Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Youichi has been staring at the freshly refilled glass of beer sitting under his nose since it had been placed there by the lanky waitress who were probably working a full shift tonight, which was doubtlessly ten minutes ago at the least.

Gods, who in the world even told her that it was a great idea to wear that damned skirt? Who was the dickhead that was feeding her ego so heavily that every step she took, she took it with effortless grace—overloaded cockiness to be frank, those long legs of hers easily striding across the floor as she served the tables with promising smirks and winks as they fed on her skinny body like wild animals.

The dim red light that hung in the bar, years old and probably infested with cobwebs, casted a gorgeous glow onto her smooth skin, though, and could have had Youichi gaping at her too—at those thin thighs and appealing collarbones of hers—if he weren’t too busy trying to contain himself from the temptation of wanting to bone a whore disguised as a waitress (probably), and avoiding eye contact with the bespectacled asshole that were currently perched right across from him.

Besides, he never had much luck with women anyways.

“You-i-chi” Miyuki gently tapped the bottom of his empty glass against the table’s surface in order to get the other’s attention.

Kuramochi’s heard him since he spoke through the weight of the music, the heavy thrum of his naturally groggy voice shaking against his heart with each syllable. But he still decided to avoid away, avoid the bastard, avoid as much as you can.

“You’re sulking again.”

Kuramochi could clearly see the seeping elegance in the tilt of his lips as he erupted into a low chuckle, so it seemed. And of course the bastard couldn’t resist to nudge his knee with his own under the table, and of course Youichi didn’t want to lose the opportunity to exhale a venomous snarl from his lips—his mouth, which reeked of a few rounds of cheap watered down golden beer.

His lids were way too heavy off alcohol and sleep to keep in place, and he didn’t want to look at Miyuki for longer than those few seconds before he’d start wondering what that pretty mouth of his tasted like right now, so he'd opted to turn his whole head away to spare himself a glance for the front of the bar where a long line of drunkards sat, making the most of ruckus that he could’ve ever imagined, from the way it looked.

It reminded him about how much he really hated coming to the bar during late hours like these, when any kind of women felt free to shamelessly toss themselves in your lap in mid-sip if they truly dared, drunk or high, or both, but all equally in search for the same damn thing. Always.

And Gods, he absolutely hated himself for wishing that he weren’t exactly drinking away his day off with the gorgeous jackass that were sitting in front of him right now, but fucking said jackass silly and incoherent on his day off instead. And then have some beer before falling asleep.

But—

“Mmm, another, please. He’ll be done with his by the time you get back, too, so might as well bring two, alright, doll? Thanks.”

They’d never been interested in each other like that. Romantically, that is. So it never really happened often, much to Youichi's dismay.

‘You really had to call her that? Scum.’

Youichi’s whole hand easily cut through the air with each switch of the fingers and flick of the wrist, being way too neat with it for someone who were feeling as lazy as he did to properly angle himself as he communicated with his friend.

Kazuya shook his head with a flawless smirk, light and easy on his lips as he slouched back against the cushions of the seat—the cozy booth they’d always take on whenever they visited this bar.

He hoisted his nose and his chin upwards to add more arrogance to his expression, and Kuramochi had to resist from kicking him in the shin at the same time as resisting to latch his mouth against that gorgeous neck of his, giving him bruises that lasted for weeks.

But he swigged the warmed up beer in five gulps instead, forcing his eyes to trail off elsewhere other than that neck. Miyuki arched a single eyebrow at him as he marvelled the way Kuramochi’s Adam’s apple bobbed with each large gulp he took, “Jealous?”

And if Kuramochi hadn’t swallowed his last chug before he’d heard that word, he probably would have choked on it, and died or something.

‘I couldn’t give less of a fuck. But if I hear you say that word one more time, I might puke all over you. Spare me.’

This time Kazuya exhaled a loud cackle, causing that familiar rumbling in Kuramochi’s heart that always had his stomach eating at the butterflies that threatened to flutter around through it like they owned the place. “You’re so bitter and sulky tonight, Kuramochi. How many rounds will it take you to finally bed that waitress?”

‘For your own sick entertainment?”

“I could watch~”

‘Go fuck yourself, asshole.’

And as if cued, the waitress arrived and was switching the empty glasses with two newly full ones. Miyuki received his first, and Kuramochi just knew he had to brace himself for the moment of receiving his.

She came impossibly close to him, or impossibly close to consider the fact that she were actually on the job, in public, and her thin hip brushed against Youichi’s shoulder while her leg urged his on simultaneously.

When she placed the glass down in front of Kuramochi, she made sure to make a good show out of it, bowing her back to expose a little cleavage and allowing her slender yet attractive fingers to slowly glide downwards towards the base of the full, thick glass, the wetness around it turning into beads and trickling along with her fingers.

“And this is for you…”

The tone in her voice almost had him shuddering in his seat and sporting a very obvious boner, and he wanted to scowl at her—send her away for that but all his mind managed to wrap around at the moment was the way her words brushed and teased at his groin.

The words that left her lips weren’t exactly what they sounded like, either, not even close. They were clearly a way of masking what she truly wanted to say to Youichi; fuck me until I can’t feel my legs anymore.

And what made this worse was that he could practically feel those amber eyes boring their way into his head and polluting his mind with possible ways to accept the little invitation.

Shit.

She stood with a bawdy grin, and Kuramochi nodded awkwardly since he had no words for her, before she could turn on her heels to strut away through the crowd of old drunk men, back towards the bar in the front where she belonged.

Youichi finally released a shaky breath that he didn’t quite recall holding, just as Miyuki placed the clear glass back onto the table, already halfway through finishing the damned thing. Seriously, how incredible is his resistance to this stuff?

“Well? What about it?” His lips read before breaking out into a little teasing grin, which had Kuramochi rolling his honey brown eyes.

‘You’re sick. Awful.’ He replied, then waved Miyuki off to take a small sip from his drink. It was probably the coldest one he’s had tonight.

“And you need to get laid soon, my friend. By a lady who can rock your world almost better than I can. You might like it, you know.”

Kuramochi scowled, nasty and bold at his best friend. It might never be even remotely possible that there is someone whole could come close to making him feel better than Miyuki, the lewd bastard, could in bed. Or maybe he were just exaggerating—giving Miyuki too much credit for his own good.

After realizing that Kuramochi wasn’t up for answering him this time, Kazuya leaned forward with a questioning expression, fingers tapping against the table in contemplation. Kuramochi ignored and swigged once more.

“C’mon, these were our last ones. We bring back the glasses to the front and you slip her your address and a time written on the napkin.”

Kuramochi couldn’t begin to understand where the hell Miyuki had pulled out the pen he were currently sliding across the table for him, but the look in the other’s eyes set all of his senses on fire, and he were sure his own were clearly saying bring it on.

Its fine, he’ll satisfy the jackass for this once. He could indeed use at least a fucking hand-job tonight, to urge sleep to come in faster—quicker than usual.

‘Alright, alright, but if she turns out to be a serial killer, I’m gonna behead you in your sleep even as a ghost.”

And Miyuki choked on the cold liquid and a heavy laugh that lodged in his throat at the same time. After struggling with swallowing, he coughed hard, once, twice, before clearing his throat again, loud because Kuramochi was enjoying his tussling way too much.

“Shut up and let’s go.”

Kuramochi was struggling hard to keep his balance as she advanced more onto him at each step he retreated with in order to find his apartment door.

Their lips were in a sloppily tangled mess as they breathed each other in with each rough and hasty kiss that they shared, and her hands, gods, those hands were sure doing an amazing job at stimulating the growth of the hardness in his pants and he couldnt help but wonder what her hand-jobs felt like.

He could feel the roaring in his veins when she moaned, whined, bit and licked at his mouth, femininely, so loud and so eager for more like a dark monster that hadn’t been fed in a span of weeks, and Kuramochi was aching and was as hard as the attempt to breathe was right now while his hands kneaded and groped at her voluptuous ass, forcing her more against his chest for the feel of her erect nubs against his clothed flesh.

“God, you’re huge. ‘Gonna feel so good, hm…?” She teasingly murmured against his wet mouth with a dark smirk, lips as bruised, pulsed and painfully red as his were. Kuramochi had to admire the way she looked like this, looked at him with such hunger in her eyes, and the way she felt against him even when they both reeked of cheap beer and nightfall.

He wasn’t even aware of how much he’d missed the warmth of an actual woman up until now, and he was damn near glad that Miyuki had talked him into this tonight.

She wasn’t too bad looking at all, either, and was more than one inch shorter than he was despite her long legs, and the way her coloured nails dragged ever so lightly over the length of his dick across the fabric of his pants had him feeling quite content with just coming and wrecking his pants right there.

But then in were instantly regretting that thought the moment he caught himself taking in a sharp breath as her fingers firmly closed around the girth of his cock through his tight jeans. But it was forced right back out of his lungs when his back collided with the hard surface of a door.

“We’re here.” She chirped enthusiastically and Kuramochi had to briefly pray for his sanity and for her throat tonight, because of the way those simple words fell from her pretty lips and made his cock spill of pre-cum.

That should’ve been considered illegal for women, damn it, or at least when they were around Kuramochi himself. Like this.

She released him as he began to dig through his pockets, fingers trembling and shuffling with his keys as he plucked them out of the depth of his pants.

His body felt like it were on fire, aflame, and the closer he got to opening the damned door, the more pre-cum spilled into his underwear at the thought of being touched, his cock aching to just fuck into someone until it was pulsing angrily, at the verge of release.

Thin arms wrapped around his waist after few seconds of stalling, damn those fucking keys, and the clacking and thwacking sounds of his belt buckle being unfastened accompanied the ringing of his keys.

Youichi swallowed down a grunt of satisfaction when his zipper slid down and his cock was feed from the heavy—painful strain of his pants, and then choked on it when a pair of nails slowly, agonizingly drug their way across the thickness of the pink tip, sensitive and leaking.

Fuck.

Unfortunately, though, when the door finally slung open and his dull living room came to life in their eyes, everything that had happened tonight came crumbling down a very huge hill, and it wasn’t the tent in his boxers that he were talking about.

“Ah, Kuramochi, you’re back.” Miyuki fucking Kazuya was lounging on his damned leather couch, ever so casually while he flipped through the TV channels like this were his apartment to share.

Kuramochi vowed that he would kill him slowly, later on when this ended. As if it would have soon.

“You, what’s going on here?” Was a sentence that Kuramochi had missed coming from behind him, but he’d known that she’d said something amongst those lines when she appeared in his view a couple of seconds later, a questioning expression sloshed across her features.

Things couldn’t have gotten any worse, though, or well, maybe they could because to his absolute horror, Kazuya stood, and the asshole was in nothing but a pair of sinfully tight fucking boxers.

Kuramochi hated his cock for not being able to read the moment, when it jumped at the sight of Miyuki’s firm thighs in those boxers, throbbing for attention from either of them, really.

But at this rate, this night was just going to turn out into one of those regular nights as always, where he’d jerk off to whatever he could find alone and fall asleep grumpy and unsatisfied afterwards, waking up the same way he slept, a fresh morning wank before he gets up to brush his teeth.

“Oh, who is this?”

“So he basically set you up, disrespected her when she came, then invited her in for tea in your apartment? More of less ass naked, too? You really have no luck with women whatsoever.”

Kuramochi huffed, impatient and exasperated as he slouched back against the familiar kitchen island with an arm at the surface as support for his body. His mother swiftly moved across the tiled floor as she dropped veggies and meat slices into their rightful bowls, then double checking the rice in the cooker to make sure it wouldn’t overcook by the time she’s finished.

When she turned back to her son, she said, content and surely amused, “That’s what you get. You know Kazuya better than anyone. You should have expected him to do something like that, You-chan.”

‘Shut up, old hag.’ He pouted boyishly, and she laughed with a bright smile like she always would, a laugh he’d never heard before since his birth, but was sure that it was a noise so pleasant and comforting, a noise that he’d shamelessly cry over if ever allowed to hear at least a little snippet of it.

“I do agree with, Kazuya, though. You need to get a partner, or at least laid already, ya’ big grump. I’ve been asking you for a grandchild for how long now?” Her small fingers reached up to squeeze at his cheeks.

He gently swatted her hands away with a rough grunt in the throat before easily waving it around to form his sentences. ‘I’m fucking twenty-three. I don’t need kids right now, and you don’t either. You don’t even look like a grandma yet.’

And this time it was his turn to pinch her cheek. He wasn’t lying, though. She didn’t even look a day older than fourty five.

“Whatever, whatever. I’m assuming she knows you’re a deaf boy now, huh?” She said and smiled so sweetly afterwards that Kuramochi couldn’t resist against the warmth that gently padded across his stomach at that moment.

He briefly nodded in response to her question and watched as she gripped at his wrist to angle it towards her lips to properly press a chaste kiss against his large palm.

“How’s grandpa’s shop going? He’s being stubborn about telling me.”

‘Fine. And that’s because you’re always on his case about working himself up for too long. It’s your own fault.’

She chuckled and reached up to flick at the tip of his nose before returning to the stove to turn the foods so they won’t stick, or burn.

The scent that wafted from the bowls made it almost too impossible to be patient about eating. It was always nice to come back home to his mother and her cooking, to see her lips move and her expression change, to get another image of her laughing or frowning, smirking even.

The particular scent that clung so stubbornly her always calmed him to no extent. She always smelled like a bedding of colourful flowers and sweets, and made him feel like he would whenever he closed his eyes and imagined what anything would've sounded like from his own ears; happy and at peace and at home.

“I’m glad you came home today, Youichi. I’ve missed you, you know.”

Upon his peaceful return from home, from a few fun hours of catching up with his mother in the form of arguing about a movie they had watched, Youichi received a text message that ruined his whole evening in one second, again.

>> Kuramochi
>> Fucking asshole
>> Are you still mad at me? Haha!
>> Die
>> Hahaha, I love you too, You-chan~

Kuramochi couldn’t believe that he constantly forgot that Miyuki Kazuya, his best friend since Gods-damned high school, was the devil himself in disguise.

He couldn’t believe he that he constantly forgot about their occasional prank wars that would break out at any random time, like the day before.

>> God, I wanna kill you. This isn’t funny. What you did wasn't funny
>> Seems like you were really enjoying it, though. I don’t remember you being that big. Your dick probably twitched when it saw me. A thank you would be nice before you obliterate me, though
>> Yeah, it did twitch, in irritation
>> I’m blocking your number

He scowled at his cell-phone, grotesquely so as he stomped down the empty hallway towards the elevator. He really was considering blocking the piece of shit’s number, keeping him blocked for as long as he lived, but well, every time he’d reach so far, he’d exit the option to bring himself back to the contact profile with that obnoxiously gorgeous face on it.

His phone buzzed to life again at the notification of a brand new next message, and the devil’s name itself appeared on his screen, but he ignored it to give all of his attention into focusing in the elevator.

When the doors slid open, Kuramochi froze before the face that greeted his own, or perhaps from a few feet above, but height difference be damned right now.

The kid jolted and retreated back with a step or two, and his cheeks flushed in embarrassment before he bowed as a bid of excuse and found his way past Youichi.

His scent still lingered behind in the elevator, though, when Youichi stepped inside, and it was wild, yet still calming like the ocean and its breeze. And it lulled Youichi in the kind of way that he would regret later on while he lay in his bed with a hand working inside his boxers.

Chapter Text

It was too much of an effort to haul the bike from the tight chains this morning, given Sawamura Eijun hadn’t just recently started riding a damn bike around Tokyo.

He’d been doing this for so many years already since he’d started university, and yet, he still hadn’t gotten used to the sting that lingered in his hands afterwards even as he made his way through the busy crowds that stalked by his apartment complex to get to their jobs and bus stops.

It was a Friday morning, his day off from the little neighbouring flower shop he worked at trough the long weekdays and weekends, but it wasn’t any different from his usual mornings by any means, sadly.

The week was still in, which meant the people in the streets still carried the same heavy expressions as they did every day, features weighted with anger and frustration because the one in the front moves too slowly, or I’ll be late again today if you shitheads don’t fucking move out of my way, or even don’t bump into you me with your filthy bike, kid, go get a damn job for fuck sakes.

He hated early mornings like these as much as those damned people did, believe it or not, but it was always a good idea to plug his ears closed and listen to some music or a favourite podcast while he cruised through the streets between people, praying that he wouldn’t get knocked down by some asshole that felt the need to do so for his own amusement that day.

He didn’t want to deal with a very concerned Haruichi on his day off anyway.

Besides, Haruichi was already on his case about his bad hearing, sometimes trying his best at trying to convince Eijun into getting hearing aid soon before his hearing actually goes out for good. But Eijun always refused to do such a thing because he didn’t need hearing aid to be able to function like a normal human being. He was already used to the life of being nearly deaf, and mute, since he were little.

Mute for the most part, though, because he were always insecure about the way he spoke due to the way his classmates always teased him when he spoke in class as a child, so in the end he just decided to not bother with talking unless it were actually really necessary.

His parents and grandfather had tried to seriously talk him back into speaking again, thought they already knew sign language just in case, but Eijun had refused thoroughly every time, with tears staining his cheeks and eyes pleading repeatedly instead of his mouth.

It all actually went pretty well until he got to university, without as much support from his parents and childhood friends as he had when he were younger. It didn’t exactly go downhill but it was much harder to keep from speaking, because well, that was the easiest way to meet and communicate with people. His sentences were never too long, though, much to his dismay.

He always thought that if he weren’t disabled, he would have been so very noisy, a little too annoying to be frank.

But luckily his new friends understood his situation immediately. And he always considered himself absolutely lucky to have them. He made more than he ever through he could, if he were to be honest. And though Furuya was a bit of a pain in the ass, he still did consider him—all of them as his brothers.

With them, the final phase of school went much easier for Eijun, both in class and in random bars, or mixers, restaurants, too. Even with… guys.

Sawamura quickly jumped out of thought and almost lost his balance when his phone vibrated in his pocket, probably a text from Harucchi; asking if he’d forgotten about today, a full day they had planned to spend together in the younger Kominato’s apartment, in celebration of nothing in particular.

Just a couple of educated low-lived men in their early twenties getting together for a little indoor fun.

He chuckled at the thought of Kanemaru’s sleepy—angry face, or maybe at what he heard through his buds in his sudden focus, and began to paddle faster through the streets to get there in time for breakfast before they could start before him like last time.

Hastily striding through the empty hallway, Eijun tapped away at his phone to reply to his friends, to let them know that he were currently on his way to Haruichi’s front door. He weren’t exactly paying attention to much except for his phone and the distance between the elevator and the familiar apartment door.

So he barely noticed it when a door nearby had slammed shut and a tall silhouette approached, heavy stomps vibrating against his own as they neared each other.

Upon glancing up, Eijun’s eyes met with those of the colour of amber, gorgeous and protected behind black framed glasses that seemed a bit too tacky and cheap to match his outfit. His hair was long enough to hold in a ponytail and his fringes hung over his forehead, and his curvy lips pressed in a straight line as he quickly made his way past Sawamura.

A scent from before danced and teased at his nose, yelling out a warning that he couldn’t quite grasp, but it did have him wandering if he’d met someone so handsome before. The guy seemed like he were in quite a hurry, too, his glasses sliding off the hilt of his nose and at the verge of falling as he stormed by, so it didn’t seem like the right moment to stop him and ask.

But even if he had met such a guy before, then it must’ve been another unfortunate drunken once night stand.

Eijun shuddered at the memory of Haruichi and Ryousuke scolding him for pulling something so dangerous.

“Ah, Eijun-kun, you’re finally here.” Haruichi answered his front door with a bright smile stretching at his mouth, the glint in his pink eyes obvious at the sight of his best friend.

Eijun instantly returned the favour, his own smile almost blinding Haruichi’s eyes had Eijun not stepped in to provide his friend a large and warm embrace like he always would.

“The bastard is finally here? What the hell took you so long, asshole! We’re starving here!” Kanemaru’s voice thundered through Eijun’s ears, probably from all the way in the kitchen, and though he didn’t sound as loud as he should have, it still did caused something to itch in Eijun, the want to relentlessly yell back at him without any care in the world.

But he had to use his hands instead, which probably brought out the same reaction it would if he actually used his mouth. So it didn’t matter at this point.

‘Kiss my ass! Don’t blame it on me, you already know how busy Tokyo is in the mornings!’

And as if they had planned it before, both of them flipped the bird at the other, expressions grotesque yet positively playful.

Toujou chuckled from the couch next to Furuya, waving a hand towards Eijun in greeting, “C’mon you two, you’ve really got to change the way you greet each other. People stare when you do that in pubic, you know.”

“I agree. It’s embarrassing.” Haruichi added to tease.

Eijun side eyed him, signing the word ‘Fake’ with a hand before bringing himself towards the couch between Toujou and Furuya. Furuya nodded, lids pinched close as he greeted quietly.

At the table, they all spoke through the other, enthusiastically and about many different things like their lives now as actual working adults, baseball, their miserable love lives and what happened at the bar the night before.

Eijun on the other hand didn’t really participate much, only focused on downing his food and who the scent that still tugged at his senses really belonged to. He had no clue about who he already knew that possessed of that scent, not even his mother, or father. Not even Wakana, ex-girlfriend, herself.

So he dared to ask about the bespectacled guy on the sly, just to hear the name.

“Oh him?” Haruichi began nonchalantly like it were no big deal, swallowing his food before he continued, “When I moved here, he already lived in the building. His name’s Miyuki-kun. Miyuki Kazuya.” he wiped at his mouth with a napkin, “He’s a former baseball player, currently an editor, apparently, and was probably late to a meeting with a client like always.”

“I heard he’s pretty good, though. So maybe that’s why he hadn’t gotten fired yet.” Toujou added, then took a sip of tea from his mug. Kanemaru shrugged, mouth full. Furuya was nodding off, didn’t speak through the whole time like he were the one who were mute.

“I suppose. Why’d you ask, though, Eijun-kun? Interested in him?”

Sawamura almost choked in mid-swallow, still coughed a few times after he swallowed successfully. His cheeks began to burn a little, probably not because of the hot food or drink as he downed his tea. Haruichi had a little smile on his lips.

Eijun knew that smile too well for his own good, defend yourself.

‘I don’t…! I was just wondering, he seemed interesting! Damn it, Harucchi!”

And the whole table erupted into a fit of laughter, waking Furuya up from his short-lived nap and having an embarrassed Sawamura sinking low in his seat in attempt to hide away from them for the rest of the day.

Though later he were regretting wanting to do such a thing because the hours were going by way too fast for their own good.

They were having way too much fun to end the day so soon, and though Eijun was losing sorely in Mario Kart against Furuya, Furuya, it was still a shit load of fun, and reminded him of his old days in university when he competed against Furuya at almost anything.

The clock ticked too loud in his ears for the first time while they watched a bunch of crappy action movies together in front of the TV, cans of beer at hand while they all heavily criticized anything from the movies that they could manage, pointing out little funny flaws that reminded them of each other.

And of course, leave it to Eijun and Kanemaru, and it will all quickly become a shoujo manga fest, and thorough shoujo manga fest discussion. They even went so far they called Jun, an old senpai and shoujo manga expert.

The clock sang at seven o’clock point, alerting all of them that it were time to end the day with ‘see you later’s and ‘we should do this some other time’s. Or even ‘let’s go to the bar and say goodbye there’s. And exactly that had happened.

Though Eijun refused to stay, claiming that he desperately needed to go to the grocery store by tonight or else he’d have to come back in the morning to eat at Haruichi’s. The others whined and complained about him not doing it in time and being lazy, but they let him go eventually.

After leaving Haruichi’s apartment to head straight to the grocery store, while he stalked down the hallway to get to the elevator, Sawamura noticed another man hurrying down the same hallway he were in, in the while of putting his shirt on. His whole back and neck were covered in little bruises that didn’t seem those of beatings, and his stomps were quite heavy—angry for some reason.

His built wasn’t the tallest of them all, but he was still remarkably large in a way. His hair was green, his hair was fucking green, and Sawamura would have tried to convince himself that this wasn’t happening now but then the scent hit him, like a ton of bricks.

It was the guy he’d almost crashed with in the elevator two days ago. And it looked like he had just finished some quick business and left that someone’s apartment in a hurry. What were with these people and being so hasty anyway?

He shook away any other thoughts that threatened to engulf his mind, and took the stairs to the lobby while retracting his phone and his headset.

Eijun repeatedly glanced over the wall of spices that stood before him in the lit up isle, a red basket at hand while his earbuds sang sweet songs to his ears at full volume. He were trying his hardest to remember past his unwanted thoughts, which of them he had ran out of back home.

He shook his head a few times in disagreement with himself, a though that presented itself forward in his mind before he noticed that someone stood at the end of the same isle from in the corner of his eyes.

This time when he looked at first full take, he quickly recognized this person, a person he’d seen exactly a few hours ago today. A person he’d passed by and unwillingly picked up a scent that was currently the very source of his hauntings.

At the end of the isle stood an amused looking Kazuya. It seemed like he were texting from his phone, given the way he tapped away at the screen like a mad-man. His hair was tied back into a ponytail, and the elegant blue dress shirt he wore was now loose and unbuttoned at the top for air. His pants were still the same, but instead of shoes, he now wore sandals.

Eijun could barely hear his own thoughts through the heavy rhythm of the beating of his heart. It was so unfair that Kazuya still looked beautiful like this, like a damned magnet that attracted any gender that dared to step near.

Including Eijun himself, and that’s when it all came to him, that maybe, just maybe, the green haired guy he’d seen in his apartment complex two days ago did know this Miyuki person, and maybe they had something going on with each other.

But then again maybe not, and so he actually had met Kazuya somewhere.

Eijun suddenly cleared his throat and began to speak for the first time in months, absentmindedly, and because Kazuya looked smart, but not smart enough to know something as complex as sign language, “Excuse me…”

His voice was so rough, worn from not even being used, and maybe a little too low for the other to hear but Kazuya still turned his head from his phone, his expression dropping and now unreadable. “Huh…?”

Sawamura just stood there, startled and regretting and watching as Miyuki approached, quietly for a few seconds that seemed like eternity. Then his expression switched when he seemed to recognize something, a cheerful mask then embracing his features “Ah, you’re that guy from earlier!”

Sawamura simply nodded, lost for words due to the pleasant sound and rumble of Kazuya’s voice.

“Well, did you want to ask me something? Or did you just want a double take at my face?” Miyuki chimed cheerfully, grinning widely—shit-eating.

Sawamura furrowed his eyebrows and pursed his lips sharply, regretting his recent decision to speak more and more already, but Miyuki moved again, quiet, with his arms and hands this time.

‘Are you partially deaf? You sound horrible.’ He signs, and laughs.

Sawamura was taken back for a second, because the bastard really did know sign language, thorough, and he’s very smooth with it, too. But he instantly began to put his hands to use as well, thanking the Gods that Miyuki hadn’t spoken this time.

'Shut up! I am, for your information. Your face isn’t as pretty as I thought it were, so if you will excuse me…!’

And he quickly turned to peacefully leave the isle, exhaling a stream of steam through his nostrils while dragging his regret in the dirt.

But unfortunately for him, the Gods didn’t want to accept his generosity so soon and were practically siding with Kazuya and his beauty, because his wrist was caught by a set of strong fingers and a wide palm before he could actually exit the isle to another.

“Hold on, kid, I was only kidding. Let me ask you just one thing, really quick before you go.” He said, tone neutral while releasing Eijun before going back to his phone.

Eijun blinked up at him, tempted to refuse but he couldn’t bring himself to do it for some reason.

A devious smirk soon tugged at Miyuki’s lips in the while of quickly tapping on his screen as it casted many different colours on his sharp facial features like he stood in traffic lights.

Eijun didn’t know whether he wanted to thank the Gods again, for letting him see the perfect curves of those gorgeous lips up close or whether he should have been contemplating on leaving quickly before he witnessed something he didn’t really want to.

But it was as if the asshole could read his thoughts, because just when he’d decided, Miyuki raised his expensive phone to Eijun’s face before he could turn away from him again.

“Tell me, buddy. Have you ever met or seen this guy somewhere in Tokyo before?”

Eijun had to blink at the picture on the phone screen a few times, or more, dark green staining dirty behind his tender eyelids again and exposed flesh absorbing all of his inner and outer thoughts, while the familiar, naked man in the picture stared right back at him from the screen.

“Because I believe he would absolutely love to meet you sometime, again, perhaps, hm?”