Work Text:
[ N E W L E V E L ]
[ PRESS X TO START ]
Fuma's room is exactly how it was yesterday and exactly how it will remain tomorrow. The alarm rings twice before his feet hit the floor. He goes through the familiar motions easily. His mind is empty.
[ PICK UP ITEM ]
[ DISCARD CLOTHES ]
He brushes his teeth. Showers. Blow-dries his hair. Two-step skincare. Done.
[ NEW PERSONAL BEST+2 EFFICIENCY ]
[ CHECK DAILY QUESTS ]
They have a shooting today from 10am to 16pm. They will pass by the company first, have a meeting from 8am to 9:30am, then drive to the new location in groups. He hopes he gets a window seat. He knows he will take whatever is left without complaint.
[ NEW AREA UNLOCKED ]
Fuma head counts; one, three, seven. All the window seats are taken and Euijoo is late. He's by the van's door, shielding his face from the strangers in the bushes and their shuttering, waiting.
Their leader is kind and chipped around the edges. Fuma is his leader, says it every chance he gets, never taking credit for anything. Humble, guilt-ridden, shame-filled. The word gentle sticks to him like rotten gum does to a shoe.
Fuma waits for him. He's always waiting. Fuma doesn't mind.
[ EUIJOO ] I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
Euijoo stifles a pant as he approaches him, clothes rumpled. He missed a button on his flannel, missed a spot when shaving, and his damp hair sits flatly on his head. His eyes are so big Fuma can see his own reflection staring back. A mirror but not quite. Brittle see-through glass.
[ SELECT DIALOGUE ]
-
You're late. Just get inside.
-
It's okay, don't worry!
-
Did you rest well?
- [ Your button is undone. ]
[PRESS X TO LOCK ANSWER]
[ FUMA ] Your button is undone, leader.
Euijoo tenses the second Fuma puts his hand on his shoulder. He relaxes when he squeezes down twice, shakily exhales something between relief and amusement. Fuma isn't proficient in pleasantries but he smiles nonetheless.
Calming, reliable; those are Fuma's inescapable traits. He chose them on the starting menu, had no other useful options, and made peace with them easily. Now they loom above him, dictating too much at times, but that's fine by Fuma. He's good with these settings, got used to them pretty quickly. The loot is nice, the areas are ever expanding, and glitches are easy enough to patch. It's comfortable.
Euijoo smiles back, nodding in gratitude as he gets inside the van. +1 Charisma. +1 Bond. Not quite the max but Euijoo has always been one of the most complicated routes to navigate.
Better luck next time.
[ MOVE LEFT ]
[ PRESS X TO HOLD POSE ]
[ PRESS Y TO BANTER ]
[ COMEDIC TIMING FAIL ] [ TRY AGAIN? ]
[ PRESS X TO PERSUADE ]
[ IGNORE PAIN ] [ COMEDIC TIMING ACHIEVED ]
[ IGNORE HUNGER ] [ THIS ACTION WILL HAVE CONSEQUENCES ]
[ IGNORE EYES ] [ THIS ACTION WILL HAVE CONSEQUENCES ]
[ PRESS X TO HIDE ]
[ QUEST FULFILLED ]
[ -6 HP +3 CHARISMA +2 CONSTITUTION ]
The schedule goes well. It's always fun to see their members in their element, charming staff left and right with no manual on hand, a simple type of engagement that's captivating. Yudai has carefully maxed out stats meanwhile Nicholas is proficient in his own specific way. It's entertaining to figure out their similarities and differences alike. Fuma takes his staring as studying, picking and saving up strategies for later usage.
[ YUDAI ] You were on fire today, Fuma!
[ SELECT DIALOGUE ]
-
Not as good as you, Yudai.
-
You look beautiful today.
-
[ Just today? ]
-
I learned everything from you.
[PRESS X TO LOCK ANSWER]
[ FUMA ] Just today?
[ YUDAI laughs. +1 Bond. ]
[ YUDAI ] You're always funny!
Fuma shrugs, waving away the compliment, knowing Yudai never stands by for long. He's already halfway out the door by the time Fuma sits down to tie his civilian shoes. His hands are shaking from hunger, he needs to do something about that soon.
He can't keep ignoring the eyes, either. This action will have consequences.
Fuma looks up through his eyelashes, opening the dialogue option without speaking. Yuma is dressed in his own clothes already, make-up slightly smudged but not yet gone. His phone sits face down on his lap. His shoes are black, laces tied in neat bows.
[ YUMA says; ] You fell pretty hard on your side.
[ FUMA lies; ] It's fine, it didn't hurt.
[ YUMA makes a face. ] "Bruises are a bitch to cover up."
[ FUMA could say; ] "You would know about that, right?" [ But he doesn't. ]
[ FUMA could say; ] "You don't have to worry about me." [ But he doesn't. ]
[ FUMA stays quiet instead. ]
[ YUMA stares. ]
[ FUMA is quiet. ]
YUMA sighs, shaking his head as he stands up. The silver light halo washes out his bleach blond hair. FUMA can barely make out his face, yet the eyes stare.
"Always the hero, uh?"
[ FUMA is quiet. ]
[ DIALOGUE LIMIT REACHED ]
[ DON'T LOOK UP. ]
[ REMAIN STILL. ]
[ IGNORE THE EYES. ]
[ THIS ACTION WILL HAVE CONSEQUENCES. ]
Fuma's bedroom is exactly how it was yesterday. His bed is filled with Pokémon loot. His desk chair is comfortable and sturdy. Fuma likes gaming in it. Falling asleep in it is routine. It's nice. Not cozy. Never warm. It doesn't have to be. His console is 97% charged when he unplugs it.
[ PICK UP ITEM ]
[ START NEW LEVEL? ]
[ not yet. ]
[ NEW SIDE QUEST ]
The game's intro jingle is soothing. Fuma has chores to do on his digital island. Build a new enclosure. Upgrade this and that. The last saved log-in is from three days ago. He should save this playthrough soon. He likes this world, made all the right choices here. He can't say the same for everything before it.
[ START NEW LEVEL? ]
[ not yet. ]
He should sleep soon. They have a full day of practice tomorrow. Those always test his endurance and constitution. He is overly aware of his shortcommings, knows he should work on maxing the stats soon. Everyone thinks he has already, but that's nearly impossible. He'd have to patch too many mechanics, would need to nerf other proficiencies; it's too unsustainable. His current build doesn't allow it; too gooey, too fleshy. Rust is inevitable, so is rot.
[ LET GO. ]
Fuma winces, unwrapping his hand from his left hip one finger at a time. It will definitely bruise now. He lifts his baggy shirt to assess his damage. Ugly shades of purple and green are starting to bloom. It throbs when he pokes it with his pointer. -1 HP. He should get an icepack, should put some numbing cream on it. He doesn't like being in pain even if he's used to it. Fuma pulls his hand away from his aching flesh, stares at his palm, and counts the calluses in it.
[ JERK OFF? ]
[ no. ]
[ WHY? ]
[ tired. ]
[ YOU ARE THINKING ABOUT HIM. ]
There's just silence.
[ JERK OFF? ]
[ stop. ]
[ YOU ARE THINKING ABOUT HIM. ]
[ i care. ]
[ DO YOU? ]
[ i have to. ]
[ DO YOU? ]
[ i'm all he has. ]
[ YOU ARE LYING. ]
[ YOU ARE THINKING ABOUT HIM. ]
[ i am. ]
Fuma palms himself through his loose joggers, works himself up to full hardness with expertise. There's nobody in his room, yet he can feel the eyes staring. He hisses through his teeth. His hand is cold. Fuma runs so hot, and he is always so cold. Yuma has beautiful cold eyes. They stare and stare and need so much. Whatever Fuma might need is unimportant.
[ YOU ARE LYING. ]
[ shut up. ]
[ YOU ARE THINKING ABOUT HIM. ]
[ DO YOU WANT HIM HERE? ]
[ it doesn't matter. ]
[ CALL HIM? ]
"No."
[ WHY? ]
[ YOU WANT HIM HERE. ]
[ YOU ARE THINKING ABOUT HIM. ]
[ YOU ARE THINKING ABOUT HIM. ]
YOU ARE THINKING ABOUT HIM.
Fuma cums with a grunt, and there's silence. His hand is sticky. The room is empty. He breathes methodically through his nose.
[ START NEW LEVEL? ]
[ soon. ]
He gets up from his desk chair, washes his hand, puts on brand new underwear. Two step skin care. Done. After connecting his game console to charge, he checks his phone.
YUMA: remember to put cream on it.
YUMA: the one i recommended works fast
YUMA: if you don't have any, you can grab some from my bathroom
YUMA: door's unlocked.
Fuma locks his phone, puts it face down on his desk, and walks to his bed. There's barely enough room for him, but he makes do. He lies on his left side, jaw tensing at the dull ache emanating from his hip, and he closes his eyes.
[ USE SAVE POINT ]
[ NEW LEVEL LOADING. . . ]
The practice room is filled with sound and movement; overload to the senses. Fuma has become accustomed to tuning it all out. He focuses on the reflection in the wall-length mirror, always on his limbs, never on his face. His hip aches and he ignores it. His joints pop and he ignores it. The eyes stare and he ignores them. It's simple enough to manage.
[ DANGER: LOW STAMINA. ]
[ INITIATE BREAK ]
Fuma's jaw tenses. He stops his movements abruptly, dismissing the wave of immediate exhaustion, and walks to a bench. He sits down unceremoniously, checking the time on his phone and ignoring the body warmth to his right. 11:32PM. They have the practice room booked until 1AM. Fuma doesn't work best under pressure but it comes with this expansion pack.
Nicholas and Harua are teaming up against Taki. Fuma watches as Harua mirrors even Nicholas' posture. On the other side of the room, Maki is staring at his phone. Fuma follows his fingers as they fly across his keyboard, eyes glancing at the commotion in regular intervals.
[ HE WILL CAVE SOON. HELP HIM? ]
[ no. ]
[ -1 BOND. ]
[ c'mon. ]
"Poor guy." Yuma's voice doesn't startle him. He doesn't turn to him, either.
[ since when do you care? ]
[ he should know better. ]
[ he's young, he has time to heal. probably. ]
Fuma hums in agreement.
"They're driving him crazy," Yuma snorts. Always so self-assured, always so casual.
[ LIE. ]
[ YUMA asks, amused; ] "Do you think they know?"
[ FUMA glances at him. ] Wouldn't that be cruel?
YUMA turns to him. "Anyone can be cruel."
[TRUTH. ]
[ don't you love them? ]
[ why do you expect them to be cruel? ]
[ why do you want them to be cruel? ]
[ why do you want me to be cruel? ]
"They're just young."
Fuma picks up his phone, stares as the clock numbers change. The practice room is busy and loud, overbearing. Yuma is steady, still beside him.
"So?"
"Everyone is a bit reckless when they're young."
YUMA stares.
"Nicholas is older than me."
[ i know. ]
[ what does that have to do anything? ]
[ why do you want me to be cruel? ]
"Nico is —"
[ ACTION FAIL: SENTENCE INCOMPLETE. ]
[-1 CHARISMA.]
YUMA laughs humorlessly. "Special?"
[ in some way. ]
[ yes. ]
[ you know this better than most. ]
[ why do you want me to be cruel? ]
"Everyone is special to somebody."
Yuma snorts ungracefully. Fuma can't look at him.
"Am I special, Fuma-san?"
[ SELECT DIALOGUE ]
-
Of course you are!
-
Not to me.
-
[ You know the answer to that. ]
-
Why do you want me to be cruel?
[PRESS X TO LOCK ANSWER]
[ FUMA ] You know the answer to that.
"Can you not do that?"
[ DANGER: CHARISMA LOW. ]
[ FUMA ] Do what?
"Talk to me like that," Yuma says, voice low. The hair at his nape is damp and sticking to his skin. He wears all black as always, pristine and comfortable. Yuma knows his own body, understands how to make it as alluring as possible, has horrifying experience with it. His eyes are beautiful. "You know me better than that, right?"
[ DANGER: YOU ARE THINKING ABOUT HIM. ]
[ DANGER: YOU CAN'T IGNORE THE EYES. ]
[ DANGER: HE KNOWS. ]
[ DISENGAGE ? ]
[ FUMA ] I'm not talking in any specific way, Yuma.
[ LIAR. ]
[ LIAR. ]
LIAR.
"Liar."
YUMA gets up from the bench, leaving FUMA to freeze over alone. He walks in Maki's direction, engages in conversation easily, makes Maki's ears go cherry red the longer they talk in quiet whispers. Fuma sits in the bench with his phone on his hand. For a moment, there are no eyes staring. It's a relief.
[ LIAR. ]
[ LIAR.LIAR.LIAR.LIAR.LIAR. ]
[ quiet. ]
[ START OVER? ]
[ -3 CHARISMA. -1 BOND. -4 PERSUATION. ]
[ YOU CAN'T FAIL. ]
[ FUMA is QUIET. ]
Fuma's room is empty and quiet. His gaming console ran out of battery 23 minutes ago. His chair creaks when he gets up, hip aching, fingers twitching.
[ ATTENTION: WISDOM COMPROMISED ]
[ ATTENTION: FAULTY LEGS ]
[ ATTENTION: DANGER ZONE REACHED ]
The door is identical to his own. He passes by it each morning and each night. Fuma ignores it when it creaks, choosing to stay oblivious to what lies within. The handle is sleek metal and cold to the touch. They keep the dorm's AC on at all times, racking up the electricity bills carelessly.
[ OPEN ]
[ not yet. ]
[ QUICK ]
[ QUICK ]
[ YOU ARE CAVING ]
[ he knows. ]
[ YOU CAN'T FAIL ]
[ give me a second. ]
[ HE KNOWS. ]
Yuma told him years ago he learned to pick up footsteps everywhere he goes. He said it not with so many words, instead constructing labyrinths for him to navigate and make out of it what he will. Yuma never spoke in facts of the past, rather truths of the present, always leaving it up to the rest to catch up. If they didn't, good for them. If they did –
[ SHAKY HANDS WILL GET YOU NOWHERE. ]
[ you're too loud. ]
[ I AM YOU. ]
[ please, not now. ]
[ OPEN THE DOOR. ]
FUMA opens the door.
YUMA doesn't startle. He sits on his bed without moving a muscle. Fuma can't focus on his face yet; he lets his eyes wander instead. Yuma is wearing pristine black, comfortable clothes, loose and worn. His bleached hair is dripping, leaving little dark spots all over him, ruining the illusion of - Fuma can't say Yuma was ever anything he isn't to him.
Fuma takes a step inside the room.
[ SAY SOMETHING. ]
[ the eyes. ]
[ THEY ARE STARING, YES. ]
[ BUT YOU KNEW THAT. ]
[ FUMA ] Hey, sorry to bother you. Do you happen to have some of that cream you told me about? The bruise –
"I asked you to stop doing that." Yuma says quietly. When he wants to be, he's very loud. Fuma can hear him everywhere he goes. Yuma doesn't have to be loud to be heard, but Fuma thinks it's residue of something unspeakable.
[ FUMA ] You were right. It really did bruise.
"Stop that." Yuma says more forcefully, an edge so sharp it would and has cut lesser men. Fuma never let him get to him. They can't have that.
[ FUMA ] I thought my cream was going to do the job but –
"Just stop." Yuma's shorts rise up his legs when he moves back. "Stop talking." Fuma can't look up.
[ THE EYES ARE STARING ]
[ YOU CAN'T IGNORE THEM ANYMORE ]
[ IGNORE EYES ]
[ YOU WILL REGRET THIS. ]
[ YOU ARE DYING. ]
[ HE KNOWS. ]
"Can't you at least look at me?" Yuma doesn't have to be loud for Fuma to hear him. "Why won't you just look at me? Why is it never me?"
[ FUMA panics. ]
[ FUMA looks up. ] What do you mean?
[ he is staring. ]
[ YUMA ALWAYS STARES. ]
"Am I not special to you? What do I have to do for you to look at me?"
There are droplets of water running down Yuma's neck. His eyes are burning cold, frostbite to the touch. Fuma never figured out what to do about the crease between his eyebrows. He always looks at him with such –
[ desperation. ]
[ worship. ]
[ lust. ]
[ DON'T SAY IT. ]
FUMA says; I am looking at you.
YUMA looks like he's going to cry.
"No, you aren't. You never look at me, you never see me. You don't want me. Why? Why not me? I'm meant to be more than this, to everyone, but especially to you."
[ BITE OWN TONGUE ]
[ BLEED. ]
[ BLEED. ]
[ YOU ARE BLEEDING. ]
"I see you, Yuma. You know you're special."
[ TO YOU? ]
[ to you. ]
[ US. ]
YUMA makes a wounded sound. Guttural and ugly, caught in the throat like a creature dying. It's agonizing. It's agonizing. Do something.
"What do I have to do?" Yuma's shorts move against his legs as he stands up from the bed. He takes four steps before he drops to his knees. "Tell me what to do."
Do something.
Do something.
"You don't have to do anything, Yuma. Just be yourself." Fuma's hands shake with hunger when he pats Yuma's damp hair. Yuma makes another ugly sound and looks up at him.
"Stop talking to me like that."
"I'm not."
[ YOU AREN'T. ]
[ am i? ]
Yuma follows his hand when he pulls it away, lost and starving. Yuma moves forward, wrapping his arms around his legs, pressing his forehead to his lower stomach.
"What do I have to do for you to love me?"
[ I DO. ]
"You don't."
[ I WANT TO. ]
"You don't."
[ I DO. ]
"You can't even say it."
[ I AM TRYING. ]
[ YUMA laughs. ]
"Do I have to suck you off? Would that do the trick? Do you need me on my knees begging for it? I can do it. I can do that. You just have to let me. You have to see me. Can't you just see me? I'm here. I am here and I'm more willing than I ever was before. Why doesn't that matter to you? Do I have to –"
"Stop."
"Do you need me to beg?"
"I don't. Yuma, please, get up. Please, get off the floor. I'm here. Just – just calm down, okay? I'm here. You know I'm not going anywhere. Please, stop crying."
[ YOU ARE NOT GOING ANYWHERE. ]
[ YOU WERE ALL HE HAD. ]
[ YOU CAN'T FAIL. ]
[ YOU FAILED BEFORE. ]
[ YOU ARE THINKING ABOUT HIM. ]
[ GET HIM OFF THE FLOOR. ]
[ PICK HIM UP. ]
[ LOVE HIM. ]
[ YOU HAVE NO CHOICE. ]