nice too, I guess,” Kazuya says, but he’s shivering so much his teeth clack together. Mei feels his forehead with the back of his hand, and decides that he’s not feverish.
“I’m cold,” Kazuya whines, so Mei kisses him until he’s not.
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“You’re not going out tonight?” Mei asks, because it’s Friday night, and Kazuya is in Mei’s bed.
“I don’t go out anymore,” Kazuya informs him, and Mei half-believes it. “I’m a busy person.”
“No you’re not, you’re always with me,” Mei says, without thinking. Kazuya gets up and walks over to where he is, and puts a hand on the back of Mei’s neck. “What are you doing?”
“Busying myself,” Kazuya says, and they don’t get dressed again until Sunday afternoon.
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“I’m tired of walking back and forth from my room to yours,” Mei says. Kazuya drums his fingers on Mei’s back and trails down to slot his hand against Mei’s hip.
“Me too,” Kazuya says. Mei’s never heard Kazuya say that before. It’s weird, so he kisses him to get him to stop talking.
“Are you going to ask, or should I?” Kazuya asks, after they fuck.
“Ask what?” Mei feigns ignorance, pushing his face into Kazuya’s neck.
Kazuya laughs, and the sound vibrates through Mei’s body, settling comfortably under his skin. “Nothing.”
“Walk me to class tomorrow.” Mei doesn’t phrase it as a question. As a response, Kazuya feels around in the dark until he finds Mei’s hand. “And I expect free coffees from now on.”
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