Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Shidou Ryusei deems himself a practical person. A very artsy one, maybe a little impulsive at times, but very active in the head and practical. 

A reason that his chemistry professor does not accept, apparently. 

“I’m failing you this semester. Just ought to let you know.”

“What?!” 

Click, click, click. That pen had been clicking on the stupid clipboard for five fucking minutes now. 

“D, D-, D+, and F.” The professor, whose name he already forgot, had huddled him before class like he’s the class guinea pig—only to tell him in front of everyone he’s going down. The old bastard must’ve thought staring him down from through his bushy eyebrows could intimidate him. Rookie mistake.

“The fuck are those? You rating my dick?” Snickers rippled across the lab. Behind him, Karasu—his roommate and designated bad influence—slapped his ass in approval. Ass roommate, by the way. 

“Those, Mr. Ryusei, are your grades. From the four worksheets you submitted out of twenty-five.”

Shidou scoffed, hopping up to sit on the edge of the desk. “Sounds like a you problem. You give out too much shit to do.”

“Ryusei, sit down.” The professor yanked off his glasses like he was about to deliver a presidential address. “Now, class! Before we begin, I just want to commend you all for your very noticeable efforts this semester—”

Ugh. Here we go. Shidou rolled his eyes as he picked up the clipboard.

“I say good job! Remarkable work. Even I know the syllabus is demanding—”

“It is,” the class chorused.

Shidou smirked. See?

“But at least some of you have been trying. Unlike Ryusei over here.”

And that’s when Shidou saw it.

“Wait. Wait.” He yanked the clipboard closer, squinting at his own profile. Damn, I look good in that picture. But below it—barely any grades, mostly blank space, and one big, ugly F. “F? For the titration lab of all things- We were fucking perfect! ”

Otoya raised a hand. “Yup. Will vouch.”

“We nailed that shit!”

“It, was, supposed,” their professor hissed, “to be clear!” 

“Well, the, pink, was, prettier!” He puts down the clipboard and sits at Otoya’s workstation up front instead, now backed by Karasu, Yukimiya, and the rest of the class who all scuffed his head and patted his back. “See? Everyone agrees!”

Thing is, all jokes aside, this wasn’t anything new. One could say this is a regular occurrence on the rare times he chose to go to class. He is perfectly aware he has been the bane of this professor’s existence since he’s a freshman. Something feels so revitalising about pissing off balding men at their crumbly age.

Most of the time though, he’s just annoying professors for fun. It made him all the more likeable  and was even deemed Voice of the People at one point. He’s in fact genuinely helpful when he stands up against professors, so much so that he was even offered a seat in the student council thanks to his constant drive to question the establishment. 

(Declined. Not belonging to any club was part of his aesthetic.) 

But the other times, annoying his professors was all the choice he had.

“Either way, even if Otoya and I failed that shit, I still have until after finals to submit all of my reports, señor!” 

“Well, I’m the teacher here and I have the prerogative to decide whether to pass you or not.”

“And based on your word, teacher—on the first day of class which I attended by the way—all assignments have the deadline on the last day of finals week which isn’t until next month. You actually can’t grade me F yet on those since the deadline hasn’t passed. Boom. Lawyered.”

(Actually he 100% just made that up.)

“Yeah? You trying to gaslight me now, Ryusei?” 

(He is. He wasn’t actually present on the first day.)

“Actually, Sir, that’s, uh, true…” Yukimiya interjected, flipping through the syllabus. “'Everyone who missed the classwork during the original schedule can make up for it anytime the laboratory is free, until the end of the semester'.”

The class erupted in hushed gasps. Mr. Prince clicked his tongue, rolling his old man eyes. Everyone cheers in hushed gasps as Yukimiya sits back down satisfied, hitting Shidou’s palm behind his back with a high five. 

There, they all watched as the man did nothing but sit back down as he was effectively clocked. Sadly, he just slammed a ruler to the whiteboard, set out his alarm, and everyone begrudgingly had no choice but to go to work. 

“Begin. All of you only have until 9am.” 

“Hey! Come on…!” Shidou groaned, leaving the desk to plead again. “I know you actually love me deep inside your crumbly white heart!”

“And if you actually read the syllabus, Ryusei, you’d know it was still all subject to my discretion,” he said, now holding fingers to his temples as he groaned through his headache. “And if you’re actually smart, you’d start to work now, on the class activity I assigned now, unless you want to leave another cell sheet blank now.”

“Just give me a chance, I swear I will not be on your nerves,” he pleaded now, genuinely. “Please, you are the most handsome thirty something I know-”

The professor actually looked scandalized. 

“I’M 27.” By that however, Shidou seemed to have reached the end of his patience and that fucking means he won: “You know what- Fine. Submit your god-awful work.”

Fuck. Yes. 

“But only if you can find a partner to do it with you.”

Got it. “Hey, Karasu-”

“That hasn’t already done the work you missed.”

“What?!” he sputters, turning back around. “That’s so unfair!”

“I’m not doubling my workload because you decided to be a menace, Ryusei.” The professor crossed his arms. “Take it or leave it: find a partner, and I’ll grade you both as a unit.”

“That’s so unbelievable- Everyone here has done the work!”

“So what does that say about you?”

“I told you!” he pleads. “I was working. I’m a working student. I have to provide for myself and I sleep during the day! Who the hell has a class at 7am? Literally only you!” 

“You picked your schedule.” 

“Yeah! And I picked this because your other lab class starts at 9! At night! That’s time for being drunk, Sir. Would you even take that class, Mr. Prince?”

Woah, that just slipped. Turns out he does remember this professor’s name. He is named after an avenger. The Hemsworth one. Chris. He’s Chris Prince.

“Not my problem,” Chris Prince smirks at him now. “Find a partner or I’m-”

“Mr. Prince!” a voice calls in and the door to the lab suddenly opens. 

“-Anri!”

Suddenly, the entire mood shifted. Shidou groaned as Mr. Prince’s face lit up as the department supervisor enters. Who, by the way, is very pretty.

“What’s up?” 

What’s up? Who does he think he’s fooling? Fucking simp. 

“They’re back,” she announced, stepping inside. The lady was none other than Miss Anri—quite the tall woman, kind yet assertive, who had spent most of her days staring him down and sighing when he ended up in the counsellor’s office. It’s hard to believe she tops all these male professors in the administrative hierarchy. “Just came in from their tournament. I have a note—”

“Oh, no need!” Mr. Prince beamed, snatching it from her hand. “I’m a footballer myself, you know? Gold cup, my glory days.”

Shidou rolled his eyes. Absolute simp.

“They should be coming in soon,” she just continued with a smile. “Please give them extra time for missed work, okay?”

“Of course! Anything for my athletes.”

Shidou was this close to headbutting the desk.

And then—

Knock, knock.

As she left, Shidou about to melt in his misery, the door creaked again and slipped in another pair of footsteps. He couldn't care less though; how the fuck is he supposed to find a chemlab partner at this rate? While professors deliberately making his life living hell isn't anything new, this still means he's going to retake this class next year when he should be focusing on graduating by -

“Sir?”

Shidou barely registered the voice before he caught a blur of red.

He looks next to him and-

Pale red hair like ketchup doused with mayonnaise, the longest lashes known to man, shielding crystalline teal eyes staring Mr. Prince straight in the soul. He smelled Yves Saint Laurent in the air as well as angels singing- Oh. My. Fucking. God.

Beside him stood Itoshi Sae, central midfielder of the football team. 

“Mr…Prince, is it?” Sae calls again but doesn’t wait for an answer. There, he just pulled down his red flannel scarf, revealing a perfect, expensive face framed by the softest red hair known to mankind. 

“Sa…Sae!” Mr. Prince greeted, taken aback. Is this his first time seeing him up close too? “Wow- Didn’t see you there! I was just—”

“This won’t take long.” Ugh, even his voice sounds expensive. “I was told I could make up my lab work now.”

Shidou’s ears quirk up.

“OK! No problem.” Prince sat up, pen clicking frantically. “How much lab work did you miss?”

Sae stares, completely unmoving. “All of it.”

Shidou only needed a fraction of a second. He took one glance at him, back to Mr. Prince, back to him, and then grinned.

“Got my lab partner!”

And nothing—not before or since—had ever felt as satisfying as watching Mr. Prince clutch the clipboard and his pen in defeat.

And for the first time ever, the world’s most coveted teal eyes landed directly on Shidou.

He could just tell this is about to be the best thing that happened in his life.

Chapter Text

Have you ever felt incredibly horny within three feet from the most combustible chemicals known to man? 

Oh. Perhaps that is quite common. Scratch that. New question: Have you ever found yourself kneeling behind bushes trying to catch frogs, while absolutely fucking wasted, because of a man who said he needed it for a lab dissection demo?

No? Well, Shidou had. Shidou is. 

When he first met Sae, they were freshmen. His mother and grandma insisted he go to this expensive private institution two towns over, so he came to class expecting he’d find a way to drop out within the day. (He did not come to school to be tomorrow’s biggest capitalist, for fuck’s sake.) He instead found a reason to stay though—because he sat next to the prettiest boy he’d ever seen.

He didn’t know he was even into boys at the time. All he trusts are his natural tendencies towards the proportionate. In fact, everyone he “dated” and had a crush on prior were just eye candies. Inside their pretty exterior, they’re just hollow people who often failed in the personality aspect.

He’d say all he had this entire time was an eye for pretty things, and Sae…

He caught said eye because he is the human personification of perfection. Literally nothing shocked him that day. Fork in the kitchen, so what?

He later learned that his full name was Itoshi Sae. It took him another week or two to learn that the Itoshis were part of the school board. They are the nephews and nieces of the president—not even the principal who just heads academic affairs, as in the president who owns the school and built it. He happened to be in the same batch as one of them, sitting next to Sae while having a blood status equivalent to just the dirt under his shoes. It was…

An ethereal experience.

It was literature class- Actually no, he can’t remember; he spent the entire period sneaking glances at his seatmate whose red hair glowed wonderfully against the sun leaking in from the window. He was so beautiful that Shidou couldn’t comprehend how he knew what ‘beautiful’ was prior to seeing him. The curve of his nose was perfect, the proportion of his chin to the nose and forehead immaculate, and that tiny mole at the bridge of his nose delicate. Shidou felt like he could stare at him forever and just draw, and draw, and draw. He has a face that no one could literally ever get bored of. A perfect model. A perfect muse. 

Needless to say, he did not drop out that day. 

(He had to retake most of his freshman year units though. Lol.) He had since made great friends, grew into the skin of a person he’s proud to be, and had enjoyed life to the fullest. Some of his sculpture work even won competitions, the medals of which he hung onto this little figurine of his loudmouth mother on his desk which he carved out of wood. Everytime he hangs a medal off of her proud neck, he hoped she felt the same from wherever she is just so she can stop bugging him about returning home to help with the family business. 

(What a woman. Very, very annoying. Wasn’t she the one who insisted he focus on his studies here? Weird lady. Still can’t say she loves him without an insult and a hit to the head here and there.)

As for Sae, the guy never came to know he was the reason a random nobody decided not to drop out. He barely ever comes to class himself, and when he does, he just goes to the professors’ alternate schedules that sadly, Shidou hadn’t really seen him that much. 

There were even multiple times Shidou genuinely thought he dropped out, until he saw Sae again somewhere with his bourgeoisie friends and he debunks his own theory. (Also, he remembers that Sae’s family practically owns the school so it wouldn’t be possible anyway. Lol.)

Many things have happened since then. Countless parties, countless friends, countless hookups. Girlfriends, boyfriends, acid trips — you name it. He moved onto a dorm by the next semester and knew the entire student body by the third. Bleached hair and piercings came next, and a thousand or so counsellor meetings, as well as a hospitalisation here and there. Oh, and a hundred stomachaches. And a broken arm.  

A broken arm with a very inked cast, mind you. All in all, he could really say he lived, loved, and laughed. It was so fun. 

Now, he’s one year away from graduating and it’s time to face the consequences of his actions: actually doing all the assignments and classes he missed. 

Boo. Boring. Cross that shit — but unfortunately, he knew he had to do it. His old hag at home would murder him if she learned he isn’t doing dumb shit responsibly. She even verbally gave him permission to do whatever he wanted in boarding school, as long as he doesn’t get caught by the police, he doesn’t get himself killed, and he keeps his grades above the scholarship minimum. In that order. 

And! He followed that religiously. He, too, agreed with her personal view on how to live life. Through the years, his primary motivation therefore is ‘seeing good-looking things, fucking good-looking people, and eating good-looking food’ responsibly. Emphasis on the last word. That philosophy is what gave birth to those photos of him on Otoya’s dump Instagram account finishing online quizzes at 11:58pm in the club. 

That said, his grades—aside from art which he fucking aced—were not exactly failing. Just one point above the passing mark. It's what he had to sacrifice if he wanted to enjoy life. The perfect balance, he’d say. The ones he had to retake, he retook. 

(Besides, it wasn’t his fault attendance is barely mandatory here, probably because the president’s own nephews and nieces were on the Attendance Boycotters leaderboard. Oh well.)

In the end, he barely ever got to know the eighth wonder of his world, Itoshi Sae. He’s like his personal mini celebrity. They never exchanged a word, barely ever had eye contact, and everything he knew about him came from word-of-mouth. Still, he liked him all the same. 

He heard that Sae plays on the football team just a few weeks into freshman year. He was a prodigy from his old school, so good that he was wanted by the five best schools in the nation, and he had an Instagram following that would put even Shidou’s 6k art account to shame. He had followed Sae at a distance for all the years that followed. He went to see his games when he could, likes his posts on social media when he it comes, and tries his best to go to class when he receives a text from Karasu that his boy-crush is there.

But things changed. 

Thanks to Chris Prince (who turns out wasn’t kidding when he said he was a good football player back in the day, yes he checked), he was partnered up with his celebrity crush until the semester ended. Blessing in disguise? A set up that looks like a blessing? He isn’t sure yet. 

And he’d say Sae was a ‘celebrity crush’ because he hadn’t really registered that he was a real person until now.

Of course he knew he was a living, breathing human being but he liked him as a motivation. As a concept. As a priceless painting on the wall. When he said he liked Sae, he just meant it as a satirical bit. To ride Karasu and Otoya’s b.s. when they joke about him being jerking it off to a guy (before he told them he actually was, in fact, gay.) 

When he rushes to the classroom when they tell him Sae’s there, it was just a bit. When he casually mentions to Kurona and Hiori that he’d name his latest art after a redhead muse, it was just a bit. It’s just a ‘ha ha’ joke. Satire. A performance. Irony. He was kidding. 

But it…wasn’t as shallow as a ‘joke’ joke either. There were times he found himself alone in the art studio, in the afternoons, surrounded by red and pink paints as he tried to recreate the golden halo around Sae’s head when they first met. He really was his muse, even if it was just an inside gag when he’s with his friends. He even named a fish after him—something he never told anyone—that quickly died and had since rested under the big tree in Yukimiya’s parents’ front porch. 

But he’d still say it was a celebrity crush because Sae used to be so intangible. He used to be so many metres away. He’s on the pitch, Shidou’s at the bleachers. He’s in Dubai, Shidou’s at the other side of the phone. Now, he spends the wee hours of the night with him wearing lab coats and safety goggles. 

They couldn’t blame Shidou for going batshit insane these past few weeks now, could they? 

Although they might blame him for crawling on the grass of Yukimiya’s house at midnight, holding a glass jar, with eyes deadset on a frog he already decided he’d call Martha. 

“Got you, bitch!” 

A few moments later, he slams the front door open and ends up on three fat laps with a big sigh. He rolled over, and it ended up being Hiori, Nanase, and Isagi on the couch. 

“Hey, dudes…” he laughed as he rolled off onto the carpeted floor, squashing down some red cups and streamers along the way.

“Is that a frog?!” Nanase exclaimed, and he could only laugh more before standing up and pushing them back down to their seats. 

“Yup!” he said, popping the ‘p’. “Lashes needed one for his nervous system dissection work. Oh my God, I just said that while drunk. I’m the wooorst person ever- where’s Karasu?”

As if on cue, his spiky-haired roommate materialises from the crowd and eyes him head to toe. “Dude, where the fuck were ‘ya?! Who the hell is in the bathroom? There was a fucking line!”

“Don’t care, dude, just came to say bye!” He pulls the man in for a big hug, seeing Yukimiya behind him who looked both sober and concerned. “Mwah! Mwah!”

“Why, where ‘ya going?” 

“I need to drop Martha off at Sae’s,” he said, stealing Aryu’s drink and downing it. Ugh, it’s just root beer. “See ‘ya tomorrow! Phone me when I die. Er, die me when I phone- what am I even saying?”

Ignoring the rest of his friends’ attempts to question him further, he escaped back out and began his long quiet trip back to campus.

Thankfully, Yukimiya’s house and the creek near it were just ten minutes away. An extra five if he’d come to that broken wall at the back of campus hidden by the trees, which he would. No fucking way he’d take the main gate if he’s this absolutely faded.

God, those brownies at the party do not compare to the ones he makes. He immediately noticed he ate a brownie that wasn’t of his own creation when he tasted something else inside the shit. At least with his brownies, people can tell there was pot in it and nothing else. He only ever makes normal brownies and pot brownies. What the actual fuck was in that crap? 

Sae deems himself a responsible person. A very frank one, maybe a little prickly at times, but very responsible, rational, in-your-face, and level-headed. If a shit is dumb, it’s dumb. If a shit is stupid, it’s stupid. 

So when Shidou burst into his dorm room unannounced, he was more than surprised he didn’t know exactly what to do or say. 

“What is this?” 

He tried to kick him out. 

Clearly did not work.

“I got your frog!” the blond exclaimed, collapsing onto Aiku’s bed on the other half of the room and cradling the jar of frog on his chest. He just breezed right past him, walked in like he owned the place, and treaded his dirty shoes all over the white carpet they had in the middle. “Sae-chan, meet Martha! Her name’s Martha, but if it’s a boy, call him Martho-” 

“Demon, get out,” he surrenders, hearing the door automatically click behind him shut. Great. Great night. Shit.

If he had to describe Shidou Ryusei in the fewest words possible, he’d say “too much”. The pink dye in his blonde hair is obnoxiously bright, he wears Axe body spray as a probable alternative to a shower, and he is just larger than life in more ways than one. His circle of friends is intimidating, he’s tall like a hooper, and he’s incredibly…warm. When he stands within his vicinity, the air just feels warmer. Sae never met anyone else like that. 

When he first met Shidou, the first thing he noted was his wild hair. It was sticking up in every direction known to man, like a wooden post in a desert with directional signs hammered on it. It was black at the time, shiny as if he put wax on it to make it stick up, and it smelled sweet. It’s rational to think that it was before Shidou discovered Axe. 

Everything else he knew came from Aiku, Sendou, and Lorenzo, their friendgroup’s resident extroverts. He heard the pot brownies they had been eating during parties were baked by this guy, and for a decent price incomparable to other plugs too. Once, on a victory afterparty during sophomore year, he tried one. The pot ones were…effective, to say the least. The aphrodisiac-spiked ones were effective too. 

His life since freshman year is something he’d call effective as well, but in a more exhausting way. It was effective in keeping him busy, keeping him “there”, keeping him “in”. It was effective in keeping him in the loop of being wanted, of being known, of being heard. Literally everything in the past few years had been about alarms going off, calendars, practice, tupperwares labelled with days of the week, clipboards, the smell of grass, fancy dinners, locked fridges—meetings, meetings, meetings. People are just fucking everywhere. It feels like he had been surrounded by people everywhere since the millisecond he was born. 

Just people, people, people. Neverending people. People working to keep his name clean. People working to keep his shoes clean. People working to keep his inheritance clean. He doesn’t understand how Rin can still stomach being attended to everyday. Is he the only one in this family that just feels so sick if he had to duke it out with another rib-eye steak? Especially if he already went on dinner earlier that same week eating the same goddamn thing?

It was sickening. 

But, as much as he hated it, it was effective. There is routine and order there and he loved routine and order. He loved everything that is predictable and straightforward. Cutthroat, impartial, and just. Like Maths. 

Maths has a formula he could follow. There are universal rules and paradigms in maths, physics, and chemistry that point to only one (1) solid answer. That’s the kind of thing that aligns with his views. Just like how Pi, as complicated and magical of a number it is, has a fixed value of 3.1415926535. That’s the way things have to be: to have a fixed meaning that will never change. All answers have to be reliable, trustworthy, and dependable. There is no other way to live life.

What doesn’t have fixed values though, he hated. Let’s just say that literature and art—two of the most subjective disciplines in academia to ever exist—isn’t exactly his strongest suit. He hated essays. He hated citation formats. He hated the inverted pyramid. He hated Monet. 

Most of all, he hated impressionism and expressionism because those are literally the same fucking thing! Who even came up with names for these eras? Can’t anyone just have their own art style and call it a day? Why do students of the future have to study it as if there’s going to be a right and wrong answer? 

And! If art is as subjective as they claim it is then maybe everyone should pass art as long as they have an opinion. Why does he have to learn the Italian words for the painting techniques they used? In what world is Caravaggio’s chiaroscuro going to help his future?

Needless to say, he deems people like Shidou to be his exact opposite. If he’s not mistaken, even if Shidou is a dirtbag who sells pot brownies and never goes to his classes, he heard he’s still a scholarship charity case. He’s a president-backed financial aid grantee, actually. (Sae asked his uncle if he knew who Shidou was. He doesn’t, but he did recognize the marble bust he created of him so there’s that.) 

He also heard from friends that this man consistently appears in art shows, competitions, and exhibits. It took Sae a few years to understand that his brash personality is easily excusable with how good he is in what he does…maybe a little like him. Nobody cares about the shit that comes out of his mouth as long as he has results to compensate for it. It just so happens Shidou Ryusei is a chaotic genius that is too messy for his lawful ways—one that is good at the one thing he’s bad at. Both geniuses at opposite ends of the spectrum. 

Maybe that’s why he didn’t exactly refuse when Mr. Prince made them lab partners. While he would’ve preferred to do it all on his own, at least with a partner, he can have someone else do the dirty work he’s not willing to do—like catch frogs for the dissection, and buy surgical gloves when they run out. Easy peasy. 

“Where can I…”

“What?” he whispers, and Shidou just laid there on Aiku’s sheets. He looked buried in the triple layers he wore, hugging a jar to his chest, one of his converses even untied. 

“…put…Martha?” 

Where can he put Martha? Sae sighs. He is not sleeping here. Not him, not Martha.

Sae stands up and makes his way to Aiku’s half of the room, also an obnoxious person in his own right. Three years ago, they had divided their shared dorm exactly in the middle—a line that they only recently respected when they parted ways emotionally. His half on the left was dominated by sleek, white, flat surfaces. Aiku’s half on the right is just reminiscent of a typical teenage boy’s wannabe edgy aesthetic with black sheets, chequered posters, and porn mags stashed under the mattress. 

Only God (and Sae) knows how many women (and men) Aiku made cum on the same sheets Shidou is laying on right now. Sae too, once upon a time, but he had since gained consciousness and just thinks of Aiku as the dirt under his shoes now. 

“Demon.”

Now, he sees Shidou laying there like it was his personal rest, something Sae’s thankful for because at least it wasn’t his bed, and he stops just shy of towering over Shidou and the frog. 

And he stares at him a little.

The way his blonde hair spreads on Aiku’s black sheets. 

How he had his eyes closed, face squished on the collar of his very layered outfit—a gray hoodie, then a black jacket, then a corduroy over all that. He had only his long blonde lashes to stare at. 

A faint red tint also stained Shidou’s tan cheeks a bit, making him look softer than he usually does. Was it cold outside? Was it colder out there than here? 

Now that he’s looking at him, Shidou has quite the prominent bone structure. His smell would’ve also blended so well with the fuckboy smell that’s already there…

Funny thing is, he wouldn’t be that proud to say he’d take Shidou’s Axe over Aiku’s stench. It’s the lesser evil. 

On that note, he doesn’t think it wasn’t just Axe this time. Shidou reeked of…people. The moment he walked in, Sae could tell that he came from places. He smells like grass and Shrek and vodka. 

(He is not exactly a fan of the image conjured in his mind out of that.) He came from a party though, for sure; something that already happened twice since they became chemlab partners. In fact, he came to learn a lot about Shidou Ryusei from just these past few weeks. The most impressive thing is that Mr. I’m Gonna Fail Chemistry is surprisingly academically capable when he’s not sober. He once saw him finish typing out their lab report soft copy in under 5 minutes while high. 

If anything, one can say he likes Shidou better when he’s like that.

Focused, quiet, calm, mellow…

“Demon.”

“Yah?” 

Sae sighed. Look, it’s midnight. He had 89 missed assignments to submit in a few weeks. He also had brunch with his extended family tomorrow by 10. And Shidou is on Aiku’s bed holding a frog. 

“…Give it to me,” he demands quietly, and Shidou slowly hands it to him. Sae takes Martha gently, surprised the jar was actually clean on the outside, and proceeds to put her down by Aiku’s nightstand. Crossing his arms, he towers over him again. “Why did you get me a frog? It’s 12am.”

“Because you said…” 

Great, he’s slurring. He’s about to pass out. Not good. 

“…you needed one.”

Yes, he did. He said he needed one tomorrow. 

“Look,” he gave in, grabbing his desk chair and pulling it close. He had just spent the last 2 hours cramming his lit essays and his brain is closer to fried than working. He can’t have Shidou in his dorm. “I accept the frog. Now can you go?” 

“I, uh, yeah, yeah,” Shidou tried, hands moving but his eyes remaining closed. “I’m just- suuuuper dizzy right now. Let me…lay down for a bit.”

“Be dizzy in your own room,” he spat, standing up and going back to his desk. He starts tidying his papers, slamming his laptop closed, before staring at the clock. He should still be able to get 7 hours of sleep. “I’m not saying this again. Get out.” 

“Is it…hot in here? Why’s your room so hot?”

Sae whips his head around, seeing Shidou pull on his numerous layers like he’s clawing on his own neck. And he just stood there, in his own two layers of a sweatshirt and sweater. He thinks he had a good grasp on temperature, thank you very much—and the answer is no, it’s fucking cold. This year’s autumn is not that friendly. 

“Ah, wait- Lashes- I don’t feel so good.” 

“If you’re going to throw up, do it exactly right there,” he warned, remember how Aiku deserves his sheets ruined so he’d at least wash it for once, “before I get you kicked out.” 

“I- fuck, wait- it hurts.”

He blinked. Is this another of his stupid ploys?

“Get up. Get out of here. I don’t want to look at you.” 

“Shit.” 

At the grave tone, Sae turns once more only to see the corduroy layer since discarded, and the jacket layer halfway down his arm. Shidou propped himself up on an elbow, staring in increasing sobriety, or horror, on his finger as blood dripped down his nose. 

Very red against his tan skin.

“What the fuck?” they both hissed. 

“What did you do?” Sae reaches instinctively for Aiku’s tissue box and throws it at the blond’s chest, a force strong enough to lay him back down. “Plug it up and get out.”

“Ah- shit,” Shidou choked as he scrambled for the tissues and looked up to the ceiling. At that, Sae found himself immediately walking over to tip his head down. 

“Idiot- don’t look up, you’ll choke,” he said. Suddenly, he had fingers laced through Shidou’s hair, pulling him to sit up and lean forward, enough that his forehead rested on Sae’s abdomen.

…

“Lashes…”

He swallowed, but decided not to push Shidou away like he’s burning.

“What did you do?” he tried, shaking his head. “What did you take?”

He isn’t a medical professional yet, but he’s pretty sure being drunk doesn’t cause nosebleeds. 

Drugs might, though. 

“I-I don’t know- fuck, it hurts.”

“What hurts?”

“My….” 

Sae reaches down and takes the tissue box again, pushing Shidou back and leaning down to his eye-level. Shidou had his eyes squished shut when he crouched down, crumbling in pain as he held his stomach and looked one second away from crying. His nosebleed had since bled through the tissue so Sae replaced it in his hold, and he felt his skin was indeed super warm. 

“Keep leaning forward and pinch here,” he said, putting Shidou’s other hand to the bridge of his nose. “And don’t look up on nosebleeds. That’s stupid. And stop crying.”

“I’m not crying, just hardcore sweating!” 

Shidou looked hammered, and the fact he crawled around some moist outdoors at midnight for a frog told Sae that it’s the kind of night Shidou won’t remember the next morning. Maybe he had too much to drink? Does alcohol poisoning include nosebleed symptoms? 

What he knew first and foremost about alcohol poisoning is that the person should be 1) milliseconds away from passing about and 2) barely breathing. Shidou is very much awake now and breathing. Everything else he knew about it was just based on how the only person in their friendgroup to be stupid enough to get alcohol poisoning as a minor looked that night.

Sae’s pretty sure Michael Kaiser’s nose wasn’t bleeding when they rushed him to the hospital unconscious. 

In fact, the only time he saw his friend’s nose bleed is when he had too much for the blue ribbon brownies at that other party…

…laced with aphrodisiacs…

Sae whips his head around and sees beads of sweat forming on Shidou’s brow. He was flushed red, eyes lidded as he stared at the blood on his hands, breathing heavily as he started avoiding glances.

And Sae looked lower to see a tent forming on the crotch of his jeans. 

Shit.

Chapter Text

Shit. 

“Stay still.”

“I- I think I’m dying.”

“No, you’re not.” 

He stood there frozen, hands twitching as he couldn't decide if he should call Ness for help, or grab Shidou by the collar, or just leave Shidou alone. 

Years back, when Kaiser unknowingly ate too much of those brownies—not the time he almost died of alcohol poisoning, that was a separate rush to the hospital—Sae was there when the doctor told them it’s just an aphrodisiac. Spiked up libido. Mixed with various kinds of alcohol and general poor decisions about life, their German friend’s body reacted a little too harshly to the substance, hence the nosebleed, but with just a little “release”, they were told he will live through it. 

‘He just had to…get himself release. Your friend will be fine. And also, he’s severely dehydrated so there’s that.’

‘Release? What? Is there anything to be done, doctor?’ Loki asked, sweating bullets alongside the rest of them. ‘Does he need blood or anything?’

‘No. Is there anything to be done for Mr. Kaiser? I don’t know. Literally just fuck around and find out. He’ll be fine.’

‘Huh?’

Sae didn’t really register what the funky-looking doctor said at the time. Not only did he not care that much after they were told he’ll live, but he’s also reeling in his own alcohol-infested blood that he ended up passed out on the ward couch buried underneath Aiku, Lorenzo, Sendou, and later Loki. They all just woke up the next morning and saw Ness cuddling Kaiser on the bed, with the latter getting somewhat stable overnight-

Actually? Maybe he didn’t need to call Ness. He knew exactly what he did now. Dr. Lavinho’s words repeated in his head:

‘He just had to…get himself off.’ 

“Ah- Lashes, I…I have to-”

‘Your friend will be fine.’

Blinking back to reality, Sae watched as Shidou pushed himself up, holding onto Aiku’s bed frame only to immediately collapse. And he couldn’t help but train his eyes lower, almost feeling himself how much that would’ve hurt—and it looked big -

Fuck. Wait, where was he again?

“Lashes…”

Right. 

“Demon. I’m about to say something you won’t l- Ow!” Sae takes a deep breath when Shidou ends up collapsing on his desk chair with an ‘Oomph!’, not even two steps from standing up.

“Sorry!”

Right on top of him, chest to chest, skin to skin...crotch to crotch.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growled, immediately pushing Shidou off only to realize how heavy he was. Oh, no. “Demon- get off! Listen to me!”

“Wait, dude. Give me a sec- the room’s spinning a ‘lil-” And Shidou proceeds to try only to entangle their legs even further, one knee now kneeling on the space of the chair right between Sae’s legs, pressing right up to his-

“Demon,” he called sternly, panic steadily increasing within. “Shidou. Ryusei.”

“Sae-”

“Don’t ‘Sae’ me, I-!” Shidou’s knee presses against his arousal. Shit. “Where do you think you're touching? I’m serious, get off!”

This is the exact kind of situation he should know better than to end up in. He knew what this looked like. He isn’t as airheaded as to not know what actually goes on when Aiku bursts into their room with Sendou ‘to study’. He isn’t lost either what happened between Ness and Kaiser that day at the hospital. 

They are at the age where friends—even acquaintances—fuck for fun. 

That age where shit like recreational drug use is more common than people who monogamously have sex. 

Hell, this is all his friends’ fault.  

None of those immature assholes ever actually cared about how to actually do sex properly, see—like, the ethics of things—which made him also have jaded and limited views. And who specifically became his primary basis?

Exactly. Aiku, and all that asshole knows is to take, take, and take. 

In the deepest parts of his subconscious, now that he’s no longer a middle schooler with his head in the clouds, he unconsciously started seeing sex as a chore. Not necessarily evil or disgusting but more like bothersome and boring. Sex has become just like free candy on Halloween where you just have to say three words on someone’s doorstep and suddenly you get one, he gets one, and the guy at the back gets one…

Nothing really has value nowadays. Not Halloween candies. Not even bodies. Not sex.

But it felt good, in the few uncreative ways he and Aiku ended up doing. He hadn’t even done the ‘entering’ kind yet but whenever he ends up getting off, his brain just blanks out and it's the best feeling ever. The feeling of nothing inside his skull. The bliss. 

He had never gotten high before, not exactly, but he guessed that’s how it’d feel like. 

And…

And while he—or, his hands—may have been celibate for months now, the only experienced part of his body already forgetting the warmth of someone else’s cum, he’s now metres away from a man and his throbbing, fat, and aching-

Shit, he’s fucked, isn’t he?

“Demon,” Then, a calming inhale and a will to empty his traitorous, sinful mind. Shut up, brain. Shush. He breathes again and this time, his brain goes shush. 

There we go. Where was he? 

Ah, right. 

The medical emergency. 

“Shidou Ryusei, I need you to stay awake,” he swallowed as Shidou’s knee kept rubbing up against him. He could feel himself start to harden inside his pants, but he held onto him instead. The only alternative is to throw him to the floor but given the blood still dripping out his nose and streaking a red line on his shirt now, he’d rather not. The carpet is white, and blood is bothersome to clean on fuzz. 

“I don’t feel so good…”

“I know,” he chokes out, inhaling sharply as he felt for himself Shidou’s own heat against his abdomen. “Listen to me.”

As funny as it is looking back on Kaiser’s incident, they were still genuinely scared for his life. So much so that they decided to rush him to the hospital even if it meant it’d show they were drinking underage. Dealing with the aftermath with their lawyers, rich fathers, and connections to the local law enforcement while hangover, they were just glad nobody fucking died that night. 

Not Kaiser, who is cursing everyone out while hiding the world’s most painful boner. 

Not Aiku who drove them all in his Mustang while intoxicated himself. (How he did it safely, he could no longer remember, but he surely won’t do it again.)

And not Lorenzo who is the reason there were even fucked up brownies in the party alongside normal edibles and Everclear.  

“Has your nose stopped bleeding?” he spoke, walking closer and swallowing down the alarm sirens going off inside his mind. 

“No- Shit, I got it on your shirt- I’m sorry.” 

“I know. You’ll pay for it later. Do you think you can stand?” With Shidou practically perched above him, he rolled the office chair to reach into Aiku’s nightstand. He didn’t even need to rummage much before pulling off a new bottle of lube, easily peeling off the plastic at the cap, and holding it in his hands as if to pray on it. 

This is the safest route he could think of that would not only jeopardise his chemlab partner’s life, but also keep his stupid fucking dignity intact.

“Yeah, maybe, dunno… Give me a minute.”

He notes this and holds onto Shidou’s hips for stability. Just to emphasise the utmost seriousness of the situation. As much as he could, that is. 

“Demon, I think you are reacting to a vasodilator.”

“A vaso-whaaa?” The other replied, sniffing and trying his best to look up the ceiling. Sae watches from underneath as Shidou at least got off of his chest, but now he’s face to face with his neck and throat and-

“A substance that widens blood vessels and increases blood flow.” It’s so fucking ironic that he was just learning that shit 2 hours ago. He swiftly pushes Shidou’s knee off of his crotch and holds the both of them up to stand.

Or at least, until he had the still-unstable Shidou pinned to the wall. Shidou is still looking up to the ceiling, so he grabs up and tilts his head down. Does he not listen? Don’t look up when experiencing nosebleeds, what part of that is so hard to understand? 

“Look. Thanks to alcohol, your blood is thin. Thanks to a vasodilator, your thin blood is rushing to certain places.”

“Okay…? Yippee, I guess? I-”

It took all of him to suppress the creeping eye roll, stepping back and throwing the lube to the blonde who only frowned with an ‘ow’ when it hit him in the face.  

“This is a serious medical concern. You ingested an aphrodisiac.”

“Nah, you’re tripping.”

“I’m tripping-?” When Sae turned, Shidou was there on the wall already taking off the jacket he wore, leaving only the hoodie underneath. Shit, he’s getting naked. 

“I don't know, okay? Lashes, you’re…being so blurry right now…! How did you even know I’m-” Shidou proceeds to pout at him, almost cutely, before gasping scandalously and covering his crotch with his just-discarded jacket. “Were you looking at my cock!?”

Hello?! After it assaulted him? Maybe.

“You just announced to the whole room you’re hard! And this is a medical emergency, demon. I am serious. I don’t care about your cock.” He deadpans at him in offence, now pointing to the white door at the corner. “The bathroom’s over there.” 

“What am I supposed to do there?”

Okay, airhead. This is why people shouldn’t do drugs. Shidou needs explicit instructions? Fine. 

“I need you to jerk yourself off until you feel better enough to get out of here.”

Then Shidou sputters out a hazy chuckle, “Hahaha! Vulgar mouth there, sweetcheeks!”

Sweetcheeks? Sae suppresses the urge to punch him in the face before getting close and grabbing Shidou by the collar. “I’m serious. You can actually die if you don’t c-”

Wait, what is the medical jargon for cum?

“…if you don’t get yourself off. Do you understand? Look at me! Do you understand?”

“Yes! Yes, damn, what the fuck? Wait, huh?” Shidou only stared at him before clicking his tongue and biting his heavy breaths back. “Like…for real? No kidding?”

Maintaining eye contact with Shidou’s neck, doing everything but look into his eyes, he nods. “For real.”

Sae only glared at him one last time before conscience started hitting him. Ah, he hated this. 

But Shidou won’t remember this anyway. Probably. As his last act of sympathy—not because he cared but because…or urgency, you know—Sae gave into the impulse and swooped one arm over his shoulder, letting Shidou’s body give in.

“Fine. Come on. On your feet, demon. Make my life easier.” 

“I really don’t…feel so good though.”

“I literally just told you why. Go fuck yourself and you’ll feel better.”

Literally. 

With his free hand, he opened the bathroom door and peeked in. Thankfully, it looks like Aiku hadn’t left any of his shit lying around. Not the razors, not the shampoo bottles open, and not the (used) condoms. Not even the random pubes on the tile which he nearly murdered Aiku for. With that, he all but shoved Shidou’s large body in with a heave before pulling the door shut. 

“Oomf-” Instead, Shidou only fell back on the door with shallow breaths. Sae bet the aphrodisiac is finally starting to really kick in. Then, he swallowed. 

“Just keep your voice down,” he said, before adding an afterthought, “and don’t lock the door.” 

“La…shes?”

“I know. Go. Get it over with!” he said, looking down at himself and cursing all the gods he could name for his own hard on. “You hear me? Just do it. Quickly.”

He waited until he heard Shidou settle somewhere, and he only left once he heard the cap of the lube pop open. Good. Sae quietly returned to his desk, to his chair where the jacket was strewn, and took a stabilising breath.

This couldn’t be happening. 

But did it really happen if no one would know?

Wait, no- No, no, no. He’s not going there. Shut up. That’s his chemlab partner, what the fuck? Back to business. 

In his friendgroup, he was never usually the one to take care of others. He was just responsible for himself, the same way Loki might pass them a wet wipe but would never drag their asses home. The mother figures in their septet is surprisingly Ness. He is the designated driver who remains completely sober at every party, by choice. 

That said, everything he knew about caretaking came from Ness, textbooks, and…well, Rin. The other things are from the few times he read books and attended classes. Oh, and common sense. 

Either way, he does not consider himself the most caring person in the group—even if ironically he’s the one that’s supposed to be a doctor. He just does not have the same instincts or empathy as people like Ness do. 

That said, time for a Google search. 

He pities the poor fuckers that’d be his patients one day. 

Aphrodisiacs are substances that increase potency, such as the intensity of erections and sexual desire. The term comes from the Greek goddess of love, Aphrodite.

That’s a fun fact. Wasn’t there a Greek god for sex though?

Aphrodisiacs work by increasing sex hormones, like testosterone and oestrogen. It also alters neurotransmitters that influence desire, such as dopamine. 

Would you look at that? Shidou’s favourite neurochemical. Fitting.

Please note that not all drugs advertised as aphrodisiacs are scientifically tested. If you are interested in taking one, it’s best to consult with a healthcare provider. 

Yeah, well, unfortunately, in the four corners of his dorm room right now, he is the healthcare provider.

He, also, did not go to 80% of his classes this semester to make up for the basic medical knowledge a healthcare provider must know. 

Thud.

Sae turned to the white bathroom door and immediately stood up. “Demon?” he called, knocking on the door urgently. “What was that?”

“Sae…chan-”

Fuck it. He is the healthcare provider. This does not mean anything. 

“I’m coming in,” he said, right before immediately coming in. He opens the door and there Shidou was, facing the sink with his head down and his face dripping wet. The lube bottle was on the floor. 

His first instinct is to look down Shidou’s reflection only to miserably see the belt only half undone. 

“What are you doing?” He is not touching himself. Why is he not touching himself? (Why is Shidou not touching himself even a problem for him right now?!)

“I…think I’m gonna pass out.”

Oh no, he’s not. 

“No, you’re not,” he said, coming in and turning Shidou around by the shoulder. 

Big. Fucking. Mistake. 

He was not prepared to see Shidou Ryusei right there panting, staring down at him with half-lidded and cloudy eyes, water dripping down his lashes as warm breaths escaped his parted lips. His eyeliner remained in one place but his tears were not, pooling at the bottom of his eyes as he looked sincerely three seconds from passing out. 

“Lashes...”

“Stay awake,” he demanded, patting Shidou’s cheeks as he kept staring at him like that.

Fuck those eyes. Fuck this teenage dirtbag in his bathroom. Fuck healthcare providing. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Sae had to squash down his own thoughts as he too suddenly felt hot, so he pinned Shidou to the door and kept him upright with an arm.

“Listen to me, I need you to stay awake.”

God, he can’t believe he’s about to do this. 

“You can stay awake for me, right?”

He crouches down and picks up the lube bottle on the floor with his other hand. Then, he stands back up and meets Shidou once again—whose nose thankfully at least stopped bleeding. 

Then Shidou nods, a tongue swiping down his lip. Sae pretends the shivers he felt were nothing. 

“Good. U-Undo your belt,” he swallowed, half in disbelief at the words coming out his own mouth. “Do it. I’ll keep you awake. Just do it.”

“Are you…sure?” Shidou slurred as his head fell to Sae’s shoulder, and while his usual instinct is calling for him to push Shidou away, he deemed it is actually better if he didn’t have to stare at Shidou’s face while he did it. 

It.

Jerking himself off. 

“Yes, do I look like I’m going to do this if I’m kidding?” he spat, fully annoyed now. May he receive an abundant future for this dignified sacrifice. “As long as you stay like that, understood? K-Keep your head down. And do it quick.”

“O….okay.”

Will his abundant future get revoked though if Shidou’s obedience is turning him on?

He’s so fucked. 

Sae heard the rustling of the metal leather belt next, making him swallow to brace for the impact. He maintained a strong staring (glaring) contest with his white door as he focused on holding Shidou up, with a little painful pinch on the shoulders to keep him awake. He can do this. They can do this. For once in his life, he’s betting on Shidou Ryusei’s success. Please.

“S-Shit, why is it so…painful?”

“You ingested too much of something. Probably a brownie or a spiked drink. You just have to ride it out or it’d get worse,” he inhaled sharply before mumbling under his breath. “I believe you’d want to keep your dick and balls so just do it.”

This isn’t fun for us both, is what he wanted to say. He didn’t know why it didn’t come out of his mouth. 

“God…I’m…I’m sorry. I can’t…help it.”

He heard the squirting of the lube next, and Sae felt shivers run down his spine. Shidou starts to get heavier so Sae pushed back even harder, nose half buried in a mess of blonde hair that actually smells quite good. He can feel Shidou’s sweaty skin nestle on his neck. 

Then, he felt it. He felt Shidou’s knuckles brush against his lower abdomen as his hand started moving. 

He’s doing it. 

“You're…okay,” Sae ended up replying, as he felt Shidou’s breathing get ragged. He listened closer without a choice and he could hear him panting almost inaudibly. 

Then, he whimpered: “F-Fuck.”

On the night of November 15th, at midnight, Itoshi Sae’s mind goes blank.

There was another thing about Shidou Ryusei that he failed to mention. 

Or failed to acknowledge:

He is 100% his type. 

“Ah…hnghh…” 

Sae froze completely still as he felt his own body rush warmth to both his head and his other head at Shidou’s bitten-back moaning. His own pants start to feel tighter around the hip, his arms going stiff as he focuses on holding Shidou’s body up. 

Back in middle school, when he first met the foreign transfers Lorenzo, Loki, Kaiser, and Ness, he learned he may actually not be that into the meeker side of the roster when it comes to men. For one, they had swimming class together that year, and it only took him one (1) shared shower with Loki and Aiku to realise that while he prefers ‘short and quiet’ when talking girls, he maybe into the ‘stronger and bigger’ when talking men. 

Men with big biceps that could slam him down on walls. Large palms that could hold him up nicely without a problem. Someone with the capacity to be rough so his brain shuts up for once when he’s completely out of it and well-fucked. 

Oh, and of course, nice ass. That goes for both his women and men. 

He first saw Shidou Ryusei around sophomore year, maybe—when he’s still trying to deny he’s into men more. And it was in a swimming pool too! He was in the class that had swim right after Shidou does, and Sae walked out of the shower only to see this tall, well-toned blonde pull himself up from the water in slowmo.

His muscular arms flexed as he used neither the ladder nor anyone else’s hand pulling himself up from the poolside. Then, he smoothly turns around and sits himself at the edge, laughing with a friend who handed him a towel and patted his back. 

With his back to Sae, he was in full view now of Shidou’s dorito-shaped back…and that ass he’s hiding under his speedo.

They never had any interaction until a few weeks ago because of chemlab, but God knows Shidou was his final straw. His guardian angel must’ve been like, ‘Let’s see if you still deny it now.’ And he couldn’t. Not with that…quite impressive butt. 

It’s a nice butt, okay? 

So yes. 

Sadly, Shidou Ryusei is his type…and the guy’s touching himself while leaning on him right now. 

He couldn’t bring himself to talk anymore. Not now. He remained there statuesque as he listened to Shidou trying his best to stay quiet. If Sae pushes him back to look at his face, he bet he’d see him biting his lip as he suppresses his moans. He is not prepared to see that now. 

“F-Fuck, Sae-”

“Stop it!” 

His hand moved before he knew it. Sae took one hand off of Shidou’s shoulder and used it to cover his mouth. So much for not being prepared to see him, he is more unprepared to hear him.

Not while moaning his name. 

“Shh- Shut up. Stop that,” he demanded, only to grow weak when Shidou looked at him exhaustedly past the hand covering his mouth and whined.

“But Lashes…” he cried, his teary eyes barely open, shoulders relaxed as he depended on Sae’s strength to stay on his feet. 

“You’re making it so hard.” Sae gave his best keeping his eyes on Shidou’s face fighting the urge to look down, but he guessed this is just what healthcare providers have to deal with. 

“No, m’sorry, I-” Shidou mumbled as Sae took his hand off his mouth slowly and rested it back on his shoulder. “I was just…going to say...I can’t-”

“No, stay awake. You’re already doing it, see it through.”

And apparently, ‘I can’t’ was Shidou’s last coherent words. He was still awake, but his next attempt at words all came out to be just lulling. Then, he fell forward again as his head fell down on Sae’s shoulder and drove them back—that Sae’s back hit the sink. 

“-Do you seriously want to die?”

He complained first before he felt it.

He felt the same large naked dick pressing right against his own. With it being free now, the appendage so long the tip pressed above his navel. Sae immediately got petrified as Shidou’s slack body pinned him to the sink, half conscious with a life-or-death matter between his legs. 

Sadly, in the four corners of the bathroom, he is the healthcare provider. 

He took one deep breath first before clearing his throat. 

“Demon. You have to release. It’s either that or you’re going to the hospital. Do you understand?”

“Mhnmn…no….hospital…”

He sighed, shakily. He figured. The guy is a scholarship leech and while constantly retaking units miraculously hadn't gotten it revoked yet, an exposè about him using drugs while in school certainly would. While his personal circle had gone through the exact same thing with Kaiser before, he doubted Shidou had the connections to get out of it unscathed. Without a permanent scar on his records, that is. School and criminal records. 

“Hand me the lube,” he said before taking it from Shidou’s hand. His final straw. “Keep your head down and just listen to my voice. Don’t-” he hesitates, his own cheeks now flushed hot, “Don’t cum until I tell you to.”

“Huh…?” He felt his own arousal inside his pants leak. Shit, he can’t believe he’s actually doing this. 

“I’m going to…do it for you- and before you say shit, demon, you shut up about this!” He shoves Shidou up by his collar and stared into his eyes, raising his free hand to wipe the trail of red down his nose. “No one will know. Got it?”

With one last internal pep talk, he adjusts their positions to have some space between their bodies, putting his hands down and squeezing some cold lube on one palm. Shidou was completely warm and heavy and large over him, overwhelmingly so, so he had the other hand push his hip back to grab his dick with the lubed palm. 

Oh, fuck.

It really is… big. 

Sae squeezed his eyes shut at the tidal wave of ‘holy motherfucking shit’ that washed over him the moment he held it. It’s not even his first time doing this for someone. He had jerked off other people’s dicks multiple times, with Aiku taking up most of those instances, but this is the first time he did it outside of a hookup context, and it's the first time he held someone this… girthy. 

“I'll move my hands now.” 

“P-” 

“Shhh.”  

With a stabilising breath, he starts moving his hand up and down the shaft before willing his brain to just focus on the task literally at hand. Just by touching Shidou Ryusei's…manhood, he could tell it was…veiny. 

Perhaps a little angry and sensitive. His cock kept twitching onto his hold for more as he stroked him, so much it even made him sweat a little. Over him, Shidou kept sighing onto his neck as he started increasing the speed and the pressure.

“Sae-chan…” 

“Shhh…” As he establishes a comfortable fast-paced rhythm, he mentally slaps himself to re-focus. Okay. He got this. At that, he uses his other hand to reach down the drawer next to him and pull out a condom box. That’s when he felt Shidou’s breath hitch. “Demon, no.” 

And he instinctively gripped his cock hard at the base. 

Another big mistake: because Shidou whimpered .

Oh my fucking God. 

“S-Sa-”

Not his name. 

“ Shh , demon. I said shh! Don’t say one motherfucking word.”

“But-”

“I said don’t cum,” he hissed, leaning close to Shidou’s sweaty face. “And as long as I say you won’t, you won’t—because you’re going to listen to me, and only me, as long as I’m responsible for you. Hear me, demon?”

“Y-Yes…”

“Good…” he sighed, bringing his head down. God, he’s hot. “Good.” 

It was the moment his own body started to heat, as if lava started erupting in his veins and bursting into fire everywhere his body touched Shidou. The last semblances of control he had started cracking under its own weight, cursing every god he could name for this fucking bullshit—but clouds start to swirl and now he, too, is breathing heavily. 

“You cum when I tell you to. You can do that for me, right?” he said, before immediately flicking open the box of condoms with one hand before picking one packet to raise to his teeth, arm going around Shidou’s body. “It’ll be just a sec. Keep it together.”

The other moved his head further on his neck in what seemed to be a nod, suppressing another whimper.

“Good.” Sae loosens his hold a little and returns to stroking Shidou at a slower pace. Meanwhile, he bites the condom packet open, spitting out the packaging as he uses two fingers to pull out the condom from the foil. His other hand remained on Shidou’s cock wetly and diligently, no choice but to feel every pulsing vein, every wet bead of pre-cum escaping his large tip… “You’re being so good.”

“Hngghh…ahhh…”

“I know. Just a little… bit more.” Shit. Discarding the foil, he finally lowered and rolled the condom on Shidou’s massive length. 

Now, both his hands gained the status of ‘having touched Shidou Ryusei’s dick’. 

At that, he got more flustered than ever, focused on glaring at his white door with his jaw clenched. Once he rolled the condom all the way, he reached for the lube again and went back to stroking him properly.

Here it is. He breathed. Fuck. 

“There, it’s on,” he whispered, mostly as a reassurance to himself. It took all of him to not sneak a peek at this godly cock in his hands right now. 

“What’s on…?” At that, Shidou hissed until he started painting, no longer conscious enough to keep his lips bitten. His upper body presses on Sae even harder as he chases his release. “C-Cl…”

“You’re close?” he asked, suddenly feeling wet drops roll down his neck to his back. Those were tears, and Sae no longer fought the instinct to hold Shidou up with an arm around the torso. “Shhh, baby, you’re close?”

”Hhnnnngh…y-yes…”

Sae could no longer help it. He took a deep breath and proceeded to bury his face in Shidou's hair, finding his ear. His hand moved faster as he relished the sound of Shidou whimpering and grabbing on the back of his shirt desperately. He was moaning, making a wet mess of himself as he confused the cloud of pain and pleasure. And for once in his life, Sae let himself be held as he listened and gave and hummed, sweating and on the verge of the edge of himself. 

“F-Fuck, Sae-” 

“Mhm…Good job, baby, good job,” he whispered right to Shidou’s ear, his own cheeks hot against Shidou's neck. “Cum.”

“A- ah…! Fuck-” The sounds that escaped Shidou’s lips were but a struggled sigh, Sae feeling the condom under his touch warm up as it got filled. The cock twitched as it just came and came, exploding on the pressure and warmth of Sae’s hand. 

Then he passes out. 

Sae just silently received his entire weight with a big sigh to the ceiling. 

“Good job, demon.”

Chapter Text

He woke up the next day with police tape around his dorm room. It was…

…quite ideal! 

He turned his head to the side and on the other bed should be Karasu—and there he is!—except he’s piled underneath Otoya and Hiori who should be on entirely different floors. There’s also a new shoe hanging off of their ceiling fan…a weird stain at the closet door…

But that’s all! 

“Oh thank God!”

He made it back to his dorm last night, and for the first time too. That’s already another achievement on its own! Another reason to drink again, if he do say so himself.

(Haha, just kidding.)

“Ahck-!” Shidou happily choked back laughter until he all but rolled off his bed with a thud, loud enough to wake Otoya. “Ow…” 

“Bro…” the latter groggily groaned, only for his head to fall back down. “‘Sei, ‘wass that?”

“Nothing, dude, just…ow…sleep tight.”

Yeah, no, he’d let them all sleep for today. They seemed to have a rougher night than he did. See? Responsible partying. They don’t have classes on Tuesdays.

After five more minutes of staring at the ceiling, he eventually pushes himself up from the floor to begin his short and miserable journey to the bathroom. Pushing away the police tape strewn all over the place, he eventually makes it to the sink and immediately laughs at himself in the mirror.

Ah, I should do something nice today. Just as a reward or a pat in the back, he thinks as he turns the faucet on and brush his teeth. Usually he can’t even make it to the bathroom when he blacks out-

That’s when he looked at himself in the mirror. 

Wait a minute.

Why is he not vomiting it all out right now?

Huh. But the party has to be real. There were police tape in his room, his friends are piled on top of one another out there, and there’s a hangover-esque headache at the crown of his head right now. If not for that, he would’ve thought it was just a fever dream. He felt way too good it’s suspicious.

The last time he felt like this, he was smoking blunts with Niko at the back of Aryu and Toki’s car.

He just feels so awake and weird. A little lightheaded, bloated, sweaty but also something else. This never happens. Did he get high? He doesn’t remember anyone having rolls with them last night; he would’ve known. 

Okay. Strange. But as a quick rundown, what did happen? He blinks at his ceiling as he brushed and wondered.

He’s sure that after making it to Yukimiya’s place in the suburbs, the first thing he did was bitch about the store-bought brownies on the coffee table. There weren’t many people around yet, just Bee and Isagi and other close friends, but everyone who was there were busy setting up for the party. Meanwhile, he just stood there standing in front of the jar. 

Well, because he did not make those brownies.

Yukimiya knew he had a brownie business. 

Why on earth would he buy some from someone else? Specifically, a transnational corporation? 

“Huh? I didn’t buy that,” Yukimiya said when he asked him later at the party, his hand already half a jar deep. “I thought you brought that.”

“Bitch, why the fuck would I put my brownies in a jar? Wrapped with a fucking bow, too- Who do you think I sell to, Marie Antoinette?” 

“Then stop eating it, weirdo. Those are probably my mom’s.”

What else? 

Hm.

He also knew for a fact he mixed the punch with Kurona and Kiyora, influencing them to spike it with tons of vodka for fun. The spiked punch must’ve bit him back in the ass though, because he couldn’t remember anything after that. Lmao, he guessed. That sounds like something he would do. 

Maybe that’s it—the vodka must’ve been incompatible with the punch! 

He knew it, he only has crazy drunk dreams and a cool morning spell when the alcohol is mixed poorly. And he just recalled another dream about being face down on the creek behind Yukimiya’s house!

He might be insane sometimes but he would never let his pretty face get even ten feet close to a frog for no good reason. 

Oh, and he could also recall the smell of expensive cologne. Which is probably Aryu or something. He heard him yap about a new YSL perfume he bought a few days ago. The perfume aficionado. 

There’s also a vague memory of Rin picking a fight with Isagi while Bachira holds him back. Now he isn’t sure if that one’s a dream or a memory. Either way, don’t know, don’t care. Isagi always gets on Rin’s nerves for a reason, but somehow they’re still known as the freshman duo. 

What he’s 100% sure is a dream though is that one dream with Sae-chan in it…

With…Sae…under him…

Oh my God, he just had a wet dream about Itoshi Sae. 

“Wake up, sleepyheads!” 

“Yukimiya!” Shidou immediately opens the bathroom door and leans on the doorframe to brandish his very awake self to their class beadle. 

“Oh- good morning- Wow. You’re looking fine and fresh?”

“Made it in one gorgeous piece, baby.” He placed his toothbrush to the side as he dabs up Yukimiya, who he noticed was wearing a messenger bag full of bottled water. “What’s that?”

“Oh, I know you made it in one piece,” Yukimiya mischievously replied to the first half of his sentence, pushing his glasses up before leaving them four bottled waters. “And this? I’m just making sure everyone’s alive. I had to haul everyone’s asses back myself last night.” 

Oh. “So you carried me up, bro?”

Yukimiya tapped Karasu, Otoya, and Hiori’s cheeks with the cool bottle to stir them up before leaving. Shidou did not miss that little smirk on Yukimiya’s face before he went to the next dorm over, at Kurona and Kiyora’s.

“Haha,” he laughed. “Nope.” 

Huh. Then maybe he did make it back by himself. 

“Aight.” He shrugged, disappearing back to the bathroom, and continuing his brushing. 

Oh God, he just had a dream about Itoshi Sae. 

Fuck. 

Something truly miraculous must have happened last night because there is no way his feet willingly took him to the library—on a day without classes—to finish 10 assignments in a row.

Since when the ever loving fuck?

“You can’t be serious,” Isagi all but grinned as he and Bachira watched him breeze through the assignments like water. 

They had since booked a discussion room in the library for a quick cramming session, something Shidou only joined them for “because he’s bored”. He also deems himself a good upperclassman for his underclassmen friends. 

That said, it wasn’t in his plans, or Bachira or Isagi’s plans, for him to be the most productive one there. 

And on Bachira’s laptop, too.

“Issokay, Shidou. Take your time.” Bachira, in turn, was just laying down on two office chairs put together on the other side of the table, playing on a PSP with a large ‘R’ sticker at the back. 

Sometimes, he sees himself in Bachira the most. He just felt like they share a lot of things in common. 

“Shut up, sprouts. Focus on your majors while you’re still not gangfucked by electives.”

“Do you even focus on your majors?” Isagi asked back.

“No.”

“Then I’m beat.” Isagi scoffed, putting his pen down and giving up on his readings with a big stretch. “Shidou-san, I didn’t expect to see you so heads on today. It’s so unfair. It’s making me feel tired just by watching.”

“Then don’t watch me,” he laughed, glancing at the clock past the clear glass walls and seeing a decent 6:43pm.

Damn. He can’t believe he just finished 10 assignments in under 3 hours.

Yup.

Time to go.

“You know what, kids? Let’s go have dinner. I’m done. Thanks for the laptop, Bee.”

That seemed to be Bachira’s trigger word, sitting straight up and winning on his current round. “Yes! Let’s go! Food, food, food-”

“Bachira! You didn’t study at all.” Isagi shook his head as they started packing up. “If you fail your quiz later, it’s not on us.”

“Whose fault do you think that is?” Bachira latched himself onto Shidou’s back and whined, to which he could only laugh. “Besides, I’ll just copy off of Chigiri.”

“Oi. Don’t blame me, I only took your laptop because you’re not studying,” he said, handing said laptop back and stepping out the glass room. “Wish you luck on your quizzes though. You have aaaall my luck for today.”

“Meh.” Bachira pulled out his tongue before he smiled. “Don’t need it.”

“Then fail for all I care.”

Once they’re done, he leads the still-bickering best friends out of the library to the campus’s cool and nearly empty grounds. The space was wide, the grassy knoll between the main academic buildings. It’s almost sad sometimes when he sees it’s almost empty. 

In the spring and summer, there should be students here playing frisbee or posing for the diversity shoots. It’s why he loved those sunny seasons, it makes his cells get excited. People are everywhere smiling, eating, playing, making out…

But in a beautiful autumn such as this, especially at this hour, sadly there is none. Just a wrapped up student rushing between buildings or the occasional janitor who knew him by name. Winter is already starting to creep up in the air as autumn enters its latter half. It’s making him feel…

…something. Loneliness, maybe. What’s the opposite of when his cells get excited?

“Hurry up, the fuck!” he called, looking back to the two who had yet to finish hopping down the library’s grand front steps. 

Ah, shocks. He envies Bee and Isagi sometimes.

“And stop smiling! It’s making me feel like shit!”

That’s how one can easily spot which are the under from the upperclassmen. It’s because students could still dilly-dally around the campus in their first two years here. You will never find a smiling junior or senior anywhere in this fucking place.

Happiness dies in junior year.

“Come now, idiots, chop chop!” he calls as he just saw them call out the statue of the school founder as bald. “Come on, I have to be back by 7:30.”

“Why? What’s at 7:30?” Isagi asked breathlessly as they finally got down and turned to the direction of the west gate. 

“I need to help my partner in the lab.” 

@karasu: YOU ASSHOLES WENT TO CLASS? TRAITORS what did i miss 🧎‍♂️‍➡️

@kenyukimiya: LOL everything

@hiori1837: noa had a pop quiz HAHAHA

@otoyayaya: and he said he won't be giving ts out again 🤷‍♂️

@hiori1837: HAHAHA yeah sorry karasu T_T

@karasu: HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU THREE NOT DYING??? IM STILL REELING HERE???

@kenyukimiya: Do you want photographic proofs of last night or 😂

@karasu: did shidou come to class bc FUCK

@otoyayaya: honestly what do you think lololol

@kenyukimiya: I don't think he even knows we had Tuesday classes on Professor Noa...

@kenyukimiya: @ryuseeeeixn69xx 

@kenyukimiya: See.

@karasu: how the hell 

“I’ll go order for us,” he offers happily, much to Isagi and Bachira’s endless gratitude (in the form of grabbing his arms and shaking him around). As they told him their orders and looked around for a table, Shidou approached the queue and gave himself a mental caress at the back. 

Now his mind had no choice but to return to the unbelievable fuckery:

He just had a wet dream about Sae. 

Something about it just feels…not allowed. 

Now, it’s not like he’s the most law-abiding citizen out there but something about it just makes it feel like sin. In the past few weeks, he admits he may have been enjoying the close proximity a little much, like hello? He spends early evenings on Tuesdays and Thursdays with the one and only Itoshi Sae, in a lab, at night. 

Thing is, when he took Sae under his wing to be his partner, he just thought of it as just another ‘ha ha’ joke. Karasu and the others even teased him after class—as a ‘ha ha’ joke—elbowing him about finally making the move. All he said was:

”Fuck yeah, assholes. I’d give him my ass and heart if he asked.”

Again, as just a ‘ha ha’ joke. 

But maybe, again, it also wasn’t just as shallow as that. 

“Hello! What can I get you- Yo, Ryusei!”

“Hi, bro. Just 2 kid meals and my usual fried rice bundle. 3 cokes.”

“Got it.” Igaguri tapped away. “You seem down, bro. You good?”

“Just punch in the food, Gagz.”

“Oookay, got it.”

The seriousness of the decision dawned on him on their first session together: He came in and saw Sae alone inside the lab picking safety goggles and surgical masks. Of course, he stood there stunned, what else is he to do? Just seeing Sae look at him through his clear goggles, hand elegantly taking the box at his desk to offer him a pair of gloves…

‘Here,’ he said, and Shidou almost exploded like a baking soda volcano right there. Sae just handed him gloves.

It’s like the closest equivalent he’d get to being Moses when God gave him the Ten Commandments at Mt. Sinai. 

And that was also the same moment it sank in: he was about to be stuck in the same room as Itoshi Sae for hours on end. Twice a week. At night. 

No, he won’t exactly say he is complaining. He’s not, how the fuck could he? Sure as hell he does not feel 100% yeehaw though. 

He felt nervous. He felt jittery. It’s as if one wrong move, one wrong joke, and Sae would grab a micropipette and stab him in the dick. Does that even make sense? 

It’s like being exposed to a drug. Being a few metres from friends who smoked cigarettes, as an example. See, he knew he liked Itoshi Sae. He would be a changed man if he ever actually had the chance to know him for real.

In fact, he had been worshipping him at the back of his mind alongside his other idols: Jackson Pollock, Stanley Kubrick, Zlatan Ibrahimović, and Ethel Cain—four people whose work he loved, would love to meet in person, but actually no, not really. Thing is: it’s another thing entirely to reach out and get a taste of the drug himself. 

And by taste, he meant taking the cigarette off of the hypothetical peer’s lips and starting to know. To get too deep. To make himself so hooked on the rush he loses himself. And he can’t lose himself; he’s the freest person he knew. 

Shidou would just never forget how Sae’s seafoam teal eyes—he wasn’t even doing anything yet—froze him the first time he looked at him and said, ‘Hello? Space cadet? Put on those gloves and go berserk. Go.’ 

(Ah, he’s such a fake idgaf-er.) 

Wait, he just found a better metaphor: Being around Sae is like being around a priest. 

Yeah, a priest—as in whenever he’s around him, he feels so at ease but also so frozen, intimidated, and scared at the same time. He’s afraid he’d do one thing wrong and suddenly he’s banished from heaven. 

But he loved the discomfort. Duh. It’s just that it feels like he’s actively crumbling into pieces whenever he’s around Sae. Like he’s a ball of unravelling yarn that fell on the ground. Uncontrolled. Messy. Anxious.

That’s how it felt like. He’s going to fuck himself up but he’d like it…vibes. 

So, what did he do?

[Enter alcoholism.]

He took two shots of courage! Some nights tequila, other nights soju. Mostly depends on what Karasu or Otoya has on the fridge.

These complimentary shots were there to help him calm down and just act like his usual unserious self. Anything to help him live this shit through. Anything to keep the vibes all ‘ha ha’. 

Anything to keep it from being ‘I’ve never forgotten the way your hair looked on the day I met you so the reason my canvases were all red and pink is lowkey because of you, sorry not sorry, no no homo’. 

Which obviously only worked well as far as today. 

“Oh- Isagi, shut up. It’s Nagi!”

“Where? Oh. Hi, Nagi!”

“Hey,” Nagi waves, standing by their table. “Uh, Shidou-”

“There’s a Converse in my dorm room ceiling fan.”

He groaned. “It’s not a Converse. Reo had me wear Jordans last night.”

“Then no, I haven’t seen your shoe.”

“Ah, fine.”

Honestly, he had a feeling he’d get here eventually. To the “fantasising about a guy I shouldn’t fantasise about if I want to stay sane” part based on his track record alone. Maybe in the back of his mind, he knew he’d eventually think of Itoshi Sae like that. Unironically, that is.

Sputtering sex jokes that are no longer jokes.

In his defence, it’s actually healthy for the body! It’s the reason his immune system is as strong as it is right now. Sex. Masturbation. Hooking up with pretty people. Sputtering sex jokes. This isn’t that new! 

It just so happens Itoshi Sae is sadly a person whose name grew to be synonymous with his art. 

“That’s weird… Anyway! Are you really not going to study?”

“Meh. You didn’t study much either.”

“Rin will get mad he gave you his AP notes if you failed.”

“His fault! I’m the 2nd year here, not him, why does he know advanced maths?”

“I really can’t believe you’re supposed to be older than him. Can you believe it, Shidou-san? Shidou-san?”

And art is the soft marrow within his very prickly dense bones. Something he decided never to entrust to anyone after…

Eh, it’s too long ago. 

“Huh? Yeah?”

“You good?”

“Yeah, just…brain fried. Beep boop.”

“Can you believe Bachira is supposed to be older than Rin?”

“Rin, Rin who?”

“…Wha- Rin? ‘Punched you in the nose during freshman orientation’ Rin? My classmate Rin?”

“Ah, fuck that asshole.”

Anyhow, art is just something quite special to him. Even more special than Halloween or Thanksgiving.

See, Shidou Ryusei as a person, classmate, or friend is entirely different from the Shidou Ryusei whose hands held the paintbrush and the chisel. He deems himself way more demure once he’s in front of the easel and a marble block. It’s the main reason why none of his friends ever actually watched him draw or paint.

(The only person he ever painted seriously next to was his grandmother, but only because she was in a wheelchair and couldn’t escape. ‘Ryusei,’ she said, in her nearly unintelligible voice, ‘those fumes ruin your brain, stop that.’ 

He didn’t listen to her, obviously, but maybe she has a point. Paint does smell. Like a lot. It makes him lightheaded sometimes.)

That said, when he’s in the art studio, he is touching onto an aspect of his identity that is deeper than his unserious jester self — and Itoshi Sae belonged in that plane of consciousness.

It therefore felt fundamentally wrong to reduce him to yet another sexual fantasy because he is not. Yes, he’s super hot and if he ever asked him to strip naked and bark he would 100% do it, but he’s not.

Itoshi Sae is calm and quiet. Calm, quiet, and cool and cute and intelligent and amazing. 

He just does not want to ruin this. 

Ping!

@sae.real: Demon?

@ryuseeeeixn69xx: what u miss me alr? 🤪

Ah, shit. Nope, no, no- wait-

[Message cannot be unsent.]

FUCK.

@sae.real is typing...

Seen.

SHIT. Shidou Ryusei, you're so stupid!

Chapter Text

“Shit.”

Julian Loki and Alexis Ness flinched and whipped their heads around when Sae cursed. With one arm through a lab coat, halfway into wearing one, the redhead held his phone in his hands before exasperatedly leaning to the locker and sighing.

“What’s…wrong?” Ness asked, exchanging glances with Loki, and Sae just shoved his phone back inside his bag before slamming the locker shut. 

“You two,” he called, and Loki and Ness blinked.

“Yes?”

“Whatever you hear in that room, you keep your mouth shut.”

“…Okay?” Loki hesitates. “Room- as in the lab or?”

Sae just grabs his goggles before pushing to the sterile area, handle-less door swinging shut. 

“Loki, wh-”

“I have no idea.” 

“Thanks for the treat, Shidou!” 

“-You’re going already?” Isagi blinked in surprise as Bachira came to hug him. Shidou raised his brow from where he ate between them. “It’s only 7:15.”

“Rinnie just texted the proctor’s about to leave. Apparently the quiz starts at, uh…6:45…?”

Both Isagi and Shidou choked on the rice. “DUDE!”

“Go!” Isagi almost pushed him away, gasping in disbelief. 

“But I’m already late! What difference would it make?” Bachira takes a fry off of Shidou’s kiddie meal and pops it in his mouth, only to be shoved away again. 

“Dumbass- just go! What the hell?”

“Fine, I guess I’ll go run,” Bachira moped, much to Isagi’s eyeroll and Shidou’s proud heartfelt stare. He really is him, in a different, way sweeter, font. “If I get tired, I’m telling Rinnie you made me run.”

“Trust me, he would make you do something way worse.”

“Bye-bye, Bee! Ace that shit!” Shidou could only blow kisses as he shooed the sophomore away. Then, Isagi follows not too long after, finishing up his fried rice bundle and leaving Shidou with a miserable exhausted post-review pre-quiz terror. It’s one less laptop on the table when he finally finishes his own meal. 

Left in the silence of their table, now he had no choice but to fish for his phone and sigh. 

Amongst the many notifications he couldn’t care less about, yup—

Sae hadn’t texted since. 

He lets his head fall into hands as he suppressed a loud scream. Goddamnit, he really is fucked-

Ping! 

@sae.real: Are you coming or not? 

Orrrrrr maybe not! 

Yeah! He should think positive here. Positive. Bachira is already late, he didn't run; he fucked up, why should he stress himself more? 

@ryuseeeeixn69xx: yes, just eating dinner 

wish i was eating y-

Nope. Backspace. DON’T SEND, DON’T SEND. Ryusei, don’t. Don’t.

@ryuseeeeixn69xx: be there, dw.

Seen.

He sighed.

That said…

Shidou slaps himself awake as he returns the food tray to Igaguri in the restaurant kitchen. He doesn't think he could handle telling another sexual joke to Sae now. 

Perhaps out of redemption? Err, respect? He isn’t really sure what he’s making up for but he just felt like he owed Sae something. 

So no jokes. 

Not another, “Right in the fucking pussy, man!” when Sae successfully types in the type of bacteria, or “Oh, fuck me in the fucking ass!” when he accidentally spills some hazardous chemical, or “Want to watch me do it with my tongue?” when Sae asks him to wash up…

You know. Casual jokes. 

A decision that is probably for the better. (See? Brain no fuck up. Responsible fucking around and finding out. Be proud, mom! Old fucking hag.)

Because while the jokes never really bothered Sae (or at least he hoped), it’s also mostly because it was he who won’t be able to handle saying one now. 

Now that he knew he actually lowkey fucking meant it. 

“Looking wrapped, Shidou Ryusei-”

“Fuck off, Neru, you hamster-looking dipshit.”

“Okay, wow, what the fuck.”

“You eat shit too, Aiku.”

It just terrifies him, you know?

Not the sex part or the ‘being around Sae’ part but rather, the possibility he might ruin something nice again because of his...

Well, his dirty mouth. His dirty history. His good ol’ dirty self. Probably because everyone he fucked before became shallow figures. Or made shallow figures out of him. Maybe.

Sure, perhaps it’s the consequence of being a good lay (yes, thank you, thank you) and being absolute hot shit (they’re not wrong), but somehow, the moment he sleeps with someone, everything about him just felt stripped. 

Like a banana being peeled. 

As in, the moment after he lets someone get a taste, suddenly all he is is a sex toy. Suddenly, the person no longer cares about anything else he had to give. He’s consumed then he’s gone. He could no longer do anything to make the person see him as anything else but a dick appointment. A six-and-a-half-incher-when-soft dick appointment. 

Huh.

Why did that just made him sad?

Still! He won’t say he was “used”. Used is the word for tools like paint brushes, whisks, and chisels. He does not feel used. He just feels like a banana peel, okay? 

Maaaaybe he had grown an aversion to it then? Trying to fuck people for love? Or rather, fucking people in hopes of a genuine something? He could vaguely remember Yukimiya say something to him about this before. It was he whom he called for emotional support the first time, after all.

It was when he first got a boyfriend that quickly turned into a fuckbuddy. It was not a good day:

“Do you want cheese with that or nah? I think I’ll get the bacon overload-”

“Ryusei, can we talk?”

“We are talking—and also next in line—so are you telling me what you’re getting or not? I’m paying.”

“I’ll just get what you’ll get. Now can we talk?”

“The cheese?! Ha! Be prepared to have the best fucking burger of your life.”

“Ugh. Whatever. I’ll go find a table.”

Not only was he broken up with in his favorite burger joint, he was also offered free boypussy from that same person that same fucking night. Bitch really reached across the table and grabbed his hand, preventing him from even touching his Mos, before dropping the bomb.

“What is it? You want my sauce? Go get your own!”

“Can I just cut to the chase, Ryusei?”

“You are not getting my sriracha-”

“I don’t think this is working.”

“But I love sriracha!”

“I mean us, Ryusei! Put the burger down.”

“…” Oh. 

“I just- yeah- I don’t…you get me, right? I’m still 100% down to fuck though. I still think you’re super hot. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“Hello? Aren’t you gonna say anything?”

“…Do you still want my sriracha? You can have it.”

Boy, that was unhinged, but unfortunately also real. 

Yukimiya told him that night that it’s normal to feel like shit. Who wouldn’t be? There’s this brave fucker out there who made him see his sex jokes through, only for that to become good enough. Yukimiya said it was called being used- Ah, shit. 

Alright, fine! Sure, he was “used” — but hello? 

He is 100% into that! He is 100% down to fuck. Capital D-T-F. Knock on the door, say the magic words, and he’s down to give anyone the night of their life. No biggie. It’s like Halloween! Free candies for everyone, then forget about it all the next morning!

But does he really look like the guy who’s only good for one night stands?

Is it that outlandish for him to want something with someone who looks at him beyond the sex for once? 

(Not exactly ‘beyond’ beyond though. Sex is super cool, he loves sex, it’s just… is it too much to ask for someone who would care about him outside of it as well? Is that really really really too much to ask?)

“Hi, Ms. Anri. I’m the 7:30 lab? My partner’s already inside, I think.”

“I know, Shidou-” The department chair turns to him to hand him the cabinet keys only to do a double take. “Woah. You’re very polite today.” 

“I fucking hope so, Ms. Anri.”

“Oh- That’s not-” 

Junior year said yes. 

Junior year was when he finally gave up on wanting love out of fucks. Specifically, on his fifth, maybe sixth, rodeo with a fuck-n-go—two of which he doesn’t even explicitly remember.

Now, if anyone wants a fuck, good! Come right in. Maybe one day he’ll wake up and there’d be someone who decided to stay the night. 

Therefore: Itoshi Sae, in that regard, should not at any cost know about all that. 

Sure. Maybe he already did. Maybe he already heard from a friend of a friend. He didn’t exactly try to keep that part of him hidden anyway—but for once in his life, he doesn’t want a person as important to him as Itoshi fucking Sae to see him for his ‘reputation’ because apparently, people hear about that and reduce him to only that. Out of the thousands of people on Earth, it was Itoshi Sae whose opinion of him matters the most. 

(Which is, okay fine, not exactly giving ‘ha ha’ joke but let’s ignore that for now.)

He doesn’t want any of this complicated sexual bullshit to get anywhere this once-in-a-lifetime chance. For once, he hoped that maybe someone can see him as something else other than the big dick guy. (Hey, it’s way sadder than it sounds!)

Perhaps Sae knows about his art! He should have went with the art kid route. Isn’t his art much better to look at anyway?

Ugh, that wet dream makes him feel like a sex-craved maniac when he is not. If Sae excommunicates him out of his life, where else in the world could he even possibly go?

Ah, well, he thought as he finally entered the lab. He could think about it endlessly all he wants but time will just come forward and it won’t make 7:30 arrive any slower. 

Here goes nothing. 

“Whaddup, Lashes?” He pushes the doors open as he puts on the lab coats from the non-sterile area. 

To his genuine surprise, they were not alone. 

“Hello! You must be…Shidou?”

There, Itoshi Sae was standing by his usual workstation in a lab coat and gloves, seemingly preoccupied picking between two similar looking flasks. He did not even turn around to look at him. Opposite him however were unfamiliar guests: two of his bourgeoisie friends—Alexis Ness and Julian Loki, also in lab coats.

“Oh. Yep! That’s me.”

That’s a surprise. They were never really joined by anyone before.

It’s not like he’s buddies with Sae’s other rich friends either (Looking at you, Oliver Aiku. Asshole.) In fact, he used to think that these rich guys were too posh to even consider thinking about anyone else.

“Shidou! Third year,” he introduces himself. 

“Oh! It’s Shidou what?” Julian Loki asks back, and quite courteously too. He meets his hand and shakes it.

“Ryusei. Shidou Ryusei. Nice to meet you, dude.” 

“You as well. I’m Julian.”

“Yup, I know-” Oh, shit. “Loki from the football team, right? I watch your games.”

“Ha! Yeah. Thanks, man! Do you play?”

“Yeah, no. Cool.”

“Cool.” 

They finally break the handshake. Meanwhile, Alexis Ness was crouched way over there and entirely focused on his workstation. Shidou ignores him for now. 

“So!” He claps, twirling Ms. Anri's equipment cabinet keys on one finger. Sae still wasn’t looking at him. “What’s for today, Lashes? How can I help?”

Usually, it'd be: ‘What's up, Sae-chan- Stop glaring at me like that, I might think you're undressing me with your eyes! Because I'd do it. No kidding.’ but yeah. He is a changed man. Damn it—how sexual was he being without even realising it? 

“Shidou.”

“Yah?”

When he closed the cabinet upon getting a pack of sterile gloves, he turned around to see the redhead finally looking at him quite inquisitively, a stare that was longer than the usual he graced him. 

Shidou trained his eyes over Sae’s face for the first time since he entered.

Usually, there’d be a blank, almost bored look on his face but now his jaw was tight and his eyebrows were low. He seemed…hesitant. On normal nights, this is the moment Shidou would choose to say his usual icebreaker bullshit, but right now Sae looked royally pissed.  

Did he…do something wrong already?

“Why, dude- What’s up?” His knees were seconds away from buckling. Sae was quiet for a few more seconds before taking a contemplating breath.

“I said I have a dissection demo today.” 

And his eyes were studying Shidou’s face like he just saw him for the first time.

He looked away while he still could. “Uh huh. Good luck.”

A click of his tongue.

“Tch. Just set up the camera for me and you’re free to do your own work.”

Aha, there it is! The usual snarky Itoshi Sae-esque tongue click! Thank God, he’s not pissed then! Thank heavens.

“Aight! Nice, got it!”

He saluted just as he turned to get said camera on the cabinet, only to notice a small paper bag on the floor with what seemed to be a jar with a dark green thing in it-

“Oh! Wait- You got yourself a frog? You just texted me last night that you didn’t know where to find one!”

There, Sae froze while pulling out said jar. “I…” he hesitates, “I guess I did.”

“And it’s so cute!?”

Wow. Suddenly, he remembered when he was a kid and he used to chase bullfrogs on the stream by his grandma's house. She was the one who told him the long forgotten art of how to catch frogs. They're slippery, so he had to hold it by the body and by the legs so it won't hop away. 

(He misses being a kid sometimes. Not all the time, but sometimes.)

After staring at the frog for a few seconds, hands crossed contemplating the fat amphibian, he asked, “Damn. How did you get one?”

Sae eventually answered.

“Connections.” 

Next to him, he took the same cross-armed stance as the frog uncomfortably tried to escape its glass enclosure.

“Did you name it?”

“…Why’d you ask?” 

“I used to name frogs when I was a kid. Before one kicked me in the nose when I was 8 and infected my eye. I became super ugly for like, two weeks. Never caught frogs ever since,” he sputtered out as a quick fun fact as he too contemplated the thing. “Does it have a name?” 

“Maybe.” 

“What did you name it?” If he had to name that thing… hmmm…Maybe Helen. No, Martha. Yes, Martha. It does look like a Martha. 

“I didn't.” 

“Well maybe you should- Why did you put it in a brownie jar?”

Now he tilts his head in confusion, just noticing the little sticker label at the lid. (That’s so weird—it looks exactly like the brownie jar Yukimiya’s mom had!)

“Look, I don’t know, demon. It came to me like this.”

“That’s so weird.” Ah, whatever. With that, he shook his head and went back to retrieving the camera from the cabinet. “Anyway!”

Sae heaves a sigh.

“I was going to text you back if you already found one for today because I have this friend with, like, a creek behind their house?”

Meanwhile, Sae also breaks and gathers his tools and started prepping his scalpel blades, “And?”

“It has a bunch of frogs there if I remember. Just tell me whenever you need more frogs.”

“Ok,” was all Sae replied, before he gestured to the arrangement of flask and burette on an adjacent workstation. “Ah. After you set the camera, there’s your acid base titration set up. You stay there, leave me alone, and do your own work.”

Now why is that already set up? He hadn’t even-

Wait.

“You set it up for me?!”

“-What the fuck?” Sae glares at him at the sudden scream, one hand covering an ear.

“Why did you set it up for me if you won’t watch me do it? You know I liked being watched-”

FUCK. He turns and sees Julian Loki also look at them with an amused look in his eyes.

“What does me watching you even prove?” Thankfully, Sae just responded normally like he usually does. “You’re going to fuck it up anyway. Thank me or whatever.”

“True but Mr. Prince made us partners for a reason and we’re going to end up with the same grade at the end.”

“I am miserably aware, now shut it,” Sae replies as he approaches his workstation with the camera. “I have the bigger task today so you do your own work.”

“Okay,” he mopes. He exemplifies it with a big, big frown. He even musters up a big sigh. “Got it…”

“Ugh. Fine, I’ll check it but only once I’m done. Happy?”

Wait, he’s just kidding! He never offers to recheck his work. This day is so weird!

“Aw- You would?!”

Sae suddenly blinks at him, as if caught. As if he too didn’t believe it. “I-”

“Nope! No takebacks! I knew you’ve always had a soft spot for me-”

Suddenly, in a flash, Sae stops him by grabbing a nearby workbook and slamming it over his head.

“Ow!”

“Can you shut up?! Stop it!”

“Haha- I-”

But in that moment, suddenly, Shidou found his body freezing at the familiar words. Behind his eyelids, some kind of hazy dream sequence plays: 

‘Shh. Shut up. Stop that.’

Suddenly, there was Sae looking up at him with lustful eyes, whispering things to him like he’s his conscience, hands on his chest and his-

“Just get it over with, okay? Tch,” Sae clicked his tongue, sighing and going back to prep his tools. 

‘I know. Go. Get it over with.’

“Huh?” What the fuck was that?

“Will you set that camera up here or not?!”

“Ah- Sorry!” At that, he shakes the thoughts away. Damn. “Sae-chan’s so mean. Joke’s on you, you know I love it when-”

-you hit me. FUCK!

Strike three. 

“Ehem. Nevermind. Haha.” He awkwardly clears his throat and goes to put down the camera and open the viewfinder. Oh, Lord have mercy. May an angel cover Sae’s ears when he instinctively sputters out some bullshit. 

“There!” See? Instant recovery, like nothing happened. “Is this good? Should I tip it down?”

“No, Demon. It’s a demo, not a tutorial.” 

Before he could even deduce if that was sarcasm or not, Sae suddenly reaches over and grabs the camera. With his warmth exuding through the glove, Shidou felt his entire body still and his hand redden just by Sae touching it. Oh my God, Sae is touching his hands-

“Like this.” 

He watches Sae as he takes the camera by the body and angles it slightly up—that the viewfinder also includes his arms and torso in the frame. “Hold it right there. Make sure it can see my hands.”

“Wait, wait, don’t let go, I can’t lock it-” Their fingers stumbled over the other as they fumbled with the tripod. His was shaking, Sae’s was steady. Why does it feel like this already happened before? 

“Idiot. Just keep it facing up and pinch here,” Sae commanded, and Shidou blitzes once again with another memory:

‘Keep leaning forward and pinch here. And don’t look up on nosebleeds. That’s stupid.’

“You know what? Let me do it. Hands off.” Sae clicks his tongue before slapping one of his hands away. He reaches under the tripod and locks the angle into place with a quick click of a hinge. 

“Oh! So that’s how that works?” He never knew tripods could fucking do that. Wow. Sae-chan is so amazing. 

“Obviously.”

“There you go then. Should I start filming?” he asked next, only to open the viewfinder and see Sae staring right at the camera lens—to his soul. He felt shivers down his spine as the other just sighed exasperatedly.

“Is Martha visible?”

“Yup.”

Sae’s gaze at the viewfinder then became unreadable, but before he could examine it further like a moth to a light, the latter rolled his eyes and shooed him away. 

“Fine. Roll it, then. Go.”

“Aye, aye, captain!” He happily skipped back to his acid base titration set up and sighed. The sooner he starts, the later he finishes—so he takes his gloves and starts putting them on. 

He gives Sae’s back one last stare before he turns around. 

Itoshi Sae looks insanely good in a lab coat. Has he ever mentioned that yet?

He has this kind of stoic unbreakable energy around him that draws people toward him. It was noticeable when he wore his usual Bershka sweater, Gentle Monster shades, and Levi jeans combo; less when he’s wearing his soccer jersey, but extremely when he’s wearing a labcoat. 

It has the same effect on him as when he first saw Patrick Bateman axe Jared Leto in American Psycho. 

The one scene where he’s wearing a nice suit under a clear raincoat? That. Something about Sae in a lab coat is lethal as fuck. 

It’s like he too can murder him right now, his blood exploding all over this lab, and nothing could still break through that stone cold face. 

“Wasn’t Alexis Ness a theatre major?”

His voice echoes in the empty lab. Sae’s friends had left a while ago for their respective 8pm’s. Sae had to stay back to finish dissecting Martha’s nervous system from her skeletals. 

“Yes,” Sae replied, not even hiding his boredom. Simply put, he was only there to wait for Shidou to finish washing up his tools. The only noise in the room is the sound of the sink as he rinsed the flasks they used. 

Meanwhile, poor Martha had long been put in a hazard bag. He didn’t fail to notice, however, that Sae wrote something on the plastic with permanent marker before packing it away. 

Their routine goes: Sae discards the biohazards and drains the ethanol, while Shidou cleans up literally everything else. 

“Why does he have lab work if he’s in theatre?” he asked, mostly just verbalising his internal monologues to fill the dead air. Ha. Dead air. “Was he the friend who gave you the frog? Ness?”

He seemed to have gotten Sae’s attention with that.

“Demon, why do you care?” 

“Did he summon it out of a magic hat?” he joked, but as usual, Sae wasn’t at all amused. “It’s him, right? The one with the magician act? I bet he knows where to find frogs. I can do it better!”

It took Sae a while to even respond, a few flicks of his notebook later. He had long finished discarding the biohazards. Now he’s just in the corner studying some notes on the teacher’s desk. 

“No,” he replies slowly. His voice also echoed. “The lab work he’s doing isn’t his. He’s doing it for a friend.” 

“Ooooh. Interesting. It’s Michael Kaiser, isn’t it? I knew it, I bet they fuck each other. Ness sucks Kaiser’s cock so willingly it must be a habit,” he laughed as he moved on to the steriliser- Oh shit.

He just said a sexual joke again!

Mission failed. Strike four-

“Demon.”

OH SHIT. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?” 

OH SHIT. 

“Sure! Just no maths.”

“No maths?” Sae was quiet for a few moments, only evidence of him still there was the sounds of notebook pages flicking. “Ah. No, nevermind.”

“Whaaat? Just ask away. Actually, I don’t even mind maths.”

OH SHIT. 

“Whatever. I forgot what I was going to say.”

“Oh. Oh, okay then.” Ah, fuck. “Actually? You know, I forget a lot of things too! Kunigami said especially after fifteen shots of vodka. He always outdrinks me.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah! But, I gotta tell you, I think my guardian angel’s super strong even after all that,” he started yapping instead, hands deep in the blue sterilising liquid as he dumps Sae’s tools in it. “Did you know, after a blackout, I somehow still made it back to my dorm last night? What a fuuuucking miracle. That was the first time that happened!”

“Last night?” Sae repeated, as he gave his tools one last rinse. 

“Uh huh! I have no idea how I made it back but I did,” he laughed, “Somehow. I actually don’t remember anything. I think my friend Yukimiya just carried me home.”

Sae was quiet, in a way that he almost thought he disappeared into thin air, until…

“I see.”

Then, after finishing everything, he finally puts the washed tools into the sterilising machine and presses it on to whir. He then discards his gloves and takes off his mask with a big breath. Finally, fresh air. 

Then nothing else happened.

Of course, that means more mic time—so he spoke more about some things, like his friends and the singular Converse high tops at his ceiling fan. Anything to fill the air, because the moment it grows quiet, he might actually, seriously, feel like a banana peel again. 

Sae listened, of course. 

He had no choice actually, but Shidou just pretends he was actually interested in what he had to say. He gave his best making it all PG, focusing on his friends and his brownies and his friends…and his other friends…

“Wokie! I’m done! Let’s just wait for it to buzz around- what’s that?”

He leaned over only to see notebooks with ‘Alexis Ness’ written on the spine, opened to random pages entitled Impressionism and Anatomy. He had just removed his safety goggles and-

Wait, Impressionism? 

Anatomy?

He retraces his steps and stops back at the teacher’s desk. 

“Dude.”

“What.”

“Are you studying art?”

Sae looks up at him, now offended—or at least as offended as his dead stare could get. “The fuck does it look like?” 

“That’s fucked, you don’t study that shit!” 

He did not fail to notice Sae’s stare as he turned his back to get to the lockers. The 9pm class kids would arrive any minute now. He should also check back on his friends who he hadn’t seen all day, they must be having too much fun without him and that’s not allowed. 

“And if it’s not lost to you, demon, I did not go to any class in the past three weeks so I do, in fact, have to study.” 

He hears Sae stand up, the teacher’s desk creaking—probably to get his tools at the back that should have stopped whirring. 

“Understandable, but!” he said, pursing his lips before opening his locker with gusto. “I just believe that you appreciate art, not study it. If you appreciate it, you’d learn about it by default.”

Shidou keeps his back to him as he shrugs off his lab coat and balls it on the laundry chute. His t-shirt now also smelt a little too sweaty, so he pulls his bag open and rummages for his extra shirt inside. 

“Like, if you’re going to ask me how to do art, you know…you just take a canvas, you take your soul, and bam,” he said as he pulled his shirt off his head. He takes his face towel and wipes down sweat from his naked torso. He appreciates the cool air slightly before whisking up his fresh shirt. “And before you know it, boom, you just explode all over the paper. Whatever you see in the end is the kind of person you are.”

With that, he takes his fresh shirt and whisks it into the air out of its fold. Then, he pockets his phone and shoves the rest of his things back into his bag. 

“Or that’s how I see artists...” That’s when he slams his locker shut and turns around- “…at least.”

Only to see Itoshi Sae standing right there watching him.

His paper bag in one hand, his labcoat in the other—he stayed there, lips slightly parted as he contemplated him silently. Eyes on his naked torso, his exposed arms.

Oh. 

Shit.

“Wait, how long had you been-”

“Explosions, you say?” Sae breathed, cutting him off, with Shidou not missing the way his jaw clenched as he finally put his gaze elsewhere. “And I suppose that’s just how people like you think.”

He pauses. “Wait, why do you mean by that?” 

Right. He forgot—Itoshi Sae will always be far away, and will only keep getting further away, as long as they live.

No, no, no. He knew. Sae knew, didn’t he?

He in fact ended up knowing.

He knows now he is nothing but a banana peel, licked and devoured by everyone willing to take a bite within a 50 mile radius—and he’s disgusted, isn’t he? What is there to even see? 

Can Sae see where everybody’s hands had been? Can he tell? Because he can. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget. He can still feel at least those whose hands he thought would love him at least but didn’t. 

Hands that were willing to make him cum but not legs willing to see his art shows. 

Shidou suddenly realised he was holding his breath, and he managed to regain some sense of reality to at least heave and breathe again.

There, he simply watches as Sae gathers Ness’s notes and piles it onto his paper bag. Looks like now even he’s disgusted by him because he knew he had been touched by everyone like a slut-

“Lashes, what do you mean?” he tries again, voice wavering. “What do you mean ‘people like me’?”

“People like you,” Sae repeats casually. 

Then, he finished gathering his things and looked Shidou in the eye…before immediately looking away like he was ashamed. 

“Fucking art kids.” 

He marches out of the room exactly as when the other door opens for the 9pm class. Shidou stood there lost: 

Fucking art kids?

Chapter Text

When Sae opened the door to their dorm, what greeted him was the pile of Aiku’s bags from the laundromat on their doorway. He kicks the bundles onto Aiku’s half of the room before resting his head on his closet door. 

Presenting today’s ‘what the fuck’: 

The demon really does not remember! 

What. The. Fuck.

He even had the audacity to take his shirt off while he’s around as if he’s aware how sexy he is or something! 

“And if it’s not lost to you, demon, I did not go to any class in the past three weeks so I do, in fact, have to study.”

Scoffing, Sae stood up, beelining to get his tools in order to pack up and leave. 

“Understandable, but! I just believe that…”

As the demon’s voice reduced into mindless yapping, Sae gave his tools one last stare down against the overhead light, making sure they’re clean and sleek. (One can’t be too sure if it gets scratched.)

And he was no longer listening at all when he went back to pack his things, walking past the locker area—

—only to see, in his peripheral, a beautifully tan muscular back. 

God, he froze right where he stood. 

“Like, if you’re going to ask me how to do art…”

Still petrified, he still took two steps back to confirm: and it’s Shidou Ryusei, indeed.

Half naked.

Rummaging for a shirt as he aired out his glistening skin, and he was talking…while he could just look.

“…you know…”

His nape, tan against a rose gold chain dangling.

“…you just take a canvas…”

His shoulders, wide – with prominent strong infraspinatus and trapezius juxtaposed with bones that looked like roots of angel wings.

“…you take your soul...”

His waist, angled and tiny compared to his shoulders, with a spinal curve that disappears to the waistband of his Calvin Klein.

“…and bam! Before you know it, you just explode all over the paper. Whatever you see in the end is the kind of person you are- woah!” 

Only for the demon to suddenly turn around and flinch. Electric pink irises bearing against his in shock, Sae finally trained his eyes away.

“How long were you-”

He’s so screwed. 

Sae lets out the long sigh he had been holding for hours, dragging himself and collapsing onto his desk chair as he melted in exhaustion. The IKEA clock on his desk read 11:54.

By then, it’s official: a full day had now passed since the demon was in this room moaning, panting, bleeding, and crying—and he still couldn’t think of anything else. 

He just couldn’t believe it. He looks at his hands now and he can still recall the warmth of Shidou’s body, the way his cock twitched in his hold, the way his knee pressed on his own arousal…

(Which does not exist by the way! He is not turned on by all this!)

But most of all, he’s concerned. 

Sae closes his palms into a fist and looks in his desk mirror, seeing a jacket peeking at his slightly open closet door.

It was the demon’s. The corduroy one he seemed to like. Evidence of last night he perhaps forgot but also not. Why did he even- What is he even supposed to do with that?

(He did consider returning it but honestly? Not any-fucking-more. Its owner was being so irresponsible with his own wellbeing; he can afford losing some of his nicer shit! Fuck him.

‘Fuck him’ as in the expression, not the verb.)

Because what if he wasn’t here? What if Shidou stumbled onto someone else? What if he ended up with someone sketchy who’d do evil things while he’s out cold? 

Or what if his balls exploded in some forest and he wasn’t even conscious enough to call for help? Or what if he passed out while he’s on a stairwell? Or a balcony? Or a rooftop? Then he falls? What then? He just dies—that’s it? He doesn’t care?

For fuck’s sake, he’s just so fucking stupid! Sae had to close his eyes and take a deep calming inhale.

What did he even consume at the party anyway? Was he aware he ingested something dangerous? Was his drink spiked? Is this a regular occurrence? Is that even the kind of party he goes to?

Goddamnit. 

The cherry on top of is the fact he had the audacity to be so proud he made it back. What on Earth is he so proud about? Passing out on Oliver Aiku’s bed?

Needless to say, Sae is not amused.

Now, he glares at the reflection of the jacket in the mirror and turns his chair in a snap towards the actual thing, hoping he could just incinerate it with his gaze. Only God knows how close he was to just telling Shidou’s amnesiac ass about everything.

He did not jerk him off, carry him back, and lost an overall sense of dignity just for this ‘Yukimiya’ person to take the damn credit, okay?

Sae stands now and walks to the closet, contemplating the jacket thoughtfully.

Seriously now, what is going to do about all this shit? About Shidou Ryusei? About the lab partner thing- What is he going to do with this? 

Looking at it the jacket closer, it just looked so out of place—so warm against his closet of only blacks and reds. Only a solid reminder it has no place in his life, of something that shouldn’t even happened, of something not even ever planned. 

So he takes it, shoving it at the most hidden corner. He’s fucking exhausted right now, he’ll think about this another day- Wait, what is that? 

He spots it—a little handwritten ‘S’ on one of the sleeves. Instinctively, he grabs the jacket back and looks at the other cuff, seeing another handwritten letter but this time an ‘R’. 

Huh. 

S-R? R-S? What does that stand for, Shidou Ryusei? It was haphazardly drawn. Childish, impulsive, thoughtless, stupid…but also innocent, adorable, faultless…

So he holds it, a thumb running over the ‘R’ by where it must’ve touched Shidou’s pulse. As he turned the cuff inside out, he only saw more doodled stuff—stars, spirals, a boa constrictor that ate an elephant… 

All very Shidou Ryusei kind of things. Doodles, exploding ballpoint pens, vandalism, taste of ink. Corduroy jackets forgotten at the room of the boy who saved his life.

Alright, fine. Sae clutches the fabric and sighs. Maybe he’s just exaggerating a little.

Deep in his gut, he’s still relieved Shidou came to him and not anyone else. In fact, he’s glad he was there. He’s glad Shidou went to him. He’s glad he knew what vasodilators are. He’s glad he helped him in all the ways he could, he’s glad he seemed fine…

He’s glad Shidou Ryusei is okay. 

He finally lets the jacket go and tucks it at the back before sliding his closet door shut, gentler this time. His own reflection awaited him on the mirror surface, staring back with utter exhaustion in his eyes.

“I know,” he almost heard his own voice reply—for what the hell did his life even come to?

He knew this isn’t orderly. I know. This never happened before. He also usually never gives a flying shit—but now, there’s this…bouncing pink yoga ball in his office-space brain that’s messing up all his ‘paperwork’ thoughts. Does Shidou even know how lucky he is that he has all four of his limbs (and the extra one between his legs) intact? He once heard Ness call this feeling ‘worry’. 

Worry is when Ness stays up all night watching Kaiser at the hospital. Worry is when someone shoves Sendou a little too hard in a match and Aiku is the first on the scene holding his bleeding head. Worry is when Julian sends them all casseroles on Fridays because he knew not one person in their friend group would bother cooking actual food on the weekends. 

Sae guessed it’s called “worry” too when it’s already 7:15 and Shidou Ryusei still wasn’t there at the lab. No “omw, lashes! highkey miss seeing you lol jk no homo sry :((” text either. 

He had to admit he grew restless—a bit—which never happens. He almost thought Shidou actually recalled everything and got uncomfortable. He almost thought Shidou would not show up to help him dissect the frog he caught because… because. 

Because usually, Shidou would come crashing in as early as 6:45 with a “What? Can’t I just see my favourite senior as early as I can?” with a pouty face.

Alas, he was relieved when the demon eventually came in like normal. He seemed a little light in the head but still. Thank fucking God. The only thing left to be baffled about was that he hasn’t recalled one bit of what happened. 

And that means he could only imagine the other nights he must’ve blacked out and just couldn’t remember.

Hello? He could’ve seriously endangered himself. How is he even still walking this Earth with all the shit he gets himself into? That’s what’s worrying.

No, wait. Maybe he’d call this one “concern”. Concern is when Ness makes sure they show up to practise on time, when Lorenzo checks on them at the library, and when he feels so flabbergasted at Shidou Ryusei’s reckless bullshit. Just one big step behind “worry.”

Because what about the other times he blacked out? Did he just let himself pass out on some vomit-stained floor? Or of some random street? Who takes care of him? Does he even care about himself? 

Sae looked back down in his hands, and sighed. He raises it and rests it on the heart beating in his chest—another constant, orderly, and trustworthy thing in his life. Something that will always be there. 

He realises now (as he feels his heart with the same hand that “healthcare-provided” Shidou Ryusei. Like fuck.) that it’s bigger than he thought. He thought his biggest problem was the handjob. It would’ve been better if it’s just about the handjob. He wished it was.

He wished he was still panicking about jerking his lab partner’s dick because shit- now he’s concerned. He never felt this concerned about anyone other than himself. Just thinking of someone like Shidou Ryusei in that same Shidou Ryusei kind of situation sickens him. He’s just so damn lucky he was there. 

Ping!

@ryuseeeeixn69xx: LASHES

@ryuseeeeixn69xx: im sorry

Now what the fuck is this?

@sae.real: ?

@ryuseeeeixn69xx: idk i just felt like saying that

@sae.real: go to bed

@ryuseeeeixn69xx: were u ever like mad at me or anything 

@ryuseeeeixn69xx: like were you annoyed or offended or whatever by smth i do like idk

@sae.real: what are you talking about?

@ryuseeeeixn69xx: i dont know 

@ryuseeeeixn69xx: but can you tell me we’re cool like actually

He stares at the text at a loss and lets his cursor blink, frowning at the same words as if it’d change. 

No, he’s not about to deal with this. 

Sae puts down his phone and takes a clean towel and goes to the bathroom. 

Actually, wait. 

He ends up replying minutes later, when he steps out of the shower and has since brushed his teeth. He picks up his phone again, staring at the green ‘Online’ dot next to the demon’s obnoxiously long username. 

@sae.real: we’re cool, demon.

Then the green dot disappears.

Great. 

Whatever motivation streak he had yesterday, it’s gone. 

Here he is, at his desk staring at his backlogs of 63 assignments, rotting and dying deep inside. Whatever clarity of mind he had yesterday at the library with Isagi and Bee, it clearly only lasts 24 hours.

He and Otoya had acid trips that lasted way longer than this!

Ugh! Why can’t these stupid stuff just get in his head?! His laptop screen goes idle as he groaned in surrender. He looks up, and sighs at the sight. 

It was as if his own laptop took pity on him, flashing him a photo of the very reason he still has energy to wake up everyday. His lockscreen, after all, was a photo of Hiori’s birthday some years ago.

It was when their stupidass group—which at the time, only consisted of himself, Karasu, Otoya, and Hiori—took their very soft-spoken friend to the mall to celebrate. They then saw this tiny cheap photo booth Otoya decided to plug his last few coins into because, ‘Why the fuck not?’

They walked home that day, absolutely penniless, but they had since a memory they will treasure for the rest of their life.

It was not only Hiori’s birthday, see. The November of that year was when he personally got the worst mindfuck, assfuck, heartfuck (heartfuck?) of his life. He needed that hangout and even to this day, he still doesn’t know how to tell Karasu, Otoya, and Hiori about it. 

Ah, October and November. The true endings of the year. It literally does not help either that it’d be Christmas soon after Novembers, which meant final exams, his friends leaving for their hometowns, and Santa. 

That red fat son of a bitch.

“Fuck this shit!” With that, he slams his laptop shut. 

Well! He tried. That’s what’s important. Novembers isn’t really that kind for him or his reverse Pomodoro technique. The only good thing about autumn is the foliage.

Outside their window, the campus trees had already started to dim into deep browns and oranges. It is very red and bittersweet, especially when the leaves start to fall and crumble into air. 

Now, he is not a fan of that. Fuck autumn. The silence in the air and the sadness in the crunch of fallen leaves just remind him of bad things. 

However, he had to admit the way leaves change colours is pretty though. It was the closest season—colour wise—to blood, love, explosions, and Itoshi Sae.

Unfortunately, autumn means that Christmas is coming and it’s about to piss him off into hibernation again. And! He absolutely fucking blew it with Itoshi Sae last night! He was overthinking it all so damn much he sent so many stupid texts. Seriously, ‘are we cool?’ Of course, Sae would ignore him! 

Fine, he’d now come clean: the only reason he sat on his desk trying to study is because he is NOT checking his phone.

It had been charging there at the corner since last night and he hasn’t touched it since. You know what? 

“Fuck this.”

“Shidou- NO.”

With that, he stands up and ignores Karasu, still nursing a headache on his bed. He just proceeds to rummage through his desk drawers, wherein under all the messy little jars of gouache he fishes out Barou Shouei’s kitchen access card—a thing he ‘won’ from a drinking game with said freshman last last…last last last last week. 

“Dude, don’t tell me you’re-” Karasu props up his eye mask and frowns at him. “Shidou. Shidou, dude- ‘Ya said you have maths to do. Do that!”

“Nah. I’ll bake.”

Yup! He will bake. 

Baking became his first non-art hobby that doesn’t require as much thinking as art, but requires just as much creativity. On days he just doesn’t feel like creating something new, he turns to the campus kitchen and borrows the oven for a bit. (Usually by using, or stealing, the CulArts’ students’ access card.) Hey, it’s therapeutic!

It helps him shave off the impulse to just buy a big bucket of red paint and throw it on a man-sized canvas to call it a day. (Apparently, he will get suspended if he does that in the art classroom again.)

“You’ll bake again? You just made brownies the other day! At Yukimiya’s party!” 

“No, idiot, that shit wasn’t mine! How many times do I have to say that?” he groans. “That was Yukimiya’s mom’s.” 

“Eh?” At that, Karasu paused, just as he slid his drawers shut and went to get his backup phone. “Wasn’t Yukki’s mom diabetic?”

Explains her son’s weird relationship with food. “Bitch, I don’t know! That’s what Yukki said!”

“Whatever! Anyway!”

Karasu shakes his head, finally sitting up as he cradles his head. Meanwhile, he kept searching; where the hell is that damn phone?

“Who do you think is going to buy brownies on such short notice? It’s gonna go to waste- just sit down and do your work, man. You barely go to class. At least do this.”

Aha. There it is. He finally got his phone and plopped down on his bed, springs creaking as he bounced. “Actually, asshole, I bet if I text Reo right now, he’ll buy some.”

“And you’re so sure because?” Karasu said, giving up. 

“He always does!” Shidou then reaches down under his bed and pats around for his shoes, grabbing one Converse and…where is the other one? He grabs some old sneakers instead. “And either way, Karasu, I don’t care. My brain is just super clogged right now so I need to channel it out in a legal, socially acceptable way. If it doesn’t sell, then I’ll just dump it all on you, capiche?”

He finished tying his shoelaces right as he looks at his next lifeline—the backup phone. No phone is usually no problem for him because that is where his old-school burger phone comes into play! 

A flip phone. That is a burger.

The burger phone.

It was something Hiori found in his parent’s garage that he gave to him a few years’ back, and Chigiri’s boyfriend fixed it for him (hesitantly. He doesn’t get along with that Kunigami guy.) The only people he calls using this though was Isagi, Reo, and... 

“Bee! Hi!”

“Shidou! Yo, kinda in the middle of something right n-”

“Eggs,” he said, struggling as he held the two open ‘patties’ of the burger between his ear and shoulder, as he packed his bag. Karasu sat there watching him still. “I'm gonna make brownies in a bit, I need the eggs I stored in your fridge the other day.”

“Oh- Got it. Walking now as we speak. Waaaalking. Got it!”

“Dude- What about your thing?”

“Don’t mind that! I'm on my way!”

When the call ends with its notorious static, he finishes packing before facing Karasu while clacking the burger phone smugly.

“Ha. Bachira confirmed he’d drop off the eggs.”

“I know,” Karasu deadpans. “I heard.”

(Bachira Meguru is the only person he knows who has a dorm big enough to house a full-size fridge. Why he has a big ass fridge? Nobody knows. All that matters is that Bachira is kind enough to let him borrow a large chunk of his kitchen space to store his baking sheets and…baking shits.)

Everything except his cannabis butters. That’s super important. Bachira once smuggled a jar and hid it from him for ‘personal use’. That was not a good day.

“Is baking edibles even legal?” Karasu groans, now sitting up as he reaches into their miniscule fridge for water. 

“Not in your school’s culinary arts kitchen!”

“Dude, can I just- how the fuck are ‘ya not dying of a migraine right now?”

There, Karasu finally addressed the weirdest part of their conversation—the fact he remained in bed nauseous while it’s Shidou who is the super productive one…for once.

“You drank more than me the other night! How the hell are you doing that?”

“That’s all skill issue, my friend,” he grinned just as the burger phone buzzed, all its internal components vibrating inside its cheap plastic shell.

Oh. Mikge Reo.

(Yes, sadly it’s saved as “Mikge”. The ‘a’ button on the burger phone doesn’t work when he saved it.) 

@mikgereo: Cool. 1 pan then. All hitched :p

“Ha! See? I was right!”

“Right…where?” Karasu stares at the ceiling dead eyed.

“Reo just bought some. Told you I have instincts. I’ll go pick you up once he confirms a party is up,” he said, all but sprinting out the door…before walking back. “But if I don’t, then let’s assume it’d be just him and his not-boyfriend Nagi, we good?”

“Please tell me you’re not drinking tonight at least.” Karasu groaned as he dragged a hand down his face. “Alcohol is not always the answer.”

“But according to chemistry, alcohol is a solution so adios, motherfucker!” He proceeds to slam his door shut and sprint to the elevator, carrying nothing but Barou’s access card to the kitchen as well as hope. 

“Shidou!”

“What?!”

“Your phone, dumbass! You left it charging-!” Karasu leans on their doorway waving his phone, eyes squinting on the roll of notifications on the lockscreen before his eyes suddenly widen: “Woah- Woah, woah, woah!”

“What? What is it- Give me that!” he hisses as he jogged back, snatching the phone:

[12:22am] @sae.real replied to your message: we’re cool, demon

[12:26am] @sae.real sent you a message: don’t you dare ask me more stupid shit

[12:26am] @sae.real sent you a message: i’ll see you tomorrow. don’t be late.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘SEE YOU TOMORROW’?” Karasu gawked at him, his hangover grogginess temporarily forgotten, “Are you going on a date with Sae fucking Itoshi- Ow!”

“Fucking ass! Give me that!” He shoves Karasu back into their room before pocketing his phone with shaky sparking hands, before flashing him two middle fingers. “Maybe we are, so what? You can all suck it!”

Then, he runs away and spams the elevator button, cowering as he hides inside and finally lets out a scream. 

HOLY.

SHIT. 

Shidou could just crumble onto a ball as he stares at his screen in steadily increasing disbelief. Sae texted him back. Is this how being hit by a cupid's arrow felt like? He quickly summons strength in his quaking fingers—feeling so sparky like his blood got electrified—and types back a reply. 

@ryuseeeeixn69xx: OKAY! 😖🩷

He already just made it to the hospitality building when his phone pings again.

@sae.real reacted 👍🏻 to your message

He screams again. THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF HIS LIFE.

Chapter Text

“Have you heard?” Lorenzo sips from his coffee, swirling the cup in its ice. Sae jolts awake from the nap he didn’t realize he’s having. 

They were in their usual place in the library with the bean bags and the couches, their things strewn around as they enjoyed the nicest spot in the whole building—the one at the corner with the view. Past the floor-to-ceiling window, the noon sun sparkled on the small river down the hill, framed by the trees that bordered the city skyline in the distance. It was quiet and peaceful…

…if not for his piece of shit friends, who swore they will all do some studying only to go doomscrolling and nap. 

(And yes, that’s him on the sole latter.)

Still, he liked to think he was most productive by at least a small margin. Counting thirty minutes into the “study session”, it was only his notes that remained open.

Though honestly it didn’t say much, since said notes were actually Ness’s.

“Heard what?” Sendou replied to the inquiry absentmindedly. Presenting doomscroller uno. Variant: the dating app window shopper. The striker sat on the beanbag closest to him, swiping on what seemed to be Tinder.

Sae just brought his eyes back down and ignored this.

“It’s the lovebirds’ first anniversary. They’re throwing a party at Reo’s place tonight,” Lorenzo replied. Presenting doomscroller dos. Variant: the social networker.

Sae brought his eyes back down again and ignored this. 

“How would you know? And why do you care?” On the other couch, Ness frowned, glaring daggers at Lorenzo from the crook of Kaiser’s neck. Presenting doomscroller tres and cuatro. The bored IG Reels user and the parrot on his shoulder.

Sae kept his head down and ignored this. 

“He invited me, Ness, don’t be mad! I know you don’t like Reo-” the Italian scoffs before suddenly sitting up in alarm. “BITCH, he just told me to bring Aiku! Since when did Reo care about Aiku?”

“Is that why he’s not here?” 

“What?”

Sae stares at cuatro on the other couch, blonde hair up in a bun with his reading glasses on. It was a rare change from his usual appearance that is more of a prick and an asshole. Probably because he too, the great Emperor Kaiser, is forced to study too for once. 

After all, all of them on the football team hadn't stepped foot in a classroom for nearly half the semester. Time to be a student athlete now instead of an athlete student, he guessed.

(It was he and Kaiser who mourned it most of all because they are the…uh…least enthusiastic learners in the friend group. The top two haters of the APA 7 citation format, so to speak.)

“Talking to you, Sendou,” Kaiser hummed, tossing his phone to Ness as he grabbed his notes with a sigh. Next to Sae, Sendou’s eyes didn’t leave the dating app on his phone. “Where’s the boykisser, ketchup head?”

“I dunno. I’m not his keeper.”

“Wow!” Lorenzo exclaimed. “You finally regained a sense of self?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

At that, Kaiser smirked in delight as Sendou feigned nonchalance and just swiped angrier. Everyone here 100% knows what he means.

“We're not stupid.” Lorenzo gestures to their circle with one hand still on his iced coffee. “Don't get me wrong, we love Aiku, but we also all know he’s ass. Like, he’s ass to you, so if you love yourself, I say get a life.”

“Agreed. Honestly, I don't think he’s worth it.” Everyone turns to Ness, chin still perched on doomscroller cuatro’s shoulder, blinking innocently.

“You’re one to talk, Ness-”

A scandalized gasp. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah! Just leave me alone.” Sendou cuts them all off. Beside him, Sae notices Sendou match with a random girl and start chatting. He decided not to say anything. 

“Jesus. It’s not an attack- If anything we’re on your side,” Lorenzo surrenders next, before turning to Sae. “By the way, I can’t believe you used to see Aiku. What came over you back then?” 

Clearly, out of the seven of them, it’s Lorenzo who’s always trying to mess up things. (One time, he grabbed a ramen noodle that Loki was literally slurping. For no reason. Just for attention. That’s how much he wanted to piss them off everyday.) Before he could even reply—which he won’t—Sendou spoke again. 

“Are you saying it’s more believable if it’s me?” 

“I’m just saying that if we didn’t see it for ourselves, we wouldn’t have believed Aiku and Sae-chan was ever a thing!”

“Right,” Sendou scoffs sarcastically at the Italian. “And it matters now because?”

“Because you’re still reacting to it, dear.”

Lorenzo winked, and it finally shut Sendou up. 

Sae, for one, is heavily aware that Sendou, who he met through Aiku in Spain as a kid, harboured some complicated feelings towards him ever since said manwhore went after him instead.

Them having near the same shades of red in their hair did not help. Aiku describing Sendou’s as “salmon” and Sae’s as “cherry bomb pinot noir claret” did not help either. 

He liked to think, however, that Sendou knew now how much he doesn’t give a shit about Aiku anymore. It’s their asshole instigator friends that are the problem. 

Speaking of which, here’s another one. 

“Eugh. Snuffy is such a prick- is his father a glacier?” Loki appears, jogging from the elevator and plopping down next to Sae with a sigh. Lorenzo gasps dramatically. “Anyway, how’s everyone? Where’s Aiku? Where are we going for lunch?”

“Dunno,” Lorenzo, Kaiser, and Ness chorused. He only shrugged and turned to Sae. 

That’s before Loki suddenly smiled, crossing his legs and facing him.

“By the way, good afternoon, Sae.”

“Huh?” He spoke for the first time.

“I’m just greeting you good afternoon, why?” Loki said as his eyes sparkled with mischief. At that, Sae adjusts himself even further to the corner of his couch. 

“What do you want?” 

“You, do you want to tell us something?” 

He quickly sees in his peripheral Kaiser lower his book, Ness raise his head, Lorenzo sip his coffee, and Sendou lower his phone. This is not good.  

“Like what?” 

“Like about a certain guy?”

Certain guy?

“You know, the leech that the rumours say you’re seeing.”

Everyone turns to look at Oliver Aiku as he appears out the elevator. Great. The friend group’s biggest bitch is here now too. 

“What is this?” Sae could only glare at Loki who, after setting up the bomb, sat back and waited for it all to blow. Aiku proceeded to squeeze right between them to lounge casually and poke his cheek. 

“You seriously thought we wouldn’t know?” Aiku grins at him, and he pressed his lips shut in annoyance. 

(Sendou sat there, completely quiet.)

“Know what, exactly?” 

“The other night, Genius, come on!” 

Okay. Time to panic. Fuck. It’s Shidou Ryusei. Time to gaslight his way out of this:

“The same night I spent studying?” he tries, raising an indifferent brow. “Like you would know.”

“You sure you were just studying?”

Now Kaiser too. The second biggest bitch. “The junior rep—Yukki, was it?—saw you dropping off a certain guy back on their dorm building floor. What was that about, Sae?”

“Oooooh,” Lorenzo whispers behind his straw as he jumps to cuddle the Germans for a better view. “Scoot over, Ness.”

“There is nothing to address.”

Sae decided not to bring up how Kaiser would even know matters about the underclassmen. 

“Boo,” Aiku scoffed. “Fine. Sure, I was at a party, but did you seriously think I wouldn’t know there was someone in our room working on you while I wasn’t there?”

“And your low IQ brain is so sure there was a guy in there with me?”

“Because I know how much condoms I have.”

Sae felt his stomach drop.

“I know how many people I fuck, Sae, and it’s missing one.”

Ness dramatically gasped, supported by an overexcited Lorenzo who since wrapped his arms over both Germans in shock.

“Oh- You’re with someone now, Sae?! And you didn’t tell us?”

“No, I’m not, Ness. And you.” He points at Aiku with a glare, “What made you think I didn’t use it?” 

It only ever widened Aiku’s smirk, like a defense lawyer that just caught him slipping in cross-examination: “So you do admit someone did? You were fucking someone?”

Everyone else was sitting now at the edge of their seats, especially Lorenzo whose legs are now over Ness and Kaiser’s thighs. Julian Loki was watching Aiku corner him on the sofa, and Sendou on the beanbag watched quietly from behind his phone. 

“That’s literally not what I just said-”

“Admit it or not, I already saw the proof,” Aiku revealed, smirk extending from there to the moon. And now there’s proof—great! “Neru borrowed our shower and found a used condom in our trash bag yesterday. Familiar?”

To his horror, Aiku suddenly showed his phone flashing a photo of said condom in their trash. 

Exhibit fucking A.

“Give me that!” Sae quickly lunged to snatch the phone except sadly, he wasn’t exactly the fastest in the room.

In flash, Loki was the first to snatch it before anyone could, glancing at it briefly, laughing at the photo in disbelief, before tossing it to Lorenzo and the Germans on the other sofa. 

SHIT. 

“IS THAT A-?!” Ness exclaimed loudly it echoed, only suppressed by both Kaiser and Lorenzo slapping a hand over his mouth. He repeats, quieter this time, “OH M- Is that real?”

“Realer than Lorenzo’s fucking teeth, man.” Aiku rejoiced just as Sae steamed in defeat. Meanwhile, Lorenzo and the others were just losing it, biting back snickers and laughter.

“Not the photographic proof, dude!”

“So someone did get fucked,” Kaiser punctuates his sentence with a smirk.

“N-Not that we judge, Sae…!”

By that, he remained helpless where he sat, deciding to just glare at Aiku and wish he died in his sleep.

These absolute fucking pricks. 

“Wait, wait, stop. Who is he fucking again?” They heard Ness whisper to Lorenzo, only for Loki to suddenly butt in:

“Oh, you would know, Ness. You were there with me in the lab.”

HE DID NOT.

Sae froze in his spot and watched the gears visibly turn inside Ness’s mind at Loki’s information, and inside his mind, he screamed.

Loki, you fucking traitor!

“The lab? The lab…” Ness turns to Kaiser who just smirked at him. He looked the other way and Lorenzo was just sneakily sipping his coffee. Somehow that must’ve been telling because he suddenly turns to Loki and Sae with a gasp. “HOLY SHIT, it’s that guy?!”

“You bet it is.” Loki sat back in confidence.

“The blonde?!” And Ness just had to repeat. Something inside Sae just began to shrivel up and die. 

“Ouch- it’s a blonde?” Aiku gasped, exaggerating a heartache and turning to Sae in betrayal. “Okay, I see who you are.”

All that said, Sae finally stands up and clears up his ongoing impromptu trial, glaring at each of these…fucking traitors—especially Julian fucking Loki. He also should’ve just killed them all when he had the chance.

“Listen, assholes,” he hissed, standing up. “I have no godawful clue what you idiots are babbling about but it surely doesn’t have anything to do with me. I’m leaving.”

“Dude, dude, dude- no, wait, sit down.”

Plop. Loki grabs his arm and he falls back down the sofa. 

What the fuck else could these idiots even want?

“We all knew someone came over. It’s cool, completely normal,” Aiku replied for him. Now it feels like he’s being bombarded in some play—Everyone’s hands everywhere, everyone knowing everything. 

“Good thing no one did then. Now let me fucking go.” He stands up again and walks to the elevator. “I hope you all rot in hell.”

“All we’re saying is that we are all in disbelief of your—and I’m sorry for this, man—your low standards!” Aiku shouts after him, which he dutifully ignored. “Besides, how did you think he knew where our room is?”

“What are you-” Sae swiftly turns around only to make direct eye contact with Sendou Shuuto, the only one who remained quiet in the group.

He who immediately avoids glances, too. 

Now that he thought about it…

“Watch it- Oh, hey Sae.”

“You watch it,” he scoffs half-heartedly as he reaches down and takes Sendou’s fallen cigarette out of courtesy. “Tell Aiku to use the fire exit coming back. I’m locking our door by 1am.”

Sendou was always smoking at the back entrance of the dorm building around midnight when he couldn't sleep. Shidou Ryusei must’ve bumped into him while asking around for his dorm room number and-

Ah.

Sendou led the fucking demon to where his room was that night.

“You’re. All. Fucking. Scum,” he spat right as the elevator opened and he stepped in.

“Knock knock!”

He was 9 when he learned how to bake. The family restaurant had bought its first oven and unfortunately, a very happy 9-year-old Shidou Ryusei had unsupervised access to the eggs, milk, flour, and mixer—quite literally a recipe for disaster. 

So, duh. He stole an older cousin’s tablet and looked up how-to YouTube videos.

(The tablet may have, uh, porn on it though. So.)

“I said knock knock!” 

“Just come in, Bee! My hands are busy.” Shidou bit his lip as he squinted at the oven, making sure he got the right temperature on the knobs. “Are you sure you didn’t break one on the way this time?”

“Nope!” Bachira announced proudly, the door opening and closing behind his back swinging, holding two proud cartons of eggs. “Can’t believe it either. Here!”

“Nice!” There. The sweet spot of good ol’ 160 degrees celsius. He stands up and finally greets Bachira after preheating the oven, enveloping the sophomore into a hug that was well returned. “How was the quiz?”

“Ughhhhhh…you won’t believe it!” 

Bachira, clad in some overalls looking like he came straight from a Pokemon convention, groaned as he slid himself up on a vacant counter—something he often does instead of leaving straight out. 

“Why, you flunked it?” Time to continue. Next step is to sieve the cannabutter into the chocolate. Shidou faces away and returns to his chocolate in a bowl, looking for that one flat spatula for folding. “What is it about anyway?”

“It was English Lit! Snuffy doesn’t even speak good English, why does he teach that?”

“That’s some real bumass, man.” He tosses Bachira a hair net while grimacing. “Also, hey. Don’t do my bro Snuffy like that. You also don’t speak good English and you had the audacity to not revise!”

“Wait, why do I have to put this on?” 

Sadly, Bachira noticed the hairnet. (He had half an inkling he won’t notice if he distracts him with a conversation. Mission failed. Damn it.)

“This thing’s so itchy! ‘Dun wanna!”

“What are you, a child? Just wear it. If you care about me.” Shidou took matters into his own hands and put it snugly around Bachira’s head, tucking his bangs in and patting it securely. “There! Not so bad, right? It’s for safety.”

“Like a condom?”

“Exactly. ‘Just put it on. It’s not that hard’.”

Bachira visibly lightens up, fingers forming into guns. “That’s what she said!”

“And that’s…” Shidou double takes before shaking his head. “I’ll just go and pretend I didn’t hear that.”

He goes back to his sieving as Bachira gasped dramatically.

“Boo!” Bachira gives in, to which he only laughed. “Why is it only okay if you joke about it?”

“Because, it’s me, Bee. Cry about it.” He resumes his sieving and begins rummaging around for another bowl. Time to whip some eggs next. 

“Okay. What about you?” Casually, Bachira lays on his side, now accepting his hair-netted fate. “Why is it only okay if you make sex jokes?”

“Because maybe I actually have sex. Now shush.”

Taking his already prepped sugar and vanilla, he started breaking the first few eggs and tossed the eggshells far to the side, shooting like a 3-pointer to the trash. (One of his talents, by the way.) Then, he started whisking. It should get pale and fluffy. 

“Oh. Do you have to have sex to be able to make sex jokes?”

“Do you have to have a vape to be able to hit? Yes,” he said before taking the bowl to his chest like a baby, whisking it and facing Bachira with a grin. “That said—poof away, Bee. Make this place smell like Candyland. Do your thing.”

A look of understanding passes between them as Bachira finally reaches into his pocket and brings out his vape, one fashionable trinket shaped like a mini washing machine.

Only Bachira and Reo insist it’s a camera. Isagi, Chigiri, and Shidou agree it looks like a washing machine.

“Aaaand stay like that. Just keep puffing and shut up.” Like his personal little humidifier, haha. “The hairnet wasn’t even that bad, dude.”

It was true. He used to be a hater himself but even he grew to like the hairnets. He always makes his visiting friends-slash-humidifiers wear hairnets now. The last time some guy found a hair strand on his batch of brownies, he almost lost his entire consumer base. Besides, it keeps all of his hair off of his face. He tends to…like it just like that, hence the hairgel.

Good thing the culinary arts kitchen has inventories so well-stocked it never runs out!

See, he had been baking here since freshman year (his second rodeo with freshman year, when Itoshi Sae moved on to sophomoreship while he had to repeat some of his units. It was a sad day when they’re no longer classmates in everything) and in the years spent, nobody even noticed anything was moved, used, or gone. Not that he cares. 

Alas, this kitchen became his second personal little refuge. Not only is it where he “works”, baking the pot brownies the entire campus secretly loved, it’s also simply just a nice place to be in. The entire place had at least seven rows of individual spaces available, complete with their own stoves, pots, pans, and overengineered sinks. It was also quiet, the whole floor is barely occupied in the evening, and there’s always someone’s failed attempt at cheesecakes in the fridge.

Sometimes he wonders where the Itoshis even got enough money to fund this shit. 

“I just don’t get why people make me do things sometimes,” Bachira mumbled, right as the room started smelling like cotton candy, overpowering the smell of the cannabutter. Nice. It was the only perk of having friends who vape. They can help mask smells, especially of literal weed embossed into a butter jar.

Haha, again, like a personal little humidifier. Or a car pine tree, or something.

“Don’t be dramatic. I’m wearing a hairnet right now too.”

“Not that!”

“Then what the hell are you talking about?”

Shidou was folding the egg mixture onto the chocolate mixture when he faced Bachira for a solid moment, seeing him just lay there and face the ceiling in serious contemplation. (He noticed long ago Bachira only gets this calm when he has a hit.)

Serious Bachira Meguru. Oooooh. Put this in a museum; it’s that rare.

“I don’t know. Why does he always make me do weird things?” Bachira shared next, and Shidou 100% did not understand shit. Damn. Is he high already? “Like the studying, I get- because I’m bad at studying. But I passed the quiz, so I can actually do things even the things I don’t want to now, but he kept saying shit about discipline and-”

“Wait, YOU PASSED?”

Bachira was there staring at the ceiling while he exhales out another lazy cloud. “Yeah...”

“How? You did not study- I was there!” 

“I KNOW. It’s Rinnie,” Bachira revealed with a sigh, dragging a hand through his face. “He lied! Turns out the quiz was online and the proctor was never there. He just made me study the entire time.”

“Damn, Rinnie made you study? Poor you.”

(Who the fuck is Rinnie anyway?)

“Yeah. Like, he’s so helpful but also a big asshole at the same time. And also, he’s super annoying- but I also like that he’s super good at everything he does! Have I ever told you that? Have you ever met a person like that?”

Bachira started ranting, mostly speaking to the ceiling now. Shidou still has no idea what he’s talking about.

“Like- he’s supposed to be a freshman but he’s taking my English unit. Was he ever bad at anything, ever?”

“Uh huh.” Shidou could only nod as he kept on mixing. “I 100% know what you mean, dude.”

Well, kind of.

Because hello? Of course he met someone like that—it’s Itoshi Sae, and was Itoshi Sae ever bad at anything? No! 

Actually, now that he thought about it, he just thinks that some of the things Sae does are normal human mistakes. A rare typo in an Instagram post, a too high pass in a football game, a tiny spill on the lab counter… It doesn’t mean he’s “bad” at anything. He’s just…human. 

“Yeah. I was actually with him earlier when you called for the eggs. We were watching Anacondas. He’s super into gorey scary shit. I don’t mind! But like- I don’t like that he’s still accusing me of losing our-”

God, seriously. What on Earth is Bachira talking about?!

“You have anacondas in your dorm?” A dramatic gasp.

“No! Not the snake- The movie with J.Lo!” At that, Bachira sits up and scoffs, staring at his vape and sighing. “Whatever. Forget everything I said. Do you want to go to Reo’s party with me? I think I need to switch to penjamins.”

Something clicks in the background.

Reo’s party, he say?

“Why, yes, Bee. I would love to go to Reo’s party with you.”

FUCK. YES. 

“Bring your friends, I don’t know. Reo just said to bring everyone fun. I don’t think I’m bringing Rinnie, he made me sad and mad today.”

“Gotcha!” He winks and turns around, releasing his malicious smile as he fishes for his phone and taps on the crow. 

All according to fucking plan.

@ryuseeeeixn69xx: KARASU.

@ryuseeeeixn69xx: GET YOUR ASS UP WE’RE GETTING DRUNK TONIGHT

@karasu: ugh

@karasu: fine

@karasu: ill go get otoya 

Chapter Text

“Sae.” 

The name slithered down his neck leaving a long cold shiver in its wake. That voice… 

It belonged to someone familiar. 

“What?” 

Someone who is currently lowering down to kneel.

“You’re making me crazy, you know that?” 

The whisper came as a hush of breath over his thighs by then, soft lips beginning to mark feathery trails down his hips. Just he and this person separated by a sheen of baby blue mesh. 

“I don’t know, do I?”

“So coy,” the voice replies, now talking to the bones of his hips. “Ugh, Sae. You smell so good- I want to eat you whole.”

There Sae pretends the rasp didn’t just make his legs weak, “Are you blaming me?”

Instead, he whispers to the dark of his eyelids, helpless against the cold wall. He was replied to by the waistband of his jeans being played with. 

“I don’t know, can I?” 

When his belt buckle clunks loudly on the tile, he deemed it punctuated the question enough. Suddenly, those same warm hands clutched his cock. “Ah-!”

“Can I, Sae?” 

A stroke. Shit.

“Can I…” Another stroke. “…blame you?” 

”F-Fuck…” as another; spit-stained palms twisting base to tip, base to tip, base to tip. Next thing he knew, the voice was chuckling at his pathetic trembling. Fuck.

“You’re already shaking? Only at that?” Right before something wet touched his throbbing tip. “Only at this?”

Now that did it; all his suppressed whimpering came out as moans. “Ryusei, I-”

Sae flinches, snapping back to reality. 

“A hot mocha latte, Sir?”

He stares at his laptop as the green ‘Submitted’ checkmark sparks ominously. Around him, the rest of the café buzzed around in its usual humdrum—a croissant half eaten, his extended laptop charger, his arms half numb on the table. 

“Sir?” Beside him, a heavily concerned server waits intently. 

Well…

Patting his face in realization, he felt sweat form beads at his forehead as he sighed.

Fuck.

“Ryusei.”

The voice came amused, low but just as stunned. Astounded, actually—just as he was.

“Yeah?” he whispered back.

“You’re seeing what I’m seeing, right?”

“Ya, papi. Sure do.” He slowly pats Hiori on the shoulder before walking in front of the posse for a closer view. “Bee…”

Now can someone pinch him if he’s already getting weed-induced hallucinations because this is not a fucking limousine right in front of them right now, right? 

“Voila! Our ride, mi amigos!” Bachira confirms and presents it to them proudly. Alas, Shidou personally thanked the heavens that he made at least two good decisions in his entire lifetime.

First, that he never got into vaping because duh, embrace tradition and smoke cigarettes like a fucking chad, but also, that he was nice to the heir of Mikage Corporation. The rest of the crew seemed to share the sentiment too: 

“What.” Karasu deadpans. 

“The.” Yukki lowers his glasses. 

“Fuck.” Otoya’s vape falls from his mouth.

What the fuck indeed. 

“You didn’t tell us we’re licking silver spoons tonight, Bee!” If he knew it’s this bougie, he may not have invited their very messy combination of five into Reo’s party that easily.

But then again, if it is indeed a proper party, why would Reo order pot? Hello? The juxtaposition?

Yeah. This should just be a normal house party. Just in a condo. A bougie condo. Not too bougie though, he hoped.

(Fun fact: Because the last time he went to one, he almost got Haruhi’d because he bumped onto an allegedly million dollar vase. And yes, that was Barou Shouei’s sister’s party. Which he crashed. Something he will never do again.)

On that note, Bachira does seem high already… Wait, is he high? Last time he got high high, he couldn’t remember anything.

Which brings him to the question: where exactly does Bee and his family place in society? Why the fuck on Earth is he just casually approaching this limo in front of them? Did this happen before? Don’t tell him he’s also an heir of something- Did he just get another rich kid hooked onto marijuana? 

Damn sure, that’s his dream job—to be a rich kid’s plug—but seriously? Bachira? No way. Can’t be, right? 

What is he talking about again?

“What silver spoons?” Eventually, the blonde turned to the rest of them. He was holding his hands behind his head when he quickly paused in realization. “Oh, wait. You mean lines? No, no. No. Drugs. And don’t mention it in front of Ba-”

“Not cocaine, idiot. It’s a metaphor-”

“I don’t care what kinda drug it is! Baya doesn’t know about the-”

“Master Bachira.”

An immediate 360. “Baya!”

The rest of them exchange mildly confused to concerned glances as ‘Baya’, who they assumed was the chauffeur, opens the limo door for them. 

Karasu was first to elbow him to the side. “Did he just think ‘metaphor’ is a drug?”

“Give the kid a break, crows. He didn’t pass English Lit.”

“That makes two of us,” Otoya adds, picking his nose. Yukki just shakes his head, turning to Hiori: “Not the flex he thinks it is.”

Meanwhile, in front of them, Bachira went forward to meet the fancy-dressed butler lady. “Baya! I already told Reo I’m bringing friends.”

“I can see that.”

“Did you tell him about the penjamins?” 

“Are those brownies, Sir?”

Everyone froze. They all look in unison at the tray Shidou’s carrying, reeking of weed beneath the foil. 

Oh. 

Right. 

Shit. 

Bachira smiles, waving in front of her face. “Nooooo, why you ask? This isn’t those kind of brownies I brought last time, promise!”

“Please do not talk to the young master about substances again.”

“Uh huh! I swear on my dad’s left nut!”

Everyone stills.

Eventually, Baya gestures towards the door. “Just get in, Sir.”

Oooookay. Anyway! At that, they all excitedly hop in, beginning with Bachira who immediately tossed the tray for Hiori to hold. Wow, he didn’t know limos were this big inside—is that fucking sparkling water?

Oh, dear fuck, he’s glad he was nice to the rich kid. 

“Bachira, what on Earth was that?” Yukki immediately corners the sophomore when the limo door slams shut. “Are we in trouble? What is this?”

“What was what? Oh. Yeah,” the blonde laughs, only rolling over to cuddle Shidou. “I swore on my dad’s nut because he doesn’t exist-!”

“I meant the limo!”

“Oh,” Bachira paused. “I dunno. I guess Reo had the Benz pick up someone else. Welcome to his parents’ second car!”

Amen, Shidou tells the ceiling as he sinks into the soft cushions of luxury, eyeing the champagne and licking his lips. Tonight is going to be so much fun.

“We’re pre-gaming, everyone!”

Now that he’s back with a fresh cup of mocha latte, a splash of cold water to the face, and a solid staredown of trauma with himself in the restroom…

What the fuck was that? 

Sae never knew he would ever spend five whole minutes staring at a blank Word document in his lifetime but here he is. There are just so many pressing matters to sort and fix! And that dream?!

No. 

He is not even acknowledging that. Instead, he just runs a heavy hand through his hair in frustration and starts off strongly with Pressing Matter #1: Oliver Aiku. 

To be specific, he didn’t know how Aiku knew. 

How is it that Aiku always somehow becomes the root cause of every single adversity in his life? What even told him to dig through their trash? That’s creepy, disgusting, and just downright horrible to hear he’s been living with such a freak.

Maybe it’s the odd Axe-smelling jacket in their closet? Or the way his sheets smelled like cum and sweat?

Now that he thought about it, he could recall Aiku and Neru Teppei being together recently. Aiku often lets their freshman teammate shower in their dorm because it was closer. In fact, it could be anyone in the team! Their en suite had seen so many men and women it might as well be communal. Maybe that’s it then. Neru is a messy little ass, Aiku kept the habit of bringing nosey assholes to their dorm unannounced, and he cleaned up after the guy only to accidentally see the condom at the bottom of the trash…or something. 

Whatever. He just realized he doesn’t actually care. It is what it is. On to the next agenda.

Pressing Matter #2: Michael Kaiser. 

Now how the actual fuck did Kaiser know? Aiku, he’d get—but Kaiser? Since when did he care? Since when did he see? The only people who should’ve come at least two steps close to the truth should be Loki and Ness, but even then, Ness didn’t seem to notice anything weird on his own. Kaiser knowing? He did not have any rational explanation to that. 

Yet. 

One thing to consider is that Kaiser didn’t have as many connections as Aiku does—both because of the language barrier and his very welcoming personality. Then again though, it remains the fact that he knows now. He knew about Shidou. He even knew that he was a junior! Were they perhaps seen when he was carrying Shidou back to his dorm? 

But if so, what the hell is Kaiser doing in the junior dorm wing then? He didn’t have any commoner friends, let alone a junior. 

Unless? 

Sae stares at his doc on the screen and at the blinking cursor. 

Huh. Hm. One day, he will look into that. On to the next. 

Pressing Matter #3: With all that considered, everyone still knew now something happened in the room. Magnificent. Now Aiku and Kaiser are going to be insufferable for the next three to five business days.

How many times has this happened now anyway? It was not that uncommon for them to tease each other about freaky shit. 

Especially him and Aiku, who started with the back and forth the very year they met as kids. This is hardly the first time the manwhore grabbed him by the hair and dunked his head in the ‘fuck you’ bowl. In fact, he could still remember when they were in elementary school, in Spain, and he personally terrorized the still-devout and religious Oliver Aiku for being into lesbian porn. 

(Aiku made him swear not to tell anyone. He only allowed himself to tell Sendou out of respect to their trio who in turn may have told Lorenzo who told Loki who told Ness who told Kaiser.

Now he and Sendou et al. are the only humans alive to know why Aiku had two specifically bisexual girlfriends in his ménage à trois era. It’s presumably because he’s a closet cuck and he just liked to watch girls make out. Anyway.)

As for Pressing Matter #4: Shidou Ryusei…

Thud. Sae all but bangs his head on the table as he feels a headache throb through his entire skull. Now fuck all this fucking shit. This one, he really didn’t know what to do with. 

Usually, he already had Shidou Ryusei’s stupidities memorised at the back of his mind. Sometimes, he already knew the punchlines to the jokes he had yet to say but now he’s drawing blanks: how would Shidou even react if he knew? 

Knew what exactly? From who? Who knows. Just, what would happen if he knew, you know? If he knew about the night, or the handjob, or the walk home, or the nosebleed… 

Should he tell him about it? Would he be mad? Sae hoped he’d be mad. He hoped Shidou would freak out and leave him alone and be mad, because otherwise, it would only mean something…more concerning. More worrying. 

It would mean he didn’t care much about what happens when he blacks out.

It would mean that passing out in random dormitory rooms other than his own is a usual thing.

That being helpless around strangers and forgetting it all the next morning is just a normal thing that just occurs in his day to day life.

Now what does that say about the life he had been living prior? Shidou Ryusei, you fucking headache-

Bzzz…

Suddenly, his thoughts cut off when his phone buzzed in his pocket, something completely forgotten as he spent three- no, four straight hours cramming his missed work. (What was 83 in this to-do list became 67. Turns out the key to productivity is to be harassed by your friends that you’re forced to study alone in a café.)

Lorenzo is calling…

Now what? Lorenzo never calls. He only calls if- Ah. 

Sae slides the green icon and presses the phone to his ear. With his other hand, he folds his laptop shut. 

“Sae. Where the hell are you? You busy?”

“I know. I’m on my way.” He quickly packs up all his things and approaches the counter to get his bill over with. The pretty barista just had to stare before getting on his feet and giving him the receipt. By then, he breezes out of the place and flags down the nearest cab that passed. 

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Lorenzo laughs on the other line, riddled by some kind of noise in the background. It sounds like people and…music. “I didn’t call anyone else, if it comforts you. Made sure Aiku’s not coming. I told Reo man’s not shit today.”

“Hm. So you’re miraculously on my side now?”

“Si, polpetto! Since when did I ever like Aiku anyway?” 

Sae fought the urge to roll his eyes. For now, he’ll overlook that Lorenzo is literally Aiku’s biggest enabler. 

“I just knew you’d appreciate getting drunk tonight, man! You’re the only one I called so don’t tell the others, ya?”

What a sweet talker. It’s more like he knew Sae is the only one who still drinks in their miserable friend group. Minus Aiku, of course (because the rest are healthcare pariahs with either a nutritionist or an almond mom at home. And Kaiser already went to rehab, so.)

“Do not call me polpetto ever again.”

“Boo. Killjoy,” Lorenzo laughs. “Just come. I’m already here- Oh! And tell me when you’ve arrived! I’m also gonna hand over the money. Don’t yell at me that it’s cash.”

“I don’t do cash.”

“Then I’m sorry but it is!”

Sae ends the call and sighs to the ceiling of the cab. Nickname conventioning aside, thank God for Don Lorenzo—he who only calls when there’s a party. Good thing it’s the lovebirds’ anniversary tonight. He didn’t expect he’d get another invitation from Reo after the last time he almost threw Kitsunezato down his glass stairs.

“Where to, Sir?” the cab driver asks and he just realized he hadn’t spoken yet. He thought this was his usual driver. 

“Mikage Towers.” At that, he looks down one more time at Lorenzo’s contact and just tosses his phone wherever. “Just drop me off at the North Tower lobby. I’ll pay the gate fee.”

Chapter Text

This glass of irish cream whiskey he’s holding is a psychological riddle, decipherable only thus: 

Never go to a party hosted by someone way richer than you. 

One, you will break the rule and go anyway. Two, you will never be sorry. Three, actually you will, but only for the ones who never experienced it because damn son. Four, actually you will be sorry; forget the last two rules. You will always see something either fucking weird or hellishly disturbing. 

In the case of tonight’s blackout, things seem to lean towards the ‘fucking weird’ for Shidou Ryusei.  

He was staring at the aquarium, wondering if he’s looking at an actual jellyfish or if it's just the trick of the light. Can someone at the end remind him that rich people are their own kind of freaky?

After all, the place—which was apparently owned by Reo—was an apartment riddled with so much juxtaposition he could almost write an entire sonnet in his mind. 

Earlier, after being kidnapped by Baya (er, Bachira?), the limo took them to some kind of exclusive village where the roads had center island palm trees and with no cable lines framing either side. It was made up of mostly resort-like malls, rich kids driving Corvettes, Beverly Hills-esque mansions, golf clubs, and tall towers that he assumed are residentials along an actual fucking baywalk. (That’s the ocean, right? He could hear the little mermaid sing about Prince Eric from all the way here!)

That said, the place itself should be the last place he’d expect to be uncomfortable. These are the places that rich people flood all their money into because they just had no other way to get rid of all the burner cash, probably. This place should be luxury personified! Like, Capitol-level kind of deluxe. 

However, the vibes he got was just…strange. 

Strange and cold. 

For one, the actual party was located on some tall building, on Reo’s personal condo unit that apparently spans the entire floor. It seemed decorated for the occasion, too—there were random balloons on the floor and tinsels on the ceiling. Oh, and a literal disco ball. It was already packed by both familiar and unfamiliar faces by the time they got there. Overall, it was a unit he’d assume was someone’s home if it weren’t for the complete lack of personal items on the inside. 

And by personal items, he meant signs of life. 

Like- if this was where Reo actually lived, there should be photos and stuff on the walls, right?

There should be worn coats hanging at the mudroom hooks. There should be half-opened milk in the fridge or an opened pint of ice cream. Or at least DVDs or a guitar or any sign of a hobby somewhere. Stuff like muddy footprints on the floor, a random scuff on the wall, a freaking scratch on the gold light fixture—but there was none. Everything was so organized, perfect, and clean but in an ‘IKEA showroom’ kind of way.

Even the DJ booth, the records on the wall, the pool table, the beer pong, the concave mirror, and the mini bar felt curated. 

But then again, perhaps this is just how rich people are? Choosing to socialize in a place so devoid of personality and taste? 

Truth be told, for Shidou, the most personality this entire unit has was this random aquarium as well as those designer paintings on the walls. That one Magritte piece over there was the only thing stopping him from calling out the Mikages as the world’s most basic nuclear family on the millionaire tax bracket, honestly.

Still, the fact it was a Magritte is telling. That dude’s the face of surrealism, a style of art that is least in touch of what’s actually full of life.

But then again, he’s different. He will never be able to understand how these privileged people think—and he knew that. He accepted that. 

Oh well. He just hated that the place was cold and all the soft couches were taken by people he doesn’t know. Now his only company is this jellyfish and the whiskey in his hand. (Not even a baby photo of Reo hidden somewhere! Like come on.)

Maybe sentimentality is the price rich people pay for their inhumane abundance. 

He’s talking about capitalism again, isn’t he?

“Nagi,” he calls, remaining nose to nose with the glass of the aquarium and the jellyfish bobbing inside. “…What the hell is in this drink?”

“Baileys.” 

No wonder. 

Beside him, Nagi Seishiro remained ever nonchalant. He was the only one that stayed by his side. At that, Shidou finally glances at said irrationally tall introvert, now eyeing the party with disinterest. Something about this feels weird, too. 

Maybe it’s the fact that he’s next to Nagi. 

That means he’s in the wrong part of the party—which is definitely not where he last knew he was. Weird. Is he already that drunk? Or is this the high kicking in?

Where’s Bachira anyway? That guy’s usually his main point of reference in determining if he’s already too high and faded to the point of no return.

“Oh. Baileys,” he repeated. “What’s that?”

“Dunno. Is it good?” Nagi peeks in his cup before grimacing. “Ew. Reo told me he bought the bottle from Mallorca.”

“Hm- can you keep the distance, dude? Not trying to fuck anyone tonight, sorry.” Rich people liquor is so weird. Rich people cologne is even weirder. “If I throw up on you, I’m not paying for your dry clean.” 

“Not expecting you to.” 

With a big sigh, Shidou waved it all off before settling on summoning enough strength to turn around, only to get immediately blinded by the disco. “Oh- Jesus. Where am I?” 

Or rather, the real question: where the hell are his friends?

“What do you mean?” By some miracle indeed, there Nagi was—uncharacteristically standing upright in 120% more alert than his usual self. For once, he isn’t slouching on some couch somewhere. He isn’t even holding a PSP or a DS-

Wait, actually. It is his party. His anniversary party. He needs to calm down. Who is he, the great and humble Shidou Ryusei, to have a say in it? Cool. Whatever. Where are his friends?

“What even is this place? Where’s everyone I know?” He leans his head back to the aquarium behind him to cool down. 

“Reo’s place? You came here by limo? Remember?” If Nagi was unimpressed, he couldn’t tell. “You brought the Mary Janes? I think Bachira invited you?”

“Hey! Of course I remembered that!” 

He’s not as goldfish-brained as to forget those things. In fact, he can remember everything he does when high. (He swears on Bachira’s dad’s left nut!) It’s when he’s drunk on certain kinds of liquor in a certain kind of mood that it all gets fuzzy. 

In that moment, he suddenly wonders what happens when he’s both high and drunk. Did that happen before? Why does it feel like that already happened before? Wouldn’t it be funny if it did and he just couldn’t remember? Lol. 

“Ugh, whatever. I’m not talking about-” he cuts himself off with a big stabilising sigh and a squeeze to the temple. “It’s… I lost Karasu and the dumbasses. Have you seen them? Why is there an aquarium here anyway?!”

“Ah, that’s a hallway to the other side. See?” Nagi shares casually, expertly pushing on the glass to reveal that the large aquarium is actually a door. 

Now what the hell. 

Now that he looked at it, he could see movement on the other side of the aquarium earlier. That’s bullshit; why can’t they just stick with, hello, a normal door? 

“About your friends… I think I saw Hiori earlier with Isagi but I don’t know about the others.” Finally, Nagi spoke of something helpful- oh no. That sounds bad. Karasu and Otoya can’t be missing at the same time!

Without him. 

“Hey. You okay?” As if the night isn’t couldn’t any weirder, Nagi faces him and touches him. It was the equivalent of seeing a glacier turn itself upside down. “I saw you drooling on the glass over here when I was getting ice-”

“Bitch, that’s not me!” 

“I’m…pretty sure it was you, Shidou,” Nagi deadpans in return, teal eyes coldly staring at him in a way so emotionlessly familiar. 

“You’re just drunk.”

“I’m definitely not. This is coke. The soda coke. The guys doing lines aren’t here yet.”

“Wait.” Shidou fails to grasp his words, pushing himself off the glass and gawking at the blonde. Now that’s another conversation entirely: “You’re not drinking at your own party?!”

Nagi being a killjoy, he can forgive. But not taking advantage of a literal bar sponsored by his own boyfriend at their own party? That’s a cardinal sin! Nagi might as well be Marie Antoinette telling poor destitute him to let him have cake!

“Meh. I don’t like alcohol,” was all the guy replied, drinking from his red cup. 

There were red cups?  Now hold the fuck on. He went to the mini bar and got whiskey like a man! He thought that was all the alcohol this place has! Why did nobody tell him there’s cheap liquor here? No wonder he’s more gone than literally anyone else. 

“Oh. By the way, I found my shoes. Bachira hid them in Yukki’s backyard as a prank, which I don’t… I don’t know, he must’ve thought it was Rinnie’s?” Nagi then started speaking—yet another anomaly. Since when did he talk this much? Maybe he’s having more fun than he seems? 

With Nagi Seishiro, one would never know. They don’t exactly talk to each other outside the common denominator of his classmate Isagi and his not-boyfriend Reo. Let’s just say Shidou has the weed side of the school taken care of while Nagi has the coke side. Two allies on two different fronts. It’s a cordial relationship. (He’s also half sure Reo is funding Nagi’s meth lab the same way he’s keeping his brownie business afloat…assuming Nagi has a meth lab.)

“Who the hell is Rinnie anyway?” he asked before downing his Baileys and cutting the crowd. “Whatever. See you later, ice bear! Happy anniversary, too. I would kiss you but Reo might hire a hitman on me-”

Nagi stares at him, devoid of any emotion in his large puffy white hoodie. “No, he won’t.”

He just rolls his eyes and hands Nagi his glass, still with one sip of Baileys left. “I’m still not kissing you.”

“Didn’t ask you to.”

Finally escaping the aquarium…closet area thing—whatever that place is—now he heeds his next mission: he needs to find where the red cup station is. That is where he is being summoned. That is home court. The ones with the cheap shitty drinks, sweaty people, and Bitch I’m Madonna on the speakers. 

He also hoped Karasu and Otoya would be there. He would literally cut them off if they’re having more fun than he is having right now.

Speaking of, there Hiori is! That’s a good sign. Shidou immediately beelines to the archway, leading onto another area of the U-shaped apartment where the cyanhead leans on a beam. He was engrossed in a conversation with Kurona, hunched over some kind of Gameboy.

“Hiori! Where’s papi crows?”

Without batting an eye or even raising his head, “Naked. In an angel costume.”

He gasped, not minding when someone suddenly puts some kind of mask over his head. “WHERE?!”

Hiori points down. “At the parking lot.”

So, they are having more fun than he does. 

Assholes. 

Lorenzo may be…a lot.

He could be disgusting, especially in times when he refuses to brush his teeth when he doesn’t like the toothpaste (he claims it will scratch his gold grills) or when he refuses to shower because he isn’t feeling like it.

He could also be stupid, especially when condoning Aiku’s womanizing and Sendou’s microcheating (if they’re even together at this point. Unless, of course, they’re not. Nobody’s keeping track anymore.)

But he sure is reliable sometimes.

He is the reason why rich people send their kids to private schools for the “connections”. He is the connection. He who knows everything about everyone. 

In the car, Sae stares at his bank app notification informing him of a $5,000 transfer from D. L., complete with a text message and a receipt: 

here you go, Mr. I Don’t Do Cash. this the best I could do, rest is in cash 🤷🏻‍ take it or leave it 

“Uhm, Sir.”

There are days where Sae hates himself for even hearing out Lorenzo on horse betting. Being into any sort of gambling reminds him too much of his father’s bad side of the family. The other times? He hates himself for winning. Now what is he supposed to do with a suitcase full of $5,000 later? Carry it home? 

“Sir.”

Either way, Lorenzo is reliable. He may be crazy annoying most days, but he’s the only one Sae can call in the friend group anytime anywhere about anything, and count on being taken seriously. He bet he could even call Lorenzo about accidentally shooting someone and the guy would recommend a crime scene cleaner before meeting up with him to hide the body. He’s that kind of friend. Julian Loki would’ve also made the cut if it weren’t for that pretentious bastard always being on Do Not Disturb (who the fuck does he think he is?)

“Sir.”

“What?!” he finally spat only to pause at the sight.

Looking around him, the cab is now in some sort of driveway, the north Mikage Tower in its full glory nearby.

Except it’s currently shining in neon pink strobes and the parking lot is packed with cars and…wet naked men. 

Wet half-naked men dressed as ghostface, demons, angels, policemen, firemen, and playboy bunnies. 

“Sir, what am I supposed to-”

“Drop me off at the door.”

“But-”

“It’s fine.”

He had just been thinking about Lorenzo being the one to call about anything! He didn’t mean now! What the frick. 

As ghostface over there splashes the windshield with a soapy bucket of water, he quickly dials Lorenzo’s number and raises the phone to his ear.

The fireman is already hosing the car down when the guy answers.

“Sae! Where-”

“What the fuck is going on in the parking lot right now?” he hissed, staring at the policeman’s tits rubbing now on his window. Ugh. “How the hell is this even allowed? Is Reo insane?”

“Chill! Kid just rented the entire tower for Nagi! That’s the anniversary gift…which I agree is odd if after all this they still insist on being not-boyfriends,” Lorenzo pauses for a quick moment before returning to the phone. “Anyways, yeah. I don’t think the carwash costume party’s planned though. Can you blame them? Halloween’s in two days, count this as your party too!”

“Fuck it,” he settled. “I’ll just get the cash and leave-”

“NO!” Lorenzo all but screamed. “Man, learn to have one break in your life! This is the only party where you won’t see Aiku’s face, dude. Take advantage of my fucking efforts here.”

“Tell me how I’m supposed to get out of this car without getting soaped then!”

“Your phone’s waterproof, Sae. You’ll be fine.”

Then the line ended. 

The. Line. Ended.

Lorenzo hung up on him. 

“Wow. They’re actually washing it-” the cab driver hums as he crosses his arms, nodding as the angel started scrubbing his hood. (That guy looked familiar...) The music was booming, the pavement is now wet with soapy water, and the sports cars parked around made it all seem like a car show. 

Bitch. 

“Run them over,” he hissed.

“What?” the cab driver lets out nervously, as the one in the demon mask approaches Sae’s door with a soapy bucket and milky sponge. Now he looked away while he still could. 

“Just do it!”

“Motherfucker.”

“Sae!” Lorenzo greets him with a surprised jolt before standing up and enveloping him in a big hug. After what seemed to be one hell of a trial by ordeal of him just making it through the parking lot, to the hallways filled by couples making out and nearly having sex, to the actual party where he was greeted by someone doing lines on someone’s collarbone, he finally reaches Reo’s unit and hisses on Lorenzo’s cozy couch. “You’ve arrived!”

“Obviously,” he groans before wiping his mouth and taking a swig out of Lorenzo’s glass, which tastes like some sort of whiskey. “I’m not fucking forgiving you for this. Did you have any idea what just happened to me?!”

“No, but trust me, you’ll thank me in six weeks,” Lorenzo laughs before raising a party popper and turning him around. “Let’s walk, yeah? You’re fine. We’re fine.”

Good idea, for once. He’s definitely not sitting on that couch with those unfamiliar people. For all he knew, someone already had sex on that. For now, his mouth—his lips—is still tingling. He needs a drink. 

Thankfully, Lorenzo proceeds to lead him to a bar, framed by floor to ceiling windows overlooking the raving bubbly soap party below. Now he can also see how far they actually were from civil society; a large extension of trees separating them from the city itself.

Now he understood why Reo chose the north tower from the more exposed three as his inheritance; it’s because this one had no corporate spaces at all. Secluded, private, and luxurious. The party extends from rooftop to basement. He isn’t a party person but he could bet thousands of kids would kill to attend something like this. 

He could also see guests ranging from local celebrities to foreign nationals. Beyond the flashing pink lights around, the helium balloons, and the neon necklaces everyone’s wearing, he was actually quite impressed. This is about to be either illegal, messy, or both. Not his problem though. 

He just wondered how Reo would eventually explain all this to his father one day. If he or Rin did something like this and their uncle found out, they would literally get exiled to Spain. Maybe Reo being an only child has something to do with it? His parents can’t get rid of him; he’s the only one they got.

Now it only proves further the point—Why is Mikage Reo so fearless when it comes to throwing impulsive and risky shit like this, while still incredibly so ashamed about being in love with his best friend?

The juxtaposition is killing him. 

The kid’s so lucky the not-boyfriend is so chill about everything. Sae doubted anyone other than the guy—Nagi Seishiro, was it?—could stomach being loved so…shamefully. 

(They call it ‘private’ but Sae felt it was just them being cowardly.)

Just saying. 

“Where have you been after you walked out on us?”

“What?” he slurs, looking down at his shot. Damn, he just downed three in a row. “Ah. In a café. Studying.”

“Are you ever going to tell me about the guy?” Lorenzo muses, elbowing him with that stupid smirk on his face. 

“What guy?” he asked as he watched the parking lot party down below. Compared to the club-like bullshit up here, the waterpark down below seems way more fun, objectively-speaking. Everyone was either wet, making out, or having the time of their lives. Even if some stupid fucking demon mask accidentally splashed a soapy bucketful onto his pants when he got out earlier, he still thinks that’s where the real party should be. Or at least, that’s where he thinks someone like Shidou would be. Knowing the guy, he’d find a way to crash something as good as this.

“Dude, what are you even looking for down there?” 

Lorenzo rolls his eyes before sneaking up to separate him from the glass window. Now he’s back frowning against Lorenzo’s stupid face. 

“Oh- are you looking for The Guy?”

…Shidou? Oh, no way. He isn't here to think about him. He hadn’t even thought about him once since he got here. 

Maybe. 

“Get away from me, shitface,” he groaned as he turned around and faced the bar instead. Lorenzo didn’t leave him alone, obviously. He’s like an immortal slug. 

“Someone’s blushing...” Lorenzo laughs before leaning back on the bar again. “Just tell me about it. We already knew something’s up. Don’t wait for me to consult my sources- I want to hear everything straight from you!”

“There is nothing to say, idiot.” He downs the shot right as another one gets summoned from thin air. 

“Then what’s the condom photo about? Is Aiku just teasing you or-” a gasp. “Are you straight again?!”

That’s when he sneaks him a dirty look. “Excuse me?”

“Just tell me. I won’t judge and I won’t spill. Not even to Mihya and Ness,” Lorenzo said, snapping his fingers while sliding him a glass. “Is it true? Something happened?”

“You…can say that.” He rolls his eyes. Before Lorenzo would weave yet another tale out of that little bit of answer, he cuts him off. “It’s not what you think.”

“Is it?” Lorenzo proceeds to follow him when he slid off the bar and walked around the party again. “Is it the guy Loki and Ness saw then? They’re right?”

At that, he shrugs, licking his lips. “Perhaps.”

“So you did it in your dorm? That’s big. You don’t even let me in your place.”

“Because Aiku lets enough people inside for the both of us,” he sighed before having enough, turning around and leaning on the aquarium. “Look, it’s not what you think. Someone just crashed into my dorm with a literal healthcare emergency and I…” 

‘…gave him a handjob so he lives.’

“…helped bandage everything up and sent him back on his way. That’s it,” he said before pushing on the aquarium door with his weight. “He’s my headache, a very difficult lab partner by the way, and I’m not here to unload it all anyone ever again. It is nothing, got it?”

“Fine, fine. Damn,” Lorenzo whistles, following behind him as they walked the dark hallway. It was a staff hall that connected both sides of the U-shaped condo to each other, currently decorated with neon rings in pitch black like a tunnel. “That’s…”

“What.”

“That’s sooo disappointing though.”

“Then be disappointed for all I care.” 

“I’m not even after gossip. I just want to hear everything as your friend,” Lorenzo explains, almost choking on his own drink as they walked. “Like, you know...you might already in love for all we knew.” 

“In love,” he repeated, tasting the word carefully in his mouth.

“Yup.”

“Me,” he deadpans, Lorenzo shrugging behind him. 

“Ehh...”

In love is such a strange word. The preposition made it seem like love is a place in a world to be ‘in’. 

“I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you in love, like, ever,” Lorenzo said as they neared the other side, marked by a metallic foil curtain with the multicolored lights spilling out from the other end. “Just promise me you’ll tell me when you do find someone. I know you’re Mr. Secretive Fuck but please tell me. You’ll tell me, si?”

Sae just approached the foil curtain and took one last drink from his cup. 

“No.”

“But I want to know when you’re in love, man!” 

Those were Lorenzo’s last words before he swiped the curtain away and entered the other side, met with loud party music that is more familiar than the drug-induced high on the other side, and the wet and wild one in the parking lot. This is more like a normal house party, akin to the ones Lorenzo liked to throw. 

Nobody knows what I’m feeling inside

I find it so stupid so why should I hide?

That I,

Love to make love to you, baby

Here, he saw him. 

Shidou fucking Ryusei. 

The bane of his existence, standing atop a counter surrounded by people, sweaty, singing, cradling a mic.

Singing and dancing to a stupid fucking J.Lo song. 

So many ways, wanna touch you tonight

I’m a big girl, got no secrets this time

That I,

Love to make love to you, baby 

Sae watches as the demon—he couldn’t possibly mistake those pink-on-blonde highlights now—grins toward his crowd and pulls up a friend by his necklace, the one with the wavy hair and glasses, easing him up to the counter and singing along with him. 

And Sae stayed there when they started dancing, body rolling on each other, as the crowd cheered louder and sang and danced along with them. 

If this would be a perfect world

We'd be together then 

Only got just one life this I've learned

Who cares what they're gonna say?

“What?” Lorenzo asked, now caught in the music as he danced around with his phone now recording the fun—like an uncle that wanted to be relatable before proceeding to post it in Snap. “Not your kind of party?”

“Uh…” 

I wanna dance

and love

and dance

again

There, Sae remained speechless where he stood. Is this real? Is this actually him, actually literally fucking here, singing? Was he just seeing things now, under the kiss of pareidolia, or is this actually Shidou, feeling every word as he oozed with fun, vodka, and liquid youth? Because if so...

“You know that guy? That’s my plug!” Lorenzo laughed, easing him further into the room—but he remained stuck where he was. “I’ll introduce you but-”

Sae licked his lips and stills in horror. He watched as the party crowd loved his demon's unironic shamelessness with the song, stage presence natural even as he nearly kicked the soda bottles by his feet. Everyone had their arms up either recording for jumping alongside him, the energy boosted and now he just couldn’t breathe at the sight. 

“That’s my lab partner,” he whispers under his breath. Strangely, Lorenzo had good ears.

“Yeah? Cool, I heard he made some of the pot brownies for Reo today- where the fuck is Reo anyway? Reo! Wait, I’ll be back, he should be around here somewhere.”

Incidentally, that mask on his head is the same with the demon mask guy outside, chiseled abs and all glistening with sweat, soap, water, and love. 

Who, when he was exiting the cab earlier, splashed a bucket on his jeans and proceeded to pat him down...only to bump head-to-head with him. 

And by head-to-head, he actually meant lips to lips.

Chapter Text

In the cab…

Sae felt his eye twitch, staring at the milky sponge catapulted to his window, its white soapy entrails dripping like a cumshot to the face. 

One thing about him? He doesn’t like cum. Cum is sticky, like cheap lube or spit. It always takes forever to get rid of the feeling. He hated it. He hated sticky things. Including, most especially, reminders like this. When soap dries without being rinsed, isn’t it sticky too? 

Enough. If these fuckers insist on not letting them get through, he might as well walk the rest of the way himself. 

“Stop the car,” he said as he motioned to get off the cab—only to go face to face with a pair of mantits rubbing bubbly water on the window. 

Peachy. 

Sae quickly pressed the button rolling window down and shoved the tit away with a rough hand. 

“Ah!” 

Motherfucker. 

Red Demon Mask stumbled back, the one presumably in charge with the windows given the bucket and sponge he held (and the fact that despite the sponge, he still used his own chest to rub the glass). The guy was now looking at him in offense, if that open jaw was any indication of offense.

“What’s your problem?”

“Get out the way-!” 

Suddenly, in that moment, a pink beam of light from the party passes over. The guy’s broad chest suddenly spoke for him—sparkling with glitter, sweat, and soap, tiny waist disappearing down into a waistband of black Calvin Kleins, sculpted abs just out in the open. In this dream, they’re in the city of desire. Sae is an unlucky traveller. 

Everything he was about to say immediately leaves his mouth. 

“What?” The guy’s scoff, along with his other shirtless friends, immediately snaps him out of his daze. Quickly, Sae closed his eyes and took all the thoughts to bury in a metaphorical vault. 

Like shit.

“I said get off! You’re blocking the door.” Rolling the window back up, out of courtesy to the driver—who definitely did not just see him gawking! hopefully—he finally slides out the cab and slams the door shut. 

With a sigh, he contemplated. 

Mikage never threw anything like this before. 

This all feels doltish and dangerous, as if something can happen that would lead to one ginormous mess. How is this place so packed anyway? He can’t even name 15 people he liked. 

Knowing Mikage Reo—and honestly, Lorenzo—this is probably just a result of their stupid way of inviting that goes, ‘You’re invited! Bring a friend!’ who ended up bringing a friend with his own friend with his own friend.

Of course, speaking as The Friend. 

“Here, laddie!” the driver suddenly said, counting a few bills and coins and handing it over. “Your change.”

Hm. Right. Change. 

“Keep it.” He is not carrying that. Besides, he could only imagine trying to get back to the road from this crowd. “For the trouble.”

He fought the urge to look aloof as he shrugged away the surprisingly surprised gratitude speech that followed, after the brief exchange of ‘I insist’s which he won. (He had never seen someone look so grateful.) With that, he finally stepped back and watched the cab roll back to the road. Where was he again? 

Ah. That’s when he hears an agitating grating voice. 

“Oi! We’re not done with Your Rudest. What’s the big idea?”

Demon Mask and friends. They’re still here. He’s still surrounded by a bunch of shirtless…beefy…frat guys who decided to ruin cars for fun.

“Me?” he repeats, scoffing at the gravel. 

“Yes, you,” Policeman adds, before being interrupted by Demon Mask: 

“Who do you think you are-?” 

“What’s your big idea-?”

Thud. He turns around only to go face to face with the Demon, their teeth clashing as the pail of soap tipped over and spilled on his feet. Shoes squeaky, now that does it. 

“Ugh!” His hands pushed the guy away on instinct, watching him fall back to Playboy Bunny over there who caught his fall. He angrily marches away once and for all: Does Mikage Reo really know about all this? Do these guys even know who Reo is at all? 

“Hey!”

The escape was not that easy. Policeman went to block his way, just as naked if not for that stupid cap on his head, sunglasses (at night?) and a baton. He was lankier. Not as hot. 

Not that he looked.

“You hurt my bro, dude.”

And? So what?!

There, Sae tried going around the guy, to no avail. He could only look him in the eye and scoff; that even in the dark, that green stripe on platinum blonde hair does not scream worthy of respect. Cheap shit. If anything, the barber screamed for him. 

“Move.”

“Nuh uh.” 

As if that’s not enough, backup arrives. Angel stood alongside the Policeman. This one had a stupid halo on, bobbing around as he scrubbed the cab hood earlier and still bobbing as he walked.

Sae spots a tiny mole on this one’s cheek. He looked…familiar. 

“At least say sorry, man. Let’s have fun, ‘ya? It’s all good fun,” he hiccuped, Sae not missing that little accent, “Didn’t mean no harm.”

“Excuse me?” Why is it his fault they did that? 

Whatever. If it’d get them to leave him alone then fine. He dips into his pocket, summoning the world’s most effective tool at getting people to shut up (money), maintaining a glare at Angel who slowly starts to tilt his head. Now what?

“Hey, wait. Aren’t ‘ya Itosh-”

“Back off, papi. He’s my guy.” 

He was cut off. Suddenly, Sae was called once more…

“Dude, I think that’s-”

“Shut the fuck up.”

…by Red Demon Mask. A whiff of liquor washes over Sae’s face as the guy comes close, pausing right behind him with his chest pressing to his back.

This time, however, he does not seem angry. Just based on the reflection of Policeman’s sunglasses, Sae could see the guy bite back a smirk, canines sharp even in the dark. Like salvation carving a space for himself on Sae’s skin.

Skill unlocked: Knowing a flirt when he sees one.

Another skill unlocked: Knowing how to play the same game. 

“What do you want?” Sae asked, telling the reflection. Policeman in front of him raised a brow, probably confused. 

“Care to be a brat to my face one more time?” Demon Mask, however, got the message. He whispers, voice slightly overpowered by the loud music, but Sae discerned it enough. 

“Maybe get your hands off me first.”

A little more prepared this time, Sae shoves the hands off of him and turns around swiftly, grabbing the man closer by the waistband of his Calvin Kleins. He can hear whistles and teasing from the guy’s friends now but he doesn't care. That V-line, those abs… if it only weren’t dark, he could’ve sworn this was the idiot he sees Tuesdays and Thursdays in the lab. 

Now he knew for sure he really needed a drink. 

That stupid dream earlier? 

(Which is so fucked, by the way. He doesn’t fantasize-)

Alongside his incessant worrying and the frustration of watching that guy exist? This doesn’t feel right anymore. Nothing about this felt right since the beginning. They’re just lab partners. Shidou Ryusei is just a lab partner, but what kind of “lab partner” ditches a party just to get him a much needed frog? And what kind of “lab partner” gives the other a handjob, keeps it a secret, and worries about it?

The moment he accepted Lorenzo’s call, he knew exactly what he needs to do. He needs to get Shidou Ryusei off his mind. Seriously now. It’s getting ridiculous.

He hadn’t even talked to Lorenzo or Loki yet but he knew he’d get the same judgmental look from the both of them if he did. He isn’t unaware of how the story usually goes in those cheesy flicks they liked on Netflix and this is how the story goes. This is where things begin before it all breaks down and people either get dicks in them or hurt. Or both. He needs to put a pause to this charade once and for all. 

That is, if he wants to keep his peace—which he does. Is that even a question?

He loves his peace. He loves his routine. He loves when all his things are in place and when all his plans are in order. He loves when all he had to worry about was himself. Meanwhile, here Shidou Ryusei is being Mr. Disruption personified. He is why they kill the cancer cell before the body dies. 

Now he knew to stop this nonsense and just do what should be done. Tomorrow, he will call Shidou.

And have a talk. Probably. About stuff. About the handjob, which is probably more appropriate to refer to as The Time He Seriously Almost Died™.

(Which he will of course tell him out of respect and transparency purposes—even if it meant he’d get hated. In fact, that’s how it should be! Shidou should hate him. Sue him for saving his life. Then he’d sue him back for making him do that in the first place. Now who’s really harrassed?)

Then, after that, he’d bring up the heavily concerning spiked drink or wherever the aphrodisiac came from.

(Hope as well to get the perpetrator responsible because what if it was, in fact, a serial killer rapist cannibal organ harvester? The fucker’s still out there then!)

Lastly, he’d end the call by recommending him to get checked. Thanks to a quick read in the library earlier, he’s now pretty sure aphrodisiacs alone don’t cause all that mess. Either the demon is allergic to something, was on drugs, has an underlying health condition, or something along those lines. 

Alas, they’d go back to being normal lab partners. Voilà. Problem solved. 

In regards to his stupid nosey friends, they would get a heavily cropped version of the truth (but the truth either way) so they finally shut up, and then all of this would mellow down and nothing will ever burst out of proportion. Step one: he needs to get Shidou Ryusei out of his mind. There is nothing more he could do. 

Or at least for tonight, he begs the universe: Please just let him think of someone else. 

“Here,” he surrenders, shoving money in Demon Mask’s waistband and glaring one last time. He didn’t miss that lip bite, the desire in those eyes which he returned, before leaning close to his exposed lips and hope the lights don’t get them in the dark. “If you really want an apology, let’s see if you can find me later, hm?”

The guy’s friends whistled and laughed but his eyes stuck to those lips that drew him in so naturally. With one last glance, he shoves Demon Mask away and finally disappears into the building’s front doors. 

He didn’t look back after that. He decides he couldn’t wait for the strobes to shine on them again, because if that guy ends up being blonde too? He’s going to just kill himself at that point. 

He’s not about to suck someone’s face later thinking of his stupid lab partner, right?

That is, in fact, his stupid lab partner. 

In medical terms, shock is the body’s response to a sudden drop in blood pressure. Now, shock is him seeing the bane of his existence having a personal mini concert…and realize it was the same half-naked guy he just invited to fuck. 

There is literally no damn way on Earth. 

“My plus one, mio amico! Out of two.”

“Sae! Hi! Necklace? Vape? Drinks? Help yourself to anything! Welcome, welcome!”

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Reo and Lorenzo reappeared from the crowd, ‘Dance Again’ still playing from the speakers and Shidou Ryusei’s mic. 

“Hey,” he greets Reo absentmindedly, saying no to his necklace of… Is that candy? It was a literal necklace of bead candies on a string. He declined, but didn’t say no when Reo handed him a red cup instead.

“So, who else did you bring? You said out of two. Did you bring Aiku? Lost him already?”

“No. No Aiku. He’s on a blacklist for now,” Lorenzo explains before chugging his cup and Reo hitting a penjamin. “Ah, that’s good…”

“Ha,” the younger grinned, eyes bright and possibly dilated, thick smoke exhaled. “I know. I got a bunch of alc exported just for this. Happy Halloween, by the way!”

Now that Sae noticed it, the guy was hugging a little bag full of pens, which could’ve been whatever except he just brought one to lips and hit it.

So this is what the host has been doing. Capitalizing on teenage vices and promoting addiction, selling penjamins.

You know, what they usually do.

He’s his daddy’s son, after all. 

“What, you want to see Aiku that bad, Reo? Gasp,” Lorenzo teased, already swaying. “Oh, I’m telling Nagi. NAGI!” 

“Shut up, I don’t even like Aiku, no offense,” Reo quickly moves on and weaves past them. “‘Neways! I’ll get going. You guys have fun, I’ll go find Bachira and Aryu real quick.”

“Aryu! Ugh, I miss that guy. Wait up, I’m coming with!” Lorenzo follows, downing his drink. Not that Sae minds. “Sae, you stay here. The money’s in the-”

“I literally don’t care.” 

“Knew you’d say that. Mwa.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Ciao,” Lorenzo blows a kiss and disappears. 

Now left in his own sorrow, Sae shakily took down a big chug from the cup Reo just handed him—vodka cranberry?—and looked back at the counter.

Dumbstruck is an understatement for the sight. He is beyond speechless. He felt electrocuted in place.

Because there he was, still. Shidou. His lab partner. The reason for his headaches as of late. Dancing as he passed the mic to another friend and lost himself to the music. 

Arms on someone’s body. 

Someone’s arms also on his. 

Sae just wanted to walk closer and ask: Has it been good for him? Was it happy where he stood? Was a life of partying really that fun? Does it truly feel as elating as it looks? Because he looked happy. He looked like he’s having the time of his life. It’s just that he does not suppose a person who involves himself in all this shit lives a happy, fulfilling life. 

For one, there’s a reason people do the things they do.

Just look at Michael Kaiser, his ejemplo principal. That guy’s a pretentious asshole and a huge fucking bitch but they knew—he knew—that he had enough reasons to drink. 

It was the night of broken glass and dreams during their first year here when Kaiser got drunk and cracked. At that sleepover, he finally told them all about his past. Did he remember he did that? A little. Did their advice stop him from getting worse and eventually almost getting kicked out of the team and dying? No. But does Sae and the others understand him better after that? Yes. There’s a reason Michael Kaiser made it to the short list of people Sae calls his “friends”.

But there is a thin line between tolerance and sympathy. Just because he understands why people do certain things doesn’t mean his principles now agree that it’s fair. 

So what could Shidou Ryusei possibly want to do all this for?

What kind of pent-up feelings is he holding behind those eyes? 

What kind of unsaid thoughts lie behind those jokes? 

Was he a happy child? he suddenly wondered. Was he always like this or did something happen that made him so? Something inside Sae’s veins was just itching to know. For someone who speaks so much every damn second of the day, he realises Shidou Ryusei is just so mysterious. He doesn’t know anything about him, now does he? He talks so much but says almost nothing. 

Who is he, when not this? Who is he in the afterhours when no one’s watching? Who is he when this one hell of an outer skin is stripped away?

Ask all he could, though…Sae could just drink the vodka cranberry as his own sort of answer.

He guessed he’d never know.

(There is no way in all rings of hell that he will ask Shidou Ryusei all that.)

Now, he settles on just watching because sometimes watching is what’s enough.

What you think? It’s a rumor

I'm really out of this world, moon, Luna

Make women comfortable, call me bloomer

Can't even show love 'cause they'll sue ya

Shidou’s demon mask had since been pushed up crookedly to his forehead. What naked torso earlier now donned a neon pink feather boa. (Was he cold? He’s probably cold.) He’s now also wearing someone’s shades, a candy necklace, and at least now he’s wearing some sweatpants. Happy all he seemed, the euphoria he exudes doesn’t feel like it’d last until the morning. 

Much like his consciousness now actually, as the vodka and the shots from earlier finally started to kick.

Fuck it. He needs to leave now.

Even when unmoving and unspeaking, Shidou Ryusei will remain glowing in the hearts of these people—whether he’s here to see it or not, so he downs the cup, slams it on a nearby stand, and turns around to leave from whence he came. 

“He’s hot.”

“Correction. They’re hot.”

“I know! That one with the halo’s mine.”

“That one with the ass is mine.”

“Who are they?”

“Have you found their Instas yet?”

“Type faster!”

“Shut up! The Playboy Bunny is Yuki…Yukimiya Kenyu, I think-”

“Oh, oh! Here. Fireman’s Kunigami Rensuke, Policeman is Otoya Eita, Angel is Karasu Tabito. I can’t find the demon guy-”

“GIRL, NOOO! The Kunigami guy’s taken!”

“WHAT?!”

“Lock emoji on bio, look.”

“IS ANGEL TAKEN?”

“Yeah. Some bitch’s handle on his bio.”

“Who the hell is ‘@hiori1837’?”

“Should I follow? I have a burner.”

“It is a burner! 1 following, 1 follower.”

“Someone please tell me the Playboy Bunny’s single.”

“I’m so sorry, girl. He’s signed. I don’t think he dates.”

“That’s it, I’m doing the Demon.”

“Back off, I called dibs!”

“First one to take a bite of his necklace gets him then.”

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

Sae stops in his tracks. He snaps his head to the far right where the female voices came, a group of seven gossiping and whispering just as enamoured as he was. He quickly spots two of them beelining to the fratguy hotspot, both helped up the table by the Policeman who immediately flirts with them. 

Then, he watched the pair take the beads of the Policeman’s candy to his teeth and bite down. Policeman looks like he’s having the time of his life. 

Wait, that’s what the candy necklaces were for?

As her other friends flooded after them, taking their pick of the lot, that’s when he spots Shidou crouch down now of all times, disappearing from sight. 

Sae was already walking closer before he knew it. This is why that son of a bitch gets himself into near death shit. This is why he always gets himself into trouble. He couldn’t believe this was all happening right before his eyes! He was almost by the balcony when he finally saw him again. 

Now, the demon was holding some sort of sparkler, downing a shot that some guy handed to him and being cheered on. Everyone laughed as he slammed the shot glass bottoms up with a roar, some guy handing over an entire tray of more, more, and more.

Now what is this? More friends? In what situation would it even require anyone to have this many friends? He can barely tolerate his six bastards. 

That’s when he heard that girl’s voice again, along with her six bastards: 

“What-? Is he gay? Why’s that guy’s hand on his ass?” 

“That’s just how guys are nowadays, honestly.”

“I want to touch his ass.” 

“Same.” 

“Here! Go and hand this over! Ask him his name while you’re at it. I really can’t find his Insta.”

Suddenly, Sae sways in their way. 

“Ugh! Watch where you’re-” 

His shoulder bumps onto the girl, some basic unremarkable brunette he’s sure he’d never seen before, who stilled when she saw his face. Her friends around her had the same look. 

“You get out of the way,” he tells them, motioning to the DJ booth. Thankfully, lying is also one of his unlocked skills. “DJ’s been asking for you.”

He ignores all their confusion, and eventually excited squealing, and returns his gaze to his…

his…

his ward, he guessed.  He was always told he’d make a good prison warden as a kid. Makes sense; Shidou Ryusei does seem like he’d make a good prisoner. He needs to be tied down to a stretcher if it meant that’s the only way he won’t get himself into sticky shit.

If it meant he’d learn his lessons and stop with all this dangerous dumb shenanigans.

“You free tonight?” 

To his horror, however—there’s some guy already, in fact, palming Shidou’s chest with teeth on his candy. Everyone was too busy with their own candy pairs to notice. Just from reading the guy’s lips from afar, Sae could already tell he’s up to no good. 

Now he got it. The group was playing some sort of game, doing rounds, everyone knowing each other. They’re friends. There were cards on the coffee table and the carpeted floor, some familiar faces from school huddled around. The Angel from earlier was even in there- That’s why he’s familiar. He was one of that idiot’s friends!

But that guy—blonde hair, bad toning, birthmark on his cheek? Not familiar at all. He doesn’t look like he went to their school. Does the demon even know him?

With full disrespect, that one looked like he begged his way onto being born.

“OOOOH!”

Suddenly, the guy leans to Shidou’s neck and takes a bite. Some alert members of the circle erupted onto wolf whistles when they noticed, some even scrambling to record the incident and Sae quickly found out why:

“I miss you,” he saw the guy mouth to Shidou’s neck, nose still buried in his hair. “Get back with me?”

An ex. 

“Nah, ‘dun wanna,” Shidou slurs as an answer, right as their friends cheered when some brownie pans and brownie jars came. Sae almost smiled when Shidou pushed the guy off of him like he’s nothing. “Brownies!”

“Ryusei,” the guys calls again, much to Sae’s eyeroll. The way he calls Shidou’s name so strongly, with familiarity, tells him he’s being real.

So, he watches as inconspicuously as he could, hoping his hair helps in blending with the bold red speakeasy-esque accent wall. 

“What do you waaant?”

“It’s been so long. I know you…” Sae couldn’t lip-read the next, “….me, right?”

“Meh,” was all the demon replied to whatever it is, taking a bite from the jar of brownies before pausing and choking. “I don’t- Eugh! Hey, this isn’t mine! I didn’t make this! Fuck-”

At that, Sae steadily follows as Shidou weakly pulled himself up to the balcony, possibly to spit the brownie out. Meanwhile, the guy—seriously, why is he still here?— follows.

When the two made it to the balcony, a short protrusion only enough for the two of them, Sae settled on leaning by its doorframe, now blending with the curtains, to hear better. 

(He could hear the demon spit the brownie off a dozen floors.

He pities the poor fucker below that will get that catapulted to his head.)

As he eavesdropped, he caught a glimpse of the jar where the brownies came from, now held by Angel and Cyanhead. It had a blue ribbon, metal cap identical to the one Martha came in. Huh. He couldn’t exactly read what’s on the label though... 

“You’re so hot,” the guy continued, voice coming in from the balcony. Sae straightens and remembers to listen in. “Wanna fuck?”

EUGH! Sae felt the cringe as shivers down his spine. Who even says that in this day and age?

“I don’t care! You broke…” he couldn’t make out the rest of Shidou’s sentence from where he stood. “…in a Mos!” 

He squeezes even further to the wall at that, almost blending in with the curtain as he goes directly behind Angel and Cyanhead talking on the sofa. Ghostface was sitting next to them, mask pushed up his head, his turn next on what seemed to be a round of Uno.

“And? So what?”

“I love Mos!” was Shidou’s reply, “….ruined their burgers for me!”

“Whatever. I know you miss me, you haven’t even dated anyone after me,” the guy spoke before lowering his voice. Sae couldn’t make out the rest of his words by then. “…see? Ryusei- why are you even- what did you even eat? Look at me. You have a drinking problem.”

“I actually have no problem with drinking,” was the bold answer. “But can you get- me a glass of-”

“If I do, can I…” then, a whisper. Sae felt his stomach drop:

“Fuck, fine, yes!” 

At that, Sae quickly snatches the Ghostface mask from the guy’s head in front of him and wears it, grabbing a nearby unopened bottle of water.

“Hey,” he called, the two on the balcony turning at the same time, as he cracked it open. The demon doesn’t seem to recognize him, thankfully. “My friend over there’s asking for your number.”

Wait, that’s too robotic.

“…C-cutie…pie.” 

The ex, whoever he is, raises an interested brow and smirks, not even looking at Shidou anymore. “You talking to me?”

He nods.

The guy smirks. “Okay. Who- Which one?”

Sae points to the group of girls from earlier, now mingling with the DJ in the booth. The guy then just laughed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at Shidou. His grip on the bottle tightens.

“Ha. I see I’m needed somewhere. Have fun being fuckless, fucker.”

“Oh, sorry.” Sae quickly steps on the way and catapults—his new favorite word—half the water bottle to the guy’s shirt. Before the latter could burst out in complaints however, he leaned close: “I know what you did last year, Sydney.”

That seemed to do the trick. The guy bolts away, half terrified and half weirded out, as Sae catches the demon’s body in time. He was starting to fall over the balcony as he loses consciousness, what the hell!

“Demon!”

He quickly pulls his body off the ledge and pulls the curtains shut, everything he had been holding back now spilling.

“God- you’re so- Do you really eat and drink everything your friends put in front of your mouth?!”

“UGH! Nice cockblocking, asshole! He was hitting on me! That was my man, man!”

“He’s not. You want to know what it looks like? It looks like he’s trying to fuck you,” Sae bursts. “It looks like you’re trying to get fucked by everyone. Just- take that disgusting thing off your neck.” 

They wrestle a little, Shidou’s hands slapping around aimlessly. The necklace catches on Sae’s bracelet however, wrist now stuck by Shidou's neck. 

“Stop being so difficult…” he said, lower this time. “You drank too much. You need to stop.”

“But that’s the pooooint! What’s your deal, Fun Police? Who are you? Take that mask off!” Shidou drinks the rest of the bottle anyway, at least somehow sobering a little. Sae pretends not to look when Shidou holds onto his arm, still stuck to the necklace, as he sways out of balance. “Wait, ooooh.”

“What?”

“You…he…” Shidou stutters, before beaming in absolute delight. “You were trying to fuck me!”

Sae swallows from inside the mask. Huh?

“I am not.”

“You got rid of competition! You got rid of him!” Shidou gasps, clapping as if he just uncovered a mystery. “You were trying to get me all to yourself!”

“I am not,” he choked out again, more bashful this time. 

“What, you have a crush on me?”

At that moment, Sae pulls his hand abruptly, the necklace shattering and the candy beads raining down. “Enough.”

“My candy!”

“You’re going home.” 

“Wha- I can’t! Limo-”

“I’m taking you home,” he hissed, putting Shidou’s arm over his shoulder and preparing to carry him out unseen. How? He doesn’t know. He’ll figure it out. 

“Okay.” Wait, Shidou just agreed. Doesn’t take much, huh? “Oh- Wait, wait, wait!” 

What now? He watches as Shidou proceeds to put his mask back on, a nasty reminder of his own stupidity, and grins.

Oh, this dumbass fuck.

“There! I’m into your own kinks, papi. Maaaask seeex!”

“Can you stop?” The reflection of his Ghostface on the glass balcony door stares back at him. “…It’s not about that.”

“Then what? No kiss? No sex? Not even seven minutes to spare?”

“I have enough reason to believe you’re fucked enough. Now,” Sae stops himself from slapping Shidou across the face to focus. “Can you walk?”

“Not aft’ I’m done with you!” he laughs before whining again. “Can you at least give me your number? Maybe save making love for another night? I’ll let you wear the mask if that’s what you’re into, and I’m always free! Almost! Just not on Tuesday and Thursday nights-”

That’s when he slaps a hand over Shidou’s mouth.

That is—surely!—enough. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Just your number, come on! Please! I’m single and underfucked!”

“Then cooperate with me here and maybe I’ll give it,” he surrenders, completely ignoring how Shidou already had his contact in his phone. “Now hold on to me or else. Complain one more time and I’m letting you roll to the first floor.”

“And then we’ll kiss?”

“You don’t even know who I am!”

Something heavy lingers in his throat.

“Are you like this to everyone when you’re drunk, really? So desperate and needy that you offer sex to strangers? Do you even have any idea how dangerous it is, whatever you’re doing?”

Shidou was silent for a good while.

“I don’t know. Remind me in the morning?”

At that, the latter just leans close and nuzzles onto his head, finally calming down—only to suddenly straighten, pull his head away, drag his hands in his face.

“Aaaah, fuck.”

“What is it? What hurts?” 

“Fuck, I need to- Sorry,” Shidou whispers in return, trying to break away only to fail. “Forget all that. Ugh…I need to stop, don’t I? Sae would hate me.”

He froze.

“What?”

Chapter Text

As if he just spawned straight out of yet another dream—no, a fantasy—with a posture so meaningless with no intent or direction, Sae chokes out a big, fat, “What?”

“Huh...”

“Who’s- Who’s Sae?”

“Oh, uh,” Shidou stutters in his reeling headache, half his body weight now on Sae. “He…He’s my, uh…”

Anxiously, his stomach turning and churning, he waits.

“Nothing... Forget I said anything!” Shidou exclaimed and the fish officially swims past Sae’s rod. “Can you just tape my mouth? Shit!”

Sae gave it a few seconds to simmer, just to process everything. Trick of the light or the sound, he’s pretty sure he just heard his name slip out of Shidou Ryusei’s mouth. He’s pretty sure there’s no other Sae enrolled in school. He’s also pretty sure there’s no other Sae around. What does that even mean? ‘Sae would hate me?’

But right now, it just joins the hundreds of other stuff in his mental vault of things he would never know. 

“No,” so he answered instead, lips brushing against the mask that obscures him, bracing for the one hell of the night that awaits ahead. 

“Why nooot? It’s one of my kinks!”

“Just stop. It already looks like I’m kidnapping you, do you want to make it worse?” There, he sweats inside the mask—which now that he realised it, if he’s going to be wearing this the entire time he’s carrying both of them down, is such a bad idea. Either Shidou will pass out or he will. “To be clear, you don’t know who I am. Right?”

“Stu Macher.”

Hm. “Guess again.” 

“Billy Loomis?”

“Good.” He definitely had no idea. Now here goes nothing. “Let’s go.”

Finally, he swipes the curtains open and stumbles back into the party, one hand carrying Shidou and the other holding his hand steady over his shoulder.

In front of him, the sight that greeted him, was one of Shidou’s friends. Right now, he’d settle on calling him Angel. The one with the little mole and the stupid halo.

Yellow diamonds in the light

Now we're standing side by side

As your shadow crosses mine

What it takes to come alive

Angel has his eyes closed, face held by Cyanhead to some party song. There was a hushed conversation about something intimate he wouldn’t want to hear. Sae quickly walks by before Shidou opens his mouth and warrants them to look.

It's the way I'm feeling I just can't deny

But I’ve gotta let it go

Then, on the couch, was another of Shidou’s friends—the one in the Fireman getup and orange hair—looking utterly miserable. He seemed lucky that there were also other single drunks passed out nearby, including a large platinum blonde who looks like he wrestles bears for a living. Sae ignores him too.

We found love in a hopeless place

We found love in a hopeless place

“Hey... Billy, where’re you taking me again?” 

When Sae turned to look, he realised the only reason Shidou had shut up for the past few seconds was because he stole somebody’s drink. 

“-Put that away!” Sae quickly swats the red cup only for it to spill over Policeman over there, who’s busy grinding on a girl. 

“I was drinking that! Oh- hi Oto-!”

Sae quickly reaches over and presses his free palm over his mouth. Maybe he should have taped his face after all. 

“Again, I’m taking you home.”

“Mhnhmm, nhnmmn!” Shidou laughs from behind his palm, a whole hearty chuckle, before he reaches down and pulls Sae’s palm off his face. “Freaky, I like! But!” 

Only for him to push his entirety away. 

“As much as I would love to have mask sex, cutiepie, I’m actually just sneaking out of a boarding school and there’s gonna be a big fat bitch doing room checks tomorrow at 7am, ‘kayyy? I have to give you a big fat N.O. No! No sex. I was just kiddin’ earlier…”

All this made Sae internally sigh in relief. 

“So you do have some dignity.”

He inhaled sharply—but not to complain—before grabbing the taller blonde back into his arms. “Now stay put. Don’t make this more difficult. I’m just putting you to bed.”

Shidou seemed a little confused by that. If he wanted to fight back, he didn’t. “My bed?”

“Yes, your bed.”

“No sex?”

“No sex.”

So they walked. 

One step after another. Left, right, left, right. So far, so good.

The deja vu of it all overwhelms him. 

Even with the different atmosphere, a wholly different context entirely, the first time he carried a drunk Shidou, he was just as heavy—and he was knocked out back then! How did he get himself in a second instance of this shit?

First, that night with Martha and the…blue balls. That was a whole medical emergency he liked to call Operation Pink Panther. (You could probably guess why.) This time, since it’s somewhat similar, he’s going to call this Operation Mission Impossible. 

Seems fitting. 

In his opinion.

“Hey. Demon. We’re going to play a game, okay?” he said after they took their first steady steps. “If you manage to not throw up and do exactly as I say, you win.”

“What’s the- hic- prize?”

“Well, what do you want-” Amidst the commotion, he dodges a flying shoe and almost got a wave of mild nostalgia this time. Last time he carried Shidou to bed, a flying shoe was also involved. Now what the hell? That Doc Martens almost smashed their brains. “Also, keep your mouth shut.”

“Mhm!”

They must’ve been entering the wilder part of the party. When he looked, they were indeed in the larger area now with a dense half-naked crowd. It wasn’t even this fucked up earlier!

Given everything smells like soap, it seemed that everyone that was in the parking lot now made their way up.

Difficulty level: Hard.

“Okay, talk. Now. What do you want?”

“I dunno,” Shidou slurred. “Can you get me aaaanything I want?”

“I’ll see what I can d- DUCK!” 

“Mwack!” Shidou chokes on his own spit as Sae crouches them both down. In that moment, the shoe’s other fucking pair came flying. Now how did this place become a fucking obstacle course!? People could die from that thing!  

“Wait… Duck? I want a duck.”

“Okay, you can have a duck.” 

Someone please tell him they can get out of this place unscathed. Or at least, alive. In his head, he prays. Still crouched down by everybody else’s knee-level, just for a brief moment, he faces Shidou and puts a hand over his mouth. 

Then, he calls solemnly, “Shidou.”

Now eye-to-eye with those sparkling pink irises, Sae holds him close and makes sure he understands.

“…Ya?” 

“Listen carefully. Game starts now. You open your mouth, or let go of me, you lose the game, got it?”

“No duck?”

“No duck.”

At that, Shidou zipped his lips and nodded in understanding. Good. First order of business: 

“Take this off.” Sae reaches over and takes the demon mask off his head.

“Hey…my mask :(”

“It’s digging into your skin,” he scolds, rubbing some fingers on the blond’s temples which now brandished red marks from the elastics. Then, he brought Shidou’s arms over his shoulders and resumed Operation Mission Impossible. “Again, hold on to me and shut up.”

“Aye,” Shidou salutes and they finally stand. “For duck…”

When Rihanna said it was a hopeless place, Sae thinks maybe it really is. 

He was right when he called that everyone in the parking lot waterpark slash carwash had since made their way up to the unit. It seemed it rained a little outside, based on the tiny drying raindrops on the windows. No wonder everyone took shelter. 

By the time they made it to the hallway, which is still packed but at least only by people who are either popping balloons or making out, Sae counted a total of three ‘incidents’:

One: Playboy Bunny and Mikage fighting.  

He didn’t stop to watch and eavesdrop on what they could be fighting about, but it sure as hell seemed big. There were countless concerned citizens recording the entire thing. He will probably find footage of it by the morning if Reo hadn’t got the CEO of Instagram to delete it by then. Right now though, he guessed that by the way Reo’s giant polar bear of a not-boyfriend stood in the middle with a big slap mark on one cheek, that the word ‘third party’ had something to do with it. It’s fine; he will read all about it from the school forums tomorrow. Or from Lorenzo. 

Two: that the girl the Policeman was trying to grind on all night was the Fireman’s boy friend.

There were so many ‘what the fuck’ layers to that just now, but essentially, based on the half-unintelligible rant Shidou disclosed on him as they walked: 

The ‘girl’ was actually his good male friend named Chigiri Hyoma. Now, this Chigiri has a boyfriend who is the orange-haired Fireman from earlier, who Shidou didn’t exactly get along with. Then, Shidou had another friend, this is the Policeman, who in turn has a big thing for the Chigiri guy despite 1) claiming to be straight, 2) Chigiri being taken 3) by a guy he knows. But according to Shidou, it’s fine because ‘he doesn’t get along with Kunigami anyway’. 

It was so messy. 

(He’d love to hear about it when Shidou was more coherent. What did Lorenzo call it again? Tea being piping hot?)

Last but not the least, aside from the honorable mentions of the toilets being flooded and some expensive vase already broken…

Third: Shidou almost swallowed a plastic bag from Mikage’s aquarium claiming it was jellyfish.  

Now, at that, he genuinely didn’t know what to say. People can’t even eat jellyfish! Not that he know of, but Shidou was looking to be killed either way! He just had to fish out the goddamn thing out of the aquarium and shove it in his mouth, and Sae would have to fish that thing out of his mouth. It was insane!

Ignoring the fact that Shidou literally almost died in his arms (again), he still suspended himself in a perpetual state of disbelief just to process everything. All heat generated from his few shots earlier already dissolved in his body. Hello, sobriety. You are not the guest I’m expecting to welcome tonight.

But all in all, everything is fine. They’re alive, Shidou learns that jellyfish can’t survive in a home aquarium with strong pumps, and they made it unharmed, unscathed (kind of), and vomit-free to the elevator. 

“Hold onto the bars,” he said as he stretched his shoulder and pressed the ground floor button. As expected, Shidou just falls limp right on the floor. “I said hold onto the-”

But at this point, truth be told, he just gave up.

“Tch.”

Letting out a big sigh, staring at the 47 on the elevator screen, he held onto the bars instead. The demon then proceeds to cuddle his leg. 

Honestly? Fuck it. At this point, he wishes he had a leg to cuddle too. 

“Demon,” he called, eyes nowhere in particular on the steel elevator doors. 

“Mmyeah?”

“What do you mean by earlier?”

“What earlier?”

“You said ‘Sae would hate me’.” The very sentence itself still makes his stomach churn. Really now, “What does that mean?”

For a moment, he thought the buzzing white noise of the elevator answered for him. By the time they reached Floor 33 though, that’s when the silentest of answers escaped Shidou’s mouth.

“My lab partner.”

Sae blinked, at first unsure if he just hallucinated that or if Shidou actually answered, but he confirms Shidou, in fact, did when the latter moved his head from his leg and blinked his eyes open to stare at the floor. They were now on Floor 29:

“…One of the most attractive people I’ve seen, I dunno.”

Sae stares at the demon’s mess of damp blonde hair from where he stood. He couldn’t see his face from here, still obscured by his own Ghostface mask, but he can feel Shidou’s words etching itself onto his leg. 

And he too can also feel his own frown etch itself onto his face. 

“Huh?” he repeated, half asking, half just stating. He’s terribly unsure what to feel about the uncomfortable lavatic warmth bubbling inside his chest now. It was warm, sure, but it creeped in slowly like a heartburn. He suddenly felt like he would choke. “Why would he hate you? What did you do?”

The answer came on Floor 23:

“I told myself I’ll stop being…so weird and touchy and-” Shidou made a motion to randomly grab the air, something he isn’t sure exactly of its connotations, “- sexual …in general.”

“Why would he hate you?” he said out of the lack of things to say. “I think he knows.”

“I dunno... He’s kinda the guy who’d cut you off over one little mistake. He’s The Shit, okay! Regina George type shit,” Shidou rambled, burying his face back into his leg. They’re now on Floor 19. “One time, I saw in his Instagram, his friends threw him a birthday party and they gave away Cartier charm bracelets as party favors. You feel the- like that! Like the one you’re wearing.”

“Is that how-” he stops himself and just swallows the rest of the sentence, burying his bracelet deep inside his sleeve. 

A murky feeling of something he’d liken to sewage water—shame, perhaps—washes over him. Sae suddenly felt like a rat caught in a sticky trap. 

They reached Floor 11 by the time he spoke again. 

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe you were wrong about him?”

“Bruh... I’m never wrong...” Shidou declares, humming in contentment. They’re now on Floor 9. “But yeah. I’m aware people are multifaceted beings with an inner and outer self and that other people’s perceptions of them are never accurate to their own sense of identity and shouldn’t be held against them especially in the form of expectations, societal roles, and/or the like…”

Sae stands there in horror.

“Or maybe that’s just me.”

The elevators finally ding on the ground floor and Sae shakes himself out of his stupor. He is…ignoring that for now. “Let’s go.” 

He reaches down and brings Shidou’s arm over his shoulder, hoisting him up first to the wall and eventually on his own feet. Steadily, he carried them out, only to greet what he considers another level from his personal little Jumanji round: 

The parking lot. 

“Demon.” 

“Yah?”

“How did you get here?” he asks in terror as he looks at the space, still littered with some people but mostly of private vehicles. 

“Told you... Limoooo. Reo’s limo.”

He swallowed. Right. 

He might as well did not hallucinate those Jumanji drums that began thumping within his head just now. Since he got them out of that condo, yay, how the hell is he supposed to get them out here now? 

“Whyyy?”

“We need a car.”

“There’s a looootta around!”

He steps out, Shidou in tow, and stares at the building entrance. Thing about the Mikage Towers, especially this residential North tower, is that all four of it is in a gated community, with the North being at the farthest hill. No taxi cab ever drives by unless they want to pay the toll fee and drive through the entire village and its jazillion gates therein, and those who called an Uber will have to wait hours just for one driver to accept. Everyone had private drivers here! How are they supposed to get back to campus now?

At that, he spots a nearby stone bench behind the landscaped hedges and puts Shidou down. He needs to think…

“Imma take a nap here...”

“Do what you want.” The guy immediately lays horizontally, taking the entire space in his drunkenness. 

For once, Sae decides not to hold it against him when he just crouched by the floor next to the bench as he pulled out his phone. Would Regina George sit on the floor? No, the fuck, she would not. He is not Regina George.

But at least she had a car. Right now, all he could do is pull out his phone, tap on the Uber app, and hope for the best. What are his options other than this? Think, Sae, think. 

For one, there’s Lorenzo. If he could take a quick scan back up at the party and find the guy, Lorenzo might be able to hook him up with some guy with a car who could drive them back. 

…Which may be a bad idea. He is not hopping in a car with a stranger, especially with a drunk heavy anchor by his side which will slow down any escape attempts in a case of kidnapping hostage situation. (His family is not about to deal with one again.) Besides, Lorenzo might already be passed out in the bathroom. It’d be a waste of energy to get back up to the condo now.

His next option would be Mikage. 

…But sadly, he had seen his fight earlier with Playboy Bunny and it doesn’t look like the kid would respond wonderfully to him asking for a favor.

Now that he thought of it, why hasn’t he seen much of people he knows? So far, it’s only Lorenzo, Shidou, and Mikage. That’s odd. Usually, if there’s a big fun party like this, Aiku and the others would find ways to get themselves in-

Cough!

Suddenly, cigarette smoke enveloped from overhead.

Hey. This isn’t even a smoking area.

Sae coughs a little more and cranes his head up to peek above the hedge. Wait, is that…? He quickly sits back into the shadows, shuts his phone down, and peeks again. 

No. 

Fucking.

Way. 

Confirming a head of salmony pink hair, he took one last peek at Shidou on the bench, fortunately already half-asleep and quiet, and he confirms his next course of action. He peeks again, from the side of the hedge this time, and relished at the sight of the sparkling keys hanging by the back pocket of Sendou Shuuto’s jeans. 

He can’t believe it. It’s Sendou, in the flesh, and they just took Aiku’s car to get here!

(Now he knew what Lorenzo meant when he said he invited Sae ‘out of two’.)

Either way, the silver lining is his victory. Thinking quickly, he spots a nearby branch. Time to go fishing.

Slowly and carefully, he reaches out said branch towards the keyring and hooks it on, just like a fish to a bait. 

“…!”

Suddenly, by some God-given miracle, it was Sendou who crouched down, aiding him in pulling out the keys unnoticed. The guy seemed too preoccupied by his phone if that blue-light was any indication, so Sae just fished out Aiku’s dorm keycard and keys carefully out of his pocket. Then, in a quick motion, he threw the branch in the air and caught the keys with a muffled clap.

“Who’s there?”

Shit. Sae shifts closer onto the shadows, seeing Sendou’s phone light moving overhead, before the guy eventually crouches back down. In the dark, he looks at the card again and feels it for the Mustang’s horse logo…

…which is there.

Oh sweet Jesus.

Buzz! Buzz!

“Hello? What do you want?” Sendou suddenly hissed. Sae guessed he’s in a call. “Yeah. Just- drinking at Reo’s, why? I’m with Aiku and- No. Haven’t seen him-” Then an abrupt pause. “Did he just hang up on me? Little shit.”

Behind the hedge, Sae stays in place for a few seconds before he hears Sendou throw the cigarette butt down, squish it, and walk away. Giving it a few more seconds, only then he stood up. And so now that he got the keys...

Time to find that Mustang.

“Hey. Demon. Stay here. Don’t talk to anyone, don’t go anywhere.” He stood, only to come back for a quick correction. It is very important he knew Shidou would listen. “You move, no duck.”

Groggily, “Mmmkay…”

With one last look around, spotting no one, he takes off the mask (finally, fresh air) and jogs onto the East face of the building to scan the parking lot for a maroon Ford Mustang. 

Knowing Aiku, he loved to park super far from the other cars for a quick makeout session with whomever was in his passenger seat (which sadly used to be him not that long ago). However, it was Sendou who drove, given that he had the keys.

That guy was a proud Tesla user (who the hell learns to drive in a Tesla?) and Sae’s betting on the small chance that his habits must’ve made him park near the chargers.

An assumption in which he was correct. 

There by the chargers was the Mustang indeed—parked poorly but fortunately unblocked by some other dumb fuck. Sae quickly opens the door and climbs in, overwhelmed by the scent of some open flasks filled with whiskey.

Disgusting. So they pre-gamed, huh. He should’ve known.

With no further ado, he pulled out and went back to the South face of the building to get the demon. He put his mask back on before hopping out.

“Shidou,” he called, opening the passenger car door and pulling the guy up to a seat. “Wake up. Let’s go.”

“Haiiii. Oooh- Hello, Billy.”

“Yes, me. Cooperate.” 

And, in that moment, he quickly surmised carrying a half-asleep Shidou was harder than a completely-passed out Shidou and a drunk-but-conscious Shidou. 

He then quickly realised he is not to talk, since he’s the one dragging a limp body onto a car with a Ghostface getup on. This is apparently how Scream movies get made. 

“Focus! What are you even looking at?!” 

“Wait. Stop. Bruh, no way. I think that’s my homie.”

At that, Sae slaps Shidou’s head off his view to see two figures in the shadows of the dark, almost mirroring them. One was a drunkard—check—with the other struggling to walk the both of them out the premises—also check—onto the main road.

“Ignore them. Let’s go.”

Judging from the fact they’re even heading to the main road where no taxis pass, Sae guessed it was an outsider.

Suddenly, that night’s most unfortunate thing happens: Shidou Ryusei opens his big fucking mouth. 

“ISAGI!”

It was too late when Sae made the motion to cover his mouth for the two already turned to look, or at least the one carrying the other did. Next time, he swore to God, he would tie Shidou down and never involve himself in anything that has to do with him ever again. 

“Shidou?!” the figure, who the demon called ‘Isagi’, called back and started walking close. In severe irritation, Sae just stuffs Shidou onto the passenger seat and walks around to get in the driver's seat before the two ever reach them. Sadly, they still did. 

However, he was greeted with both good news and bad news.

Bad news? Shidou invites the two to climb in the back, who complied with only very little resistance: “Yo... baby sopho. We ‘bout to head back, need a ride?”

“You sure?”

“Ya! Is that-”

And what’s the good news, you ask?

“-Is that fucking Kaiser, man?” Shidou lulls in disbelief as he turns to the backseat and squints in the dark, the unconscious other person being blonde, enormously tall, with unmistakable thorny vines wrapping around his arm. 

Sae inhaled sharply, hands ten and two, and had to wire his jaw shut and press his lips together to keep a grimace from forming out.

It is.

It is Michael Kaiser. 

With slimy-looking brown crumbs on his head that Sae, with only little doubt, assumes was the fucking brownie Shidou spat out from the balcony. 

God, he wished he could take a picture for Lorenzo and Loki right now.

So that’s why he knew what’s going on in the underclassmen’s dorm building; he had a secret little fling who he had been seeing since who knows when! Mystery solved. Ugh. Look at him—humming in his sleep while being cuddled by some second year. He, Loki, and Lorenzo are definitely going to have a field day with this later. 

“Yeah,” Isagi replied protectively. “What about it?”

“Dunno, isn’t he a bitch to you?” Finally, Shidou said something he completely agrees with. “The hell are ‘ya even doing with-”

“Shidou, I love you, but say one more thing and I’m going to shove that boa so far up your ass you’ll be vomiting neon pink feathers tomorrow morning.”

“Sheesh! Fine! Fuuuck...” Shidou straightens in his seat as Sae took the liberty to put his seatbelt on for him, as his form of a proud unspoken pat on the back. “You do you, whatever.”

“Ugh. Sorry. Just super stressed. I’m not even drunk anymore, fuck,” that Isagi person proceeds to sigh, dragging a hand all over his face. He just went a complete 180 from just a few seconds ago! Sae decides he’ll just ignore this. “Anyway, hello to you too, uh…”

He paused. That does not seem good.

“Excuse me. Were you just about to drive with a mask on?”

Fuck yes, he will. Sae made a point by glaring at the mirror and turning the engines on. The Mustang responds with an attractive roar.

“Ha. Ha. Nice bit, Ghostface. Now take it off,” this Isagi person then had the audacity to demand, as if having Michael Kaiser unconscious on his lap makes him have any place to demand anything from him. “Shidou, dude- cut him out! Seriously.”

“Ugh. Fine,” Shidou lulls. “Billy, this Isagi Yoichi… club captain of…something. ‘Sagi, this is Billy.”

“Yeah. Chess. Nice to meet you, Billy.” Isagi smiled for a quick moment before turning into a demon again. “Now take it off! You’re not driving like that!”

“Bro- Hands off!” Thankfully, it’s Shidou who defends him now. He really has his purposes. “Don’t do Billy like that! Billy, you can see the road, right?”

Sae clears his throat. “Yes.”

He can see Isagi narrow his eyes from the back. “And you didn’t drink?”

Now is probably a good time to lie. “No.”

“See? No problemo, egoista. Fly like the wind, Billy!”

At that, Sae smirks inside his mask, now unable to help it any further, as he takes the car off park. Things are going to be so interesting tonight. 

“Yes, Sir.”

Chapter Text

“No one has anything weird on them like a gun or Armenian cocaine, right?” Shidou slurs on the passenger seat, but Sae looked in the mirror and seconded the sentiment anyway. They had since made it out the road, except he may have forgotten one obvious thing: 

It is a gated community. 

Their gated community, but with guards nonetheless.

And it doesn’t help that he’s currently:

• Wearing a mask

• Transporting multiple drunk people he may or may not know

• In a car that isn’t his

Which, in the eyes of the law, reads as misdemeanor, a DUI, three counts of attempted kidnapping, and one count of vehicular theft. Which isn’t as bad as it sounds, kind of, but bad nonetheless.

“What?! Cocaine? No- Do I look like-” 

“He’s not talking about you,” Sae mutters through his mask, gesturing with his chin toward the very limp blonde cradled in Isagi’s lap.

The sophomore stiffens.

“Oh- Oh. Oh shit.”

Isagi proceeds to frantically pat down Kaiser, checking pockets, tugging at jewelry, while Kaiser drools peacefully with his mouth slightly open, eyes unfocused.

“No, nothing.” Isagi confirms after the pat down, still looking incredibly shaken about the last thirty minutes of his life. “Not that I know of…”

“Good.” Sae nods. Two cars left ‘til the gate. Why is there a queue? Must be a lot of outsiders trying to leave at once. Whatever. Silver lining: Kaiser’s allegedly clean. (Or maybe Isagi’s just terrible at finding where sneaky people keep coke.)

“You- Do you know this guy?”

When Sae glanced at the mirror, Isagi was pointing at Kaiser on his lap.

“You know him, don’t you?” And as if anyone of value would even hear or care, Isagi lowers his voice and asks in the most serious tone: “You’re telling me he does cocaine?”

“For fuck’s sake.” He doesn’t have time for this. Sae just puts his dignity off of park and simply rolls his eyes under the mask. Now that they confirmed Kaiser clean, time to take care of his own dirt. 

(Aka the pending misdemeanor “driving-with-a-mask-on” charge.)

He had to somehow take the mask off sooner or later before they get to the gate—all without risking the demon to see his face. Maybe he can blindfold him? That should work, right?

As Isagi kept ranting about something, he makes a quick glance at the demon—currently drooling all over his window looking at the stars—then to the gate to which they are getting closer.

In a quick motion, he reaches over and rummages on the glove box.

Fuck it; he will blindfold him, he’s out of ideas. 

“Oi… What’re you…” Shidou asks as he successfully pulls out a sleep mask. It was Sendou’s Gucci ones, but it’d do for now. 

“Put this on.” In his impatience, he puts it on the demon himself, who didn’t protest. He ignores Isagi Yoichi for now. “Pretend to sleep so none of us get sobriety tested.”

(That is, if “sobriety tested” is the new spelling for ‘realising that the guy who’s taking me home tonight is Itoshi fucking Sae’.)

“Roger! zzz…” Sae touches the edge of his mask, hesitating. His life has come to this. Masked up, driving a stolen car, hiding from an unconscious demon and a wide-eyed chess club sophomore who—

Fuck.

He genuinely couldn’t believe this.

Never in a thousand years did he ever consider that he’s going to end up in this exact situation—wherein it’s either risk getting some kind of criminal liability or risk losing his social standing and dignity, but he made it here anyway. Congratufuckinglations. Happy fucking Halloween, he guessed.

Unfortunately, being arrested is a hundred times worse—and avoidable—than just taking the mask off and revealing himself to one (1) semi-sober witness who he’d only met just today. He isn’t even that sure if this guy even knew his face or who he was, given this lighting.

Maybe he’d just pick and poison and do it. Who is this guy anyway? Chess club captain? Who’s he gonna tell, Beth Harmon? 

“Wait a minute- Did you just say sobriety tested?” Isagi grumbled largely, as if Sae had just committed the gravest mortal sin on earth. He still had the mask on, but he raises his brow anyway. “Billy, did you drink?!”

At that, Sae finally takes the mask off and inhales one long breath of fresh air. 

“And if I did, so fucking what, hm?”

The face that greeted him when he took his mask off was indescribable. The sophomore choked on his own words mid-gasp, hand flying to his mouth as his back hits the furthest it could go onto the carseat—with Kaiser almost rolling onto the floor if not for Isagi’s vice-like terrified grip on his jacket and sanity. 

“I- SA-”

“Now if you want to get out of here without a problem…” Sae mouths to him, completely soundless: “Shut, the fuck, up. Got it?”

“You- He- Holy fuck.”

Eventually, Isagi goes quiet, eyes still wide, hands trembling. Alas, without a further word, they move up. Now it’s their turn at the gate. This should be smoother from now on. That is, if this chess bastard in the backseat keeps his mouth shut.

“What’s happening…” Shidou mumbles, blindfolded face turned toward the stars.

“Nothing,” Sae hisses, gaze flicking from the gate to Isagi’s reflection in the rearview. Yep, he’s quiet. Too stunned to speak. By then, they finally reach the gate and he lowered the windows-

“Good evening, Mr. Itosh-”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. 

“Passing by,” he cuts him off. Like shit. “We’re just passing by.” 

“Where’s Mr. Oliver?” The guard smiled at him as the gate rose in front of them, toll-free. “He lent you the Ford or-”

“None of your goddamn business.”

The guards froze as he put the windows back up, only managing to stagger a quick bon voyage before another guard slaps him behind his head. When they passed and finally made it out, he noticed Shidou remained motionless beside him.

“Demon?” he tested, receiving no response. “Shidou?”

Still no. Huh. Maybe he really is asleep-

“Oliver? As in Aiku?” Isagi chokes out from the back. Jesus- he almost forgot about the guy. “What does he have anything to do with this, Billy?”

Sae glances at the rearview once again and sees the sophomore sitting there so uneasily. It was a look that reminded him of someone who may have a literal stick up his ass, or someone who had seen a ghost. Or both at the same time. 

“Don’t talk to me.”

Now that he thought of it, he did hear from a little Italian birdie that there’s some bitch from the chess club that Rin’s complaining about—so this must be him. Why is Isagi looking at him with that much shock anyway? Not that people hadn’t been nervous around him before, but none of them looked like they were frozen in place as much as the kid is right now.

It’s starting to feel like he’s hauling a giant frozen hotdog in his backseat the more he looks at Isagi Yoichi (was it?), only with blue eyes that were wide and staring in his soul in disbelief. Even his face was red, as seen in the dark rearview reflection. He reminds Sae right now of a Japanese hotdog, glowing red in the microwave and utterly suffering.

But given he hadn’t really been around other people lately, he guessed the guy was simply starstruck. When was the last time he even regularly went to class prior to the All Japan intercollegiate? Two years ago?

Is he a fan then? Did he ever watch him play? Does he know who Itoshi Sae is? Just why on Earth is this guy even this shocked at seeing him be Billy anyway?

(He guessed it is indeed doubtful if anyone who ever heard or knew of him expects someone like him doing something like this. Sure. Not his kind of activity. Maybe the shock was warranted?)

But still. He does appear and talk to people. Sometimes. He’s not some high and mighty young master who’s allergic to social interaction, nor some genie who only shows up and talks to people once in a blue moon. Sure, he liked to keep within his niche and not talk to anyone else (he doesn’t even like talking to his own friends most days), but he’s not some total social recluse.

Is it the driving then? Is there something on his face? What the hell is so damn shocking? 

Whatever. He just realised he doesn’t actually care. What’s the question again? ‘Who’s Oliver Aiku?’

“It’s his car,” he admits as he makes a turn to the quiet neighborhood, the one leaning to the back of the campus. Returning his focus to the road, he guessed it’s probably a good idea to avoid public highways and just stick to-

“AND THIS ISN’T EVEN YOUR CAR?!” 

What edge he must’ve been sitting on, Isagi Yoichi finally fell into. The stick in his ass? It drove right into his chest.

“Can you stop shouting?” he finally scolded, but Isagi simply hides into his hands and whines even louder—something so reminiscent of Rin, except when Rin was 5 years old. 

“Oh my God, this isn’t happening, this isn’t happening- you’re drunk, you stole a car-”

“I have no need of my sins being repeated back to me- now lower your voice,” He glares at the guy before taking a quick glance at his passenger seat. There, Shidou’s chest rose and fell steadily and slowly. “He’s sleeping.”

“Oh my God—” Isagi chokes more before sinking into the car seat like a dying Victorian orphan. “I’m high. I think I’m high, holy shit.”

Sae proceeds to simply inhale sharply as as the kid continues to freak out, thankfully quieter. Fortunately for him, the road outside was open and mostly free now in midnight, mostly devoid of any living human being except the usual fellow party refugee.

“This is insane, you-” Isagi finally whispers. “You’re drunk driving. You’re going to kill us.”

Now he sees the appeal of this guy being with Michael Kaiser. This little shit might actually be able to out-diva that asshole. 

“And you’re gonna go to jail,” Isagi mutters, now reaching Stage 5: Acceptance with a tinge of choicelessness, leaning his weak head on the window. “I’m gonna be a witness. I’m gonna testify. They’ll subpoena me.”

“Good,” Sae replies, taking a turn into a quieter block of housing where the streetlights don’t flicker like horror movie set pieces. “Maybe they’ll arrest you first and take Kaiser’s corpse. Two birds.”

See? They made it unscathed, unharmed, and vomit-free back to school. 

He finally parks the car at the back side of the school fence, near the sophomore and junior dorms. One part of the stone wall was broken when some dumbass crashed his car into it three years ago (Sendou Shuto who stole and wrecked his dad’s stupid Tesla, cough). He walks out and peels Shidou off the passenger seat, and only then Isagi Yoichi spoke again.

“HEY!”

“Oh right. You’re still here.”

“You’re kidnapping him!” 

Excuse me? Sae had to put Shidou back down on his seat—with a little puff—as Isagi stepped out the other side. Now, they spoke over the Mustang’s low roof.

The only light nearby was a moth-littered streetlight, enough to show him the nasty glare that this Isagi Yoichi was giving him. 

“Let go of my friend, asshole. What are you going to do to him?” he hissed. “Where were you going to take him if we didn’t come with- What were you even doing with him?”

Too many questions. Only God knows he shared the same concern Isagi had for Shidou, and a part of him was glad at least one of the demon’s friends cared—but damn if he’s going to get the blunt side of this now.

“Don’t put my head in your guillotine, Isagi Yoichi. You do realise that by the same logic, you’re also kidnapping my friend right there?” he says calmly to the air, burying his hands onto his pockets as the cold evening breeze sweeps by. He then nods his head towards Kaiser inside. “He’s passed out. He was unconscious. What were you doing with him?”

He seemed to have gotten Isagi by the balls with that, the latter’s mouth clamping shut. Everyone on campus knew who was in his circle. Everyone knew the football team. Everyone can enumerate on one hand (and a fifth) the few people Itoshi Sae talks to. He bet if he didn’t wear the mask, Isagi wouldn’t accept the ride at all.

Hell, he bet Isagi and Kaiser were hiding and that’s why they’re walking alone helpless in the dark. Who the hell does this Isagi think he’s shooting in the foot now?

“Do you think I wouldn’t tell anyone about you two?” 

Isagi stiffens. “Are you threatening me?” 

Sae tilts his head. “What do you think?”

All posturing aside, Sae can tell the guy isn’t bad. Not really. Just from how he carries himself, he’s probably going to do the exact same thing Sae would: drag the idiot in the backseat upstairs, dump him on a bed, and that’s it. Not that he cares what happens to Kaiser. The guy could pass out in a ravine and he wouldn’t blink.

Still, even if he wouldn’t judge them for doing something else, this little sophomore pissed him off by being a hassle. Luckily, Sae knows someone who would give a damn. Lots of damn, in fact.

Alexis Ness, to be precise.

He’s pretty sure Isagi would know who that guy is. 

Now that Sae thinks about it, there are a few other bastards on his personal hit list:

One of them owns this car.

Another was supposed to have the keys and lost it.

And the last one is snoring in the backseat.

Hah.

An evil, evil idea springs into his head.

“I’m making you a deal.” 

The sophomore presses his lips together and squints in uncertainty. “Deal- What deal?”

“If you don’t want me to tell and make sure that—I don’t know—that Alexis Ness hears about all this,” Sae quickly tosses Isagi the car keys, who catches it in a clumsy clap, “You will leave Kaiser in this car until morning and make it seem like he drove this car here.” 

It’s flawless. Aiku? Will lose his mind thinking Kaiser took the car without asking. Kaiser? Won’t remember shit, but won’t like being yelled at. Sendou? Was supposed to have the keys. Cue meltdown.

Three out of six idiots taken down in one move. A fucking prophecy fulfilled.

And as for Ness…

Again, everyone knows who’s on the football team. Everyone there knows why someone as wimpish, submissive, and reverent as Ness made it to vice captainship. He’s lamb to the slaughter, sure—he’s indeed a little too naive for his own good sometimes—but lambs grow up to become rams, don’t they?

Rams, as in the animal satanic horned deities are based off of. 

He’s sure Isagi got the message whether or not he’d say that. 

“Leave him- Are you insane!?” Isagi stares at the car keys, as if daunted by them—but he doesn’t toss it back. Sae already knew he fucking won. “What makes you think I won’t tell anyone about this? You have more to lose than we do, Itoshi Sae.” 

True. Kaiser already got his ass clocked in the school forums when he got kicked out of the football team once. Notwithstanding his numerous other problematic mistakes, of course. (At least he handles it all with grace.) Sae, on the other hand, has a completely clean reputation. The worst he had was when he got accused of being a snob just because he refused to take selfies with some fangirl. He indeed has more to lose than Kaiser does.

Intelligent, he now deems this Isagi Yoichi. It seems like there’s some other fucker in this campus who uses his brain too.

“Go ahead, I can’t stop you.” Sae simply shrugs in return and goes back to Shidou, pulling him up carefully and slamming the car door shut behind him. The demon did in fact fall asleep, and he holds his body closer than he did while awake. Then he looks back at Isagi: “That is, if you can do that to “your own friend”, and if anyone ever believes you.” 

Now that’s what he calls Fatality. A checkmate, if he will.

At that, he turned away without any further word and approached the brick wall collapse. This dimly-lit shortcut will lead to a little 5-minute pass through some woods, a small dark buffer from the dorms to the neighbourhood. It’s a wonder this hole wasn’t fixed already. A lot of students had been exploiting this for years, including them-

“…Why are you doing this.” 

Isagi stops him with a weak question, a surprisingly reverent inquiry spoken in a much more solemn fashion.

“Nothing personal to you,” he replied, adjusting Shidou on his shoulders. 

“I meant to him.”

When Sae turned around and met Isagi’s eyes, only forlorn remained in them. He was looking at Shidou, before the same tired gaze went back to him. 

“Why are you doing this to him?” he repeats, and for once, Sae was at a loss for words.

He genuinely didn’t know what to say to that.  

“Look, I’ll shut up,” Isagi finally breaks the stare, shrugging up to the nightsky—but not before looking back down and giving him a deadly glare. This time, it was unlike the look of guilt he had been giving him thus far. This was a stare of a genuine anger, no- protectiveness, and not of an empty threat: “But the moment something happens to him, Itoshi Sae, you’re dead.”

Shivers ran down his spine before he knew he was even stunned. Isagi continued:

“You know why? Because I don’t care who the fuck you think you are. You, your brother, and your posse of obnoxious foreign freaks- so what? You think you can do whatever you want with people? Sad news, asshole: you don’t get to treat people like toys just because you’re bored.” 

Sae almost scoffed, but he only stared back in pure interest this time:

“You think I’m doing this because I’m bored?”  

“Then are you telling me I’m wrong?” Isagi shrugs, his crystalline blue eyes randomly ending up on Kaiser sleeping soundly on the backseat. Only then his tough façade cracked and broke: “Isn’t that what people like you always do?” 

At that, pieces finally fell together in Sae’s mind, and he suddenly gets a clear picture on a relationship he had only found out thirty minutes ago.

So that’s what’s going on.

At that, he lingers for a moment before leaving. Isagi doesn't come after him this time. He just looks at Shidou, who told him something similar before, and proceeds to pull him closer to his body.

“Go home,” he tells Isagi as his friendliest unfriendly goodbye. An unsolicited advice of sorts, or some sort of truce offer. Something kind to leave, like flowers to the grave. “Or stay with him, I don’t care.”  

He turns his back and truly, genuinely, with the most love he has in his heart, waves Isagi Yoichi good luck:

“And if Kaiser ever asks what happened tonight, say his dad called and you had to answer the phone. He’ll never talk about this night ever again.”

That left a lot of room for reflection. Why is he doing this? He couldn’t tell anymore when this all started. 

With Shidou, it’s just so easy to care. He’s worrisome, a full idiot, and he always gets into all sorts of shit. Meanwhile, all his life, Sae was used to only ever looking after himself. Now he’s carrying his…lab partner…away from everything that could ever be harmful. He wants to take care of him. He doesn’t really understand why.

He just makes giving a fuck so damn easy.

Ding! Finally. Room 111. Or is it 777? Whatever.

The elevator dings on the seventh floor and Sae silently drags Shidou onto the final few steps onto his door. The floor was mostly quiet, but not as quiet as it was during Operation Pink Panther. He guessed it had more to do with the fact only chosen ‘fun’ people got to go to Reo’s tonight. Oh well.

“We’re here, Demon,” he whispers, almost fumbling Shidou to look for his ID before he remembered it was always unlocked. With just one unimpressive click, the door opens like an Egyptian pharaoh's tomb sealed for 3,000 years. 

Of course he and his dumb roommate would forget to turn the air conditioning off. And not lock their door.

At least, the other day, they had the decency to turn it off and save energy costs. The first night he dropped Shidou off, during Operation Pink Panther, he had to do the same labor of dragging him up except, well…

“Shidou?”

He knew it. He was wondering why the junior dorm building was quiet—not sleeping quiet but abandoned quiet—until he was waiting for the elevator and he came face to face right with the junior rep.

Yukimiya Kenyu.

He knew the kid from before, from way back when Sendou used to see the older Yukimiya sister. Or was it Aiku?

“Shidou, is that you? Oh my goodness-” the rep exclaimed, also carrying two passed out friends over both shoulders. “Hi- Wait, who are you?”

Inside his puffer jacket—hood up, shades on, mask on—Sae just stood there like deer in the headlights. 

If a deer in the headlights would be wearing a bright yellow padded jacket and a mismatching leopard-print silk head wrap with Prada shades, that is. 

The rep gawked at him the same.

“Uhm, okay. Didn’t quite catch that- Are you here to drop my friend off?” he asked instead, smiling kindly amidst the awkwardness. 

At that, Sae almost spoke, but quickly realised he might expose himself so he nods instead.

“Ah, I see, I see. I’m so sorry about him, he’s- yeah. He does that when drunk. Do you mind carrying him all the way? Kinda have my hands full right now- His room’s on the seventh floor. Room 111. His door should be open, the two idiots living in it never lock it.”

Truth be told, he should’ve been glad he had to learn what Shidou’s dorm number was by learning it from someone outright. Otherwise, he may have to do some loathsome trial and error and he is not about to do all that. Not for anyone, actually. Not even the president.

Also, unlike Operation Pink Panther, this time he had the courtesy to open a light. He approached the little lamp by the nearest desk and turns it on. See, he didn’t get to do this the first time:

He heaves a breath as he body slams Shidou onto the left bed. Just from the way he could see it was the messier side even in the dark, with more posters and knick knacks on the walls, he had enough reason to assume that that was his side of the room. Besides, he can make out around four…no, three bodies on the other bed (which he first thought were just massive pillows, except he realised pillows don’t snore.) 

“There, idiot.”

The bed springs bounced a little as he takes Shidou’s hands off of him and lays his legs up on the mattress. Then, he finally takes off his shades and squints in the dark. Now what? Should he just go?

Like, this should be fine. Mission accomplished. Outside of Kenyu, who hopefully didn’t recognize him, he wasn’t spotted and there’s no one on Earth who knew anything even happened. Time to go, right?

Wait, as one last check, he walks back to Shidou and puts the back of his hand against his forehead. Just to check. 

He doesn’t feel feverish, thankfully. 

Of course he wouldn’t be, not after he wiped him up and down with a wet towel and cooled his body down a bunch. Still, his nosebleed earlier was a little concerning. 

Hopefully Shidou doesn’t die because this truly sounds like a crime scene cleanup the more he thinks about it: disguise, sneaking off, a singular witness that will be the key to his incrimination, and he’d be in jail for the rest of his life for a murder he couldn’t prove himself not guilty from. 

To be safe, maybe he’d sit a bit. He needs to catch a breather anyway. His shoulders feel sore after all that carrying and walking and…milking.

“Move,” he says, even if there’s no one who’d hear. At that, he sits at the edge of the bed and haphazardly just puts Shidou’s legs over his to make space. Out of a lack of things to do, he started to prod on his shoelaces. 

That’s what their mother used to do for him and Rin when they fell asleep in the car as kids. She’d carry them home, Rin first always, and then sit on their bed for a bit and sing as she takes off their shoes and tucks them in.

(Of course he’s not going to do the singing part, but yeah.)

“What…the…hell?” He was already halfway when he noticed that the Converses were tied in a star shape. Now who the fuck threads their laces like that? He pulls on the stubborn last lace possible and tries to pull the shoe off. 

Why is it so-

“Shit-!” He immediately stops himself and freezes, listening around as he confirms the drunkards are still sleeping soundly.

Above him, Shidou’s Converse now hangs over the room ceiling fan.

“Shiiiit,” he whispers lower. 

You know what? Fuck it. Shidou can sleep with one fucking shoe on; he won’t die from that. He takes his sunglasses, puts it on, and closes the door behind him. 

Okay, well, maybe he was a little too anxious the first time around. 

This time, at least they’re alone in the room and he’d have at least a lamp turned on. Now this is the first time he got to have a proper look in Shidou Ryusei’s dorm room, by some measure: 

It was a decent-sized space, smaller than his and Aiku’s premiums, but the layout of the furniture was mostly the same. There’s the bathroom door at the corner, two beds on two opposite sides, mirroring desks, nightstands, and closet spaces. The first thing he noted differently however is how colourful it actually is. 

Even under the lamp’s yellowish light, he was blinded by the abundance of red, orange, and pink posters taped on the wall. If his and Aiku’s room was the epitome of East Asian minimalist black and white, this room was Alice in Wonderland. 

There were coloured paper streamers taped clumsily on the ceiling fan, both beds unmade by both owners with its patterned bed sheets crumpled on a huge mess. Mismatched pillows, paint marks on the dirty carpet and walls, sticky notes, a mini fridge between the beds- Oh, God, the desks… Is it incriminatory if he now knew for sure exactly which side of the room Shidou occupies? 

Sae approaches the left side of the room just like the other night and dumps Shidou on it. He hadn’t realised how heavy he was until he got him off. To his surprise, the man only stirs in his sleep, sleepmask pulled down to his neck but doesn’t wake up. 

Now, the fatigue of everything finally caught up and Sae found himself collapsing on Shidou’s desk chair to catch a breather. 

What a fucking night. He feels lightheaded just thinking about the involution of it all. 

If he’s not mistaken, he just committed at least three felonies and almost one quasi-crime. Not that jailtime is anything new to him and his niche—he’s pretty sure Kaiser and Lorenzo served actual time, just released on bail—but he doubted anyone would expect all that from him. Tonight. 

But if he did manage to get away with all this, he isn’t sure if he’s going to be glad. What does that say about someone else out there, who might have done the same shit (if not worse), except with actual evil intentions but also not been caught? 

The world is such a strange place. Nothing anymore is black and white. 

Right now, he wishes he was Shidou, who didn’t have to face all that. 

Chapter Text

On his bed, Shidou laid like a fallen angel. Or a Victorian child who fell ill on the same mattress he was born in. Either way, he looked like a mess, still with his pink feather boa which Sae just realized didn’t miraculously wrap around his neck and kill him during their one hell of a journey home. 

Now that’s it. They only have one wish in this lifetime and Shidou wasted his on not being dead. 

“How do you live like this?” Sae asks the air between their faces, relishing in what face he could see in the dim light. The latter’s breathing was soft and feathery against the back of his palm, where he almost touched Shidou’s skin but didn't. 

He looked so at peace, even when sweating. 

Even when reeking of alcohol.

Even while doing nothing. 

How does he live the way he does?

Aiku and Sendou asked him the same question when they were kids, once upon a time. He was in third grade, a homeschool transfer, when he brought friends to his house for the first time and unintentionally revealed that the rest of his family lives in Japan. Their flabbers were more than gasted:

“What?!” Aiku asked, shocked out of his wits that he let his jenga tower fall. Sae stares emotionlessly as one falls right into Sae’s orange juice. Great. “Why- How do you live like this?”

“My brother’s getting surgery in Tokyo and mom’s with him, so.”

“Sur- Sur…” Sendou, voice whistling because of his braces, turns to Aiku. “What’d he say?”

“Surgery, like when they make you a metal leg. My grandpa had one in Sweden.”

Sae takes his eyes off his juice and stares. “That’s not-” He’s pretty sure surgery is when doctors take someone’s blood and put it on someone else. Or at least, that’s what they had him do when Rin- 

“Your brother’s getting a metal leg?! That’s so cool!” Aaand the other bought it.

They did not learn English for this. 

“No, he’s-”

“So who-” 

“Shut up! Me first! Sae, why would your brother get a metal leg?”

“I asked my question first!”

“STOP IT. Can I talk?” That was the moment Sae realised he picked the two worst in his first-day-of-school pick of friends. The same friends who, apparently, were to remain for the rest of his life. He points to the one at the left first. “You, with the eyes. What’s your question?”

“It’s Aiku,” the boy corrected with a frown before scoffing. “I said, if not your mom, who drives you to school?”

“The driver?” He blinks. “Dumbass?”

“YOU JUST SAID THE D-WORD!”

“Driver?” he cringes before standing up to get rid of his ruined juice, and the jenga piece therein. “I live with him and the help, does that answer it?” 

He wonders if he can still pick different friends tomorrow and forfeit this one. 

“What about your dad?” 

“Work. He isn’t here right now.”

That’s it, he’s surely getting new friends tomorrow morning. Surely, these two won’t be mad if he pretends they don’t exist tomorrow.

“So you don’t really get to be with your family?”

“What do you mean?” He pauses briefly before shaking his head. His mom Facetimes him once every two days if that’s what they meant. “I do, I don’t know. Whatever.”

He eventually returns to their silence which left him standing idly at the corner of his own living room. With his juice taken care of, he crosses his arms and licks his teeth. 

“…Why are you quiet?” 

The boys just stared at him. 

“Whose ball is that?”

“Hm?” Following their gaze, he turns to the corner and blinks at the still-muddy black and white ball, resting by the mudroom door. Memories of red and white on grass and rust flashes in, but he pulls himself back to earth. “…Mine, I guess.”

“You wanna play?” Sendou suddenly grins at him widely, jumping up to unbutton his uniform shirt and race to the ball. Aiku also stands up and begins stretching, an excited grin on his face. He steps back in surprise, and it was Aiku who steadies him. 

“Wait, you…” They both watch as Sendou picks up the ball and disappears outside. Just like that, his fate was already set. “You two play?”

“Yeah!” Aiku tells him. “We’re on the team! At school! Wanna join? The coach is my cousin’s cousin.”

Now his fate really was set. There’s no more he could do. 

Crazy to think how if he only picked someone else to bring home that day, he would lead a vastly different life. 

With a sigh, Sae brings his head up and looks around. Now why does it feel like he’s still forgetting something important? His phone’s here. And his wallet. Shidou’s too, the former of which lit up when he reached down and fished it out of his pants. What the hell even is this thing? Why is it full of cracks? How many times had he cut himself on this? 

He just takes it and puts it on the desk. When it did, it flashes the lockscreen that was a stupid 0.5 photo of who seemed to be the demon and some friends at some party-

Ah, the money!

That’s it! That’s what he forgot. That’s some $10,000 too. He almost forgot he got that much out of a gamble (which he only made because Lorenzo peer pressured him into it). He doesn’t even bet on horses, or anything for that matter. That was the one time he put money on something so…uncertain. And yet he won. Somehow. He doesn’t know jack shit about horses. 

Would Lorenzo be mad he forgot the suitcase? It should still be at Mikage’s, safe and secure. Either way, he already had half of it by wire. He wouldn’t mind losing $5,000 he never really wanted to have. 

Ah, whatever. His left temple pulsed, but he ignores it for now. 

So that’s it about his choices. What about Shidou?

How did he end up on this bed just an arm’s reach away, so helpless, so frozen, so…esoteric? What kind of decisions had he made in his life? 

What is his childhood like? Was it good? Was it fun? Was it bad? He genuinely couldn’t tell. Were his friends childhood friends too? Did he ever play any sport? Did he have siblings? With Shidou Ryusei, it was just so difficult to tell. How did he even get this scar on his eyebrow? 

What about this little one by his nose? 

How many times have these lips split open?

It almost made him dizzy—being this close to someone. Being so painfully aware of every single tiny birthmark on a face, of every single speck of rundown eyeliner on the side of closed eyes. 

Truth be told, he hadn’t been this close to anyone since Aiku, or the two or so girls before him. In their case, he found their presence so intolerable that they leave these dirty sensations on his skin at the end of the day, similar to the residue that stickers leave after peeling them off. 

But Shidou…

He’s just there. And pretty. 

Here, actually, in his hands—and pretty.

Those were the only words that came to mind. 

He was pretty the same way fireworks are. Larger than life, overwhelmingly colourful, but nostalgic. The kind of face one will spot passing by at the airport, never to see again. A passing kind. ‘Look all you want, you’ll never have it’ kind.

And his features? It was arranged in a way as if he can handle being seen and admired. Not all people are blessed with that kind of façade. Shidou Ryusei is pretty in a way that one would just know he won’t shy away from attention. If anything, he’s an open candy basket screaming, ‘Come and take what you can get’. The kind of pretty one puts on a stage for thousands to admire.

And for once, it made Sae want to stay—for he wondered, can he handle it? 

Can he handle what Shidou has to give? Can he draw what body he can bare? Sure, he can’t draw for pity’s sake but for this face, maybe he can try.

He just never saw anyone like him before.

Sue him. Sue sober him. There’s a terrible essence to Shidou’s entire being that he fears he’d never seen before in any living creature, and he had dissected a number of animals dead and alive. He wanted to know about this one. He wanted to know everything about him. Because, well, why not? Isn’t that what makes scientists insane, but also what makes scientists scientists? Curiosity? The same thing that kills them at the end but also why they end up liking it?

In that moment, the lips moved slightly and a voice cut through the air.

“Sae.”

Oh, he almost cried. He took his eyes off of those chapped lips of rubies and scarlets, and looked up to his eyes.

And there Shidou was, eyes open just a crack. Lips parted, catching onto a dry spot on his finger. 

“Hi,” he called back, not expecting his own voice to fail. So, he tries again: “Hi.”

Shidou only repeats what word he could conjure, lips still lingering on Sae’s thumb: 

“Sae…”

It was barely a whisper. Hell, he could’ve just hallucinated his own name. But he heard ‘Sae’, and those eyes were looking at him now. He could feel strings tie itself onto his chest like he’s being stitched from the inside out.

“Demon,” he acknowledged, mostly from a lack of things to say. “…I took you home.”

At that, Shidou leans towards the palm that was cupping him to the right—Sae’s palm—and bites onto his lip to wet it. His eyes still weren’t exactly here yet, but it’s looking at him now.

“Oh… Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” was his only reply as his heart ached. Only now he realised how close he’d been leaning, sitting on the edge of Shidou’s bed though he’s more or less laying on him. But he doesn’t take his hand away. 

“Do you know where you are?”

Those eyes closed, fluttering sleepily open and shut. “…Sae.” 

“Can you say anything else but my name?” 

He feels Shidou’s mouth curls up a little. “No…”

Oh, he was messing with him.

Now that’s the Shidou he knew. Silence reigned over such a rare moment, the moon shining right into the middle of the room where it escaped some cloud obscuring it. He kept his hand on Shidou’s cheek. He didn’t want to move it. 

Something bleeds, but nobody’s watching so he just lets it:

“Shidou, do you like me?”

Those eyes, those long lashes, were still fluttering between sleep and sobriety when he looked. Shidou was still nestling his face onto his hand exhaustedly—like a baby that only now knew what warmth felt like. 

But most of all: can he count on his answer being the same when he’s not drunk?

He didn’t know why he asked, fuck, but the question was already out there. Sae looked again, and now Shidou’s eyes rested in a perpetual state of half-shut. Nothing in this room welcomed shame. He does not feel said shame.

“I’ll…” the blond starts, ever so breathy, “jus’…go with wha’ever you wanna hear.” 

“It’s just yes or no,” he tells Shidou with a slightly confused frown. “It’s not that hard.”

To what deity is up there listening, yes, it is true. It’s futile to keep circling the drain so he’ll just admit: he wants to know. He just wants to know. It was pure, unbridled curiosity. Does Shidou like him or not?

“Then I’m not telling you.”

Sae takes his head from the carpet to his palm, where Shidou turned his entire body and shifted as if to sleep again. 

“Really.”

His hand remained where it was, though it’s now on Shidou’s face and the man just took one large sniff of the cologne on his wrist. He didn’t mean to sound so disappointed, but it came out disappointed either way.

“Really.”

At that, Sae just takes his hand back and rests it on his lap. It felt tingly, as if he could feel every single molecule of sweat that came from Shidou’s face. He lays it on his lap anyway, wrist up.

Then, “Fine.” 

He didn’t know why he even tried talking to a drunk about sober things anyway. 

Suddenly, the bed creaked when it shifted. Shidou took his warm hand to grab Sae’s hand back to his face. 

“Sae…”

“What.”

“…Is this really you?” 

He genuinely hoped not, but, “Yes.”

“Can I kiss your hand?” There’s that amused smile again. Is he messing with him? Again?

“Are you not already doing that?”

His hand was already sullied of sweat and leather and whatever. For some reason, the feeling of Shidou’s lips on his palm didn’t irk him the way it usually did any other time. In his head, it was already dipped in a grave. Shidou could cut it and he doesn’t think he’d care. 

“Shidou- why are you the way you are?”

If he was sober, if they were in the lab doing work as they usually do, he bet the demon would just repeat the question and let it simmer into nothing. He’d be met with dumb ‘What do you mean?’s and ‘The way I am?’s until he finds the answer unworthy of pursuing and he’d drop it. But this isn’t sober Shidou.

This is the Shidou dancing on a countertop, scrubbing people’s cars, a mic on one hand and a red cup on another. The same one that almost went home with the wrong person. The one who could’ve died but didn’t. The one who he isn’t sure is telling the truth sometimes or not.

“I hope you know how much danger you’re putting yourself in by doing this,” Sae confesses to the moonlight, eyes unfocusing onto something that for some reason began pricking his eyes. “Alcohol, partying, blacking out on a school night. Letting and getting in people’s pants. All actions have consequences, Demon. I genuinely hope you know that.”

He looks at him. The demon in question wasn’t reacting. 

“Are you listening to me?”

“No.”

“I’m taking my hand off your face.”

He does when he didn’t hear any protest. There, he was met with a face staring longingly, deeply, soberly at the ceiling. Now drunk Shidou chose to think?

“Did I do something wrong?” 

Seems like Shidou’s still in some other dimension, but Sae chose not to leave for now. It was a shot closer to the same boat he’s in. But he took advantage of what rare patience Sae graced him, and now it ran out.

“What do you think?” Sae spits out. 

No answer. 

“You’re insane, you know that?” The sting of his jab was particularly harsh this time, and he doesn’t regret it. “One day, all this foolishness will come back and hit you square in the head. You will pass out and nobody will be there to carry you home. In fact, statistically, I think you already went through that—you just don’t remember. And you just don’t remember because you don’t fucking remember anything.”

And on top of it all, Shidou just had the nerve to be so enticing. Like a certain feeling he’d get when he sees a great course for the ball to get through to the goal. Shidou Ryusei makes him feel exactly like that—a shot that’s nearly impossible to reject. 

What irony. All his life, he deems himself so rational. Now he can’t resist caring about someone who can’t even take care of himself. 

“Are you mad?”

“No-”

“...at me?”

“...No. Why do you keep thinking I’m mad at you?” he admits, but it didn’t really mean anything. He just couldn’t recall the last time he was actually mad at anyone.

Frustrations, sure, but a burst? He couldn’t remember the last time he cared enough about something to be mad. The closest he got was this morning when his friends ganged up on him, but they do that literally once every week or so. It was all good fun, until it’s not. So he says:

“I just think,” he begins, looking for the right words. “…that you’re being a nuisance. Unsolicited advice, but a nuisance.”

“I don’t…think that's advice…”

“But it is, considering that you ended up like this already once before, Demon. Exactly like this,” he hissed, the words just escaping as he fiddled with his own nails. “The other day, you barged into my dorm, gave me the frog, and passed out.”

In that moment, he picks on his own shoes and pulls on his laces just to fill the jittery urge. He’s here, Shidou’s listening, it’s just the two of them—might as well talk to him about it now.

“You were drunk…” He began by sliding his shoes off his feet, two stubborn little things that almost made him utter a curse before it finally went off. “Straight from some party, and you started bleeding from your nose before I could kick you out. I had enough reason to believe your body reacted an aphrodisiac.”

There. It was a paragraph not so well-rehearsed nor well-drafted, but it’d do. 

“Do you know anything about aphrodisiacs?” he asks the carpet, sliding his socks cozily over it. “Yohimbine? Chan su? Meth?”

No answer. He’s not expecting, nor would he appreciate one, halfway into his confessional anyway. 

“Whatever it is, I have enough reason to believe your body reacted to it so badly I had to handle it myself if I don’t want you to die,” he said, his own cheeks hot. “…I gave you a hand job that night. It just makes me so sick you don’t even care that happened. Or that you don’t even remember that at all.”

There. It’s finally out, like some fish bone stuck in his throat and only now pulled out.

It wasn’t a satisfying release however. It was just like a sentence without a punctuation, ending both abruptly and endlessly

“Are you even listening?” When he didn’t hear breathing nor their pulses, he brought his eyes to look. And Shidou was there, eyes alert yet glassy, looking at his head.

“I make you sick, Sae?”

His chest tightened. It drowned down whatever rant he buried within. 

“Did you process what I just told you-”

“I make you sick?” 

Sae just frowned back and looked down to where his socks kissed the carpet. “You better remember this conversation because I genuinely don’t want to talk about this ag-”

“I make you sick?”

He put his foot down and finally choked out, “No.”

And that’s arguably—probably—the most disturbing part. 

“No, you don’t.”

Hearing his own voice say it was so bizarre. Fearing for what reply awaits, he swallows down the stuck lodge in his throat and burrows himself within. That’s just what it all boils down to in the end then: the fact that Shidou, out of all people in the world, does not make him ill. Isn’t that a funny story? Isn’t this a funny thing? To know he reached a point that could converge onto so many overwhelming endings? 

It was like an interesting bunch of cells that could be something great, but also something terribly bad. This is how cancer begins, doesn’t it? Through cell growth?

But, technically, doesn’t life begin from cell growth too?

Shidou’s plea cuts through the growing mass of thoughts inside his head: 

“Can you look at me,” he pauses, “Sae?” 

Genuinely terrified, Sae meets his eyes and watched as Shidou just reached for him with a clumsy hand. It landed just around his neck, keeping his gaze and his head where it was. His hand was sticky. His senses might’ve been numb because he didn’t mind.

“What are you doing?” he asks him. “And why do you keep calling me 'Sae'?”

In return, Shidou just spoke like he didn’t care. 

“Because you drive me insane,” he tells him through whispers, looking straight at his eyes—but also through. And Sae just sat there on the floor as Shidou’s fingers began playing with the hair at the base of his neck. “Can you stop fucking with my head when I’m drunk then, hm, 'Lashes'? Can you do that and just leave me alone?”

“You want me to leave you alone?”

A pause. 

“I just want to wake up.”

Does he think he’s dreaming? “You are awake.”

“Then kiss me if you have the balls- Fucking prove it...”

Freezing air chills Sae right where he sat, his whole body petrified in its very position. His very heart falls like a wrecking ball that snapped off the chain and fell a thousand meters high. The diagnosis he was fearing? There it is now, unprompted.

“What?”

“Triple dog dare… I just really wanna...” All Shidou’s S’s came out as hisses. All his breaths came out as chokes. 

What a strange sounding plea. He felt like he’s about to choke his whole heart—his whole soul—out. 

“I don’t know…because you’re so going to punch me in real life,” a whispered bashful confession hissing through wet lips, still exhausted but managing enough to get by. “But I think…I’ll take it if you do.”

Still stunned, Sae could only slightly nod. “What?” But actually it meant Yes, I think I will punch you.

“...So if y’want to know…you know, just do it,” Shidou finalises, voice slurring. He’s starting to make less and less sense but by some strange miracle, Sae can understand every single word he said. “Even if it’s just now, you can do it.”

Even if it’s just now…

…you can do it.

The hand is still on his neck. It wasn’t even touching anymore, it was Sae’s own grip on Shidou’s wrist that kept it down. Now, he finally sees what Shidou’s asking of him. It was his own limbs now that are shaking. It was his own palms that now sweat. His entire world’s now upside down—

He was no longer okay breathing on his own.

So just do it.

Before he could ponder more about the unavoidable though, Shidou already pulled him close and crashed their lips together.

And it met him like air from the surface after drowning. 

The chill didn’t leave his body. It wasn’t a sensation of flowers and fireworks and butterflies and shit. It was snow that gathered onto his core and exploded all at once. A large avalanche that rolled into a giant snowball, exploding into glittering snowflakes and icy pellets. The sensation, it began in his ribs and escaped through his veins. It tastes like convenience store ice cream paired with fine tequila. Chapped lips were soft, he discovered. As long as he felt it using his own mouth. 

It is air; the first thing that came to mind. It doesn’t feel like fire, it’s air. 

And in his head, the words just repeated: So just do it. 

And so when something swiped across his lips, it didn’t take much for him to let Shidou in. It was warm, it was wet, it was sickly sweet in its own way. It’s Shidou. He just let him in.

He was painfully sober, sadly, and in the back of his mind, he knew. There is no excuse for whatever the fuck he just got himself into…

All except maybe curiosity?

Because drunk or sober, his curiosity of Shidou Ryusei remained the same, didn’t it? His curiosity of his allure? His mystery? Of what kind of person he’s been, is being, and will be? And of what kind of heart he’s hiding inside this skin? 

So, in the name of scientific discovery, Sae pulls himself completely up the bed for comfort and kissed back. With every push of their lips together, he aims to answer the inquiry of: Who are you?

Who am I to you?

And what exactly can I find here?

“Sae…-” Shidou lets out some whine as he shifts, but he just drinks it all down before putting his thighs on both sides of Shidou’s waist to straddle him but not really. Through the way Shidou just lets his mouth get devoured, it tells Sae he’s not protesting the change. 

And he discovered something already. For the first time in his life, he felt like he’s the one kissing. Considering that, of course, for the majority of his life prior, he was the one being kissed.

(Which was funny, because Loki once told him that kiss and sex and all that stuff is supposed to be reciprocal and that there is no such thing. But then again, Loki is one pretentious straight-swinging smartass. He doubts that frog-speaking fucker actually understands whatever the hell he got going on.)

Nor does he, honestly, but he’s the one with the laxer morals if it meant he’d learn more about the science of someone insane. 

That’s the revelation. Sae lets his tongue run wild as Shidou receives every single second of it. He’d heard desperate, needy, surprised, and wanting whining, sometimes all at once—just simple sounds he’d never heard ever.

If he felt dizzy before, he felt even dizzier now. Now it’s lighting him on fire. Kissing Shidou feels like light and sparks and fire.

“Sae…” Shidou’s hands just gently ran up and down his biceps through his sleeves as if egging him on, mouth and entire soul bared and offered as if all open for taking. But he seemed tired, his neck unnaturally warm, but it’s okay because he got the kiss he asked for and he’s not complaining if it drowns him now. Or at least that’s how it felt, so Sae kept going. 

He kept finding.

The kind of person Shidou is, he discovers—he tastes—now feels...shameless. The kind of person to not care about whatever anyone thinks about him. He does what he likes, he says what he likes, he likes what he likes. As someone born in the confines of ‘should be’s and ‘should not be’s, Sae admired that to some extent. His freedom was attractive, okay? Still dumbfounds him how he gets to live happily like that. 

Shidou is also…well, he tastes kind. With the way he’s kissing back like it’s a waltz and he’s just holding and leading Sae through it, he feels kind. He drinks down a kind soul under all this stupidly overwhelming exterior.

Suddenly, Shidou bites down.

“…!”

Teeth grazed him on his bottom lip and the fucker drags out, bursting it open. 

What was a warm tequila-flavoured kiss became rusty with saliva and blood. That’s not even all—a maniacally deranged smile then met him on the lips. 

Ah.

Sae quickly puts both hands driving Shidou deep into the mattress, and only then his mouth detached from the lip he just bit open. There was a thin line of saliva that connected them now. The red he saw on Shidou’s lips flared through his own face like he’s the one flaring. 

And there’s no semblance of any regret on that face. 

Not even a bit. 

Motherfucker.

“You just had to do that, don’t you?” he scolds, his own voice coming out breathless. 

No reply.

“You’re fucking hopeless,” he says but Shidou remained annoyingly smug and content and high. Why is it when he takes Shidou home, it always involves blood? In the end, this is a failure. Shidou still hasn’t learned his lesson. He shouldn’t just kiss people just because he’s unpunchable when drunk.

“Are you mad already?”

“Yes.” No fucking doubt about it now. Sae swallows, and ignores the growing ball of lava that replaced the snowball next to explode inside his guts now. “You bit me. I did not give you permission to bite- Are you rabid?”

“...Haha.”

He really is. Sae swallows down the ball of lava, hoping his own face isn’t swelling like a tomato. More than the sting that came with a busted lip, it was just frustration that added to the confusion:

Why did he bite down? What exactly is he looking for in him? What exactly could he have needed that he thinks Sae can give?

Now it just added onto the research inquiry—What exactly does he want from him?

“Are you done?” was Shidou’s next question.

He snaps himself out of his own thoughts, eyes stuck on how Shidou’s lips looked stained with his blood.

“Did you…” Shidou pants, breathlessly, “Did you find out what you’re looking for?”

“Did you?”

Sae’s state of annoyance was now replaced with a stare of shock. He couldn’t hold the ball of lava any longer. It’s not flowing out with what tiny hands he held it in, and the further it rolled and melted, the hotter he felt in his skin.

“I dunno…” Shidou reaches for his face this time. It was surprisingly cold, especially the fingertips. “You just kiss like you’re looking for something.”

For someone so daft, he was eerily on point with that. “And if I was, so what?”

Shidou was smiling at him lost in the haze.

“Did you find it?”

“No.”

Shidou stops him in place with his own hand snaking back his neck. 

“Do you want to try again?”

Sae doesn’t need permission or a pull this time. He fights back.

Because No, as in it couldn’t be. Shidou wouldn’t be as whole if he was like this to everyone he met. It just isn’t possible. Someone who is limitless with everyone would have nothing to give at the end, and right now, Shidou was allowing him his everything. He was malleable, like clay and Sae was the potter. He was full of…something. He was full of something warm and nice and sweet and it’s all for Sae to have now.

So:

“No.”

Shidou does not answer. Because Shidou wouldn’t be as whole if he was like this to everyone he…

…

“Get some sleep,” Sae says instead, standing up before the weight in his chest can glue him there forever. His voice is soft, but it sounds too clean. Too unaffected. He doesn’t meet his eyes again as he adds, “You’re drunk out of your mind.” 

“But-” Shidou mutters.

“I know.” Sae lets out in sheer utter disbelief of himself as he wiped his own mouth on a sleeve. “So sleep.”

An expertly suppressed scream and three face splashes of ice cold water to the face later, one thing about this room, why does it have so much…stuff? 

On the desk—the one he assumes to be Shidou’s—were several tall pen organisers full of markers, pens, and coloured pencils. Next to it was a jar for crayons, then another for paintbrushes, then another for what looked like cutters and scissors. There was only one organiser for his files but even that was filled with manga and notebooks. No real textbooks in sight except for a thick one on the floor that looked like it even came from the library. 

Just looking at it makes Sae wince. Here he thought Rin was a mess. His clumsy brother would be poster boy for cleanliness in comparison to this.

Coming closer, practically waddling on the desk chair, Sae sees that even the actual desk space was nonexistent. It housed a thick gaming laptop, a mouse with tadpole prints, and a bunch of loose paper underneath…which he assumes was the makeshift mouse pad. The very desk itself even looked like it has whiteboard wrap, if those handwritten chemical balancing equations on it could speak for itself.

(Which were all wrong, by the way. In what world did 2H2 + O2 get balanced into H2O? He feels an itch to correct it—the marker is right there—but he swats away the urge. There was also maths stuff at the other half of the desk. Those were wrong too.)

He only traces the empty surface with his fingers and feels its slippery cold surface. 

Wait, the desk itself is a whiteboard. Looking around the parameters, he realised now it was a typical school-issued desk except with a large whiteboard laid on top of it—not even secured with screws, not even wrapped, just simply a separate whiteboard put on top—as if Shidou just unpacked it like that on his first day here and decided to study on it as if it’s normal. 

“Jesus Christ, Demon.”

He honestly didn’t know what to expect. If anything, he doesn’t feel anything now. He’s numb. He’s dead. He just did about seven legally criminal and three quasi-criminal things in the past three hours or so. His head still feels light but he’s now feeling some kind of throbbing at the temples. It may not hit him full force now but he just knew he would absolutely kill himself tomorrow for this. 

But tonight, he sits at Shidou’s desk, gathering his breath (and honestly also the feeling in his legs) and he had no energy left to question why the fuck Shidou’s studying on a whiteboard. 

The room felt warmer then. 

Not in a burning way. More in a picturesque way, in a ‘looking-into-a-snowglobe’ way, for he just now remembered sonder is a word. 

For one, the desk lamp was basking the space in lighter golden light. Akin to the sun, akin to a childhood memory. He could only look above the desk to rest his neck and notice the posters on the drywall. Which now that he looked properly, aren’t actually posters…

They were sketchpad papers, torn from the pad itself with perforated edges of varying neatness on one side, stuck on the wall by clumsy blue tape.

Art.

Sae’s legs shakily beckoned him to stand up and get closer. Just how did he miss that? 

These are his art. Shidou drew this all one by one.

Each was characterised by a solid detailed pencil sketch of a human subject in the middle, just surrounded by Pollock-esque watercolor paint splatters around it. Mostly red and pink paint, now that he looked. The rest were amaranthine but in a less violent way. 

And if the posters were all drawings then the entire wall was covered in them, the highest only being one tiny sliver away from touching the ceiling. 

Now what the fuck. He knew Shidou possessed some sort of artistic talent but this is something else. This room is not cluttered—it is a gallery, filled with impulsive yet fine pieces in pencil and watercolor that was ever so life-like to each subject therein. 

He couldn’t believe it.  

He knew Shidou was good but not like this. 

As he scanned each one, he could even spot some whose very subjects he had seen tonight. There was that of a guy with a mole, looking uncanningly like Angel. Another looked like Cyanhead, who was smiling while wearing a detailed crochet bunny beanie. There at the top was even Policeman, Kenyu, Isagi Yoichi - and is that Reo and his not-boyfriend over there at the far left? 

Sae’s eyes took him next to a trinket shelf above the desk, behind a corkboard with to-do lists. It was filled with handmade dishes and mugs, each filled with random hair ties, dirty pens which he bets do not work, and a wooden bust at the end of a woman from whose neck three medals hung.

He quickly spots a tiny R.S. carved at the ‘shoulder’ of the figure, and he surmised this one was his handcarved too.

And the metals themselves, he flipped around, were of competitions he could faintly remember. Tokyo Art Show 2022, Champion of the Annual Art Showcase 2023, and Michaelangelo of the Year Award 2024.

Sae starts to wonder who the woman was and why she wore them-

“Rin, no!” Their mother calls, and the both of them flinch right around the velvet rope. Hands creep in under little Rin’s arms to pull him backwards, while Sae stares in alarm from the bench where he watched. “Oh my God, Rin! Where’s your brothe- Sae! You’re supposed to watch him!”

She marches to him and takes him by the wrist too, dragging the entire family away from that section of the museum as the few other guests begin to look. They reached some secluded hallway with smaller paintings when his wrist was finally released. 

Rin’s remained at the grip of her rough palm.

“I said we can’t touch the art, didn’t I?! How is that hard to understand?!” she said as she knelt to their eye level. “See those big guards? They’re going to get mad and take you away if you touch anything. Seriously. Rin, remember when you- Look at me!”

When her hand roughly reached for Rin’s face, still chubby at the age of 3, Sae’s hand flew to their mother’s wrist without question.

“The red rope isn’t stopping anyone, Mom,” he interrupts her for both their sakes. “If they don’t actually want people to touch anything then why is it so easy to-”

“Do you want to get banned from the Louvre, Sae?” Their father finally butts in midsentence. Rin only then paid attention.

“No.” He guessed not. Banned seemed like a bad word. Their mother’s hand falls from Rin’s face.

“Good. Now don’t let go of your brother until we get home.”

At that moment, he lets go of the medals and buries his hands in his pockets. He lets them go like it burned him. With its weight, it might as well have.

He should have convinced himself he’s alright with just looking.

If he’s feeling lightheaded from shame before, he feels heavyheaded from the same shame now. How could he forget something as important as that?! As curious as he may be, he does not touch. He shouldn’t touch. There are many things his family does not want him to touch. 

Like coins. Specifically those which people hand back as change. Or homeless people’s palms when he’s giving said change. Or the art displayed at the Louvre. Or the art displayed in someone’s room. 

This isn’t a space he could just freely touch, now would it? 

Velvet rope or not. 

And while Shidou Ryusei is the personification of everything he shouldn’t touch—cheap dye jobs, sloppy mouth, shamelessness, vulgar jokes— by God, is he so full of life. He just can’t resist it. All art is so full of life. The world’s greatest misery is making all beautiful things too fragile to be touched. As if man’s hands are disgraced when it’s the same hands that created it. 

Nothing about Shidou Ryusei is empty. That was his greatest crime. Nothing about his life is hollow, the same way that nothing about art is. This man specifically is filled with this great vision of the world.

Sae takes a step back. 

Because it’d be for the better to just leave it be. There’s a reason people can’t tap the glass in aquariums. Why people can’t take photos or cross velvet ropes in museums. Why people can’t pick flowers in gardens. Why people can’t just kiss people. Nor pull people and kiss people.

Because anything beautiful on this Earth, it is man’s duty to preserve. Anything that could be salvaged, anything that could be kept as is, we freeze in time. Sometimes, the greatest act of care is to leave things alone. 

On the bed, Shidou’s contently facing his wall. Sae isn’t sure if his eyes are open from this angle but he sure looked knocked out.

He decides not to say any more. He just brings his head down towards the fabric of the carpet. 

Picking, picking, picking. Socks moving back and forth. Static electricity.

“Are you awake?” No answer. He does hear some muttering though. “Shidou?”

“Baking soda,” a quick answer. Ah, so he’s awake. “Baking soda…volcano.” 

Or is he? Shidou then shifts, hugging a nearby pillow and now curls towards his direction. Only his closed eyes were visible. “Jellyfish... Humidifier.”

For some reason—fuck, maybe he is drunk too—Sae just had a little grasp on what the demon just said, except he’s pretty sure baking soda volcanos don’t smoke.

And now he also miserably confirmed the demon’s just sleep talking for who knows how long now, much to his own disappointment and chagrin. 

But he did wake, when it mattered.

He hoped his initial confessional made it through before the end. 

“Baking soda doesn’t make volcano models smoke, dumbass,” he replies, even if there’s no one now to hear. He isn’t even sure why he’s talking still. He’s pretty sure his heart just broke in what semblance the word meant. 

Maybe because this is goodbye. 

Something that will never happen again. 

“It‘s dry ice,” his voice cracked again, but he doesn’t care now. “That’s what’s smoking.” 

“… no vape.”

“You don’t,” he repeats, just to savor the words. A practice at gentle parenting. Something he will need for medschool, probably. Or to keep himself awake. “Let’s not talk about this, Shidou. Not if you care about me.”

No answer.

In another universe, he left the moment he dumped Shidou on his bed. In this universe, he impulsively—dumbly—didn’t, and thus learned the consequences of being drunk while bringing home someone drunk. All inhibitions even by the most disciplined man on earth are sure to fall. Sae is its latest victim.  

He genuinely doesn’t know what he’s doing anymore. 

One second he’s at the party looking forward to let loose. In another he’s voluntarily wearing some mask dragging a drunk guy home. In another, he’s driving a technically-stolen car and in another, he’s making out with said drunk guy he was just supposed to drop off home. Now he’s solving chemistry equations on a stupid fucking whiteboard because he feels like shit. 

Maths is just…it’s comfortable. It has a fixed answer for everything and there is no need to speculate and be confused.

And he was seriously about to leave for sure, okay? He just couldn’t stand seeing completely wrong equations when the whiteboard marker is right there. Sue him. Whatever, he doesn’t care.

Shidou’s phone had also been lighting up non stop with notifications from friends (if these emoji contacts of 🪽, 🐝, 🌱, 🥷🏼, 👓, and 👾 are his friends.) Either way, he doesn’t look. 

In the one time he took an unintentional peek though, he just saw gibberish from 🐝…whoever the guy may be. 

Ah, Shidou Ryusei. He indulges in the love he had for his friends. Now, an unidentifiable emotion submerges him from within. Maybe the realisation of just how different Shidou Ryusei actually is. 

He solves the final question on the paper and slams the pencil down in finality. The white noise of the air-conditioning buzzes for him, and there’s no more to do here. 

At that, he rushes down a quick note and decides not to bother with a signature. He hesitated at first, almost writing his name at the end, but decided to leave it somewhere Shidou will see first thing in the morning. His name doesn’t matter anyway, just that Shidou would read it.

Then, with everything done, he takes the demon’s phone, his note, and puts both at the nightstand. Suppressing his own yawn, he walks to the lamp on the roommate’s side of the room and turns it off-

Buzzzzz.

On the pitch black of the room, however, a light emerges from the demon’s nightstand. Sae walks back and peeks at the phone out of curiosity, though he quickly wished he didn’t:

[Department Board Committee]

Dear Mr. Shidou Ryusei, 

It is with deep regret that we inform you…

Chapter Text

On the morning of October 30th 2025, a once in a decade miracle swept the nation, or at least the small 3km radius of their campus: the nearest pharmacy ran out of hangover cures.

Which isn’t fair, but neither was Ego Jinpachi. 

“Shidou Ryusei.”

Today, he received the famed professor’s infamous “Not you. You stay” pointed finger of shame. He didn’t really expect that he’d graduate without experiencing that, but he certainly didn’t expect to get it now of all days.

You know, when he’s…well, simply not exactly in the best state of mind to deal with Ego Jinpachi’s bullshit.

“What do you want?” he protested, but sits back down obediently. He was front row in the bowl cut man’s class, third seat from the right which SHOULD be out of his sight. (It was deliberate! He was told by some friends Ego was farsighted and that’s why he chose that seat. Is nobody going to warn him that he is not safe in the blind spot too?)

“We need to talk,” was all Ego said from his desk as the rest of his classmates disappeared out the door. 

“Okay?” He sat there, head still spinning. 

“Now,” Ego began when the door finally clicked shut and left them alone. “What on earth happened to you?”

Ha.

“Complicated question,” he snorts. For one, he’s hungover. The only reason he even woke up this morning is thanks to Karasu’s stupid alarm—which means he did so in a panic. Then, when he came to be, he rolled (fell) out of bed, hit his head on his nightstand, grabbed the first shirt he saw, and finished his Maths assignment based only on what he got on his whiteboard in a rush. One, ‘Morning, Miss Anri!’ there, one ‘Shut the fuck up, Igaguri,’ there—and he finally made it to Ego’s maths period in one piece! Yippee. So that’s what happened (if that’s what Ego wants to know). “Why’d you ask?” 

“You look like you rejected the breath of life. So much so you slept through my entire class.”

Ugh. Sure, he spent the whole period dozing off since him being present in Maths was already a far ask, but he expected Ego to have at least one hint of pity in his bony lanky body! He already had this “working student” conversation with the other professors before. He never sleeps! He has to either prep stupid ass doughs or sell baked goods at parties to earn not so stupid ass doughs. Unfortunately, Ego apparently does not have said hint of pity in his said bony lanky body. So what in the nine circles of hell does he want with him now?

“Chile. Nevermind how I’m doing.” Shidou sighed past his grogginess and misery. “Clearly, you don’t actually care. What do you want?”

Ego seemed to hear him out at that, at least. 

“I can’t help but notice that you submitted all these make up work with a month still on your clock…” 

“Wait- a month? A month.” he hacks out in disbelief. “Seriously, dude?!”

“Don’t ‘dude’ me, child.”

Jeez. The silver lining here is that it’s one less work to worry about. Maybe it’s for the better. “Okay, whatever. So?” 

“How?” 

“How…how what?”

“You’re telling me you made this?” Ego proceeds to raise his brow as if scanning all of his sins from birth to death. 

“I genuinely don’t know what you want from me, Ego.” Can he just tell him if it’s all wrong so he can see if he cares enough to re-do that shit again? “Yes, okay! It’s my paper, it’s my pen, I handed it to you…? What else do you want? Get it notarised?”

Respectfully, he simply had nothing to fear anymore. This tall lanky fucker already sent him to the asylum anyway (the guidance correction office) to be incarcerated and lobotomized (talked to and let off with verbal warning) for an entire decade and a half (twenty minutes, more or less) with a tight straitjacket on strapped to a stretcher (only a mild threat of a weekend suspension) at least once. He was literally fortniting this bitch since freshman year. What’s Ego gonna do, do it again?

“I see.” By yet another miracle, Ego just pushes his glasses back up his bony nose and shooes him away pretentiously. 

“So, what?” 

“Go.” The professor then spun his chair away, still flicking through his papers with an engrossed look in his eyes. “Disappear.”

“Are you gonna fail me again-”

“No.” There, Ego’s spinning chair just spun right back to face him again. “Do you want to know what I think about this, Ryusei?”

“That’s literally what I just asked you-”

“I think you finally did something right for once.”

“Is that sarcasm?”

Ego rolls up his whole homework and proceeds to flick it with his fingers. “As much as I would like it to be, Ryusei, no.”

“Then of course I fucking did!” At that, he slams his hand proudly on his desk and walks straight out. “Have a nice day.”

Ego flinches a little in surprise, if that blink was any manifestation of a crack to his unfazed façade, but does nothing except stop him shortly before the door. 

“No, no. I’m not done. That’s exactly what I find perplexing,” he says, as if heavily intrigued. “How did you do this?”

“Uh, I answered it? I don’t know, it was hard,” he replies before swinging the door open. “Told you. I’m never wrong, Ego. You and I just have artistic differences and you just have your favourites that clearly jeopardised how you look at me.”

He may not remember writing and completing that homework, but he forever thanks his drunk self that he did. 

“Don’t throw false accusations at me, delinquent. And shut the door,” was all Ego said, finally showing something human for once (which, in this case, the very human emotion of ‘Being done with Shidou Ryusei’). “And, for your information, I don’t have favourites. You are just bad at following instructions.”

“Whatever. In hindsight, maybe you just hate other people equally.” He obediently shuts the door…with his middle finger. “Have a nice day.”

“Delinquent.”

Ego’s not the only incident that occurred that morning. By approximately 9:23am, the school forum boards—on Reddit, Instagram, Twitter, you name it—exploded. It was the first thing Chigiri told him when they bumped shoulders in the hallway, which also reminded him that he forgot his phone.

“Shidou, check the forums,” Chigiri told him with a wide grin. “It was insane!”

“Nah, I forgot my phone,” he replies, deadpan, before realising. “Oh, shit. I forgot my phone.”

Anyway, what’s special about nine in the morning is that it was late enough that topics already got immortalized in the intricately ruthless threads of cyberspace, but still early enough that the subjects in said topics were still stuck in bed and were not to wake (and so defend themselves) until noon. 

Including him. 

It was already lunchtime when he happens onto a visibly suffering Karasu, Otoya, Yukimiya, and…

“Where’s Hiori?” he asked, slipping onto their table. Karasu had his head down, Otoya was almost sleeping except he’s still trying to text someone in his last seconds of consciousness, and Yukimiya, who is the only one still sitting. He looked pissed. Shidou doesn’t sit next to him for today. 

“Ugh, man, where the hell were you?” Otoya groaned.

“Maths? And, uh, Lit? I don’t know. Where were you?”

“You went to class?! Traitor,” the blond groaned, sliding his phone across the table towards him. “Read this.”

Accessing the forums, only now he realised how everything went absolutely wild: 

There was the frat car wash, which led to a total of 6 different threads on Reddit asking and exchanging the men’s Instagram handles and identities. The Angel and the Playboy Bunny were the crowd favorite, for good reason. Ghostface was a close third, but nobody found the guy on any social media yet. 

Rumors say he was the phoneless hippie with a platinum blonde ponytail who serves tables in the fast food restaurant nearby. It remains unconfirmed though, since, well, the guy was phoneless. Apparently he was half-Russian and is currently living in the mountains with a babushka who hunts and skins bears for a living. He’s…not very vegan and cruelty-free, so most potential groupies just left him alone. Apparently, at the party, upon being asked in person what he feels about missing out on pussy, he just said “he never really liked cats”.

(It sounded strangely like Gagamaru…)

Scrolling further while munching on Karasu’s uneaten lunch, he next spots hundreds of “Have you found my…?” posts flooding the group chats looking for various beloved possessions, some of which include a Doc Martens—specifically the left pair—a literal fucking poodle named Vanilla, and an unremarkable looking watch which was apparently a gift from OP’s great grandpa. 

Nobody really cared. Everyone’s souls barely made it back to their bodies after, why would they care about that? 

Thankfully, according to a reply around 11:26am, Vanilla was found! She was tied to a bunch of helium balloons by ‘an asshole with heterochromia’ which then floated to the ceiling. The host’s not-boyfriend then quickly found her and took her down, watching over her for the night at Reo’s condo unit’s bedroom. Everyone was glad Vanilla was alright, but was pissed the not-boyfriend was okay.

(Shidou makes the self-reminder to check on Nagi and Reo later because what is everyone on about? Why is everyone hating on Nagi suddenly?)

In just a few more scrolls, there the “highlight” of the party was, or so was it called on Twitter: Mikage Reo and Nagi Seishiro’s very public fight. 

(Ah.) 

(So that’s why.)

Apparently, it involved Nagi Seishiro’s roommate, which in the video is a guy dressed as a Waiter/Playboy Bunny/Dangerous Woman (nobody’s really sure what he is). The 36-second video of the incident was uploaded only to be deleted just a few minutes later. By 10:27am, it got reposted on the school sub-Reddit and it showed that the fight centers primarily on the not-boyfriend keeping secrets.

‘Not a wise move,’ everybody said in the replies. Aspiring rebounds for both parties backed it up: ‘Good news, at this rate, they have a 99% chance of breaking up 👀’ Aggressive whispers then come from the other side, ‘99%? What, you computed that shit? 💀’

“Yukki…”

“What?”

“Aren’t you…” he called, squinting at the poorly-filmed video. “Aren’t you Nagi’s roommate?”

He and Otoya flinched when Yukki rolled his eyes in exhaustion and glares at them. “Can you two not-!”

“Okay! Okay. Just…confirming.”

Shidou looks back at the phone. Another important thing to note: None of those commenters were anywhere close to the men-in-question’s dating queues even if they tried. He typed as a reply, disregarding that this is Otoya’s account but since when did they have dissenting opinions anyway: ‘Do with that information as you will.’

“Bruh, back to my question, where were you?” Otoya asked him. He grabs Karasu’s juice box and drinks it. “I had to take Karasu home on a rented bus.”

“Hell if I know.”

He hasn’t really put that much thought into last night since he woke up. Ego Jinpachi and Professor Snuffy’s classes just flashbanged him into the world today that all the consequences just crashed onto him now all at once: hungry, thirsty, reeling, overall dying. 

He keels over and now it’s three of them with their heads down.

“Guys, ugh…” he calls as his head began to throb. “Seriously. Where is Hiori?”

“Did you even look at the-? Ugh. I wasn't talking about Reddit, dumbass,” Otoya hands him his phone again, after opening a certain photo. It was a screenshot from Karasuʼs phone:

5:35am

@karasu: heigh

@karasu: im soriry

@hiori1837: ?

@karasu: wya ?

Seen. 

He stares, deadpanned: “You fought.”

Otoya sucks in his lips and nods. 

Oh shit. 

“YOU FOUGHT!” he repeated out of shock. Usually he would laugh, but his own headache is mentally pitchforking him right now. In the entire course of their friendship, Karasu and Hiori just never fought. Especially not each other, being childhood neighbours and all. “Bro, what the fuck did you do?”

“Did you really have to say it twice!?” Everyone turns to Karasu, who is still actively curling onto himself. “Let’s just- I’m going home.”

“You live in Osaka.”

“I meant the city flat, Yukimiya, fuck.”

“But that’s Hiori’s dad’s house.”

Karasu pauses, stilling in realisation, and slams his head down again. “Fuck.”

Operation Pink Panther…

“What are you doing?” 

Sae stumbles back and hits his back on the doorknob. Shidou’s room clicks shut and locks shut behind his head. What greets him was a hoodie he was sure he lost ago, the scent of the perfume he was also sure he lost ago, and-

What the fuck is his brother doing here?

“Rin,” who he hadn’t really noticed how tall had grown until now, stood there with a stare, his entire glory in a black hoodie, red plaid pajamas, and fluffy slippers. He looked confused, sleepy, and disoriented—just as shocked. “You’re wearing my shit.”

Rin points at him: “And you’re wearing my shit-” 

Sae clicks his tongue before grabbing him and pulling them both to the side, behind a protruding column as if anyone was even going to see. The clock at the corner ticks a little past midnight. They’re still fucked, especially if Kenyu returns, so they hid. He turns to him:

“What are you doing here, Rin?”

“Me- What are you doing here?” A question which Sae barely even heard.

He just peeked again to both sides of the hallway, so as to not alarm his nosey brother who will definitely fuck up the whole mission with his big damn mouth once he realises how suspicious he’s acting. Now, all he saw was an empty hallway that was dim with only every other light on or so. Rin continued:

“Who are you even visiting? My dorm is not even…on this floor…” But that was before his eyes settled at Shidou’s door, saw the room number, and looked at Sae again: “Did you just come from that pot fucker’s room?”

They both stared at each other for a quick moment, and that’s how they knew:

“Rin, why do you know that guy?” 

“-Why do YOU know that guy?!”

Sae was angrier though because he was the oldest: “Are you smoking pot?!”

“No!” Rin avoids glances, and Sae immediately knew he lied. He mumbles: “It’s in brownie form, you can’t smoke it.”

“Rin.” When Sae gives him the death stare, Rin only turns to him and meets his eyes:

“What about you- do you smoke pot?!”

“SHH!” He hisses and just shoves him to the corner deeper to hide them both. In that moment, as Rin hits the wall, something falls out of his hoodie pocket and they both looked down.

At the very neon yellow vape. 

Ah.

There, Sae lets go of his brother and they both stood there staring at each other dumbly. Their eyes met, and no more words need be said:

“Pick that shit up,” he calmly collects himself and kicks the vape to Rin’s slippers.

“Don’t kick i- tch.” Still obviously concealing an ungodly amount of anger in his bones, he  hides the vape as fast as it flew. Then, as if nothing happened, “Listen to me, nii-chan. Don’t talk to that guy. He’s- I fucking mean it. Heʼs fucked up. Genuinely fucked up. He punched me in the fucking nose!” 

“Really.” 

Heʼs pretty sure his brother broke his nose on his own and blamed someone else, as usual. 

“Really!” 

Either way, too late. 

“Fine. Don’t tell dad.” Checkmate. There, he leaves calmly, burying his hands in his pockets, and walks leisurely to the elevator. He then lies, just for clarification, “Donʼt tell dad Iʼm... smoking pot, and I wonʼt tell mom you vape. Understood? And we never saw each other here.”

“Wait, you’re walking away?” Rin gasps in disbelief.

“Obviously.” 

“We need to talk.”

“No, we do not. What the hell,” he groans in childish complaint, turning around and wincing at that stupid hoodie again. Ugh, just the sight of it reeks of that manwhore. “And that hoodie’s not even mine. Throw that shit away.”

“What- It’s from your closet.”

“It’s Aiku’s,” he says as the elevator doors open. He grabs his sunglasses and puts them on, shaking his head. He told Rin to throw it away. 

Alas, he ignores the slamming frustrated noises that he left in his wake. “ARGH! NII-CHAN!”

On the afternoon of October 30th 2025, a once in a decade miracle swept the nation, or at least the small 5-member circle of his overall friendgroup: Karasu proposes to ditch a class for once.

They ended up in Yukimiya’s parents’ house, the one just 15 minutes away—but it’s home nonetheless.

“It’s just a misunderstanding,” Yukimiya explains to them all over a warmly cooked spicy hangover soup. He was calmer now. Probably because both his older sisters were upstairs, including the one who may actively refuse to come down when they come over but will definitely give them big slaps to the head if she does. 

(Otoya used to give Yukimiya so much shit for getting a dorm when his house was just 15 minutes away, but in his defence this is almost always occupied by his sisters and their cliques. He is not about to be a victim of calorie counting and/or bodyshaming again.) 

“Reo just thought we were flirting, I guess? I don’t even- Am I that unrecognizable in the mask? Nagi recognized me.”

“Dude, you were cosplaying Ariana Grande. Gay shit.”

“It’s a Playboy Bunny.”

“Even gayer shit,” Otoya snorts as Yukimiya elbows him. Meanwhile, Shidou and Karasu sat quietly on the other side of the table, eyes set to nowhere. Absolutely dead, if you will. “So, uh, that’s for me. I’m not talking about that again. What about you two?”

Silence whistled in in response to his question, just slurps and chews and the sound of the fan above their heads. 

Shidou had been staring at it for a while now. He was debating if the dots were designs on the panels or dust.

“I think… I forgot my phone.”

It took a while for one of them to answer. 

“Did you lose it?”

“No,” he says before he thinks of it. “I think it’s in my… I mean, I bumped onto my nightstand this morning and something heavy fell.” 

Yukimiya says, “That’s nice.”

Silence once more. Just the fan’s noise and spoons clinking against porcelain bowls. It’s one thing about Yukimiya and his family, see. It’s one thing he doesn’t get. 

It’s common knowledge that they’re all rich and relevant—Yukki and his sisters are all freelance models while their parents work in high positions in the entertainment and sports industry (hell, even Yukki’s glasses right now are Prada)—but they still kept this old townhouse (mansion), just the same 4-bedder as the others in this block, only decorated with a tree that was still tissued from the other day’s party and a froggy creek at the backyard. It’s still big for a family of five, for sure, but it’s miniscule compared to their tax bracket. Each one of his sisters also have their own apartments in Shibuya by now, and they have an even bigger “main” house in the heart of Tokyo near Ginza 6—and yet they kept this old house, often living in it when they’re bored or in the area. Including Yukki himself who now enjoys a dorm in an expensive private school. 

Now, said son is currently making his friends eat half-shitty hero soup on his mother’s fine china, juxtaposed with an old dusty fan above their heads. 

A mix of luxury and comfortable cheap coziness. Juxtaposition. Shidou doesn’t know what this all means yet except it’s strange. 

It’s some kind of poetry. About how people will not always be who they seem. About the feeling of seeing your childhood dream life, dream house, dream family being lived by people who merely kept it as a memory. As a backup. As a half-forgotten box in the garage labeled junk because they can’t throw it out as trash. 

Sometimes it concerns him that Yukki doesn’t actually know how lucky he is. 

Sometimes it concerns him that his friends don’t actually know how lucky they are. 

“What day is it, guys?”

“It’s Thursday.”

Flashing images of flasks, coloured bottles, and bunsen burners flashes in his mind. 

“Fuck… I have lab later.” 

“Makeup with Prince?”

“No. With-”

“Shidou, why are you the way you are?”

The dream cuts in and out in a haze. Hands, lips, tongue, confessions…

“Shidou, do you like me?”

“I mean, yeah…” he breathes, still staring at the fan. Once upon a time, something like this would be the chandelier to his living room. Now it’s just fanning one of the Yukimiyas’ two breakfast tables. Now he’s getting hypotised to the mirages of...

“Guys, did I take drugs last night?”

“Dude, we don’t even know where you were,” Otoya says.

Yukki affirms. “Don’t stare at the fan.”

Otoya finishes eating first, then Yukki, then him. Karasu didn’t finish his; he just spent the entire time staring into the air with his head somewhere else. 

Nobody minds. 

When Otoya says something about having to meet last night’s woman, who he says he had a genuine chance with (he says that everytime), Shidou follows because of the lab and says he’s gonna go now too. Yukki stops them halfway out the door with his own pair of shoes. Dior sneakers, but muddy shoes nonetheless.

“I’m coming too. Professor Snuffy called. I have to pick up your papers in his office,” he says, tying said shoes now. 

Now, Shidou’s standing next to him at the doorway. Otoya was near him, leaning on the porch stairs hitting his vape. Karasu was sitting farthest out, leaning his head on Otoya’s knee. The street was barren and quiet in such sunny afternoon, just the sun cutting through the trees instilling nostalgic shadows on the pavement. 

Yukki stands, and thatʼs when they hear the first of Karasu’s sobs. 

“I fucked up with Hiori, guys. ” 

And they only fell around Karasu in a sad circle without any reassurances or further words, just warm heavy heads leaning on each other for support, which is more often than not enough. None of them understood fully what happened yet—and knowing Karasu who often keeps things to himself, maybe they never will—but they lean their heads on Karasu nonetheless. 

“Stay,” Yukki says as he wordlessly takes Otoya’s vape and hits it. The latter lets him. “Stay here for now.”

“Mhm. Shidou?” Otoya offers him the vape next.

He didnʼt hear it. 

His mind’s so fucking weird. Now he’s 100% sure he took something last night because the usual drunk dreams he had been having—in its regular rotation of Santa being mutilated to death, Walter White being a Sunday schoolgirl in a Southern Gothic church, and Itoshi Sae, Sae, Sae…

…just turned into simply Itoshi Sae, Sae, Sae. 

Now that he got the peace and quiet he needed, vape-free mind you, he was flooded with so much memories and mirages that he didn’t know which are which anymore. 

Was it the memories of sitting on a cold floor on waiting for instant noodles to boil?

Or was it the memory of his mother’s back at the airport, disappearing to the area where families can’t go?

Or was it of his sunny art studio, of missing paintbrushes, of a face he had been studying for years, kissing him on the lips? 

Shidou reaches his dorm thirty minutes past five. He didn’t know how long they were sitting on Yukki’s porch just hugging each other, but it felt just the right kind of long. He ended up leaving Karasu in Yukkiʼs place, and so he had to take the long walk home alone. 

(They felt like the guy genuinely needed a time off, so he let him.)

Alas, the room he came back to was a mess—just the way he left it. All his maths work was still on his desk and half the whiteboard writings were erased. He just slams face first on the bed and sighs. 

Today is such a weird day.

He’s gotta nap. He puts off looking for his phone later, which is probably just under the bed, and closes his eyes. He trusts his body will wake up just in time for 7pm, for another lab session with Itoshi Sae, Sae, Sae. 

Itoshi Sae…

Sae…

“Do you think we share dreams?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then can I kiss you?”

OH. 

“FUCK!” Shidou flies off the bed and onto the carpeted floor in some physically impossible maneuver. He’s already patting frantically under the dark of his bed, grabbing some strange paper with his left and his phone with his right. Rolling onto his back as he hyperventilated, he blinds himself with the dust that fell on his face, and coughs as he sits up.

The paper reads: 

Wrote this just in case you don’t remember: 

I took you home last night. I also took you home the other night where you assaulted me, bled your whole nose on my roommate’s bed, and gave me Martha. Do with that information as you will.

On the back: 

Bad hangover medicine (do NOT take): Aspirin, Advil, Tylenol. 

Will irritate stomach and ruin liver. 

Do not combine with liquor.

Good hangover medicine: Water, sleep.

Flip to the back - I.S.

“Oh, wait, so that’s the front. Oh, okay.”

He blinks at the paper once more, nodding as he flipped it over twice or thrice, before- 

“HOLY SHIT!”

It’s Sae. Itoshi Sae.  

Sae was here, Sae was here, and they- 

They were-

His fingers flew to his lips and he practically flew to Karasu’s bed and screamed on his pillow. 

“AAAAAAAAH!”

He kissed him!

That’s true then, wasn’t it? The blurry dream of Sae on his bed, straddling him, holding his face, saying things, kissing him and things, all that?

He crawls frantically back to the paper and stares at the letters, the handwriting a little scratchy and rushed but neatly done tall, straight, and no-nonsense. This couldn’t be a prank because Karasu didn’t even make it back here last night, right? This is real? The lowercase a’s were done differently anyway—SHIT, this is real. This is 100% absolutely fucking real.

He needs to call him.

Shidou tucks the paper into quarters and shoves it in his desk drawer for now, as he kneels back to the floor and takes his phone. 

“FUCK- Stupid fucking shit!” He abuses the button as the old cracked thing decides to hang now of all times. Then eventually it turns on, missed calls from his friends greeting him on the lockscreen. Mostly Otoya, Yukki, Bee, Hiori-

“Shit, man-” With a quick scroll down the mile-long list to finally unlock it, he spots an out-of-place Gmail among others. 

Wait.

He never receives emails. Not on his phone, and definitely not from the school or something that isn’t Jobstreet.

The world slows, and he sits down as his fingers slid it open. 

[Department Board Committee]

Dear Mr. Shidou Ryusei, 

It is with deep regret that we inform you of your scholarship termination on the grounds of excessive absences and an unconfirmed major offense. Kindly report to the Scholarship Officer-in-charge for payment procedure inquiries and/or possible appeals. See details of the termination below: 

Violation of “Clause 07.10: Grounds for Major Offense” from the Student Handbook, p. 101

“7.10. Stealing a student’s Identification Card.”

Thank you for choosing IIAS! Manifesting excellence with a heart since 1969. This is an automated system-generated email. Do not reply. 

Then the phone shuts in that moment, the last 1% of his battery giving up on him as if on cue.

First of all, “Seriously?!” 

Second of all, “The fuck?”

He slams the phone and watches it bounce on the bed. What the hell? That makes the third he had received this very email, with the only difference being their cited reasons that change every single year. It’s like they’re trying to get rid of him every chance they get but couldn’t! 

(Backtracking to history, the first two emails were because of things he did do. It’s just random stuff, you know, like when he punched a lesbian and stole the school mascot fursuit (both offenses that were weirdly prohibited explicitly in the Student Handbook.) While those weren’t even close to the worst ones he did, somehow he appealed to all of those and won! He kept his damn scholarship! All he had to do is give the President some fucking award or medal at the end of each and every term. Easy peasy.)

This time, it’s not even something remotely true. Whose ID did he even steal? Weird ass fuckers. He shakes his head in disbelief as he grabs his towel for the shower. Texting Sae instead of meeting him like a normal person would is dumb anyway. He’s gonna see him in a few hours.

And if he’s meeting him, he has to at least be nice. Like, now, he’s still wearing his jeans, still the same nasty one from last night-

“What in the…”

There’s something hard in his pocket.

Which can’t be his phone because it’s right there. 

There, he reaches in and pulls out Barou Shouei’s culinary kitchen access card, cracked in half right in the barcode. His whole world fell, and his hands numbed at the sight. 

“Ah, shit.”

Facts of this morning remain facts by the evening:

The world isn’t fair and neither was Ego Jinpachi. 

“Ah.” The smugness was raised from default settings to astronomical levels. Ego’s grin was extended ear to ear now, fingers intertwined. “So you can’t respect me when I’m your maths professor but you can respect me when I’m the Scholarship Committee head?”

The world is a joke. Since when was he Scholarship Committee head and not Miss Anri? What happened to that? Shidou bites his tongue and chooses his words carefully. 

“What, did, I, do?” he asks through clenched teeth. 

“Let’s see.” Ego proceeds to move annoyingly slow, flicking through the folders on his pile of work and pulling out the one labeled with complaints. He then opens it, even licks his fingertip to flick through the papers better except he doesn’t even do it fast enough: “Ah. There it is.”

Fuming from his ears, “What?”

“A peer of yours reported a missing ID card from months back. A kitchen access card for the culinary arts students. That’s curious…” Ego reads, as if he hadn’t already read it when the email was sent. “And yesterday, you were reportedly seen by said student in said kitchen, which you presumably accessed using his missing card. Funny, that explains why the door was opened and closed in the ungodliest hours of the night for the past few months.”

Ego wasn’t usually this much of a pain. 

“Any insights, Ryusei?”

Fuck you. That’s his insight. Fuck Barou Shouei, that son of a fucking bitch. That’s his second insight. He swallowed, frowning deeply in frustration as Ego prolonged his agony.

“So what?” he asked. “That’s my insight.”

“ ‘So what? ’” Ego repeats, savouring his own question on his tongue like it’s a dish. “Ryusei. You’ve already lost your scholarship twice. Thrice now. You’re the only kid I know in the entire world who lost a scholarship thrice and managed to get it back. What in the world did Anri make you do to get it back?”

He narrows his eyes on the wooden desk, now mutilated with penis carvings and a random magic S. “She made me write Mr. Itoshi a letter.”

And it would be great if she comes back and kicks this asshole out of that chair. 

“Letter? To the president?” Ego sounds like he was about to laugh, but very sarcastically. “Alright. I’ll tell you what’s happening: You’re entering sudden death. Do you know what that means?”

“Fail a class, you’re gone,” he recalls from the back of his mind. It was not the first time he heard that term uttered. For fuck’s sake. 

“Correct. Fail a class this semester, you’re gone. No amount of esoteric art can save you then,” Ego says, before slamming the folder shut and handing him another. “You’re a third-year student, Ryusei. One more year and you’d graduate. You’d bear the name of this school in good faith forever—except as your professor, I know what kind of life you think you have here. I know what kind of excuses you’ve been expelling of your wide mouth. You’ve always used your creations and your talent as leverage. And with Anri? It worked. Honestly, I commend you for having the audacity to persist. You single-handedly proved that art isn’t a worthless pursuit because it bought you this kind of life you’re enjoying, and I also admire that you don’t play fair—but that’s just me, and you’re just a student. Your sculptures and your art may remain in our halls but you won’t. Not if you fail another class. This school is no longer willing to pay for your talents if you don’t even take something as basic as passing seriously.”

“Why does it matter to you, bowl cut?!” he finally cracks and glares at the man, who only stares back with dark eyes wide as saucers. “What do you have against me?”

“Me? Nothing. If you manage to get it back this time or not, I don’t care. I’m just an instructor,” Ego says, voice breathy. Then he just remained silent. The sermon ends there, and he just slides a sheet of paper to him: “Just fill out this form and get out. The phone’s over there.”

“The phone?” He raises his eyes from where he had been carving balls to the desk, and follows Ego’s gesture to the little booth on the corner by the fishtank. 

“To call a parent,” Ego says, and the worst part of a sermon finally arrives—the pity. “Tell your family the news, kid. The deadline for payments is on the last day before final exams. Good luck.”

His stomach sinks, and he just lets the pen fall to the floor. As he fills out the form, his mind floats to space, as if his whole body wasn’t even here.

As he submits it and makes the most dreadful walk to the phone booth, Ego says, “I told you. Rules are rules, Ryusei. Word of advice: follow it.”

He closes the door with no middle finger this time around.

Chapter Text

The bathroom. 

La salle de bain, in French. 

It’s the place where they convene on mornings after parties. It began when Julian Loki moved in and got a dorm by himself because driving from Saitama to Tokyo everyday, on top of training and classes, is just a hassle. He ended up getting the ultra premium dorm with the large bathroom at the topmost floor, meant for 4 instead of 1, and previously unoccupied for 16 years before him. He doesn’t have a roommate. It was amazing.

Everyone had since claimed his bathtub like it’s the nest they hatched from then.

Today, Sae was the first to appear. He drank the least after all. He also wanted to make sure that he would feel all six beating pulses of his friends today. Or five, if Kaiser is still stuck in Aiku’s car, which he definitely is. 

The time is 5:30am. He had no idea why or how he woke up this early but he’s not complaining.

He sat at the unused woman’s vanity by the window, drinking nice chamomile tea as he waited for the autumn sun to rise. He used Loki’s stupid classical music playlist to fill the silence. 

It was…alright. 

Liszt’s still Liszt.

Fifteen or so minutes later, the first soul appeared. The door to the dorm clicks open and a body plops into the empty bathtub next to him. He glances—it’s just Sendou, hugging a pillow and already snoring. Sae isn’t sure if he was noticed, but the guy reeks of cigarettes and tears. He speaks nothing of it. 

The next one to arrive took a whole nother hour later. Around 6-ish, Sae walked back to his room to grab his notes, opting to study while he waited out of boredom. He then used the rising sun to illuminate the vanity as he caught up with anatomy. It was Don Lorenzo who came in during that time. 

He came in, criticised the fuck out of his sketch, took a sip of his tea, spat it out, and passed out right above Sendou on the bathtub who didn’t react. Sae said nothing the entire time. 

Oliver Aiku came next. It was fully morning by then, the very beautiful 7:45am, and the manwhore came loudly. He was severely out of it, complaining largely about a woman and a dog and his headache, saying the most random vile stuff. He just ransacks the sink cabinets and passes out right before he could even take the expired Advil he found. He looked uncharacteristically stupid—but Sae fought to urge to take a photo. 

It doesn’t seem worth it right now. 

Alexis Ness came the softest and the most sober. The guy knocked on Loki’s door, realised it was open, and almost had a heart attack when he saw Sae on the vanity studying. He only complained a little when he saw Aiku and the guys, passed out like flies. 

After bringing himself and Sae some bread to eat, Ness proceeds to take a seat on Loki’s unreasonably-modern toilet (which he bought to replace the fucked up original), both feet up, and begins texting. Sae 100% knew it was Kaiser, but also didn't speak.

The owner of the room came second to last. It was a wonder he wasn’t even in his own room, but Sae wasn’t really concerned. Julian Loki came in somewhere around 8:24. 

He just went around his place as usual, even making himself coffee and doomscrolling on Reels a bit. He only noticed they were there when he passed through his open bath archway and Ness greets him bonjour. Absolutely freaked out, he screams at them, opening the curtains and enveloping the whole room with the aggressive sunlight like an angry mother. 

While Sae busies himself drawing (or trying to), the man just kept saying something about asking, about trespassing, about respecting his space—but says nothing when he notices Sae at least used his own playlist to fill the air. He then brings him and Ness living water on a pitcher, and they assume it was actually for the other half of them who are, well, dead. 

Loki then took a shower to cool off, the glass of his modern cubicle blurring. Around that time, the last of them came: Michael Kaiser, at the very late 8:30am. He was the only one Sae genuinely regarded, mostly out of disbelief he was even up this early. (“You don’t even get up this early when sober,” he says. Kaiser didn’t seem to have heard nor registered.) 

While the guy didn’t talk nor look at anyone, Ness still caught his falling body, saving Kaiser’s blonde head from a deadly crack on the bathtub edge. He sat him up on the counter right by Aiku’s body and the sink. 

Then he fell sideways, passing out. 

(Ness miraculously leaves him alone in such stupid position.)

“Why do you blaireaus insist on raiding my bath when you’re fucked?” Loki hops out of the shower, sees Ness and Kaiser on the sink, and disappointedly walks past them. “l didn’t even go to the party. Just get your asses out, their asses out, and hang out somewhere else.”

(Despite that, he later still brings back a tray of breakfast for the conscious half of them.)

Then, when Loki sat on the vanity—Sae long abandoning his sketching practice and Ness Kaiser—the three of them relished in the warmth of the sun blinding them on their faces as they ate. 

“You told us we can’t crash in your room because we’re dirty, so,” Ness said, a terribly delayed answer. 

“Yeah…” he affirms. “I did say that.”

Stories of last night emerged next, ending up as a half-German half-French podcast with a half of each that Sae forgot to listen to. Ness eventually borrowed the shower when they got tired of talking. After him, Sae decided to follow. Eventually, it became 9:23am and it became too late for early morning news. 

Ding!

When the three of them were about to leave for class—having the decency to at least put the sleepyheads on a huge pile on Loki’s bed—six phones suddenly buzzed in unison.

They all reached for their respective phones and were greeted with the forum boards’ @everyone tag.

“The fuck?”

That’s when Sendou flinches at the noise, which made Lorenzo flinch at his noise, which made Aiku shift in his sleep and slam his hand on Kaiser’s face, which made Kaiser flinch at his noise, fall off the bed, and hit his head on Loki’s bedframe pole. 

“Ow!”

“Mihya-” At the doorway, Sae stops Ness when his natural impulses make him come. Ness looks at him, Loki also looks at him, and Sae just points his finger to their phone screens.

“I think you need to read that first,” was the first real thing he said that day, turning around to leave. “Tag Aiku while you’re at it. He’s not mentioned.”

Itoshi Sae have always had this everlasting tendency to live in a constant haze. It was 5:30 in the evening when he woke up next. He had no idea how it happened except that he was supposed to study…then he passed out.

Nevermind not being drunk, it was being sleep-deprived that will always fuck him up. It’s why he always prioritises sleep over anything. With sleep, he can conquer anything. Without it? Well, he’ll still be there for sure but best believe he’s actually mentally not. 

This isn’t the kind of person he is, trust. The last time he stayed up past midnight was on New Year’s Eve…last last year. In his defence, he had always wanted to try sleeping an entire day off just to see how it feels. 

It doesn’t feel great at all.

At the very least, he tells himself, he did not entirely waste the day. He had the decency to attend his singular 9:30am class and pass out only after that. Unfortunately, his brain remained off…until now. 

He groggily stood up from his bed, followed his body’s autopilot to make himself a cup of tea, stood facing his window and-

“...So if y’want to know, you know, just do it.” 

…and spat it out. 

It was a kiss of enlightenment, of discernment.

The crashing was both inevitable and disastrous. In seconds, he made his way to the bathroom and gripped the sink, his own knuckles trying to escape his skin. For one week, the things that had transpired were worth an entire year or two. His stomach was screaming and churning. He just never made such a…such a bold move on anyone before. His current body count couldn’t even put all fingers down on one’s hand and yet-

And yet he did it, didn’t he?

He met his eyes on his mirror, the same damn mirror that saw the very handjob that began this stupid shit. 

It was a decision, his conscious whispers as his turquoise eyes look for any excuse—in which he finds none because what it said was true. It is a decision. That he made. That he remembered making.

And that scarily, he might also make again. 

He couldn’t explain it. Something about it, now that he thought about it actively, just feels…exposing but also unprompting. Like he did it...now what? He might do it again. Or something. He did worse; he dated Aiku. 

And so he turns around and faces the door instead, just to blink at something less incriminating. 

But that can’t be. 

He doesn’t feel anything in particular about this, why? 

Usually, he’d be wreaking havoc—like seeking out Aiku and pissing him off, or seeking out Sendou and pissing him off. One time, he packed the wrong socks for an important match and was pissed at everyone for an entire month. Now, he notices that he isn’t even hyperventilating. How?

Is this growth or a sign of an aneurysm? When his mind is blank, it’s probably just preparing him for one hell of a meltdown—but right now, there is none. There is no panic attack. It just sure is cold, like a bucket of ice water dousing him and making him shiver but not freeze. 

Could it be?

Yup. It’s worse than he thought.

He kissed his lab partner…

…and he doesn’t regret it. 

His own arms gave way until he’s all but hanging onto the shower rod like a worn towel. Not in a state of terror—but slow and steady resignment.

On the bathroom floor, he just felt like he’s on a rocking boat in the farthest point in the Pacific, where he’s bound to die but at least the ocean was quiet, peaceful, and clear. As if it’s real but at the same time not. As if he’d die but also not.

Maybe this is what people mean when they say liminal spaces terrify them in a strange comforting manner?

Needless to say, his twisting stomach and his disassembled heart led him back to Loki’s dorm in minutes. That guy, albeit being a bitchass, is still the one guy who can calm him down in things like this. Or rather, the one guy he actually listens to because Loki isn’t Aiku or Lorenzo who gives stupid advice. That guy actually thinks. Together, they make five out of their friendgroup’s seven collective braincells. 

So right now, he had to find him and-

“YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!”  

Sae stops right at the door, seeing the dorm now only lit with a singular lamp. The drunkards looked like they had just woken up too and there Aiku was, hair messier than a bird’s nest, yelling at Kaiser who’s only supporting himself on the same pole he hit his head on. He was just as angry, if not angrier:

“The fuck are you- Willst du kämpfen, du Sohn eines- ?!”

“Mihya! Fass dich zusammen!” 

At that, Sae slowly closes the door, pressing his lips shut. 

Hah.  

That does make him feel better. 

He arrived at the lab early that day. Just to feel something. Or do something. The coldest 6:30pm he had ever felt. To learn that Aiku and Kaiser are facing the consequences of their actions did make his brain jolt in a revengeful satisfaction, thank God, but sadly it doesn’t erase his own unease. That’s why he turned to the familiar. To the flasks, test tubes, micropipettes, microscopes...

All because it’s a day meant for the heart and he needed something quantifiable to keep him here. 

But were the fluorescent lights always this unfriendly, stark, and cold though?

Was the air conditioning always this noisy and harrowing?

Was the room even this big and echo-ey, ever?

Sae does all and wanders aimlessly, mind running kilometres as he labels the ethanol-filled jars through his quiet labwork routine. 

Which is honestly not that good. He grabs the next jar and came face to face with Martha. A reminder. A bummer. He was looking forward to checking and handling the juice today just to have something to do for her.

Sadly, he came in, the delivery box of formaldehyde was already opened, and Martha is now in jars on the shelf with fresh preservatives. Now he still isn’t feeling anything. 

(Just a little annoyed, since the lights flicker every now and then. Someone has to replace those bulbs soon.)

And by seeing that someone moved Martha, he quickly learned that Ness had been here just a few minutes ago. He found a blue sticky note stuck on the cork board by the lockers, informing lab users that he filled the jars with formaldehyde for them. In exchange, he asked him, the next lab user, to do the dry ice inventory (and the extremely painful and tedious frog soaking and eventual transfer from formaldehyde to ethanol.)

Sae, being the said lab user, felt his heart ache when he took Martha’s body and prepped it to soak and harden in formaldehyde. Then, he put on his gloves, turned to the fridge, and felt his heart ache: Ness hated dry ice, didn’t he? He hated dead animals and the freezer in general. 

Alas, if Sae wasn’t feeling anything earlier, he at least felt something now. Ice works for him. This is something he can do. He even finds the freezer fascinating with all its colourful and neatly arranged bottles. Besides, ice cracks. It melts. It evaporates. It’s the kind of thing that is predictable and at the same time isn’t forever.

The perfect juxtaposition.

The kind of thing not everyone can love.

After all, the cold will always have something interesting lurking beneath. And when ice melts? Oftentimes people realise they don’t know what to do with the water. 

(And last night, Shidou was saying something about dry ice.)

So he tells the ice chest, “Was dry ice really even this foggy, ever?”

As Sae leant down and stared at the chest, consumed now by the fear of things changing, his heart finally shuts down and explodes simultaneously. There is this newfound horror now of the implications—of his consequences. See, all his life he never really had to deal with them (except for that one time he will never talk about) because honestly, money always answers everything. But now?

Now, there’s a question lingering in the air, stylized in invisible helium balloons spelling out a three-word question he’s refusing to read.

And they are all tied to his wrist.

He clings now to the strings of his decisions, and hides there in the freezer claiming a false sense of ignorance. I did not know I was holding this, he tells the imaginary jury, all judging him with crazy eyes. It just happened and this shit was handed to me. I did not want this to happen.

“But did you not, really?” the jury box asks back, a void of dark shadows. “We thought you don’t regret it. Now you do?”

That’s not it, he earnestly argued back, though still cold as if he’s defending someone else and not himself. This specific task is just out of my skillset. All I knew is that time is running out and patience isn’t the substance that the universe is made out of. It’s made of laws—and if one does not follow or obey them, ignorance does not excuse one from doing time. I do not do time.

“Out of your skillset? What a bizarre way of saying you don’t know what you’re doing,” the void laughs behind their grins.

...I can neither confirm nor deny that statement.

“Just admit it and plead guilty. It will make your sentence lighter.”

He doesn’t know what to think when it comes to Shidou Ryusei. For once, he’s not confused or scared. Just lost.

“Then there you go.” The jury disappears, and he’s left once again on his own.

See, it’s not even about who Shidou is anymore. It’s what he’s going to do next. Or what, in general, is going to happen next. Like this falls in the department of the heart and not the mind, in which he had near zero experience. Can anyone blame him for being lost? What do people even normally do in situations like this? He avoided shit like this for a reason.

Where he’s skilled in is the matters of the mind, of reasoning, of logic. He could even see the future with how well his critical thinking skills are. His teammates even commend him for always being five steps ahead in the game. He’d long taken pride in having this innate ability to read people’s minds and predict what they will do next.

Now he clings to chance. 

Like some gambling-addicted bitch.

Now, he’s the person that bets on horses, stays up late, steals people’s cars, kisses acquaintances because…just because. Now he hopes for a chance that this doesn’t blow on his face. 

Since when was the last time he even hoped? Since when was the last time he even prayed? Everything that ever happened in his life, whether it be sports or friendships or academics, are all calculated. All the things he chose not to do aren’t because he’s scared to do them. He chose not to do them because he deliberately chose not to. Everything he ever did, is doing, and will do will always have backing logic and purpose. 

All except everything that has to do with Shidou Ryusei. 

There is no purpose here except, “Why not?”

And Sae of the good old days would legitimately writhe when he gets told that his self of the present is now doing things “because why not?”

Now he understands why people purposefully choose to be ignorant and plead stupidity. It’s so that when they miserably find out whatever it is they fucked around for, they get to not be accountable for fucking around in the first place. 

Now the question is, is that the kind of person he wants to be from now on?

Click.

In that moment, the door to the lab clicks open and shut, and the sound of a locker opening comes from the next room over.

He’s here. 

Sae felt like he’s in an abandoned house watching a poltergeist-controlled ball roll and take him to places. That’s how it felt when he absent-mindedly shut the ice chest closed, like an instinct, and watched his feet take him to the door, just one step back from the lab area proper. An aimless following, except he doesn’t know what exactly is leading him there.

Footsteps came close from the other side.

It stops, and Sae’s arms open the door before he knew it. Then, he raised his eyes and there Shidou Ryusei is.

Arriving straight from the mirages in his mind. 

“Hi.”

And he just stood there, taking a deep breath as if to dive, and only released it slowly when Sae met his gaze. “Hey.”

The blond was in a nameless lab coat. Goggles perched on his head, cheeks flushed, hands trembling just slightly. He looked like Shidou Ryusei—and also nothing like him at all.

“Hey,” he repeats, coming closer as the fridge door shuts behind him. 

Another deep breath came from Shidou, along with a sigh: “Hi.”

Wait, they already greeted each other.

“…Why are you wearing goggles?” Sae found himself asking, just to chase away the quick-approaching sense of awkwardness he’d rather die than to bear. 

“I don’t know- what are we doing?” Shidou’s voice was raspy in return, just as lost. 

“Nothing actually.”

“Really?”

“Just…preservation duties.”

“Preservation.”

“Yes, with ethanol.”

At that, Shidou reaches up and pulls the goggles off his head at that moment, tousing his hair even more, and expelling a sigh. Sae only then takes his eyes off his face, glancing around the still-barren lab out of a lack of places to put them on.

“Ethanol is the, uh, the stinky one, right?”

Sae then puts on his jury voice. The one that isn’t particularly feeling.

“No, that’s formaldehyde.”

Shidou pauses for a few seconds before nodding, and by then they both knew he had no idea what Sae just said. “Right. So, mask, right?”

“Yes,” he confirms, and Shidou wasted no time to jump to his feet and beeline to the equipment cabinet to get some masks. Still with his jury voice, he continued, “We have to do the boring stuff today. Ness already came in and dealt with the formaldehyde delivery.”

“The formalde wha?”

“Formaldehyde,” he says, pointing to the shelf nearby full of jars and jars of animal bodies and organs. When Shidou still looked clueless, Sae takes his gloves off and shoves it to Shidou’s chest. “The stinky preservation juice. For Martha. I already soaked her in one to harden. You’ll have to go transfer her into ethanol once her body’s confirmed hard.”

“Okay.”

“Take this. I’ll go check on the shelves-”

In that moment, Sae walked past him and Shidou just instinctively reached up and took the gloves... except he grabbed it alongside Sae’s hands.

It didn’t even appear like he meant to do so. However, upon realising, Shidou didn’t let go either. He just kept his hands and Sae’s hands on his chest, his own sweaty and shaking a little.

Then, something electric happens. 

(Other than the light flicker.)

Sae would call it a jolt —because when he turned and saw his hand being held, and Shidou looked and did the same thing, their eyes didn’t struggle in finding each other next. It’s like they just knew where to look and when.

And before Sae could even swallow, just to test if he had anything to say, Shidou beat him to it.

“You’re cold,” he breathes, and Sae could feel the chills run down his spine at the sound of his voice. Unfortunately, the jury voice and the jury persona prevailed:

“Because I came from the fridge,” he answered bluntly, though he knew Shidou wasn’t really asking. He then pulled his hand off that warmth. (He didn’t know why.) He tells the jury in his brain that it’s because Shidou’s hands were sweaty. And the facts stand that he does not like sweat. Of course he’d take his hands away. 

Right? 

“After you transfer her to ethanol, you go do what you want to help with remedials,” he comes up with on the spot. “Or just go home, I don’t care.” 

“Can-” Shidou begins, but the sentence dies on his tongue. “Can I wash the flasks or something-”

“Yes.”

“-Okay.”

And so, they part ways—farthest to each other in one singular room with only them in it. Shidou with Martha’s body, Sae with Martha’s soul.

Not even ten minutes later into the sound of the leaky faucet running and the chill of the glass cabinets where Shidou did inventory, the invisible hypothetical ball made them cross paths once again. They converged on their usual workstation, the one Martha’s life ended in, and they both lied.

“I think I’m done with the frog and- uh, the stuff, flasks. Dishes.”

“Yeah, me too.” 

Then he backtracks. Ah, the ice- damn it, Ness.

“Actually, I still have the check on the fridge,” he remembers, a crack appearing in the jury voice. That stupid ice- it was sadly a real task he had to do. Just some kind of observance of mutual respect between lab users, or something. For Ness. “If you had any homework to catch up on, you can do it there while you wait. Or just go home-”

“You really want me to leave?”

“All I’m saying is that you can if you want.”

Shidou doesn’t say anything to that, so Sae leaves.

“Let’s just check out after,” he settles. Now it’s no longer an excuse. He really had to do that one. Suddenly, Shidou picks up the conversation once again:

“You need help in the fridge or-?”

“No.” 

“Okay, just…asking,” Shidou sounded genuinely disappointed, and it almost made him stop. “So! Homework. Cool.” 

“Hm.” 

At that, he disappears to the fridge, putting on new gloves, and the room separates them anew. 

But before he closes the door, he lingers. That one, he also didn’t know why. This was no longer his jury persona. That one is sure. He picks up the conversation this time, as if neither of them really wanted it to die:

“Demon.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” 

It was the nth time Shidou stills for a moment, but this time Sae isn’t sure because it’s only in his peripheral.

“I’m…yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m okay.”

“Okay,” Sae settles, taking the answer as a snack. “Cool.”

You look like fools.

That’s probably what Loki is going to say if he’s here. Why? Because this can’t be fucking right! He and Shidou right now are like two awkward planets orbiting a black hole’s event horizon, ignoring the large fucking elephant in the room in favour of what’s easy.

But for fuck’s sake, the words were all hanging in the air. It’s right there. Even the poltergeist ball is a helium balloon, and all the words they want to say are on the ceiling. In fact, it’s tied to his wrist, he just had to read it.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t even look up. He just kept his head down, telling himself to finish weighing the ice as soon as possible so he can go home and shove this all in a chest from his mind’s equivalent of the attic—never to think of again. 

That’s so fucking cowardly, dude, Imaginary Loki says, replacing the jury in his head but somehow ending up way more judgmental. This isn’t fucking like you.

Well, what do you suppose I do, asshole? he asks back, squinting his eyes against the scales. 

I don’t know. You’re Itoshi Sae. Aren’t you supposed to know what to do, ‘Genius’?

“Are you picking a fight, asshat?” He straightened up, eyes narrowing, and half-swung at the ghost.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Sae flinches, staring at the fridge doorway to see Real-Life Julian Loki staring at him judgmentally, blinking at him as he carries his backpack on one shoulder and his lab coat in another. The guy looked fresh from a class, his ID swinging on his neck, and yet he spawned right-

“Weighing the- What the hell are you doing?” Sae spats back. The guy just walks in, eyes never leaving him as he grabs a reagent bottle off the shelf and walks back out. 

“None of your business,” was all Loki said before closing the fridge on him and leaving him as soon as he appeared. But in the distance, Sae hears a follow up: “You’re acting weird, Genius. Not like you.”

(See.)

At that, Sae just stares dumbfounded at the fridge door as he processed it. Then, he jots down the last number on his sheet and puts it down, marching out and taking his mask off his face. As weird as it is, Imaginary Loki and Real-Life Loki are right. This isn’t like him.

He had to do something.

“Lashes?” Shidou calls as he steps out the fridge and the temperature change fogs up the floor. They both look at the closed door, from where Loki must have exited. 

“He left?” 

“Yeah,” Shidou answers, and Sae puts all attention on him now. The demon was hunched over a counter, the one Ness often uses, at the corner. He approaches him and sighs on the tile. 

“Why are you way over there?” he says, offering the much brighter middle stations where the light was brighter. This is where he usually works, with Shidou either assisting beside him or doing his own thing on the adjacent side. “Work here, it’s brighter.”

With no words uttered, Shidou took his things—which consist of a pencil and a textbook—and took the other side of where Sae is, only separated by a middle acrylic shelf of beakers, test tubes, and microscope slides. 

Even this atmosphere isn’t like them. Since when was he speaking more than Shidou? 

“Why are you quiet?” Sae asks—genuinely asks—as his fingers decide to put on some gloves and grab some beakers out of the way. Now he’s getting a clearer view of the top of Shidou’s head. Jury Box Sae returns to sleep in the back of his mind.

“I don’t know- just, a very shitty day.” 

Sae holds his tongue still as Shidou finally says something real. To fill the air with something other than the brr-ing noise of the air conditioner, Sae reaches down the cabinets and grabs some tongs, playing with it. Something noisy. Something fidgety.

Then, he jumps when he hears a pencil slam on the tile. 

“Jesus fuck this life, man…!”

Curiously, he tips his toes just to look over the shelf, and there he sees Shidou holding his head in his hands. It was the first real thing that happened between them that day, like the day had just begun:

“What ha-”

“I lost my scholarship, Lashes.”

The air shifts.

Oh, yeah. 

Right.

“Ego’s such a fucking bitch,” Shidou mumbles to his palms as he all but pulls his own eyeballs out, before looking at Sae, saw him already staring, and quickly avoids glances like he flinched. “I- yeah. Uhm, I have a scholarship, you know, if you don’t know... Scholarship kid, you know the drill. That’s how I got here in this school.”

At a loss, Sae just affirms slowly: “...Yeah.” 

“Tis an art thing, not really academic so I didn’t really care about grades,” Shidou says, taking a deep stabilising breath. “But now shit got revoked and I don’t know if I can get it back this time.”

Inside, Sae screams. Fuck, he almost forgot about- He was too preoccupied with the…the thing, that he forgot about this other thing. The email.

Continuing his original question, “What happened?”

“I just got off the phone with my grandma about it...”

“What did she say?” 

“What didn’t she say?” the other snorts miserably, so Sae decides not to press it further. Pretending not to know, he asks:

“Why did it get revoked? What happened?” 

“A rat. That’s what happened,” Shidou was quick to recover from his slump and hiss, now frankly full of vengeance. He was now glaring at the tile of his workstation, like he’s ready to punch it clean through. “I was—stupidly—in a room I shouldn’t be in. Which should’ve been fine except some fucking bitch saw and now I’m gone. What a stupid way to go, right?”

“That doesn’t sound constitutional,” was Sae’s honest first thought, which slipped through his teeth unintentionally. He only realised he spoke as he played with the ice tongs because Shidou screamed, slamming his hand on his book-

“RIGHT?!”

The fuck.

“It’s not constitutional! That’s what I’m saying! It’s trampling on my vested rights! Ego doesn’t get it!” he says before sitting back down on the stool. Now calmer, with his head back on his hands: “But I also have ‘excessive absences’. Appare-fucking-ly.”

Blankly, Sae stares at him. “You don’t say.”

“Bitches would do anything just to fuck with me. Modern Homicide Investigation.”

Sae furrows his brows, letting out a small sigh of his own. “So, what about excessive absences?”

“Just that. Just excessive absences. Apparently it’s a ground for major offense.”

“What.”

“Oh, you know—expulsion.”

At that, Sae straightens. Something doesn’t feel right. 

“But I have excessive absences.” 

Shidou snorts, “Well, you’re on the prestigious football team, so.”

“Even so.” He just looks at the demon right at the head. It was Shidou who is not looking at him now. “By logic, I should have been expelled by now if that’s what the rules are.”

“Of course you’re exempted, Lashes. Obviously. You’re exempted from a lot of things.”

“I pay just as much as anyone to attend here.”

Shidou seemed to have reached his internal limit by that, putting his pencil down and passes a glance of disbelief at the wall. “Well, Lashes, you’re also the President’s nephew, so.”

When Sae did not reply, only then they met glances, and Shidou presses his lips together.  

It was a bite. Sae frowns at nowhere in particular. Frankly, Shidou’s right. It was another manifestation, one he didn’t even notice, of how his circumstances didn’t really expose him to any consequence of any sort—but by the principle of the matter, even before the season even began, he was already not attending his classes! If they’re talking unexcused absences then he had like 8 counts of it under his wing. Hell, he never turned in one (1) work at any subject until after the league ended and he came back. That was what was happening for the last ten years at school, actually. He disappears for months at a time and reappears weeks before finals to catch up. He’s still alive and kicking, obviously. 

By then, he looked at the other end of the shelf and saw all but the pink tips of Shidou’s hair. 

“Did you already appeal it?”

“What’s the use?” The pink tips of the hair moved. “What can I even do? Gaslight my way through? Unless you know someone who can time travel and put me in class lectures then no. Thanks.”

He did, actually. He did know someone who can hack onto the professors’ attendance sheets, someone who goes by the name of Don Lorenzo, which is the next greatest thing after a time traveler. Second, he was also going to say the same thing: 

“But that’s how powerful people get the things they want, Demon. They gaslight their way through. They don’t give up until they get their way.”

Shidou was silent for a bit, then he mumbled something.

“What was that?” 

“I said, Easy for you to say! You heard me now?” Shidou repeats, louder, more pointed. “You’re not the one who just got yelled at by your family for $6,000. Please. You would never understand so- no. Okay?”

Six thousand dollars? Sae swallows the heavy air in his throat. He had no idea that’s how much this school was worth, and only that much.

For fuck’s sake, he just won $10,000 in a horse race last week. In USD.

“What do you plan to do about it then?”

“I don’t know, pay it off? Obviously? Do we have a choice? Might work as a janitor here for ten years,” he said, before straightening. Looks like he was studying while talking. “Which brings me to, uh, I can’t do Thursdays anymore. I got to work. I’ll do everything I should on Tuesdays. Hopefully, Your Majesty, it works.”

“You have work?”

“I will, if I finish this today. Which I hope to do.”

Sae asks no more, pressing his lips together as he stares lost to his beaker and tongs. Shidou kept studying on the other end, and he looks around for something he could do. 

Truth be told, he doesn’t understand anything about what Shidou said. Or rather, what he felt. He does not understand why Shidou would give up the appeal without even trying. If Rin was here instead of him—Rin who was way less socially adept—he must’ve already told Shidou to just wire his trust fund in if paying in cash is a problem.

But Sae, by virtue of being observant, is at least aware enough to know that for some people, money is not as simple as that. 

It’s the first thing Kaiser taught him actually. (Rin doesn’t have a Kaiser, so maybe that’s why he’s the way he is.) The only reason they worked through their differences as people is because Kaiser’s mom is new money, and money is still money so they still found a common ground to share. Still, Kaiser wasn’t always rich. Their circle initially had a rough start as his friends for they just have financial values that Kaiser inherently condemns. 

So he learned, just by watching Kaiser sometimes, that money is worth different things to different people. For some, it’s just petty cash. For others, it’s their literal lifeline. 

Either way, he had to do something.

For now, at least.

In that moment, Sae turns around and brisk-walks to the fridge, taking his beaker and tongs with him.

Oh my God, he’s so fucking done. He shouldn’t have said that. He shouldn’t have-

“Lashes, I-”

FUCK! Now Sae’s walking away. He pissed him off! Shit! Why did he have to lash out at him anyway? What did Sae even have anything to do with his scholarship? He’s so fucking stupid- he messed it all up!

Shidou puts his head in his hands, for good now, and pulls at his own hair in frustration.

Eventually, Sae returns to the workstation and calls Shidou, who is still head down on his textbook.

“Hey.” 

“Sae,” Shidou’s eyes appear just short of the shelf that separates them, only the upper half of his head visible, as if summoned. On his end, Sae looked the same. “Oh my God. Sae, I’m sorry.”

Genuinely confused, he tilts his head. “About what?”

There, he just places a beaker on the shelf that separates them. It has a chunk of dry ice in it, now pumping with lava-like puffs of smoke and thick white fogging. 

“…Is that dry ice?”

Itoshi Sae, on the evening of October 30th, was witness to how Shidou’s eyes lit up from the cold shadows it had frozen into since he came. He just stood on the other end of the shelf, hiding the tongs inside his lab coat pocket. 

“Mhm,” he said, noticing how flat his voice came out again. “Yeah. Dry ice.” 

The excitement that lit up the pink in Shidou’s irises was new. It wasn’t the spark that he saw when Shidou was dizzy from the aphrodisiac, or when he’s up on the counter drunk, or laying in bed high. It was just light, a childish one perhaps, steadily filling up of wonder and giddiness. 

From the previous spell of exhaustion and misery, it was a sight to behold. 

“Dude, how did you know I fuck with dry ice?” Shidou proceeds to poke the beaker with a finger, moving the fog. “Are you kidding me, Lashes- Where did you get this?”

Sae shrugs, hiding the sticky note and pen in his other pocket.

“Connections.” 

“Are we even allowed to use lab mats for this?”

Honestly? “No.”

After playing with the fog with a curious finger, Shidou finally meets his eyes. On equal levels now.

“Why are you giving this to me?” 

“Baking soda…volcano. Jellyfish... Humidifier.”

“Just a hunch,” Saw admits. “Do you not want to see it do the fog thing?” 

“Hell yeah!” 

“Then enjoy it.”

Alas, he watched Shidou watch the fog for the rest of the time. He deems it was worth convincing Alexis Ness to have a spine. 

At the end, before either of them brings up the fact that it’s going to be 9pm soon and they have to go, Sae finally looks up to the ceiling and the invisible balloons tied to his wrist clarifies.

The three-word helium balloon question he was avoiding was:

“Is it ok?”

And the way Shidou Ryusei leaned there, eyes still on the fog but passing through the clear beaker to actually look at him, the answer was resigned. Exhausted, miserable, but sincere and resigned:

“Yeah,” he tells the air between them. Sae looks back and Shidou wasn’t smiling, he wasn’t making a jab, he’s just speaking softly to Sae now. 

The most Shidou smiled was when he pressed his lips into his cheeks, a flat resigned grin.

“It’s okay, Lashes.”

Neither of them confirmed what the other was talking about. Is it the dry ice or the horrors of it all? Is it the overstepped boundary or the kiss that did the same thing?

They didn’t ask because it didn’t matter.

It feels like an okay for them either way. 

“I’ll go look around my uncle’s office and see what happened to your scholarship,” he tells the fog between them, as a final word. “Something about it doesn’t feel right.”

“Oh- uh, you don’t have to do that.”

“Really.” He tilts his head. “You don’t want to know who ratted on you?”

The demon pauses at that and proceeds to bite his grin down, Sae giving it a smug reflection on his own face. Just like he thought.

“On second thought...I’d be utmost thankful-”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“Hah. Sorry.”

They later lock the lab door shut contently. For tonight, such felt enough. They’d worry about the other things another day. 

Chapter Text

Most of the time, Sae enjoys his distorted perception of reality. People often told him he thinks “uniquely” or “differently”—but in his own words, he’d just say he thinks “frankly”. Frankly, meaning without inhibition. What he thinks, he thinks; other people’s opinions be damned. 

It helps that the bus is one of his favorite places in the world. When he’s here, he can rest his mind. 

It’s his most favourite feeling ever. 

For one, 'resting his mind' is akin to lifting his brain out of his skull, giving it a gentle wash, then setting it into a bowl of ice water to cool. (Like Martha right now, body hardening and immortalized in the lab.) He would sit brainless then, absolutely zero thoughts whatsoever. Paired now with the soft afternoon sun filtering through the roadside canopy of trees, right at siesta time too, it is the perfect time to rest. The rare moment, ladies and gentlemen, when he's not required to be anything. When he’s on the bus, he could just be. 

He hadn’t noticed how long it had been since he had the chance to just not think. Decades? Years?

Only now it sank in how exhausting it had been recently to the point that a week felt like months. Three and a half months, to be exact.

However, he also knew that this exhaustion is due to an amalgamation of other uneasy things. It’s not solely because it’s siesta time. For one, it’s the last day of the month. 

All last days will always have a weird feeling attached to them, especially the ones with a 31st. It all but felt like a day that doesn’t really belong, a bonus tacked onto the calendar with nothing of substance within. Just an extra, drifting by, devoid of anything real.

And then, there’s tomorrow. November. But more immediately: Halloween. When one thinks of October 31st, one would picture pumpkins glowing in the dark, witches on broomsticks, kids scurrying for candy… not a quiet, sunlit bus ride through an afternoon still, past ancient wise trees in the middle of nowhere. Yet, here he was—in the middle of nowhere. The bus was still rolling—in the middle of nowhere. He wanted to nap sooo bad.

Hmm…

He heard from Lorenzo that some art kids are throwing parties later. Sardonic, considering the disaster of Reo’s just the other night. He seriously thought everyone had enough. Not that it mattered. All he could care about right now is that the sun is now entering that weird phase where it isn’t sure whether to shine or to hide. The air has also grown colder and the nights are stretching longer. Who had energy for Halloween when winter was creeping this close? Not them, that’s for sure. 

October 31st just sat in this strange Goldilocks zone, wedged between seasons, where nothing really felt real. Sae leans his head on the glass of the bus window, cooling his forehead into bliss. 

But he can’t sleep. He knew that. 

They’re not traveling that far and besides, this bum ass necktie is too suffocating. If only they’re wearing jerseys or literally anything else, he could have napped. No, they just had to wear tuxes today, like some fucked up prom night where nobody got the same dress code memo. Like, seriously—he’s here in black and white and Lorenzo’s literally next to him in a bedazzled purple suit. He looks like he’s cosplaying a disco ball. 

To fight his sleeping spell, and to suppress the urge to roll his eyes, Sae pulled out his phone, slipped in his AirPods and only then the world shifted. Bloomed. Livened. 

Suddenly the empty day feels slightly fuller and Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky is serenading him into it—because thankfully, and most importantly, it’s the official end of the season. They’re currently on their way to a neighbouring town where the All Japan University Football Championship’s Closing Ceremony is to be held, re-awarding them the trophies they were already given just for the photo-op and the speeches. 

Truth be told, it hadn’t really sunk in yet that this would be his last game for a while. Or, in a way, the last of most things. It was strange to think that in four months, by March— spring, when they’d get that stupid cap, utter some prayer, and collect their two-fold diplomas—everything would be over. 

Fina-fucking-ly, he’d say. 

It was, of course, also an uneasy topic. Anomaly #2: Graduation. Some people were eager to leave, others didn’t even want to think about it. It’s why Loki had stopped asking Aiku and Lorenzo to help him pick out a suit. The last time he did, they all but bawled just thinking about leaving. Sae? He didn’t really let it bother him. He’ll cross that bridge when he gets there. 

In fact, he didn’t let it bother him so well he felt nothing, really. He just figured there was always someone like Sendou, who might seem the most (academically) nonchalant but was actually the most worried. He liked to think that Sendou was already anxious enough for all seven of them. 

Common sense though: after graduation, what would change? Nothing. They’re still going to attend the same old institutions in the same old city. Loki, who used to be a campus paper editor in middle school, now to pursue law. Kaiser, always double-timing football with modeling, now to pursue film production. Himself, always balancing his academics with sport, now to pursue medicine. (And Aiku, Ness, and Lorenzo, to pursue…whatever it is that they liked doing.) Either way, even if they don’t, he’d remain stuck with their dumbass faces because their families are still prime stockholders in the hotel chain he and Rin were going to inherit. Illusion of choice. Do it or don’t, they’re still in their same default cardboard box. 

And honestly? Even if Lorenzo and the others eventually find something else they liked better in the world, nothing can remove the Velcros—Sendou and Aiku—in his life at this point. Those two assholes had been in his life since he was five apples tall! It wouldn’t be surprising if he ended up buried next to them in the same mausoleum when they die. 

Point is, at the end of the day, they’d still live in the same unwalkable neighborhood, drive the same unaffordable cars, and wear the same unlabeled clothes. Future summers would then pass in a blur of yacht parties, tasting like kisses from similarly-named Latinas (or whatever Aiku is into now), before they’d seek refuge in Europe to ski, return to Japan in the autumn, do their own shit in the morning, and convene in their new version of “Loki’s bathroom” at night. 

Moral of the story: A lot changes, but some things stay the same. Look at them even now—different team, different school, but still the same jersey numbers, in the same designated seats, in the same designated rows, since grade school.

And just like all those years never changing, Sae at 7 and Sae at the edge of adulthood would still enter the team bus, sit at specifically the seventh row, and put on his music that cools down his brain for a little while. 

The one anomaly that never leaves him nor fails—Anomaly #1: Dissociating on the team bus.

Yes, there are rare outliers when he lets Aiku share his earphones. There are also outliers even rarer when he lets Sendou nap on his shoulder. Either way, they’d still walk out of the bus together, get in their separate cars home, and later tell each other what they’d do over the summer while playing videogames. Then they’d meet a week later and find themselves in a new country, with new people, doing new things. 

So right now, he feels calme. The world, after all, has this funny little gimmick that just puts everything in order. 

He wouldn’t call it karma though. Or destiny. Or fate. No, he’s not really sappy like that. He just believes that people do things, and as a natural result, reaps the effects of said things. Everything really revolves around choice. That’s why he doesn’t believe in the “circle of life”. Yes, the rich stay rich and the poor stay poor, and the happy prosper and the sad suffer, but that’s not about karma or curses or those corny astrology shit. It's a choice. It always boils down to choice. 

So, knowing what he knows, nothing can really keep them away from the ball. He bet Sendou would invite them all over to play next week—because that’s his choice. The same one they had been consistently choosing and that’s why their lives are growing in a very comfortable way. 

Which brings him back to his main dilemma, because if he could get one chance to just rest his mind and nap, he’d gladly take it now. 

Cherry on top? 

Clang! 

The music’s climax approaches and that’s exactly when the rest of the bus began its descent into absolute chaos. The note drops and Ness drops his loud fuckass tumbler…

“Shit - Aiku, can you pass me my-”

“Why don’t you ask that arrogant fucker who steals people’s fucking cars for fun?”

That’s when Kaiser snaps his head to his adjacent row:

“Bitching about me again, asshole?”

Supported by Ness:

“Yeah! Can you stop? He said he didn’t do it! Can I have my bottle back?”

Then Lorenzo, of course, dips his nosey interventionist ass:

“Stay out of this, Ness,” Aiku and Lorenzo chorused, the former speaking as a threat and latter two speaking as a precaution. Ness was flabbergasted.

Ah, the beauty of Tchaikovsky’s Pas de Deux. Maybe he isn’t really that sleepy, after all. 

Sae opened his eyes and saw Lorenzo was the first to stand, then Kaiser in the row in front of him: 

“You heterochromic homophobe-”

“Kaiser!” A gasp. A very Italian gasp. “You know what? Sit down- Aiku, get your ass down!” Lorenzo then began pushing everyone who stood back down to their seats. This is when Sendou stood anyway, Aiku stood anyway, and the bus descended into worse:

“No, because this fucking asshole clearly doesn’t know how to shut the fuck up!” 

“Oookay, Kaiser, that’s enough-” Lorenzo now gave up on the pushing and stepped onto the narrow aisle to keep the two apart himself. 

And from where Sae sat right next to Lorenzo—inches away from the crime scene, yes, of course—he saw that Neru, Wakatsuki, Kento, and Kitsunezato at the other rows front and back were already cheering, watching, and sneakily recording from where they stood. 

Hah. 

“You want to fight, you German fuck?!” Aiku persisted against Lorenzo who pushed him back, all of them struggling against the bus’s movements- “YOU SCRATCHED MY CAR, ASSHOLE!”

Oooh. Look at that beautiful gigantic pine tree. 

Look at that giant chicken sign for a poultry farm nearby. 

“Stop whining about your stupid American car!” In heavy German accent—a telltale sign he’s one push away from kicking Aiku’s head off his neck: “That piece of shit auto doesn’t even drive that fuckiNG GOOD!”

“I hope you like penitentiary food.” 

“What did you just say-” 

“KAISER, NO-”

Kaiser pushes Lorenzo away and only then did Ness and Sendou join the mediation with their own senses of panic.

“WHY SO PRESSED?!” Aiku continues anyway, eyes closing down on Kaiser as three pairs of hands push him down. “If not mommy dearest then I’m sure someone’s gonna bail you out!”

“I CAN DRIVE BETTER THAN YOU DRUNK, BITCH!” In that moment, Kaiser reaches over the row that separates them and starts to swing, Lorenzo, Ness, Sendou, and a few concerned citizens leaping to their feet and pulling the two apart.

His fist lands, and the bus stills for exact 1.1 seconds before-

“Shit- Kento, call coach!”

Ah. The magic word. Sae only then takes one earbud off and glances at the live entertainment, where everything froze the moment Sendou pulled that card. Meanwhile, Ness and Lorenzo focused on keeping the two apart. The latters turns to the back of the bus for help:

“Loki! Help! Hold Aiku down-”

“Stop including me.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Ah, the beauty of life. Sometimes, this is just what life is all about. 

That reminded him: yesterday at the lab was yet another anomaly. Anomaly in a sense that there’s just something about it that doesn’t feel real. 

Or, at least, something that doesn’t feel like it’d happen again.

Loki is calling…

When the dry ice eventually dispersed into nothing and they began to pack up, Loki called him for a quick second about the little ceremony tomorrow…which was today. ‘Hey,’ he said, his keys jingling in the background as he walked in what seemed to be a rush. ‘What’s the plans for tomorrow? How long are we supposed to be there?’ 

Sae puts the phone off speaker and just presses it close to an ear. He and Shidou just locked the lab area proper, now in the noticeably smaller locker mudroom. “I’m not the captain, asshole. Call Aiku. Or Ness.”

“Do I look like I seriously haven’t tried that already?”

“I don’t know. Who cares?” He sighs with an exhausted rasp to his voice.

“Are you even coming?” At that, Loki scoffs, his tone both knowing and mocking. 

“Don’t ask me that.” 

It comes with a certain exhaustion because unlike them, Loki is still heavily concerned about his reputation. He was the only non-graduating member of the circle, after all—all of them being on their last year while Loki’s still two years behind because of two fulfilling gap years. Thus, he still wanted to make sure he’s on great terms with the coach, never minding how rigid that man actually is. (Else he’s not going to make it back to the team next year.)

The line ended after a few more words and Shidou was changing out of his lab coat at that moment—so it shocked the life out of Sae that a congratulation came.

Turns out Shidou heard the entire thing. Not that he particularly hid it anyway.

“That’s an afterparty for your football thing, right? Tomorrow?”

“Closing ceremony,” he corrected Shidou, but the guess was good enough. As Shidou’s cheeks reddened, he turned towards his locker and began rummaging. “How did you know?”

“I, uh, me and some friends watched the finals,” he said, sheepishly. He’s no longer looking at him, face obscured by the tiny locker door. “They announced an afterparty thingy for tomorrow, if I remember. You guys were super good, by the way. Congrats.”

Sae took a moment to just weigh the implication in his head. “You were at the stadium?”

“Yeah, ‘dunno,” Shidou shrugs, resuming his own packing. “I’m friends with a cheerer, so.”

There Sae just stares at him, no thought particularly in mind. He decides to leave it at that, just sitting at the bench facing his own locker in contemplation. 

“Are you going pro?” was the next filler question. Sae glances at the blond, who immediately shoves away the awkwardness: “Not to pry or anything.”

“Maybe,” he said, a repetitive reply to a repetitive question. Same answer as when his parents asked. Same answer as when Rin asked. Same answer as when Sendou asked. The lab still has its deafening air conditioning white noise.

“What do you mean?”

“I got offers but my mom’s manager’s still filtering through them.” Sae stares at the metal in front of him—also cold, repetitive, and stark. “He told me to fix my academics first before we talk.” 

He hears Shidou crack open something behind him. Maybe a bottle of water. It cracks through the white noise of the cold air like a comforting ray of light. It gave Sae enough leeway to stand and begin packing up as well. It’s getting late, anyway. He had to move- what is he even doing, sitting down?

“Bruh. If I were you, I’ll just play football for the rest of my life. Pros don’t need degrees.” That’s when he heard some rustling, and Shidou only then sat on the bench, facing the opposite direction but next to where he was nonetheless. 

He only sat the moment Sae stood.

So Sae begins with his hand sanitizer, a tiny travel-sized bottle on his locker door that Ness once got for him. Just another of his cold and stark routines. 

“Well, if you’re me, you do,” he replied coldly, taking his packet of tissue next and blotting his sweat. 

“Why?”

He confesses, quite nonchalantly, patting his nape dry: “I’m going to become a doctor.”

That’s the anomaly, right there. Anomaly #3: A confession, unprompted. The word itself felt weird on his tongue, like it’s stinging—numbing. 

“Doctor- Like, doctor doctor?”

“Neurosurgeon, yes.” He shakes himself out of his daze and throws the tissue away with a sigh, the metal trash bin lid slamming and sits back down, taking a sip of water. The crack once again cuts through the air comfortably. Only then he realised fuck, he did just say that, didnʼt he?

“So that’s why you’re good,” Shidou gasps at the air. “At science.”

“Of course I’m going to be good.” This is his niche. It would be strange to not even be good in your major, wouldn’t it? But enough about him. Just to pass back the question exchange like one would to a ball—with football—he asked next: “What about you?”

Another anomaly. Something that isn’t supposed to happen. The kind of things time travelers go back in time for: Anomaly #4: the follow-up question that shouldn’t even have come. 

“My what?” Even Shidou was surprised he asked. 

“Your niche,” he said, blinking at the silhouette of Shidou’s face, something that’s growing more familiar day by day. His face was redder, but maybe that’s just the cold fluorescent lights talking.

“Everything. Is it even a question?” 

Of course he’s not going to answer properly. At that, Sae looks away-

“Museum curator,” Shidou suddenly admits, throwing his head back to the ceiling and putting the towel over it. Sae pauses and watches. The air felt hot once again. 

“Museum curator?”

He takes the hypothetical ball and passes it back. Shidou receives it quite kindly.

“Yeah. I want to go to Canada. Do art, have fun. All that shit. Yada yada.”

The ball returns to Sae, and he kicks it back: “Where in Canada?” 

“Montreal. Or anywhere where I can learn French, fuck around, and then maybe work in the Louvre. Have you seen Night at the Museum?”

“No.” Sae blinks as the ball returns and stops short of his feet. He paused for a moment, processing the information, as Shidou snickered at him. He eventually approaches the ball and kicks it back: “So, art. You want to do art.”

“Surprising, I know.” Shidou shrugs a little, the skin of his shoulder brushing against Sae’s.

They both pretended it didn’t raise chills on either of their skin. 

In some odd way, his throat tightens. Breathing exponentially got heavier. That one brush began replaying over and over in his head like a glitch, and he’s shivering once again just thinking-

“Then why are you taking a lab unit?” He settles on an absentminded pass, standing up if it meant he could brush off that brushing off. He leaves the bench, and now Shidou’s the one lonely there. 

“Huh?” For someone with good hearing, the demon didn’t catch it this time around. 

“I said, why are you taking a lab unit? You’re an art major.”

Their comfortable back and forth ends when Shidou traps the ball instead of kicking it back. No answer came until Sae already finished rearranging his locker and had slammed it shut. Only when his eyes landed on Shidou’s back…his naked nape…did the ball return. 

“…Dunno, must’ve been a registrar mistake. Shit happens.”

The clock above the door ticks 9:23pm. Shidou doesnʼt look like he wanted to talk about something more, so he leaves it. 

All Sae could think of was that maybe it was enough anomalies for the day-

“But I mean, baking is super close to what we do and I’m crazy good with baking. You just mix stuff up and it becomes something. But I’m not good with numbers and it just doesn’t make sense,” Shidou’s voice suddenly cuts through the air, his locker slamming shut.

Sae stood there in genuine surprise—for he still talked. At that, he shrugs, walking to the door. This is the longest non-mundane conversation he had ever gotten in his entire life.

“…Baking smells way better.” 

“Damn right,” Shidou follows, and then they finally turn the locker area lights off. Quietly this time, they scan their IDs on the scanner—Sae first—and still said nothing when the green light flashed on their faces. Then, he walks out- “Wait, did you just try to cheer me up-”  

“No?” Sae flares up, glaring at the shut door, only to get even more annoyed as green light flashes from inside and the door slams open again:

Click. 

Slam!

“YOU DID!” Shidou appears with the world’s widest grin on his face, something Sae only caught a glimpse of before turning around and speed walking to the elevator.

“I did not.” 

The demon followed behind him with his loud aggravating chuckle. “Nuh-uh.”

“I just said baking smells nice,” he deadpans, “What part of that is cheering you up?”

Why did he say that anyway? Why did he even talk? Why are they even talking? In his wallowing, he decided not to say anything when Shidou steps and crowds him on the same elevator. He kept his eyes on the metal of the doors.

“Whatever, I know what I heard,” was the last words he said, an annoying grin still lacing through but significantly calmer.

The door closes on them, and they both say nothing more.  

Shoulder to shoulder, warmth against cold.

The final anomaly. 

Montreal. 

Sae stares out the bus window in contemplation. He didn’t really expect that from Shidou, though at the same time, he should have. A disruptor? Working in a heavily secure, expensive, and monitored facility? Anomaly. But a bleach blonde box dye radical working to pursue creation and preach the deeper meaning of life via French, of all things? Not really surprising. 

Now, under the hypnosis of Pas des Deux as the team bus descended into a literal warzone, Sae wondered why Shidou Ryusei chose Canada of all places. He doesn’t look like he’d love North American winters. Or any winters, for that matter. He doesn’t look like he thrives in the cold. He is summer personified, even in his very skin-

“SAE!”

Both earbuds suddenly get yanked out of his head, and Lorenzo plops down next to him once again. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” he hissed.

“Oh? That? That’s a thanks! For leaving me alone to deal with that shit!”

The Italian then follows it with a string of curses Sae did not bother to translate. Looking around, Kaiser and Aiku now sat at the very front of the bus with the coach glaring at them menacingly. Ness is sitting across Sendou now, both of them lonely, with Loki still isolating himself at the very back of the bus, engrossed in his book. 

“Go sit somewhere else,” Sae clicks his tongue and snuggles back to the window, still on the same tree-lined road that just made him sleepy. 

“You know, sometimes you’re very lucky you have friends because mio Dio, polpetto.” Lorenzo does anyway as told, standing up and giving back the AirPods he yanked off his ears. “When are you going to take the money anyway? The suitcase is here, overhead. Don’t forget it this time, I swear-”

Right, the $5,000. 

“I know,” Sae brushes him off, and sighs. “Later. Leave me alone.” 

It didn’t take them long to arrive at the hosting school. It was another tree-infested campus, perhaps half the size of theirs but marginally just as luxurious. It sat in the middle of a long foresty drive, with numerous fields and lakes in the distance that looked like a series of farmlands. To be honest, Sae isn’t sure if this is Tokyo anymore. If ever, they must’ve been in Machida, on the outskirts by the borders to Kamakura, his hometown…on his mother’s side…on her father’s side…on his mother’s side.

Or at least, he can recognize that stupid mountain anywhere. He had spent one summer here as a kid where his very Buddhist great grandmother once forced him to go temple hopping—or, based on what actually happened, hiking—with her if they wanted better luck in life. That was before he can even talk in Japanese, and before they even had a traditional resthouse in the area, where said great grandma now lives still engrossed in her Buddhist ways. 

She was why he had never gone hiking ever again. 

Sadly, she was also the reason why his legs are this strong. Imagine hiking Mt. Yakiyama at age 7-ish 8-ish? Even a broken clock is right twice a day. 

Anyway, the ceremony itself was more an afterparty than an event—a fact he didn’t figure out until they entered the venue and saw a heavily decorated high ceiling, sparkly lighting, and trays on trays of beverages. Everyone there was dressed in tailored suits, from fellow athletes to coaches. There are also some teams who were allowed to have dates while others were not. Then, over there are their bracket-mates who he just made cry on the pitch a few weeks ago. Now, they’re greeting them with shallow smiles with still clear bitterness. Not his fault they’re shit. 

Their team, as champions, ended up with the best table in the hall. Probably because they got the Player of the Year, the Top Scorer, and the Manager of the Year. 

(Said manager, a girl whose name he had forgotten but was definitely someone who joined only because she had a crush on Aiku, now was trying to tell them about a change in seating. Kaiser and Aiku can’t sit next to each other for now. Ha. You will reap what you sow, he guessed.)

Sadly for him though, it was a five-hour event. 

“What the hell?” he and Loki chorused, squinting at the same trifold pamphlet. 

There, they almost crumpled the event flyer that was laying on their table. It had the menu on it as well as the event programme, though none of it mattered because what the fuck, indeed. Apparently, it was that long because there were local and international recruiters lying around the crowd, so an extra hour and a half was allotted simply for networking. 

Sae, personally, isn’t really looking forward to listening to worthless making-face. For pity’s sake, he just wanted to sleep. He could still maybe understand if that extra hour was allotted for a campus tour, where they will definitely cop out and instead hide somewhere to nap, but nah. 

Which is exactly why he stood up, no questions asked, the moment Sendou subtly tapped his shoulder. 

Together, they just wordlessly walked to the direction of the men’s bathroom hallway, only giving their coach a quick word as they passed—only for them to go straight out the fire exit. 

Greeted with the fresh air of the beautiful nature, Sae says nothing as Sendou pulls out a cigarette and begins smoking. The sun, low in the sky, is beautiful out here.

“I thought you were going to quit.”

“I thought you were going to try smoking with me.”

“Do I look like-”

“Sue me for believing you then, Sae, shit.”

It was exactly like it was many times before, whenever Sendou wanted an out, or a break, or to let out a secret that he doesn’t want Aiku or the others to know. He always comes to Sae, for some reason, who could no longer remember the last time he complained. Sure, he would always have a thing or two to say, especially about Sendou’s worsening relationship with nicotine, but he’s growing less and less meddlesome day by day. 

After all, Sendou ranting is always better than whatever event they’re both running away from. He had the best speaking voice in the team, someone fit for a podcast or whatever, for even the softspoken Ness can sound irritating sometimes. Not that Sae would ever tell Sendou that.

“Am I not that good?” 

There it is, the secret he wouldn’t want Aiku to know.

Perhaps he’s talking to the trees. Perhaps he’s talking to himself. Behind him, Sae amuses himself to the sight of the corn fields beyond the forest. 

“Kaiser was in a better position in that last goal,” he began. “It made sense that the pass would go to him instead of you.”

Sendou didn’t like that. 

“Well, you asked.” And thus he shall deliver. Besides, while it was harsh, they both knew Aiku would be way harsher if he heard Sendou’s putting himself down again.

(And on that note, Sae couldn’t believe Sendou still hadn't moved on. It has been weeks since the game. Had he been dwelling on this the entire time? Is that why he’s smoking more than usual?)

“But Kaiser already had Ness. Why would Aiku pass to him and not me?” Sendou wondered out loud, smoke decorating his every word. Sae silently wonders how he’s not coughing anymore with all that. “Top Scorer should’ve been me, Sae. I was one goal away. Kaiser had been Top Scorer for three fucking years. Do you fucking get where I’m coming from?”

Yes, he understood… for once. Sendou did objectively play well this year. He had also been going for the Top Scorer openly. Sadly, Top Scorer is born from pure results. Consistency is no key for something that only considers the end.

Besides, even if Aiku would have done literally anything just to get the award for him, it still ultimately falls to the one who scored the most...not the one who got 'passed to' the most. 

“If the ball was yours, Sae, would you have passed to me?” was a question that came with no smoke this time, expectant yet still shielded.

“I would pass to the one who had the best chance to score.” 

“And that would be?”

“Myself,” he admits. “The line was clearer on my end. Aiku only chose Kaiser because he saw him first. We all know his shot shouldn’t have even gotten in if the other goalie didn’t slip on the grass.”

“Jesus, dude,” Sendou only scoffs and shakes his head, raising the cigarette back to his lips. “You are so fucking annoying.”

Sae blinks at the afternoon sun. “I could only imagine.”

“You do realise I’m asking you for comfort right now, right?” 

“Are you?”

Sendou scoffs quieter this time, just turning his head away from him. “You’re so annoying.”

“Then don’t listen to me.”

Honestly, he’s not even sure why Sendou chose him out of his five obvious alternatives. He doesn’t even smoke nor bring a lighter. At least Loki has a lighter with him at all times, and at least Lorenzo would smoke alongside him though not as much. But Sae? He isn’t really contributing anything to Sendou’s smoke breaks except his shadow, and the only reason he goes anyway is because it gives him a good excuse to get out of social gatherings. He might as well get lung problems from secondhand smoke at this point from how often they do this. 

“You’re so lucky you’re not going pro,” Sendou leans forward, bending over the ledge. “This shit actually kills from the inside.”

“You should stop smoking,” Sae said instead, unsolicited advice. Nothing Sendou hadn’t heard before. 

“Asshole. You know I’d quit if I could.”

Sae isn’t sure this time if he’s referring to the cigarette or the sport. He doesnʼt ask either. Sendou only talked again eventually on his own accord:

“About Aiku, we’re...”

Together.

“...together,” Sendou fulfills, and Sae just keeps his eyes on the trees. “Not really anything serious, like it’s just whatever, but… Yeah, I just want to tell you.”

Never mind that they all had known for the past few months now. Thanks for telling him, he guessed.

“Does he know?” 

Sendou breathes, quite audibly. He takes the cigarette off his lips.

“Excuse me?”

“Do you know?” Sae corrects, taking his eyes off the fields to stare. “You were scrolling on a dating app just a while ago. Do you know you’re together?” 

A flash of emotions crosses Sendou’s face in a span of a few seconds. Offense, Sae was quick to spot, but also confusion, unease, amusement, mock, hurt, and levity. 

“We’re together but…like I said, it’s just- Did you two not do it like this when you were together? Casual?” Sendou looked halfway both into a mocking laughter and a sob. 

“Never really crossed my mind.” He shrugged. He doesn’t even know if one could call whatever happened between him and Aiku being together. That is, if he meant not being exclusive. But if he meant being casual, “But maybe.”

“The fuck?” escapes Sendou’s mouth.

True, though. He had to admit his whatever-that-is with Aiku was another anomaly in his life. It was something he had done without thinking at all—for fuck’s sake, they were 15 and high—and whatever it says about him is something he would gladly disown. He liked to think that it was just Aiku having a thing for him, not vice versa, and his own curiosity getting the better of him was the sole reason why he agreed and why it happened in the first place. Not that he regrets it. Just…he feels nothing, really, about it. It happened, they “broke up”, they’re still roommates, and they’re both free to do whatever they want in their life now.

In fact, he finds the whatever-it-is between Aiku and Sendou more peculiar. 

It’s not lost on him since grade school how attached those two actually are with each other. While he never really felt isolated when they were just a trio, he did notice the few times that made him question if Sendou was actually fucking in love with the guy.

As they grew up though, nobody said anything, everyone fucked everything, so that thing with Aiku and him still went on. 

But if Sendou’s in love with Aiku, then that would mean-

Actually, you know what, he has no idea what is going on with Sendou…ever. Aside from Loki who deliberately excluded himself “from their gay ass sappy shit”, it was only Sendou who hadn’t ever confided in them anything about his personal life. Loki, they could understand; that guy had the best fucking life being an only child, an only heir, spoiled rotten by his parents, and born with confidence and privileges they could only imagine. His worst problem is probably racism, which is something they can’t really do anything about. But Sendou? Never. Even Kaiser confided in them about his super sensitive childhood and family problems. 

In all the years he knew him, all Sae ever heard Sendou talk about is football, food, Aiku, and Hollywood actresses. 

But he still couldn’t help but wonder sometimes: Is he in love with Aiku? Is Aiku in love with him? Are they just very very very close homoerotic childhood friends? Who the fuck knows. Who the fuck cares.

Fact stands they, hey, at least they’re together now. Like, “casually but also not” kind of officially. Sae wonders to himself how this will turn out.

“Jesus, okay,” Sendou laughs as if mocking his silence. “Whatever. Leave me alone with that judgmental shit.”

“I’m not even saying anything,” he deadpans.

“And that’s supposed to be comforting?”

Usually, that was just yet another lip service, something to say to make the atmosphere bearable, but this time, Sae felt his phone buzz in his pocket and he realised he might actually have to leave.

Unknown number calling…

Report spam?

“The hell?” Sae couldn’t help but hiss; just muscle memory. Sendou notices and glances at the phone as well.

“Who is that?”

“I don’t know.” 

At that, he answers the call and Sendou steps back promptly. Everyone knows he hates being called for non-urgent things. Even his mother texts him to wake up instead of calling him up herself. Nowadays, when someone unknown calls him, it’s just a new staff member his family hired, or someone who doesn’t know yet he dislikes being phoned. And people at home only ever call him whenever he steals the Royce and his brother snitches on him for some reason. 

“Hello?” It was a man’s voice. An unknown one.

“Who’s this?”

“Uh, is this Saereal?”

“This is…yes.” He makes eye contact with Sendou, who is watching intently, curiously listening as his fingers touch his lips and holds his cigarette steady between his teeth. That’s his Instagram username. What the hell is going on? 

“Ah, finally! This is the, uh, the cab driver the other day? I dropped you off at the Mikage Towers?” 

He tries, still confused, “How did you get my number?”

“We just now figured out how to charge your, your netbook, Sir. It has your number on the profile?”

“My what?”

“You…uh, left it in my cab, Sir.”

He genuinely had no idea what the hell is- 

HIS LAPTOP!

“-Dude!” Sendou flinches when he hits the nothingness of the air in a sudden jolt, the metal balcony of the fire exit clanging as the striker stepped back and nearly fell. His cigarette wasn’t as lucky; it slipped out his fingers and fell to the dirt down below. “Seriously?!”

Sae quickly turns to his phone and sighs. “Right. Yes. My laptop. I left it. In your cab.”

Holy fucking shit. He fucking forgot it existed. 

“Laptop! So it’s a laptop. Sorry, laddie.” Macbook, actually, but Sae’s not going to correct him now. “Uhm, I’d like to return it. Would shipping it back work?”

Woah- People in Madrid would never.

“Ah, yes. Thanks for contacting me about this, Mr.…?” At that, a sudden protocol emerges in his head and he suddenly recalls that one etiquette class his father made him and Rin take a year ago. 

“Haru. Yes, yes.”

“Thanks, Mr. Haru. About shipping, if you’re in Tokyo, can you just drop it off at the Itosh-”

There was a delay in transmission and their voices overlapped: “Yes, yes. Machida. Still Tokyo.”

“-Machida?” Sae froze.

They might be in Machida.

Sendou is full on glaring at him now—eyes wide, alarmed. 

“Yes. Machida Poultry and Farm. Near Hosei University. Big chicken sign?”

At that, Sendou glares at him and furrows his brows, Sae meeting his eyes. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What school is this?” 

“…Hosei University, dude. Why?”

No fucking way.

“Sae, why? Who is that? ” He stresses now, walking closer while Sae only turns his body away. 

“Hey, uh,” Sae calls the man again, putting the phone back to his ear. “Hosei University in Machida? I believe I’m nearby. I can actually come get it now.”

“What?!” Sendou and the cab driver chorused. As the cab driver said something about urgency, Sendou just reached for him and blocked his way. “You’re leaving?”

“Does it look like it?” he said, going on Maps and immediately looking the farm up. Seeing the corn fields they passed, and the thick tree line, he must’ve just passed the place. “Uhm, hey, Mr. Haru. I’ll call you back.”

Before he could open the fire exit gate to the metal stairs leading down below, Sendou chases him and manages to pull him back by the sleeve. “Don’t ignore me!”

Yanked back by his sleeve, he shrugs Sendou’s hand away and looks back in annoyance.

“What do you want?” 

“Where are you going? Who was that?”

“I lost my laptop,” apparently, “I left it in a cab and the driver is giving it back.”

“You’re meeting him?” Sendou blurted out, as if it was scandalous. He follows him three steps down the fire exit stairs. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, well, I also don’t want to be here.” Damn. “And you just told me to leave, whatʼs your problem?”

“My problem- What the hell am I going to tell Noa?!”

Sae was already one flight down when he answered. “I donʼt know. Make something up.”

“SAE!” 

A knock comes briskly, and he brings his head up, only to become disappointed. 

“Ah. Niko.”

Karasu isn’t sure why he expected someone else. He buries his head back to his pillows. 

“Hey,” the freshman greeted, eyes hidden behind his wavy hair. “Where’s Shidou?”

“Art studio,” was his answer, mumbled half-incoherent. He hears Niko linger, and he peeks. 

“Nevermind then,” the kid just says, inviting himself into the room and putting a plastic bag of something on Shidou’s desk. “I’ll just… put it here.”

“Close the door.”

“‘Kay.”

No fucking shit, it really is a big chicken sign.  

This day really is weird. Sae stares at a large spinning chicken sign, with arrows pointing to a narrow street to his left where a poultry farm apparently is. Standing by the empty seemingly lonely sidewalk, framed by an empty children’s park to the left and the rest of the road to the right, he digs through his coat pocket and calls the man again. 

“Hello?”

He wouldn’t call this karma though. Or destiny. Or fate. Especially not fate. He’s not sappy. People just do things, and as a natural result, reap the effects of said things. Simple. Very logical. 

So of course he’s not about to just walk on unfamiliar roads. This is the first time he had been alone outside on a city main road in ages, actually. 

Because while he had never been kidnapped before, he’d very much like to keep his experience in that department zero. 

“Hey, uh, I’m here by the big chicken sign.” 

This feels just as much of an anomaly, as if the day’s weirdness isn’t already enough. In his head, he tracks it: Anomaly #6. He could almost picture himself in the eyes of a nonexisting bypasser—an out of place tux-wearing teenager standing by a lonely playground surrounded by trees far away from the Tokyo mainland of which he reeks. He isn’t supposed to be here.  

He’s here anyway.

“Ah! I’m on my way. ”

“Alright,” he pauses.

At that moment, a man appeared brisk walking down said narrow street, phone to his ear and his laptop bag in tow. Sae immediately recognised that face as the same one from that night, the cab driver, ever shocked at the frat carwash that traumatised his car. 

“There you are!” The call ends and they finally meet face to face. “Hello, nice to meet you! I hope I didn’t make you walk that far…”

“Hey,” was all he said, in sheer awkwardness. He made sure to re-summon that one etiquette class once again. “Thanks…. Er, thank you.” 

The laptop was returned and the mission is now accomplished.

Uhm…what now?

“Ehem,” the man clears his throat and regains his attention. The kind, casual demeanor now shifted into something coy, with a smirk and an accompanying whistle, rubbing two fingers together expectantly.

Ah, right. 

Money.

Chapter Text

Money.

It was a language he needed not an etiquette class to understand. He knew he was born into privilege, with a last name that worked harder than he ever did. Family tree? More like a sprawling forest—lush, well-rooted, and brimming with branches thanks to generations of vast inheritances passed down by ancestors before them. And that wasn’t just on one side. Both of his parents came from generational wealth, powerful names, and expensive bloodlines. He was the perfect blend of two remarkable legacies. 

And so, this isn’t the first time he had received this same look—and finger gesture—then. 

The one asking for cash in exchange.

At that, Sae wordlessly tucks the laptop bag under an arm and reaches for his wallet from his coat. There, the man let out an awkward laugh—part relief, part embarrassment—and shuffled toward a nearby bench to cool off.

He seemed proud of himself.

“How much do you need?” Sae asks the man, his voice with mild annoyance as impatience got the better of him and he pulled out a random amount. “Is this enough?”

Both of them locked eyes as they both counted his handful of thousands, counting to over a solid 10k  in yen, if they’re not mistaken. And the man’s gaze lingered. For a moment, he weighed it as if it was something heavier than what was in Sae’s hands. It’s not, both in the literal and figurative sense, but the man didn’t seem to share the same conclusion.

So he next licked his lips, shrugging just a little too casually with a nonchalance so practiced it almost looked like an act. 

Because it is.

“Actually,” he said, dragging out the words expertly, “not to be a jerk, kid, but... considering the worth of what I’m offering here, I’m sure that thing has important information inside…?” 

He let the sentence hang; the implication thick in the air.

Sae stares blankly. “Huh?”

“You know…”

Before Sae could respond, however, a distant whirring sound cut through the tension—mechanical, fast-approaching—and the man suddenly stiffened . Neither of them had a chance to react though: Out of nowhere, a solid wad of asparagus shot through the air, slamming into the man’s head with a dull thwack.

Sae glanced down at the ground.

Yep.

That’s asparagus, alright.

“Ow! Ma!” The man rubbed his forehead, cursing as he looked around in confusion. 

“YOU LITTLE BRAT!”

There, a clattering battered golf cart came screeching around, tires protesting with every metre or so, with the back piled high with baskets of vegetables. Sae watched entirely dumbfounded, as an elderly woman—looking every bit the part of a literal generic grandma —swerved the cart to the side. Without missing a beat, she hopped out and started pelting the man with even more asparagus. Asparagi? Asparagu? 

Sae’s hand remained frozen midair, still clutching the money.

“Ma! Ow! Stop it!”

“What are you doing?! What’s this nonsense?!”

“Wait! It’s not-”

As the grandma and her grown son began an incomprehensible back-and-forth, Sae just awkwardly stood there, trying his best to blend into the scenery. Honestly, what the fuck is he even supposed to-

He is 100% not even supposed to see this, is he? 

“Go back to the house!” she lectured in anger and finality, pointing aggressively up the alley. 

“But ma…” 

“Back!”

Right before his eyes, the middle-aged man whines like a young boy would, as if he didn’t have wrinkles, as if he wasn’t aged himself. Sae still watches quietly, a little tense. Just…wow. He had met his fair share of grandmas but never anyone this…aggressive.

Personally, all four of his own, two of which may rest their souls peacefully in heaven, are angels. Sweet, gentle angels. Never once did they scold him or Rin or their cousins. They just kept squeezing their faces and spoiling them with money or snacks. The only one who came close to being a menace was his great-grandmother, the Buddhist temple hopper. But even she had a calmness to her that this woman… definitely did not.

“I was just on the phone because of the- the laptop, okay?! I found the owner.” The man was desperate now, the words tumbling out in a near-panic.

Sae snapped out of his trance. Now, both pairs of eyes were on him. Oh. Right. He was still here. 

He had almost forgotten he wasn’t just some fly on the wall.

“Oh.” He begins, lost. “Hi. Good aft-”

“And you’re making him pay you?!” The grandma interrupted, staring at Sae as if he were the one who’d just committed a crime. Her eyes flicked to the money still in his outstretched hand, then back to her son, before she swung that damn asparagus at him again.

Sae’s arm dropped awkwardly as the old woman’s gaze moved from the cash to his face, her expression shifting from fury to an almost weary disappointment.

Which was honestly way worse.

“Haru, why?” The word hung in the air, final and thick with judgment.

“What ‘why’?”

“What’s- what’s the rationale here?”

The sudden switch to English hit Sae like a punch to the stomach. The accent was good. 

“So we’re making people pay for their things now, huh?” Her tongue clicked in disapproval, but before the conversation could spiral further, she turned to Sae with a completely different demeanor. In a flash, the terror evaporates to a weary, tired, kind smile. Finally, a direct address to him: 

“Hello, dear, I’m so sorry about my son.” 

“Oh, uh…” 

Shit. What did the etiquette class say to do again?

As he panics, the woman just examined him, then with a sudden tenderness, placed both her hands on his face. She tilted his head back as if inspecting him, brushing dust from his cheek. 

“Dear, where do you come from looking like this?”

At that, Sae felt his stomach drop. 

“Ah- Just-” He steps back and takes the woman’s hands off his face, chills running through his entire body. He didn’t know why. He just couldn’t even remember the last time his own mother embraced him. “Just- just take this. I insist.”

And, instead of asking, the grandma just blinks at him. “Why are you dressed like that? A school event nearby?”

So, inside Sae’s head, he just pleads: Please just let us get this over with.  

“Something like that. Please, just take it.” By now, both he and the cab driver didn’t know what to say anymore. In his defence, there is nothing in the professional etiquette class about greeting other people’s grandmas.  

He’s gotta say though, in his years of being in similar situations, this was the longest someone took their time deciding if they’d take the cash or not. 

“What’s your name?” The woman still hadn’t acknowledged the money.

“Sae,” he replied, his voice softer than he expected. 

“Oh, ‘Sae’!” She said it like she’d just uncovered a hidden treasure. 

“Yes.” He answered, a bit more stiffly, and, as the moment caught up with him, he quickly performed an awkward bow—too stiff, too practiced, betraying his discomfort. (He silently hoped they didn’t notice he almost forgot to do that.)

“What a pretty name!”

“Thanks,” he stammered, suddenly flustered, standing back up.

In that instant, the afternoon breeze cradled them in. Etiquette class be damned—he found himself admitting that he was genuinely caught off guard. The air around this moment suddenly felt… fresh, in a way he couldn’t quite place. He had never met anyone like her before. Could he ever even begin to explain that? It was simply unsettling, for it is impossibly... too...

“Ignore my idiot son. Have you eaten? We have soup. It’s the least we could do.”

Only then, he snaps back to reality. One second, he was just standing there and in another, he’s already being ushered into the golf cart. He immediately shakes his head. 

“Oh, wait, no, baa-chan. I have to go…back…” 

At that moment, his phone buzzed with a text.

@sendouofficial: come back asshole

@sendouofficial: aiku wants u to give the speech, what am i gonna say? 

“Actually,” he turns and straightens on his seat. 

@sae.real: fuck off

@sendouofficial: ?? are u fucking for real rn

@sae.real: you’ll live

@sendouofficial: FUCK UUFIYIOU

Then, he pockets his phone. “Yes. Soup, please. If you’ll have me.”

Karasu Tabito quickly figured out bedrotting all day isn’t going to magically cure all his problems. 

Around the late afternoon when the sun was getting steeper on the horizon, he managed to drag himself all across campus for a brisk walk. That is, only after a long shower, a small foodcourt burger, and another 15-minute staring-out-the-window break. 

Just to have some excuse, he took Niko’s bag and made the art studio his final stop—the farthest point in campus he can realistically, and is willing, to even get to. It was on the literal edge after all, facing the forest area where bugs liked to party. Nobody even knew this place exists other than the twenty or so people who do. 

“Hey.” He knocks on the open door. “Shidou? Niko dropped some shit.”

The shadows of the sun on the wooden floor were dancing. He yawns.

“Close the door,” his roommate’s voice eventually replies, and so he invites himself in. 

“Kay.”

Lazily, he just expertly wanders past easels and the wooden half-decaying desks. It looked (and smelled) almost the exact same since the last time he’d been here. The only difference were the new watercolor paintings hanging on the overhead strings and the emptier supply shelves—but that’s it. 

It had always been a mess. This place had always been strange, in his humble ‘maths student’ opinion. Time seemed to drag its feet here. The clock never knew how to behave. The air was even thick and humid with a chemical tang, probably from all the varnish just lingering around. Not to mention, the room is semi-underground.

Apparently, the art kids didn’t want to lug their supplies up multiple flights of stairs so they settled for this dingy half-basement, accessible only through a ramp at the side of the building and the last flight of the rusting fire exit stairs. 

And so, naturally, it was tucked next door to a whole hallway of cobweb-infested stockrooms and the Gardening Club, with the latter’s random greenhouses cluttered outside. Alas, by practice, the two departments became neighbors. Their overlap wasn’t lost on anyone: linseed oil for fertilizers, plywood for fences… both groups working with the same materials, just in different ways. 

But if anyone were to ask Karasu, it was probably all about budget cuts. See, the art department and the gardeners were both severely underfunded, at least when compared to the other programs. Culinary arts, for example, had its own massive kitchen with top-of-the-line equipment. The science kids? A secure fully-stocked laboratory in the school’s fanciest “modern” building. Both rooms even included laundry chutes, dumbwaiters, and trolleys so that they never carry up all their equipment themselves.

But the fine arts and the seed geeks? They had to make do with this half-destroyed, neglected basement—one of the oldest and dirtiest on campus. It wasn’t surprising that these two groups, both perpetually on the fringes, had decided to share a space.

If he’s remembering correctly, the last time he’d been here was months ago—maybe already a year. Shidou, Niko, and the other art kids don’t exactly roll out the welcome mat for normies except for maybe a few chosen ones like the pizza delivery guy. He was one of them too. He was nicknamed by the art kids as Shidou’s designated normie. 

Eventually, he reached the corner of the room, weaving past the jagged maze of shelves, cloths, easels, unfinished clay busts, and the scattered remnants of oil paints. The corner he’d arrived at was the one with Shidou’s old tarp, threadbare from years of neglect and stained for ten years before them. There stood the room's largest easel, framed by an open window on the left and a cluttered shelf of supplies on the right.

Outside, the vines from the Gardening Club’s greenhouses twisted desperately inside, their tendrils inching closer with each passing day.

But what caught his attention was the easel. The usually empty structure was covered with cloth this time.

With a very undeniable 90cm canvas underneath. 

“Dude, is that what I think it is?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

From the far corner of the room, a voice answered lazily. “What?”

Karasu turned and saw a figure crouched on top of the sink, staring vacantly into the air while slurping instant ramen. It took him a moment, but he finally registered who it was.

He decided not to ask why the fucking hell Shidou was perched on the goddamn sink eating noodles.

“You’re…you’re painting again?” 

Shidou sideeyes him. “What do you mean- I’m always painting.”

Karasu raises a brow and points his thumb to the easel. “Not on this canvas.”

With a frustrated sigh, Shidou tossed his empty noodle cup into a black bag hanging on the fire exit door—apparently, that was their makeshift trash can—and slammed the old school handset back onto the wall. Oh- he was calling someone. Karasu didn’t mean to interrupt.

“Nah,” Shidou said, shrugging it off as he hopped down from the sink. He strolled over to Karasu casually, unfazed. “I just moved it. Bee and Niko needed the shelf space in the back.”

“Do they now.” Karasu wasn’t buying it, but he didn’t press. “So. Noodles on the sink.”

“I forgot to eat, what do you expect?” He laughs. Karasu didn’t.

“How are you, man?”

Shidou snaps his head towards him, eyeing him up and down with an exaggerated eyebrow raise. “How are you?”

And then they both just stood there for a second, the question hanging in the air like the weight of an unfinished thought. Neither of them said what they really wanted to. Instead, they just danced around it—avoidant and exhausted.

“Yeah, good,” Karasu answers finally. 

Shidou gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. For now, they both pretended they didn’t have a long talk about each other’s lives last night.

“Yeah. Same.”

“So, who called?”

Shidou faces away from him, taking the bag Niko brought and pulling out some new oil paint. He holds them up against the light: vermillions, some carmines, a bunch of white… He finally speaks after he punches them into place on his supply shelf.

“Mom,” but before Karasu could ask, “Did you talk to Hiori yet-”

“Obviously fucking not.”

Sae barely had time to adjust to the strange, lumpy ride before the grandma swerved the golf cart into the narrow street, the old engine coughing and sputtering in protest. The little vehicle, swaying awkwardly with every bump, seemed out of place in the middle of the city, but Sae kept his thoughts to himself. He had been in worse situations inside cars before. Much worse. 

There was a strange charm to the area, though.

It almost felt like a secret part of the city, tucked away and not long before people began to appear. Vendors selling snacks on the corners, old-timers sitting on their porches, kids kicking around a ball, and teenagers in school uniforms heads bent over their phones. Sae just sat at the back of the golf cart, trying to fade into the background, hidden next to a bunch of vegetables. No one really seemed to notice him back here.

Actually, he felt invisible like an extra in someone else’s scene—until the cart came to a sudden stop.

Sae looked up and blinked in confusion. The sign above the building wasn’t what he’d expected. It was a chicken, alright—but it was wearing a napkin bib. And the grandma and the man were already stepping out, walking toward the open doors with the ease of regulars, and without a second thought, they ushered him inside. 

The moment he stepped in, the warmth of the place hit him: a bustle of laughter, clinking silverware, and the strong scent of meat filling the air. He just stood there, staring blankly at the scene unfolding, until his brain accepted the thought:

“It’s a restaurant.” 

He bits the inside of his cheek in realisation. The man turns and blinks at him.

“I thought you were selling poultry.”

At that, the man shrugged casually, giving Sae an almost amused look. “Well, yeah, we also sell eggs at the back.”

“I see,” Sae replied flatly, still processing the oddity of the situation.

The grandma shot him a glance over her shoulder as she headed toward the kitchen, her voice rising above the background clamor, already greeting the other patrons like she was the mayor of this chaotic town. Sae stood still, unsure of what to do next. He guessed he was expected to just roll with it...or something?

“Dear, you go sit. I’ll get you some soup,” she tells him, her voice loud and sure as she disappeared into the kitchen.

“On the house,” the man said awkwardly, offering a bow before following her.

Oh shit, wait, he does not know-

...anyone, around here.

Great. Now left alone, he stood frozen and lost, his feet feeling like they had suddenly become encased in concrete. The restaurant was a blur of activity—smiles, laughter, the annoying clink of silverware. It felt like walking into someone else’s house party, except nobody had warned him there would be a party. Very Oliver Aiku type of activity, the shit. 

And so, he awkwardly picked the nearest empty table. He sat down with all the grace of a deer stepping onto an ice rink. The table was far too close to the others, which meant he had no real privacy but plenty of space for awkward. To be fair, 5-star restaurants had even less space compared to this. And they don’t seem to sell steaks here, thank fucking God. One more dinner with ribeyes and he might actually stab his own eyes out.

Actually, the place reminded him more of a garage sale.

He’d been to one before, when Ness somehow tracked down a rare, limited edition Nendoroid figure that had mysteriously appeared in the corner of a second-hand store in Akihabara. How Ness figured out who had bought it and where exactly the garage sale was, Sae didn’t ask. He was just approached by Ness after practice one day, asked if he wanted to join him to buy figurines—and before Sae could even process the request, he found himself standing awkwardly in someone’s cramped driveway, trying to haggle over a dusty, slightly chipped mini Harry Potter.

And now, here he was, in what felt like an industrial-grade version. The restaurant looked like it had been pieced together from the castoffs of a hundred different places: mismatched chairs with cracked lacquer, paper lanterns that looked more like they belonged in a matsuri, and the faint smell of incense drifting in from the back. The walls were even decorated with hand-painted curtains, faded calligraphy of famous poems, and family photos—each one so old that the people in them could have been the founders of this place.

Overall, the room buzzed with a warm wholesome energy. It felt like one of those movie scenes where everyone gathers after a chaotic adventure, sharing food and laughter—something Sae had always just watched from the sidelines, never reaching in.

This was so different from the polished, minimalist restaurants he was used to, where everything was deliberate and designed to make you feel comfortable. Here? Nothing matched, and yet everything felt like it belonged? Does that make sense? Like, the young man at the counter was tossing takoyaki onto the grill like he’d been doing it for decades. And that little girl in the apron? She is wiping down tables with a cloth that probably had more history than she did. This wasn’t a place for tourists or newcomers—this was a local spot.

But then, as Sae sat there trying to figure out if he was supposed to just eat his food in silence or join in with the general chaos around him, the grandma reappeared from the kitchen, sliding a bowl of something steaming in front of him. 

“Miso, my dear. Eat, eat.”

He could only manage a stiff nod. “Ah—thank you.”

You know what, no fucking way. 

Sae froze mid-sip, the spoon still hanging awkwardly in his hand, eyes wide in disbelief.

“Is- is this just miso soup?” he chokes out, eyes wide open as he scarfed down practically half of his bowl. The man across from him, who had been slurping away at his own bowl, didn't even try to hide the amusement in his eyes.

“Yeah? Why, kid? Amazed much?”

Sae could feel the man’s laugh building in the air, thick and almost tangible, like a warm cloud in the middle of his brain. But instead of feeling embarrassed, he just felt... dumbfounded. This was it? This was the soup? The holy grail of all Japanese meals he’d somehow never had the pleasure of eating? Sae knew he was laughing at him, but he’s not offended now.

“Are you sure?” Sae's voice sounded a little high-pitched, almost desperate, as if the universe was playing a joke.

“Have you never had miso soup before, dear?”

Well, sue him for never having miso soup before!

Sae stared at his bowl like it had just revealed the secrets of the universe.

“No,” he said, blinking, as if the answer to his question would come from somewhere else. Actually, “I don’t know.” 

There, he takes another sip and it hit him like a slow epiphany.

Suddenly, everything felt clear; a fog had lifted from his mind. From what, he’s not sure. Whatever burden he had been carrying, whatever it is, was lifted.

“Thank you,” he mumbled under his breath, not entirely sure if he was speaking to the soup or himself. He looked around at the little family-run chaos happening around him—people laughing, exchanged casual banters, the clatter of spoons—and for the first time in a while, it didn’t feel like an observation. It didn’t feel like he was just watching life happen.

It was like he had been looking at the world through a screen, and now the filter had finally been removed.

“You like it?” the grandma asked, her tone more like a statement than a question. Sae, still hunched over the soup, nodded vigorously, slurping down more like his life depended on it.

“How did you make it?” he asked. He didn’t even notice his slurping noise until it echoed in the room. Thank God his parents aren’t here, they might actually die of a heart attack when they see him slurping. On that note, he does want to inquire though: “Sorry—can you, uh, write the recipe down?”

He almost added “send my regards to the chef” before realizing, with a sudden jolt, that said chefs were actually right in front of him.

The cab driver only then chuckled, a sly grin tugging at his lips.

“Ah, you’ve gotta be a regular patron of this place, kid. We don’t give out our industry secrets!”

“Oh.” There, he paused mid-slurp, a noodle dangling from his lips. At the mention of patronage, with an awkward shuffle of his own, he quickly pulled his wallet out and complied. “Right. How much?”

“HARU!” 

“That’s not what I meant! Ma, I swear! Kid, I didn’t mean pay!” the man scrambled once again. He looked like he was about to cry. “Please, just enjoy it. I beg.”

Regardless, he still fumbled with the wallet, pulling out bills without really looking at them. He insists, “Let me pay.”

He might not have understood the whole dynamic of the place yet, but this soup? It deserved something more than a passing comment. 

“Ma!” The man only then looked at the grandma for help. 

“It’s just 200 yen for the soup, separate from the drinks,” and she so gracefully cuts in for them. The man sinks back into his chair with a sigh and Sae almost felt like laughing at their stalement. He didn’t quite get there—at the chuckle—but he stared with his lips quirking up ever so slightly nonetheless. 

“Then keep the change,” he said, handing them a solid ¥1000. 

“Don’t pay for the soup, my dear. I did say it’s on the house.” She paused intently, then added, “But if you really want to buy something, feel free to grab a drink from the fridge.”

Sae blinked. He only expected to be hit with the usual “pay up” routine, but...apparently not. He turns his head, sees the fridge in question at the other side of the room, and stares. 

“Oh.” They have to get their own drinks here?

He’d never been in a restaurant like this, for sure.

“I see. Excuse me.”

“Prices are on the stickers!” the man follows up loudly before the grandma bonks him again in the head (with a rolled up newspaper this time.)

“HARU!”

Alas, the fridge. It was against the far wall, covered in a patchwork of magnets. Tourist magnets. Sae walked over and brushed his fingers against the door.

Underneath, now that he’s closer, some of the magnets held up children’s crayon drawings and a bunch of old travel photos. And it looked like they actually visited the places the corresponding magnets were from: Munich, New York, Paris, Sydney, Montreal…even Madrid! Won’t you look at that? Looks like grandma even attended a Real Madrid game in her youth.

(No wonder she speaks good English. She’s for the internationale. And is that her with Juanjo Maqueda in the photo?)

Sae then scans the rest of the pictures, ranging from oldest at the top and newer at the bottom. There was one with grandma and her son, one when he was way younger, in what was possibly his elementary school graduation. Another photo, a bit more worn, showed the same cab driver as a kid, beaming beside a girl—maybe a sister—in front of a towering Christmas tree in a mall. The tree itself was decked out in red and yellow lights, with large Santa decorations that were a bit more quirky than festive. It was…corny, but cute.

The newer ones, at the bottom, were of the cab driver and his sister, along with some other random people, but this time as adults. For some reason, it tugged at Sae’s heartstrings; but why? These are just the same photos of the same people, just with different tourist attractions at the back:  

One looked like the Eiffel Tower, under the Paris croissant magnet. Another looked like the Sydney Opera House, under the Australian kangaroo magnet. And the woman had her own set of photos and her own set of magnets—there was one with the Statue of Liberty, another by the Cologne Cathedral, and another with the Russian Motherland Calls.

And at the very bottom was finally a local attraction—the Daibutsu, just nearby—with what seemed to be the whole damn family posing in front of its feet. It was the only picture in the set with about twenty people, most of whom are children, crowded into the frame. Perhaps this is the complete family photo? It’s unlikely for it to be a tour group, everyone was hugging each other and huddled around. 

There, Sae immediately spotted amongst them the grandma, the cab driver, and the woman, all smiling happily in front of the Daibutsu. And the woman was even wearing a corduroy jacket he swore he had seen before and was even holding in front of her a child-

Sae’s heart lurched in his chest.

Leaning closer, the kid clearly had black hair, definitely no eyeliner so it cannot be-

But that grin, that same damn grin, and the pose, that stupid gang sign gesture? Sae’s breath caught in his throat.

That’s Shidou- WHAT THE FUCK.

He forced his fingers to move, reaching for the nearest drink in the fridge without really looking at it. His mind was still reeling, locked onto that kid with the same grin he had seen countless times.

That is Shidou’s family, in a restaurant he had walked into by chance.

Sae slid back into his seat, the drink still in his hand, but his mind wasn’t in the room anymore. The whole place, which had seemed so warm and normal a minute ago, suddenly felt…like everything around him was tangled in a web he hadn’t noticed, now pulling him all to the center.

“Oh, you drink?” The grandma’s voice snapped him back to the moment, and he blinked, realizing with a jolt that he had grabbed a coffee with rum.

“Oh, shit—never mind.” 

The sound of the grandma and the man’s laughter filled the air, warm and familiar, but now it was different. It wasn’t just laughter anymore. It was Shidou’s voice. God, even the way they laugh brings him back to the damn lab. 

The soup was life-changing, his stomach now felt warm, and the day felt even less real. The sun had set long ago. A new group of diners had also filtered in just in time for dinner, so they vacated.

He had since stood by the doorway watching two kids outside play a weird variation of soccer. He was spacing out as he sipped his iced tea. His laptop was heavy on one hand.

“Aren’t you needed back? In your event?”

“Not really,” he lied, eyes still somewhere else in space. One kid then scored on the “goal”, which is just a laundry basket tipped sideways. The man nods next to him, lighting a cigarette. 

Only then Sae snorted, his sense of humor broken. The cigarette reminds him of Sendou. Actually, maybe he was needed back. 

“HARU!” Suddenly, a voice rang out from the kitchen, and Sae watched the freshly-lit cigarette get crushed under a shoe. “Help with the chickens!”

“Ah, damn it,” the cab driver grumbled, though a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. To Sae’s surprise, he found himself following.

There, his feet moved without thinking, and he trailed behind Mr. Haru as they made their way to the back of the restaurant.

He kept his distance of course, being a few steps back. But why he followed? He can’t tell. Maybe just curiosity. He was told there were a lot of chickens at the back. 

What he saw was a dim space, the stone path disappearing into a patchy stretch of muddy farmland and a few foggy lanterns swaying gently in the breeze. In the far shadows, Sae could make out the hunched figure of the grandma, tending to one of what seemed like thirty chicken coops.

Thirty. Coops.

With like a bunch of them per coop.

That’s a whole fucking bunch of chickens.

“What happened?” Haru rushed over, with Sae drifting steadily behind, shocked at the number of coops. Regardless, he was already stepping on mud when he realised he was wearing his polished black Pradas and he almost tripped on a huge basin filled with water on the way, hidden in the dark. That could’ve gotten so bad. “We lost a hen to the flu again?”

“No, no,” the grandma brushes away, hands on her hips in frustration. “I just mixed the new eggs with the bad eggs, ahh- tch.”

“What? MA!” The driver only complained little.

While looking around, Sae spots a taxi parked at the far edge of the gravel lot, next to what appeared to be a small stable with a cow in it. Wait, a cow? 

“Ma… How are we supposed to sort them now?”

“Put them in water,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

He didn’t realise they were looking at him until they both stopped and stared.

“What?”

Oh. 

Moving on autopilot, the absurdity of everything pulling him along:

“Uh- There’s a thing called the float test,” he said, his voice flat and emotionless. He noticed the basin again and knelt down to place it closer to the light. The chickens clucked around in their coops. “When eggs go bad, their shells get more porous. That creates an air sac inside, which separates the membrane.”

“…Huh?” 

“Uhm…” Sae paused, realising he’d just launched into a random rant. Actually, he’d just show them: “You…put the eggs in the water, and if they sink, they’re good. If they float, they’re bad.”

At that, he grabbed a handful of eggs, carefully lowering them into the water. Two floated, five sank. 

“See? These two are bad.”

There was a pause, then the grandma and Haru exchanged a look before both of them erupted into a cheer. The floating eggs proceed to drift apart.

“OH!”

There, he straightened up, feeling strangely proud yet awkward, only now getting the familiar feeling of definitely not being supposed to be there. Why is he here again? Right. 

“Actually, uh,” he began, as the grandma and the man began happily sorting the eggs in the float test. “I’m just going to say goodbye. I have to go back. Thank you so much for the food.”

He did not forget to bow properly this time.

“Oh!” the man stood up, and wiped his hands clean. “Right! I was going to drive you.”

“No need-”

“We insist!” the grandma smiled, standing up as well and waving him goodbye.

“It really is okay-”

“We insist. It’s already dark, and we have kept you for so long. You be good, dear, okay?”

Once again hopeless, he was only led further into the chicken coops as she waved him goodbye. 

“Thank you,” was his final words to her.

“See you around, Sae.” She just smiles earnestly in return, eventually hunching back down to the basin of eggs once they got far away.

Sae was still looking.

He only realised they were approaching the taxi cab in the distance—the cab that led him into this very predicament in the first place—when he turned his head away from Granny. The man was already starting the car and said something about letting the car warm up a little first, but all he could say was:

“You have a cow?” he found himself asking without inhibition again because, genuinely, what the fuck. A literal cow peeked out of its shelter and met him in the eyes. It looked like it fucking knew who ‘Itoshi Sae’ was.

As if forgetting there was a literal cow 5 feet away from them, the cab driver looks up, looks at the cow, and lightens up. 

“Oh? Yeah! We used to sell milk. Actually, she’s for sale. Her name is PS5.”

Still extremely baffled the cow was staring at his soul like it knew all his sins and the way he’s going to die, Sae chokes out: “Excuse me?”

“PS5,” the man laughs when he repeated it. 

He finally surrenders and looks at the cab driver. “As in the console?”

“Yeah. She’s my nephew’s cow. He named her that,” he said, approaching the cow for pets only to get nearly knocked out and bitten. “WOAH! Haha, sorry, she’s a little angry right now. Don’t- don’t stand so close, hehe.”

“I see,” Sae repeats, only to heave in a sharp breath and step back. His heart sinks again upon realising he may know who this nephew was. “Why is she for sale? She can’t have milk anymore?”

“No, no, she’s elite! She’s actually flown in from Canada, as a gift,” the man’s voice was sadder this time. Canada. Montreal. “We just need some money to pay for, uh, my nephew’s schooling right now.”

That just confirms it.

Sae closed his eyes and looked away.

“Right.”

“So!” The man recovers. “If you know anyone who needs a cow, please give us a call. Actually, I can write down the number for you just in case-”

But in the dark, he just meets PS5's eyes again. In back of his head, a little notification dings: Anomaly detected. Anomaly intermittent:

“How much?” he blurts out, staring straight into the unblinking, ice-cold void of her gaze.

“Sorry?” As the man scrambles around for some paper and a pen, he reaches into his car’s glove box and begins writing on a paper on his taxi’s roof. “Oh, PS5? $5000. Very negotiable. Make sure to tell them that.”

At that very moment, his phone buzzes.

Same exact tone as the bank's transfer notification a few days ago.

Of the same fucking amount.

“I’ll get it.”

“Hm?”

“The cow,” he says, with full intention, “I’m buying the cow.”

“Huh?” The man’s expression goes full-on confused. “....Why?”

Sae stares back at him, blinking slowly. “You just said she’s for sale.”

The man’s face slowly morphs into the expression of someone trying to connect the dots, and Sae's just there, staring down at the paper with the phone number on it.

“Right...” The man hesitates, then slides the paper toward him.

“I’m buying PS5,” he says again just to manifest it, licking his lips. He then breathed in deeply and began: “I, uhm, my grandmother lives in the area. I believe she was, uh, she owns a milk company…too. They might need a cow- They do need a cow, so.”

“Oh!” The man lights up like he’s figured out a puzzle. Finally, that look of affirmation. “A milk company! Perfect timing! Which one?”

Sae pulls out his phone, opening his bank app as if just buying a second-hand mattress off Craigslist. It took a while, but it eventually logs in and flashes his very generous balance of…well, it’s a seven digit number, so he just checks the transactions and sure enough: 

Transfer from D.L — $5,000 • 3d

Where was he again?

“Oh, I…uh, I forgot. It’s a supplier, so I don’t really know the brand.” Big fat fucking lie. 

“Oh, okay. I see.” The man looks momentarily defeated, but not enough to stop.

Meanwhile, he prods around and finds the ‘Bank Transfer’ button. 

In the air, total silence.

“Uhm, are you really buying the—?”

“YES,” Sae sighs, looking down at his bank balance like it’s a sinking ship. This is really happening. “What’s your bank info? I’ll just transfer it right now.”

And just like that, the weirdest transaction of the day is officially in the works.

“B-Bank?”

“Yes. One compatible with Union Française, hopefully.” Sae shows the man his phone and in the dark, with the blue light of his phone illuminating, he saw the man swallow down a huge gulp. The only reason he even got an account in Union Française was because Loki’s mother is the bank’s governor. 

“Oh. Uh-” he stammers now. “Wow. Uh, wait- no, we don’t have a bank. Actually, my sister has one- can you- shit. Can I have a moment? Fuck. Sorry.”

Sae nods unsure as he takes back his phone and the driver turns around to open his own. Wait, now that just reminded him:

Bus.

Overhead compartment.

A suitcase of $5,000, cash-

He seriously couldn't believe it: “Actually, I can do cash too.”

Suddenly, in that moment, his phone buzzed again from the previous unnoticed notification, and he saw it was the greatest coincidence of the day—Don Lorenzo, the very person he was about to call.

@donlorenzo: im calling. U better answer 

At that moment, his caller ID envelopes his screen and he answers.

“Lorenzo,” he cuts to the chase, “Is the suitcase still in the bu-”

“Dude,” the Italian just greets him with grave urgency. “You have to get here right now.”

Chapter Text

“Dude,” Lorenzo greets as he passes back through the fire exit door, the whole place now dark from the early starless night and the low hallway lights. “Where have you been? Let’s go.”

“I’d tell you but you wouldn’t believe me,” he said, just shoving his laptop to Lorenzo’s chest who receives it with utmost confusion.

“The fuck’s this?” 

“My laptop.”

“Okay, the fuck.” Lorenzo just takes it, more focused on ushering him back to the main ceremony area. Meanwhile, Sae could feel his shoes leave muddy footprints on the carpet but honestly it’s the least of his problems right now. Instead, he asks:

“Why did you call?” he asked as he adjusted his tie and slicked his bangs up his head. (Sadly, his hairspray apparently does not hold after thirty minutes of leaning over hot soup.) “Lorenzo, I’m not going to talk on stage-”

“No, asshat. It is done. Sendou almost made a fool of himself so Ness took over,” Lorenzo complains, before following it up with a small, “He did a decent job, si, but still.”

“So what happened?”

Silence. Not a good sign. 

“Lorenzo.” 

“Ehh, you’ll see.”

With that, they finally found their way back to the main area. Their team’s table isn’t hard to find, being the biggest one filled by sparkling trophies that shone like beacons mocking the mediocre. Kaiser is nowhere to be seen, neither is Sendou, but everyone else is still milling about having drinks or sulking nearby the table itself.

“Sae.” Loki was the first to spot him approaching. He was seated, seemingly waiting, previously deep in thought and staring into space like The Thinker. He calls him again, “Sae, sit down.”

And that is not a good sign. Loki never talks like this. Sae only now truly felt the clinging sense of graveness that came with the call. Why does he look so constipated now?

“What’s going on?” he asks, but before an answer can register, he finds himself shoved into the hot seat. His posse of assholes (minus the ones missing) all huddle and close in around him: Aiku to the left, Loki to the right, and—oh, wait— there’s Sendou, lips pressed together as he returns and took the seat directly opposite him. He was the farthest, not even leaning in, but he’s staring…thinking… waiting… watching. 

This isn’t about him being missing in the ceremony, is it.

“Check this out.” Aiku speaks, voice colder than usual, and thrusts his phone into Sae’s face. He doesn’t even need to squint to see the message thread between Aiku and Mrs Oliver.

(Ah, Mrs Oliver. Aiku’s mom had always spoken and texted like she was their age. She looked the part too, but that was simply just disorienting. Oftentimes, they actually forgot she was Aiku’s actual mom. You know, the woman who birthed him. To a literal 6’3 Swedish man.)

Their conversation, cut by the screen at the top, reads:

aiku :<< you didn’t tell me sae is…

He stares, the last words blurring in his eyes. 

“Sae,” someone calls. Someone is rubbing little circles on his shoulder now. “Dude.”

Only then his sight zeroes in on the rest of the text—and the words hit him like a physical blow to the gut. His heart stopped for a second, only to race. And as everyone flicks their gazes between him and the phone, the cold rush drags him under deep into an unwelcoming abyss. 

Suddenly he’s not here but there. There, where the weight of water presses in from all directions. His ears are plugged, his limbs sluggish, his lungs already burning from lack of air. He's not drowning… he’s not in the river, he’s not even anywhere near water to even drown—but he knew this feeling.

It means he’s about to.

“Sae.”

He blinks out of his momentary blur, realising he’s only stopped breathing for three seconds. The edges of his vision flicker and at least—at least —he’s breathing now. Loki was the one that was holding his shoulder, it turns out. He just reads next what Aiku responded to that:

@oliveraiku: huh, what are you talking about?

Mum💛: had tea with itoshi rana earlier 🤩 she said she heard her brother talking about his eldest?? that’s sae right?? 😟

@oliveraiku: yes… but ill go ask him

Mum💛: okayyy :(( i hope it’s not true 

Like water still trapped in his lungs, his mouth is dry—and his breath feels stuck in his throat but it’s not. He’s breathing. He can just hear everyone’s questions in the now-oppressive silence, the weight of their gazes pressing down. It’s suffocating. But he can breathe.  

Actually, he might be hyperventilating.

Or not. He’s just out of breath because Lorenzo made him run. That’s it. Probably.

His phone buzzes.

It has been buzzing since the cab driver generously drove him back to campus due to the urgency, but he was too engrossed in their conversation to care. Now, everyone watches just as intently as he pulls it out, raises it next to Aiku’s, and wakes up the screen:

2 missed calls from Mom. • Just now
1 missed call from Dad. • 3m
5 new messages from Rin. • 16m

God. 

They never contact him. Ever.

“Sae,” Loki calls again, voice unsure yet very much concerned. It wakes him up from the vacuum seal of silence about to consume him.

“What?” 

“So were you going to tell us or-?”

“LOKI!” someone scolds him. It was Ness, hovering behind them all next to Lorenzo.

“WHAT? I’m just asking!”

“Still! He—”

Sae cuts them off with the night’s biggest eyeroll. What a joke. At that, he decides to answer truthfully since everyone’s eyes are on him anyway. He meets Loki’s gaze with an expertly annoyed look: 

“If I knew, obviously you would have known, dumbass.”

“Do you think it’s true then?” Aiku lowers his phone. He still seemed stuck in his little mood, being gobsmacked by Kaiser in the bus and getting yelled at by Coach on the way, but the worry was still in his voice in the usual way it overlaps his captainesque concern. His phone screen dies in his hand. 

And so naturally, Sae’s eyes just fell to Sendou who sat the farthest from them, opposite of him, crossing his arms and was probably already told. He seemed to be asking the same thing Aiku did just with his gaze alone.

“I don’t know,” Sae says with full conviction.

“You don’t know?”

Sendou's face was framed by the trophies their team received—sparkly but worthless on the table. Their other teammates, Kento and Kitsunezato, stand nearby, sending them concerned looks. At this moment, Sae is truly the centre of the world.

“No, but so what?” Sae manages an effortlessly cool, nonchalant shrug. “You’re all acting like someone just died.”

“But Sae-” Ness starts, but Lorenzo tsk-tsks him away.

“What I mean is, don’t mind that. Got it, Ness? That’s probably fake fucking news.” He shrugs them off and just stood, his own act of mercy by dragging himself out of the depths even if his lungs ached and his body grew heavy. “Auntie Rana is a big fat gossipy bitch anyway.”

Now that, everyone knows and they agree. The only reason Aiku’s mum even entertains her—the least trustworthy Itoshi—is to spill all the gossip back to Sae’s mom. Once, she even made racist comments to Loki’s family right to their faces. Ever since, Sae has witnessed how his dad made sure his sister Rana cannot ever set foot in any of his affairs again. She wasn’t even invited to his wedding in Madrid!

Oh, and also? One time, she had the audacity to tell him to his face that Rin was the more likeable brother. Not that he cared. It’s more about the principle of not telling kids mean shit to their faces. Hence, he—and by extension, his friends—weren’t exactly fond of her. She is a liar, a gossipy fat fuck, who is bitter her two older brothers inherited the school and their Spanish properties. 

In fact, she’s the one who snitched on his parents back when his mom was hiding Fetus Sae in her womb! It was why his dad took his mom to Madrid with her in the guise of “attending college”—to hide Fetus Sae’s existence from his gossipy bitch family. Everything is alright now, obviously, but still. Gossipy bitch. 

Buzz.

There, Aiku’s phone buzzes again. Sae didn’t mean to get a glimpse but he did. It was a message from Aiku’s younger sister, something unrelated, but it’s the lock screen now that makes Sae’s chest ache.

It’s a photo of all seven of them, celebrating Aiku’s birthday a few years ago. St Tropez, if he’s not mistaken. It was when they partied with some rich ‘friends of a friend of a friend’ and got exposed to party drugs for the first time. It was fun. Illegal, since they were minors (but thankfully, Aiku looked 25 at 15), but… fun.

Fun.

A lump forms in his throat. The kind that lingers. The kind that doesn’t go away until you force it down.

So he stands. The weight of it all is heavier than he’d like to admit. Everyone watches, waiting for him to say something. Anything. Instead, he shifts his focus to something else entirely. What is he here for again? Right. 

“So, which one of you assholes has the keys to the bus?”

“Dude,” Lorenzo calls, and for a second, everyone thought he was about to stop him. Much to everyone’s shock though, he only raises a hand with the keys, flashing a grin, all golden teeth bared. “Me.”

“Give me that,” he says, unfazed. 

There, Aiku was just staring at them judgmentally, Sendou with a little more raise to his brow, and everyone else looked just either amused (at why Lorenzo had the bus keys) or confused (at why Sae even asked). Only then Kaiser reappeared in a distance, pausing at the sight of their little convention, holding a cake slice. He asks Kento nearby what the hell’s going on. 

(The guy didn’t understand him. He still can’t speak Japanese, much less one with a heavy German accent. Kaiser just scoffs at him.)

“Are you going back to the bus, Sae? Why?” Ness asked. He was using his ‘vice captain’ voice. 

“I’m buying a cow.”

….

…

..

“Sorry, huh?” Loki asks, confused, but no one moves. They just watch him head for the main doors.

“A cow,” he repeats, turning back briefly. “It’s none of your business. I’ll be back before the event ends.”

With that, he began the lonely path back to the bus, taking the suitcase off the overhead compartment, and walking back in complete silence to the chicken restaurant. 

The night is still starless. Only the moon was witness to his solitude, kissed by the cool evening breeze, and he shivers in his tuxedo. 

Winter’s coming soon. It looks like it’s just going to get colder from here. 

That was the last they saw of Itoshi Sae.

Sarcastic, eye rolling, yet heaving long quiet exhales. Their final glimpse of him was the silhouette of his back as he walked away, fading through the doors, disappearing into the night. His last words were about him going back. 

He never returned to the bus. 

They did wait for him, as all friends do. It’s just that when Aiku’s phone buzzed and he sighed and told the driver to go without him, none of them protested. 

They never saw Sae in their convention in Loki’s bathroom that same night either. It was like he had just vanished. They were then told there was a new memo at the gate about more strict campus leave policies. That was the least of their concerns, actually.

On the bus, Sendou was the only one who asked Aiku why they left without Sae. All the captain said was that their midfielder apparently found his own way home.

Ness asked Lorenzo next, taking Sae’s usual seat in the seventh row. He asked if Lorenzo’s concerned about all this and if he should be too. Lorenzo says yes. (Lorenzo didn’t ask him back why he’s not sitting next to Kaiser this time.)

Then, on November 2nd, Sunday, still in Loki’s bathroom, Kaiser—speak of the devil—walked in, saw everyone absolutely out of it while sober, and asked what the hell was going on. Loki, not bothering to hide his annoyance, filled him in. 

(Aiku and Ness found a very convenient excuse to get out of the room at this moment.)

And as the story unraveled, Kaiser casually mentioned that he’d just seen the guy walk into Mikage Towers. The east one, he clarified, the one by the heart of Kanagawa, just next to Tokyo, where both Mr. Itoshi and Claudia Kaiser owned a unit. He said they bumped into each other on the elevator—him stepping out and Sae stepping in—and Sae just rolled his eyes at him.

Alarmed, everyone awakened and asked him when the hell this was.  

“A few hours ago.”

They asked next how the hell he even got out of campus. 

“I don’t know? I just asked?”

So, yes. Sae is alive.

Not that they expected or wished otherwise but they’d be lying if the thought never occurred to them. Sae just plays the ghosting game so well it’s like he actually clips out of existence when he’s in yet another mood. This time, they’re just simply being paranoid because the others were paranoid…who are only paranoid because they were paranoid. 

Other than that, this occurrence was more than commonplace. In fact, it’d be even weirder if a month goes by and Sae didn’t once go missing. 

After all, it wasn’t anything new for Itoshi Sae to go ghost for a few days at a time. Hell, they once went on an 18-day trip to Santorini with Sendou’s family and he was MIA for 11 of them. And in every party they dragged him to? Without fail, he’d always manage to slip away, deemed missing for the entire night, as if it was his personal mission to avoid the crowd.

But then again, they also knew the Itoshi family is like having four Saes packed into one unit. 

Like, look, they love Sae—he is their prickly, easily annoyed, judgmental, sarcastic, fastidious, spacey, sunscreen enthusiast friend—but even they could admit that he is not the poster child for the motto “Communication is key.” By the same logic? Neither was his family. 

They could only imagine how that would even work… How do they even know things about each other at that point?

To make it worse, Sae wasn’t even the type to ask for help. It would be a miracle if his family can even enumerate one problem Sae had faced in his life as of late. Not even them, his friends, can hear anything from him. Even talking about his own thoughts seemed like a foreign concept. The most they’d ever hope to get from him is probably an eyeroll and a jab. Everything else, he kept locked up tight. 

But it was Aiku who explained it best: it wasn’t that Sae actively chooses not to, it’s just that talking never seemed necessary to him, not even on a basic instinctual level. For him, the act of opening up was probably like trying to remember a word he’d never been taught. It was simply absent from his mental dictionary.

The upside? He became the crew’s unspoken favourite tag-along. He was the one they could always count on for a quiet presence, never prying, never talking. Sure, he had his moments—an annoyed comment when the weather was crap, or when he’s hungry, or a sarcastic remark when someone’s idea was downright fucking dumb—but for the most part, he was as reliable as one’s own shadow.

Most of all, he never snitches!

(Probably because he wasn’t actually listening but at least he pretends he does.)

Other than that, he is just a genuine delight to be with when on errands or random adventures. Sure, he complains a lot when there’s something to complain about but in general, his sheer façade of an uncaring nonchalant peels away when he’s in a place he actually likes. His eyes would just go wide with childish curiosity like a baby seeing stuff for the first time. He doesn’t even know he does that, Aiku and Sendou said. So, whether it was a new food place, a generic old beach, or just a random alley that promised nothing special, Sae would explore as if the world was a mystery waiting to be solved. Not that he’d ever admit that.

Lorenzo even once joked that it was probably why he disappeared so often. His curiosity simply led him to places that, thankfully, hasn’t actually fucking killed him yet. And honestly? May it never will. 

Naturally, though, his silence and “unintentional secrecy” left them knowing less about him than they thought. For one, they never knew Sae was left-handed until Lorenzo copied off of him in middle school and pointed it out for the rest of the gang. They also didn’t know he had a younger brother who is identical to him until they came to Japan.

And also! That he can cook, like, really cook. (He just never does.) One evening, after a particularly long practice, Sae unwillingly invited them over and casually just whipped up a meal that left everyone speechless. They knew that the Itoshi family maids go home at 9pm so this couldn’t be chef-made, so they asked how he even knew how to make it. His response? 

“I didn’t? I just…looked up the instructions?” 

Which, of course, made it sound even more like he wasn’t trying to impress anyone. What the fuck, right? (He never cooked for them again though since Ness and Lorenzo overpraised him for it…) But apparently, he has been heating his own meals since he was a little and has since earned a Masters’ Degree in microwaving, nutrition counting, and athletic meal planning. 

Sadly, they will all first die before Sae ever preps a meal for them again. 

And there was the time they discovered he had an irrational obsession with staplers. They were in the library during finals week when Sae, completely out of nowhere, picked up a stapler and started making stapling noises, pressing it over and over again without actually stapling anything. When asked why, he just snaps at them:

“It’s about the click. You wouldn't understand.” 

While that was…maybe okay, just weird, the real kicker is when Loki unironically gifted him one for his birthday and he had the audacity to look at it, look at Loki, look at it again, and ask: 

“What the hell am I supposed to do with this?”

(Loki could only gape at him in stunned silence.)

But the real mystery? His ability to keep his phone flawless. No cracks, no scratches—nothing. It was like it had a force field around it, which was pretty impressive considering he’s an iPhone user and it’s the world’s most fragile, overpriced piece of glass. They asked him how he does it of course and he all but gave them the look. “I use a case…?” he said, as if it was so paleolithic of them to not figure that out. 

No one had the heart to tell him that wasn’t exactly a groundbreaking revelation but sure, Sae, whatever floats your boat. Others just theorised he sacrificed his soul to Apple to have a virtually indestructible and waterproof phone. 

Either way, they all hated him for it. 

And all that was just Sae, though. He just genuinely didn’t care, and so whenever they had the chance to know more about him, they took it. Sae’s mom invites them over? They’re there. Sae offers them to study in his room? They’re there. Did they ever learn anything new? Not really, but having an unspoken little mission of “finding out more about the world’s greatest enigma” was exciting enough.

As for his disappearances? They eventually got used to it. It was Lorenzo who took the longest to accept that Sae despised telecommunications and would ignore them when he felt like it. The rest of them? They all learned to wait in silence. They all learned it’s not personal nor a big deal. Itoshi Sae is just simply unpredictable, elusive, and uncaring to what anyone thinks. Whenever they need him anyway, he’d be there. He’s never late from football practice or games.

(Though sometimes it meant showing up only at the calltime itself, almost late but not technically, with his hairspray on hand and his choppy bangs down. That’s how they get reassured that Itoshi Sae is also a human being, imperfect, for he too had mornings wherein he skipped the alarm and just left straight out from bed.)

And in times like that, they’d let him—because that’s just who he is and that’s the kind of friends they are. 

(Just kidding! Of course they’d bully the fuck out of those bangs. Sae would retaliate by never passing the ball to them until the second half, though.)

The ones who knew him the longest were Aiku—his roommate for three years now, personal annoyer for five times that—and Sendou, who had been secretly inviting him to his smoke breaks while the others pretended not to notice. They met Sae in an elementary school when he was 8 and fresh out of homeschooling. They probably understood him better than anyone but even they couldn’t answer the big questions:

Where does Sae go when he disappears?

What’s really going on in his life? 

Their only reassurance is that if they don’t know, nobody else does. And so, paranoia aside, this time wasn’t any different. They just lingered around Loki’s bathroom, studying in various states of distress and laziness, each one subtly circling around the same unspoken agreement. Nobody leave, they said. Maybe he’ll show up tonight and talk. 

Unsurprisingly, Sae did not.

In the end, in Loki’s bathroom, not one of them admitted to sending Sae a “just checking in” text each convinced they were the only one who had.

For the next few days, at the dawn of November, nobody heard anything from Itoshi Sae. 

Not even Shidou, who woke up on November 1st, Saturday, with an unreal phone call from his uncle. They apparently somehow managed to scrape together $5,000 in the restaurant overnight. 

They just told him they needed help raising the remaining $1,000 so he rises from the bed, intently watched by Karasu who was woken by his ringtone (as if his ringtone wasn’t louder), and asks the universe what in the world this time did they sell. 

“PS5,” his uncle tells him. 

He just nodded. 

“Sorry, Ryusei,” came next with genuine regret. 

He thinks that was unnecessary for he too had considered the idea himself. He loved her, don’t get him wrong. Sadly, she ranks high in the list of things they can sell for a high price back home.

“Not to a butcher or anything like that, yah?” He was stumbling over his words, unintentionally shaky. He didn’t even know if his sentence was grammatically sound but at least the essence is clear:

“No! No. She, uh, she’s just joining a milk company. The buyer has a grandma with a milk company.”

What a relief, then. PS5, he snorts, joining a milk company? They grow up so fast, don’t they?

“Okay. Okay, unc,” he sighs as he lays back down, squinting at his phone and seeing it was just 5am. With all due gratefulness, thanks for the good news, universe—but it really is too early for heartaches like this. “I’ll go back to sleep, yeah? Bye. Thanks or whatever.”

“‘Kay. You go tell your mom before you sleep.”

That’s when he blinks his eyes back open, and so did Karasu who flinched awake: “NAH! YOU CALL HER!”

Karasu gasped in panic: “Dude, the fuck…?!”

In his ears, his own voice echoes back to him: “Me?! That’s your mom, Ryusei!”

“And she’s your sister!”

“Little shit!”

“Fuck you!”

“You foulmouthed piece of shit!”

“Yeah, yeah- YOU call her. I called dibs- Bye!”

“BYE.”

Then next came November 2nd, Sunday—another day stuck in limbo. Nothing much happened, just them stuck in their rooms trying to study. Candles lit by the evening, of course, but that’s it. Monday came next and the same thing happened. The same old cold, the same old bored. 

The first time anyone had heard from Sae again was on Tuesday, November 4th.

And with that, the clock started ticking once more.

They all knew it. Something changed. Something happened. What, exactly? No one could say. Whatever happened over the weekend was something they’d never fully know or hear about. What matters is that Sae came in that Tuesday, fresh off his family Rolls Royce—and it was Sendou who saw him. 

He was smoking at the back entrance of the dorm building, as usual. This time, he was praying to the gods for the strength to quit while at the same time wondering if it’s even worth it to stop. 

And so! He asked for a sign. What a coincidence he found Sae on the day he decided to do it at sunrise instead of midnight. Sae’s first words? 

“The fuck, Sendou. Smoking at dawn?”

He blinked, caught off guard. For a moment, he thought he was hallucinating, but that was Sae. Actual Sae, who always had a comment. Always with a tongue so sharp. Always right on time whenever they need him.  

“Fuck you,” he whispers back, giving Sae the world’s softest and most confused middle finger. “The fuck happened to you?”

“On the verge of lung cancer thanks to you, whose life mission is apparently to make the world smell like ass.”

“Hey!”

Later, when the others saw him, they also froze like they'd seen a ghost. Of course they would, after four days of virtually nothing. Even Jesus was only dead for three days so naturally, they asked the same thing Sendou did.  

“What the hell happened to you?”

An eyeroll was all he replied to that. 

In his defence, he’d pulled thousands of disappearing acts before and sometimes for even longer. This time just felt different because no one was brave enough to take the hot potato and risk receiving Itoshi Sae’s snarliest…snarl.  

That is, until lunch, when the opportunity presented itself. 

Commencing: The Hot Potato Game. 

At precisely 12:58, the group came together in the library, as usual, except Sae showed up too. They were complete for at least three minutes before Kaiser arrived and suddenly Aiku and Ness conveniently remembered something else they had to do. It’s just Sae then, surrounded in a loose circle by Loki, Lorenzo, Kaiser, and Sendou on their own laptops. 

He sat down, only to stand back up again. 

“Where you headed?” Loki made the first move. He was the one, after all, who opened the hot potato game and told them, Guys, we have to do something. Thus, when Sae came in and looked like he immediately wanted to leave, Loki, with his quiet authority, stopped him because—let’s face it—no one else had the guts to.

And it wasn’t a question. He was buying them time.

“Why do you care?” he asked, in a regular Sae kind of way.

“We’re going to eat. Where do you want to eat?” Loki gestured to the chair with a theatrical wave. Sae shot him an annoyed glance.

“Whatever, since when do I decide?” He sat back down, his silence louder than words.

And so, the rest—Kaiser, Lorenzo, and Sendou—pretended to focus even more on their work. “I’m done! You guys do something!” Loki was pleading with his eyes. In that moment, Sendou makes the mistake of receiving Loki’s stare and so the hot potato gets passed to him. 

In an unseen hivemind dimension, the three began the next round: 

“Not me! You guys do it!” Sendou glares at Lorenzo and Kaiser, the hypothetical invisible hot potato scorching his hand. 

The two only respond by turning away on their laptops. “No, you do it!”

“WHY ME?!” he panics. 

Meanwhile, oblivious in the middle, Sae didn’t say a word. 

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME, GUYS?!” Sendou pleads to no avail.

And so hopeless, with Loki still glaring at them for someone to do something (considering also the criminal absence of their captain and vice captain of all people!) it was, sadly, Sendou who reluctantly took the hot potato and took one for the team. 

It was usually how it goes in the team anyway. In the rare times they lose, after Captain Aiku and Vice Captain Ness debated over whose fault it really was, blame would inevitably fall on the striker and he would end up carrying the “it’s my fault” card and the “blame me” placard on the way home. Not even Kaiser gets that considerate after games, he just gets angry, so Sendou had no choice but to apologise to all their supporters on the rest of the team’s behalf.

Sometimes he wonders if anyone actually noticed how heavy his role really was. Sometimes he felt like he did so much for team for only little return. 

So, really, this isn’t a new game for him. 

“How was your weekend, Sae?” he chokes out, feeling the hypothetical hot potato cook his skin alive. Sae didn’t even flinch. “Did- Did you talk to your dad already?”

At that, Sae just nonchalantly clicked open another tab and started typing. It was reflecting on the floor-to-ceiling glass pane behind him.

“Yes.” 

The four of them exchange glances, but the hot potato remains on Sendou’s hands: 

“And?”

“And…what?” Sae asks blankly. 

“How was it?” 

Sae didn’t seem to even think about it. He just shrugged. “I bought a cow.”

The group stared.

“What on Earth are you even talking about? What is that a code for- Is it like... a ‘cow’ cow or...drugs? Or?” Only now Lorenzo accepts the hot potato. Sendou widens his eyes in disbelief at the Italian. Now you chose to talk, asshole?

“A ‘cow’ cow, I guess,” Sae replied, completely unfazed, opening another assignment tab. And just like that, the conversation was over. 

There, the three of them glared at Kaiser who did virtually nothing to the cause. He just shrugged, speechlessly defending himself. “What did you expect me to do? You idiots talked before I did!” 

“Whatever! Guys, guys, let’s just leave it,” Loki, ever the efficient mood-shifter, gives up. He resolves the unspoken debate to announce a subtle notion. Finally speaking out loud, he takes the easy way out: 

“Hey, guys. Today's cafeteria menu has sweet mango slices.”

For if there’s one thing that somehow fixes all their communication problems, it’s apparently a fruit snack. 

And so without a word, they all rose and filed onto the elevator—Sae included—with the awkward tension hanging in the air like an unfinished sentence. 

Lorenzo, of course, broke the silence with a loud fart, and suddenly, the world was normal again.

“MOTHERFUCKER!!!” They all chorused. The guilty Italian just stood in the middle, grinning.

“Hehehe.”

Word spread fast—because who else but Otoya freaking Eita would have eyes and ears everywhere? 

Shidou, neck-deep in his miserable 48-assessment grind, and Karasu, equally busy on his desk, were trudging through the day studying when the call came in. Neither of them noticed it’s already lunch time. 

“Heeey, fataaass,” Otoya’s voice blared through the phone, high-pitched and way too enthusiastic for anyone’s liking. “I got the mango sliceesss.”

“What’s with the tone?” Karasu asked without looking up, Shidou already putting the call on loudspeaker. They were miserable. 

And one would know they’re miserable when they begin skipping a class to study for that same class. And that’s what they’re doing now! Because Ego Jinpachi is a bitch. 

“Yeah, what’s with the tone?” Shidou repeats, cracking his knuckles and stretching his back. 

“Guess who I saw in the hallway!”

Shidou and Karasu caught each other’s tired gazes before turning back on their respective desks: 

“Is the good news for me or him?” Shidou groaned, already regretting his decision to engage. It’s probably for Karasu anyway, something about Otoya spotting Hiori in the-

“Sae’s back.”

“BRO!” 

Shidou shot up out of his chair so fast, Karasu nearly fell out of his own. Again.

“THE FUCK?!” Karasu curses as he all but falls. Actually, he does , and his office chair wheels now spun in the air. 

“Sorry.” At that, Shidou awkwardly clears his throat, sat back down like nothing happened, and with a very insulting fake smile, grins at Karasu before putting the call off loudspeaker. Back to Otoya: “Bro. Bro. No way.”

“Yeah, baby, he’s baaaack. Surrounded by his posse of privileged assholes, of course.”

“Whaaaat the hell. Fuck. I thought he- fuck.” 

The relief that flooded through him was otherworldly, like the weight of a persistent ache lifting after a long, unbearable stretch of time. It was as if a troublesome tooth had finally been yanked free. He couldn’t quite pinpoint why the worry even gnawed at him as much as it did—maybe it was something he said, or the nagging fear that Sae had managed to block him in real life, or maybe he died? But now, hearing from Otoya that Sae was back, a breath he didn’t even know he was holding escaped him, and all the tension melted away.

Meanwhile, behind him, Karasu was on the floor and he’s still judging his entire being in complete disbelief from head to toe. 

“Yeah, yeah, thank me later. Both God and I know how relieved you are. Gotta go, gotta go!”  

“Okay, okay, bye. Thanks, bro, fuck,” Shidou muttered as the call ended. But before he could even settle back into his misery, his chair spun around, and now he was facing Karasu, whose hawk eyes were laser-focused on him.

“That just reminds me, motherfucker,” Karasu said, suddenly dead serious. He was hurt from the fall but this is more than that. “We have to talk.”

“We already did.” Last night. Where they talked about their whole lives and that’s why they were able to study now.

“No, we did not- About that?” Karasu points to his phone, where Otoya just dropped the revelation like a bomb. 

“No, we don’t,” Shidou snapped, spinning back to his desk with a sharp motion. But Karasu wasn’t having it—he grabbed his shoulder and spun him right back. “I SAID NO!”

“What’s going on with you and Itoshi Sae?” he pressed anyway. “For real now. You’re sharing stuff with Otoya and not me? What’s up with that?”

“It’s nothing you don’t already know, okay?!”

“Really.” Karasu raised an eyebrow. 

“Really!” 

So he just kept staring, unblinking, like a hawk eyeing its prey. Only for his smirk to grow for Shidou’s ears began flaring red: 

“Liar.”

“Fuuuck you,” Shidou growled, spinning back in his chair with his own kind of finality. His fingers flew across the keyboard, each key pressed with the intensity of someone trying to beat a world record. 

“Are you- Are you actually making moves on Itoshi Sae now-” Karasu teases and Shidou practically bursts like a supernova:

“SHUT UP.” 

He smirks, “Update me when you’re already-”

“NO.”

“Pfft.”

They decided not to address how that’s the first time Karasu actually laughed in days. 

And so when 7pm came and he saw Sae again, only God (and Otoya?) knew how relieving it was. Word had gone he was never seen over the weekend and Aiku had to go comment on the school subReddit telling people to stop even joking that Sae was dead, because it’s genuinely not funny. Shidou found himself agreeing with Aiku for once.

So when the lab door clicked open and shut, the sound of an ID card swiping and Sae’s quiet, calculated entrance cutting through the air, Shidou’s gaze locked onto him instantly.

He didn’t move, just stood there, rooted to the spot, watching as Sae walked to the equipment cabinet. He was even mid-cough but even his cough was shocked at the sight that he was breathless. 

Sae. 

He really is back. 

There was something hypnotic about the way he moved—methodical, precise, the same effortless grace that made everything he did seem deliberate. Shidou just stood there in surprise as Sae casually marched in and grabbed gloves from the equipment cabinet, even putting them on with a kind of absentminded flair.

And like some stupid fourth grader with a crush, his heart then gave that stupid little flip it always did when Sae was nearby. It wasn’t just the way he looked. Not this time. Now, it’s mostly on the way he existed in the world, entirely in his own head, unaware of everything around him—you know, after disappearing and turning his phone off the grid of the Earth and so Chris fucking Prince had to harrass Shidou for their late unsubmitted lab reports because Sae was unreachable and not answering anyone’s calls. 

But other than that, he was also encapsulated in the moment—in Sae’s moment—like he had his own gravitational field and Shidou was just one of the things helplessly drawn to it. 

And so he watched Sae move toward the microscope, his back slightly hunched as he inserted a slide, his eyes already focused on whatever he was observing, completely oblivious to the world outside his little bubble.

And Shidou watched frozen for a long moment, drinking in the sight of him. The messy hair falling just right over his eyes, the subtle curve of his lips, the look of someone who was always on the verge of something, but never letting anyone in to see what it was. 

It was maddening.

And as if Sae could feel him moving, his posture shifted. That was only when Shidou finally broke the silence, his voice cutting through the room with a simple:

“Yo, dude.”

There, Sae’s eyes snapped up, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before they narrowed into that familiar, calculating gaze. 

“Shidou,” he said, his voice a mix of surprise and something else—something like he’d only just realised Shidou had been there the whole time. (Oh, wow, thanks.) The shift in his expression was subtle, but it was there: the moment when Sae realized he hadn’t been alone. 

“Yo,” he greets, pretending that the way Sae called his name didn’t just make shivers crawl down his spine. The usual shit. “You can see me?”

Sae nods, ever so slowly, slightly confused. 

“Oh, okay. I thought- I mean, I’m right here. In the middle. Very visible. In my huge fucking height. You know. You didn’t see me.”

If Sae caught the sarcasm, he didn’t let it affect him. He just asked:

“What are you doing here?” He was in a state of shock himself, but more caught offguard than ashamed. Actually, he looked alarmed, but maybe that’s just being caught offguard. 

“Our—uh, our lab? Lab work?” 

He blinks, taken back. Did Sae forget they’re lab partners now or what?

“I thought you can’t do Tuesdays,” Sae says next. 

Ah. “I said I can’t do Thursdays.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Hm.”

“Ya.” 

The air between them hung thick and Shidou almost wished he could disappear into the floor. Sae is just sitting there, staring, two rows of workstations away. The silence stretched between them like a taut wire, and fuck—he felt the pressure of it in his chest. There was something unresolved hanging in the air, something unsaid:

“What’s with the… powder?” Sae speaks first this time, his voice breaking through the stillness.

Oh. 

Shidou froze for a second, before a sheepish laugh slipped out. He looked down at his shirt, actually an apron, stained with said powdery white. 

Flour.  

Of course. 

“I’m, uh, baking. I’m baking!” he said, his words sounding less like an explanation and more like an afterthought. He only now fully processed the ridiculous sight he must’ve presented: hunched over in his workstation, hands on a rolling pin, a dough, a protective cooking mat, and a massive bowl of chocolate mix…

“Baking?” 

“This? This is flour,” he added, as if that somehow made it make more sense.

There, Sae didn’t respond right away, instead just narrowing his eyes a bit.

“Why are you baking here?” he asked, his voice flat, still trying to wrap his head around the bizarre situation. 

Shidou snapped his fingers, finally remembering something he'd been meaning to tell him for days. That’s how he heard Sae hadn’t been on campus for a while, actually. He was wondering why Sae hadn’t been replying to his little messages or anyone’s calls so he could come tell him:

“I got banned from the kitchen! Did you know that? Of course you don’t,” Shidou reveals with refurbished vigor, his voice live and tense, as he resumes kneading the dough just to let out some steam. “Banned. Can you fucking believe it.”

“What kitchen?” 

“Last Friday, uh, my friend—roommate, actually—asked what would happen if someone tried to fry eggs with oil paint since it has oil, you know? So we went to the CulArts kitchen a few floors up from here to test it out. And you know, muscle memory kicks in, I scanned my own ID like some dumbass, and surprise, surprise. When the screen flashed, it didn’t read Unauthorized. It fucking said: BANNED. So yeah, I’m banned. I can’t bake there anymore and I can’t even fucking enter.”

At his excited revelation, Sae didn’t say anything right away. His silence stretched on, hanging heavy in the air like he was making Shidou wait, letting the frustration simmer just a little longer before he finally glanced over at him.

“I see.” His voice was casual, almost indifferent, as he turned back to his workstation, his eyes not quite meeting the microscope yet but definitely about to.

Shidou shifted, feeling the weight of the moment settle between them. 

Okay, so all that for nothing, then.

“Did you, uh, did you already snoop around the office?” he asks, picking up the question. “About my scholarship thing? The rat?”

Sae’s gaze went briefly from Shidou to the dough he was kneading, the faintest flicker of thought crossing his face. Then, with the same calmness that seemed to always surround him, he answered flatly, with a regained surprise as if he only realised now:

“I…haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

“Oh.” Shidou nodded slowly, the response rolling around in his mind as he processed it. “Oh, okay. No problem. I’m not even mad. LMFAO.”

Yup. It’s dead. 

And with that, he turned his attention fully to the microscope, leaving Shidou hanging there, the words still suspended between them like they’d never really been said at all. Begrudgingly, he comes back to his dough, and continues mixing it…a lingering sense of nothing filtering through. 

…

..

.

No, fuck this. What was he even doing?  

As Sae there resumed his microscope work like nothing even happened, Shidou felt all sense of strength leave his bones so he slid down to the floor, his back pressing against the cold cabinets as the weight of everything came crashing down. It felt like his world tilted sideways, leaving him spinning in the infinite void between the stars. 

Has anyone ever felt like that before? Like the walls were no longer safe, like the corners were no longer going to catch them when they fall? 

Because behind him, a few rows away, was Sae. 

Neatly stacked tupperwares of ready-to-bake brownies—in front. 

His walls, his corners. Just a crush he had been trying not to actually think about for who knows how long now, and a hobby that’s slowly starting to become more bothersome the more he had to do it out of necessity rather than fun. 

(Thank God, of course, for Bee and Isagi who offered to bake them for him free of charge. They have no idea how much they helped with that offer but even then he still felt-)

He still felt the exact same way he had always been.

It’s not shame, alright. Definitely not hatred, either. Agitation, perhaps? The agitation of needing to do something because he had to, because he wasn’t blessed with a safety net, because he would otherwise fall behind?

And there he also has a lab partner who happened to be his crush who also happened to be someone who disappears for no fucking reason and comes back with a personality of a paper clip and he’s not even mad, he’s more concerned on what the fuck he has to do to-

Fuck!

He leans his flour-stained hands and palmed his fucking eyeballs in silent frustration. 

See, there are a lot of things he doesn’t tell anyone. Maybe only his four closest friends but that’s only because they found out through natural consequence. Either way, there are a lot of things about himself he liked to remain unspoken. He liked to pretend they’re just invisible balloons floating in his room. 

Invisible balloons as in everyone who's been in his life knows they’re there. They can feel them as they move and they can feel them make their skin crawl—but they don’t see them, they don’t talk about them, and they don’t ever ask about them. 

Like they don’t ask why his body count’s higher than his age. Like don’t ask why or how he began a pot brownie business. Like don’t ever complain when he tells them no, they can’t hang out at his home and no, they can’t peek under that canvas because no one is supposed to see that…

Thank God, Sae’s here, for sure. His mere existence made a huge chunk of his life worth living for the past three- four years. 

Sadly, it looks like not even pining on Sae can save him now. 

“What are you doing on the floor?”

“JESUS CHRIST- AHW!” 

He flinches back and promptly hits his head on a cabinet handle, scared out of his mind when Sae appears right in front of him, standing and crossing his arms like an angel.

An angel who is fucking deciding whether to send him to hell or not. That kind of angel. 

“You’re gonna give me a brain injury, dude! Walk louder next time!” he scrambles, propping up the bottles next to him he toppled over. Shit, he almost spilled a thousand yen worth of cleaning products. “I’m brainstorming a home remedy for the darkness within, Lashes, what is it?”

Sae was there, staring at him. Even his lab coat was pristine and it looked like he was done with the report for the day-

“I need help with the report.”

Nevermind. 

“Right.” There, Shidou sighed. Honestly, he would have loved if he could just have five minutes of floor time trying to mull his very pressuring circumstances over but oh well. It’s Sae. He’s already standing up. 

“Can you do it?”

Does he have a choice? He already didn’t do shit for lab today; Sae just let him make dough. So yes, Sae, he can.

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed heavily, propping himself up using the counter until he plops back down on a stool to sit. “Gimme.” 

Sae hands him the clipboard and just stands there.

“I, uh, I don’t have a pen-”

Sae is already handing him a pen.

He takes it.

He begins the very excruciating task of filling out their day’s report. “What date is it again?” 

“Why are you sulking?” Sae asks instead. “November 4th.”

“Right.” 

He writes. Behind him, he hears Sae contemplate him for a bit before walking back to his workstation a few rows away, with the microscope. Looks like Sae already filled in the exact details of the observation duty for him—in his pristine handwriting, almost scratchy, somewhat imperfect, but pretentious (who writes lowercase ‘a’s like that?) and still legible. 

Actually, wait a minute. Did Sae just gave him the clipboard to write down their names, the date, and the irrelevant info? 

“Hey, uh,” he calls, and Sae is already looking. He was there on his workstation with his arms crossed, leaning forward on the counter, staring. For some reason, he couldn’t meet his gaze right now. “I’m done. Thanks.” 

He decides not to complain about his very miniscule contribution. This is just Sae being kind.  

“Okay.” 

Sae didn’t move. 

Shidou doesn’t move either to give the clipboard back.

“Why are you being mopey?” Sae asks instead.

“Mopey?” Okay, that one made him laugh. “I don’t know. Life is weird. And exhausting.”

Sae waits, glancing briefly at the clock that has still blessed them with many minutes before their shift ends. 

“My house called the other day, y’know…just saying,” he blurts out just to fill the silence. Wow, would you look at that- he’s talking again. “My family managed to take care of the money. Most of it. I just gotta raise $1,000 on my own for now.” 

Sae looks back at him from the clock. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” he says, pointing at the fresh batch of ready-to-bake brownie dough in tupperwares next to him. “Hence, this.”

“That’s…great,” Sae says. That’s when he straightens up. “Why were you even banned from the kitchen?”

Ah. Right. He didn’t tell him about…the specifics. “Man. I was using someone else’s ID card to bake my shit there. That was why my scholarship was gone. I think I told you? Or not? Fuck, whatever- I just think I was caught in the kitchen by-” 

Then it clicks.

“THE RAT!”

If Sae was surprised at his outburst, he only blinked to show it.

“HOLY FU- WHO ELSE- THE RAT!”

“What rat?”

“I KNEW WHO SNITCHED ON ME,” he screamed in frustrated realisation. “Fucking hell- I was just borrowing his shit, dude! He consented to let me borrow it! He was aware- I won it in a bet. He lost the bet. And the one time I partied at Reo’s, he came in my room and that’s why that ID’s cracked as shit!” 

Neither commented at the reminder of Reo’s halloween party. Sae just lets him talk:

“That fucking son of a bitch!” Shidou cries now, collapsing on a twitchy angry mess on his counter with all his inhibitions dedicated to not letting himself break more shit else he might get banned from here too. “Now that I thought about it, he had always been asking for it back. I was going to give it back, bro! And he doesn’t even need the access card, he has his own general student ID for that SHIT. It works just as fine! On the scanner!”

For some reason, Sae nods and stares at the space between them deep in thought. 

“Ugh. I’m- yeah. Fuck. I gotta go, thanks, Lashes. Glad you’re back,” he says, finally moving and gathering his things. Swinging his duffel bag of dough over his shoulder, he moves and stops by Sae’s workstation to give the clipboard back. “And Prince was looking for last week’s reports. Just- leave them in my locker, I’ll come back for it later.”

“I already submitted them. This morning.”

“Oh? Nice,” he says. He quickly realises this is the first time he’s leaving lab first before Sae. “Uhm, uh, see you around…‘kay?”

It came with a plea—to please let him see him around. And like that, he gave up. 

Sadly, people like him have little time to worry over a stupid little crush when life began to give him too much oranges he had to make lemon juice with. 

“Hm.”

“Glad you’re alive, Lashes, like, for real,” he says next, quieter this time, but with genuine relief. “I’ll…help more next time. I’m just- ultra angry right now. At that son of a bitch.”

When he turns his back, patting around for his ID to scan on the access plate, that’s when Sae cuts in:

“I can help you make a Drano bomb.”

Shidou’s hand freezes from fully tapping his ID on the wall plate. He slowly turns around, back on his feet with a quirked up ear:

“I don’t know what Drano is but you got me at ‘bomb’.”

Sae was still sitting casually on his little stool, microscope to his right. He was looking down on his anatomy notes now, ever so nonchalant, but he glances at Shidou with a blank stare that is so blank Shidou picked up the dare expertly hidden underneath them. The challenge. The spark. 

And there it is: the spark, at the tiny challenging glint in his eye. 

“Do you want to get back at the guy who snitched on you?” There, Sae muses him, like presenting a treat to a dog, eyes speaking right at Shidou’s soul. And of course he’s already fully turned around: 

“YES.”

He whispers, almost seductively: “If I helped you deliver justice, will you stop being mopey and promise to help more with the lab work next time?” 

“YES. YES- HELL YES.” 

He already dropped his duffel bag to the floor and began warming up with a smirk. Sae seemed satisfied with his answer and closed his anatomy notes promptly, pointing a lone finger to the sinks where Shidou was baking just a few minutes ago. 

“Good. Bring me that drain cleaner and a goggle.”

“YES, SIR.”

Chapter Text

Goggles, aluminum foil, rubber gloves. The lab hums under sterile fluorescent light, the air thick with chemical sterility—except for the lingering scent of the Milkis they’d just drained in the sink. Now the bottle sits on the table, about to be filled with something far less harmless. And also the whole lab now smells like cream soda.

“Let’s begin.” Sae, sleeves since rolled up, reaches for the aluminum foil with the same careful ease he applies to everything. “Pay attention.”

“Yes, sir!” Shidou watches very alertly, his eyes flicking between Sae’s hands and the bottle in intrigue. Sae had since made him wear his own gloves and goggles, but he hadn’t done anything yet. “What we doing-”

“I do, you watch.”

“Okay, jeez. All you.” He raises both hands in a surrender and wholeheartedly accepts it. Sae nods and begins.

“You begin with the foil,” he says, voice as instructional as it could get. Shidou pays attention this time though; his teacher is Sae, come on: “First, fold the foil into small, uniform pieces. Be as precise as you could.”

“Why?

“The surface area affects the reaction speed. Do it wrong, it’s going to explode on your hand.”

“Got it. Small pieces, fast reaction.”

He watches as Sae leans down until the counter is by his eye level, methodically folding tiny pieces of foil and balling them up ever so slightly. Now that he watched him—with permission to do so this close—his hands do move with precision, don’t they? Then, Sae drops the pieces into the bottle like an expert chef cutting ingredients to the gram. Shidou squints, very interested. 

At Sae, yes, but also the bottle. 

He leans closer steadily to peek.

“Okay. Foil in a bottle. What’s the science?” he asks only to receive a hand to the face.

“Exothermic reaction.” Sae casually shoves Shidou away from the bottle. “It’s a spontaneous enthalpic shift where stored chemical energy is violently released as heat, disrupting molecular stability-”

Shidou pretends he isn’t smiling while being shoved. “-Meaning?”

Sae finally meets his eyes, straightening as he holds up a drain cleaner. “Meaning what?”

He just grins ear to ear. God, Sae’s hand to his face is kind of turning him on- WHO SAID THAT? “Lashes, I have no fucking idea what exothermic reaction means,” he said hopelessly.

Deadpan, “It means it goes boom.”

“Ah!” He lights up. “Got it. It’s bomb as fuck.”

“Exactly,” Sae only agrees as he briefly reads the drain cleaner bottle and pops it open- 

“Wait- Me, me, me! I’ll do it! That’s the thing that’ll make it explode, right?!” Shidou practically vibrates in place and Sae just wordlessly hands it over—only to take the bottle back just as fast. 

“Not so fast. You…” Sae briefly catches his eye before scanning the lab, before pointing to a more open corner. “You do it over there.”

“Where?” Shidou follows his gaze, then squints confused. 

There right behind him was an open space by the sinks, actually a walkway past several rows of workstations—-but the path was narrow, hemmed in by stools, counter edges, and stacked shelves. Even he’s standing in the way. Even their things and the duffel bag behind him. And Sae exhales, already anticipating resistance. 

He doesn’t ask. Doesn’t warn. Just reaches out—fingers curling over Shidou’s arm—and steps forward. 

To which Shidou tenses, just for a second. 

Registers Sae’s proximity, his hand on his arm…

Then he smiles. “Oh-?”

“Don’t make this weird,” Sae warns as they lock gazes, his grip tightening. It was a look that said Shut the fuck up. A look that said, Say one more thing and I’m making this explode on your face. And Shidou? Shidou is a very, very obedient man. He read the invisible balloons in the air.

“I’m not even saying anything yet.” He grins, doesn’t move, only meeting Sae’s gaze with a stare of his own challenge. He just plants his feet, stance loose but unmoving. A test.  

A test of, How far will you actually push me until I give?

There, feeling fire burn from the skin where Sae holds onto his arm, Shidou feigns innocence. He lets Sae maneuver him—but with just enough resistance to turn it into a game. 

And when Sae realises, Shidou only tilts his head in return, watching with a lazy smirk, daring Sae to work for every goddamn inch he’ll move. And he does. Sae’s patience frays the longer he stayed in his gaze, grip tightening, until frustration wins out and he manhandles Shidou into place with deliberate force.

“Move.”

The entire time, Shidou just fought a mischievous grin, watching Sae’s frustrations. 

And Sae doesn’t humor one bit of it. He just pushes again, pressing him back a step. He forces it out of Shidou this time, fingers digging even deeper on a bicep. 

Then another step. Their eyes stay locked.

It’s only then that he really felt the height difference—not just in inches, but in the way Shidou takes up space. Up close, he’s all broad shoulders and reckless warmth, like the sun: a presence that could be immovable if he chose to be. Sae isn’t small but Shidou makes him feel like he could be, like he could plant his feet and refuse to budge if he really wanted to.

Still, despite being the sun, Shidou still lets himself be pushed. Step by step. Until his back grazes the sink counter’s edge.

Sae finally lets go. The room fills once again with air.

“There. Hold this.”

He shoves the Milkis bottle with the foil into Shidou’s hands.

“And this. The cap’s already open.”

The drain cleaner follows, and for once, Shidou actually looks at the two bottles he was handed.

“Now pour it in,” Sae instructs, stepping back just enough to watch. “Slowly.”

Shidou hums, studying the bottle. Then there he goes again with his bullshit: “Gotta ease it in, huh?”

Sae’s hand faltered for half a second, the focus he was guarding almost spilling over. He caught himself immediately, jaw tightening. “You do it too fast, it’ll foam over-”

“What if I want to go hard?” Shidou teases further, and Sae doesn’t blink. He’s being a little shit now? That’s their development? Now? “What if I go all in?”

With a strained hiss and a narrow of his eyes, nevermind the swallow he took, he warns. “If you want a mess on your hands then, by all means, go ahead.”

“Isn’t that always the case though?” Shidou only grins at him as he tilts the drain cleaner and finally begins pouring. He isn’t fucking looking at what he’s pouring. “Here in the lab. Isn’t that why we wear protection? To not have a mess in our hands?”

Sae crosses his arms and they both pretend neither of their ears were red. 

“When I said mess on your hands, I meant the lack of. Now eyes on what you’re mixing.”

“Pfft- chill! What did you think I meant?” Shidou exhales a sharp laugh through his nose, but he follows directions, finally looking down and pouring properly in a slow, steady stream. The blue liquid of the Drano swirls as it meets the aluminum inside, a few fizzes and bubbles now forming. “Oooh, cool.”

“Good.” Sae nods, quickly shoving the past few seconds to the back of his mind, swept under some mental rug or shoved at some mental file cabinet to be forgotten until later. Back in their drift: “Now cap it.”

Shidou twists the lid on tight, giving it a shake for good measure. He was choking on a laugh but the bubbling liquid distracts him as it fizzes violently against the aluminum. 

“Wait- woah. It’s getting all hot, Lashes-”

Sae just watches the bottle as he steps back and looks at the clock. “That’s how exothermic reactions work, yes.”

“-like you.” 

He pauses. Meets Shidou’s closed mouth fake smile. Shakes his head. Rolls his eyes back to the clock. 

“You do realise you’re holding a bomb, yes?”

“I know. The bomb.” Shidou’s grin widens before he finally lets the charade go. “So! How long before it-”

“Less than five…eight, seconds from now.” Sae waits for the clock hands to tick, and mentally counts. Yep, it’s about to blow…right about…now, maybe.

“-For real?” 

He looks back at Shidou, heavily unimpressed. Why does he think he’s already like 2 arms length away from him now? 

There, the bottle suddenly swells faster under Shidou’s grip. Quick. Aggressive. Scary—and Sae takes another courtesy step back, raising a brow in disbelief when Shidou just looks at him.

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

Because he just stands there. He watches Sae instead, slow amusement flickering behind his eyes as some fuckass grin spread across his face: 

“You know, Lashes, it’s getting big and hot on my hand like a-”

Sae physically flinches at the bullshit now, reaching the very edge of his patience he didn’t even know he can reach: 

“If you fucking say dick right now, I’m leaving-”

“HAHAHA!”

That’s when Shidou barks out the loudest, heartiest laugh Sae ever heard from him, and finally tossed the bottle into the empty sink-

BOOM!

“WOAH!” Shidou flinches so hard he smacks himself into the counter, hands braced in terror. The lab shakes at the explosion, sending up a sharp burst of gas, the glass beakers shaking, some empty test tubes tipping. 

And Sae lets out a breath he was holding.

“LASHES!” Shidou whips off his goggles, hair a mess, looking like he just saw God. Because he did. They did. “LASHES, THAT WAS- THAT WAS AMAZEBALLS.”

Sae sighed, also taking off his goggles off his eyes. 

It…

It was. It really was.

It was fascinating.

Suddenly he had a creeping thought: 

It really would be fun to throw, like, seven of that to some guy’s lawn in a row right now. You know, just to see how it explodes. Just to see how it vapourises inside the plastic. How it expands. How it bursts.

“Yes,” he agrees, shaking the idea away. Damn- that explosion was loud. Anyway, where were they? Right. “Now that you know how to do it, you can leave me alone.”

“Oh, I’m going.” Shidou hums, stretching out his fingers like he was shaking off the phantom sensation. Then, he looks at him. “Just don’t act like you’re not thinking about it.”

That’s when Sae stills. 

Shidou smirks at him. Then, he says as if absolute:

“You want to do it with me.”  

Not a question. Not a testament of him knowing. Just a declaration that Sae wants to do it with him. As if he decided it. As if Sae already decided. As if he had access to some fucked up third person omniscient perspective that knew everything about everyone and knew what just ran on Sae’s mind.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Sae glares at him. Glances at the clock. 

Technically, they should be cleaning up right now. They were eight…no, five minutes away until this room filled with the next class so technically, he should be telling Shidou to pack it up and leave. 

Instead, his eyes wandered to the roll of aluminum foil and he immediately hated the idea that popped in his mind. He even caught himself physically flinching, as if shooing it away can-

“Knew it.” 

“NO.” Suddenly, Shidou snaked his way right behind him, breath tickling his ear. Sae just shoves him away and tapped a finger against the table. On the table? The foil. No, he is not thinking about it. 

He is not…

“I’m not.”

“You are!” Shidou laughs. “You paused when I said it! And you did that- that thing where you stare really hard at something like it just insulted you!” 

Sae scowls, meeting Shidou’s mocking face, akin to the devil that whispers bad things. “I literally don’t do that.”

“You do. You just did. And you looked at the foil. Twice.”  

“Stop looking at me and go away.”

“Mkay. Fine.” There, Shidou very obediently, while still grinning like the bastard he is, props himself up on the counter, stretching out one leg on the other and completely blocking Sae’s way. 

Before Sae could protest, however, he’s already talking: 

“Let’s both pretend you aren’t just asking for an invitation,” he says breezily, then just trains his eyes on Sae in a challenge: “So here you have it! I am the invitation. And I can wait.”

Sae spitefully presses his knuckles against the table, silent for a long moment. For one, he’s severely unimpressed he’s being pushed at a corner here (literally and figuratively). But at the same time…

Shidou just licks his lips one last time and smiles at him, less mischievous now, cutting his train of thought.

“Come on, Lashes,” he says, more sincere this time. He then offers his hand—damn, the devil imagery just won’t stop, huh?—like a life-changing deal: “Bomb some shit with me.”

Sae rolls his eyes and takes his eyes back to the clock (as if he can even control time depending on what it says.) Right now, it says it’s only a few seconds before 9pm.

Hm. His first class tomorrow isn’t until 11 and it’s not that he really cared about attendance anyway. But it’s about to be 9pm, this room is about to fill with some other assholes—he had to decide now.

Shidou leans close, musing.

“It’d be fuuuun.”

“How far does he live?” he found himself urgently asking, just to ask, but Shidou screeches anyway:

“OH B-”

“I just asked how far.” 

Regardless, heaven’s gates have already opened for Shidou and the angels are blaring their trumpets. He hops down the counter and raises his prayers to heaven. “Ohhh, Lashes. I have been waiting for this conversation.”

Losing the inner fight, the clock ticks 9pm and the first access card beeps from outside. There, Sae quickly snatches the foil and drain cleaner, shoving them into his bag before meeting Shidou’s face with an accusatory, angry, finger.

“You bring the bottles. Back of the dorms. Midnight. I’m just going to watch. Got it?”

“OHHH YEAH!”

“And don’t tell anyone. And pack your shit.”

Shidou nods, zipping his lips. Sae almost trips on Shidou’s duffel bag on the way. 

Midnight.

12:12 actually, but still midnight. They wouldn’t be here if they’re strict perfectionists. 

The back of the campus is dead silent. The neighbourhood beyond, too. A single street light flickers with a lone cat licking its balls underneath. A few inches from his feet lie black skid marks from where a vintage Ford met its brief kidnapping a few days ago. And in front, the broken brick wall of student mischief looms menacingly like it's expecting some dumbassery to go down. And, well.

Footsteps. A distant ‘goddamnit!’ after someone trips on a root. Then, a head of blonde hair finally appears from the treeline. 

Sae stares at Shidou. 

Stares at it. 

“What the fuck is that.”

Shidou pats the pink handlebars proudly. “A bike.”

Sae closes his eyes. Counts to three. 

It doesn’t help. 

“You think this-” he waves aggressively at the bike, “this is a good getaway vehicle?”

“Excu-fucking-me.” Shidou kicks the stand up, spinning the handlebars dramatically. Then, he props his hands on his hips and begins enumerating, like he had been ready his whole life: “A bike is lightweight, it’s silent, if shit goes south, I can throw it at a guy and run! What about you- the fuck’s that?”

Shidou gestures largely at the car Sae’s leaning on. He didn’t need to look. 

“My dad’s Royce?”

Shidou stares at him like he’s stupid. (Which is new). The blinks he took was slow, both in possible astonishment but also disbelief.

Only then Sae pauses, narrowing his eyes. “What do you have against Rolls Royce?”

“It looks like a fucking funeral home on wheels, Lashes!” 

“And you just brought a bike to a felony.” Sae tilts his head, offense unspoken but radiating straight to the moon. 

Look, this isn’t his first rodeo with quasicrimes and actual vehicular crimes so really, he should have the undebated upper hand here. If he had a penny for the times he committed a crime involving a car and Shidou Ryusei on this street at midnight, he is about to have two. 

“Lashes, listen to me? That is a car.” Shidou jabs a finger at the Royce, and it’s Sae’s turn to stare at him like he’s stupid. “It has a plate. Question: Do you wanna get arrested?”

Fine, fair point, but still. “And you think the bike makes it less likely?”

“Hello? No plates, no gas emissions, environmentally friendly, it’s in hot pink, no fuel costs-”

Oh, great. Let’s also consider carbon neutrality and the 17 sustainable development goals while we commit trespassing and property destruction. Might as well solve poverty and hunger while they’re at it, huh?

“Look, emperor underlashes. I know you have this drive to impress me and take my sexy ass on a date in your dad’s fucking Ford-”

Sae frowns. “Royce.”

“-Royce without taking me to dinner first, which is fine, but I’m telling you, talking to the authorities is not fun,” Shidou finalises and just shrugs at Sae like he already won. “Not fun. Now get on my bike.”

“Have you ever really talked to authorities before?” Sae only asks flatly, spotting the bullshit. 

“I was arrested and tortured by the rebel militia during the desert uprising.” Shidou says as he literally hands him a Hello Kitty helmet.

Sae inhales sharply.

“You’re about to casually stroll us to the damn crime scene with our faces exposed.” At that, he pinches the bridge of his nose and gave up, just pressing his key fob as his actual final rebuttal.

Beep-beep.

The Rolls Royce Cullinan speaks for him. The car lights up, and the doors unlock. Smooth. Elegant. Stupidly expensive.

Shidou was paused in his administrations.

“Just get in,” Sae concedes, tired at the debate, tilting his head to the car as he walked to the driver’s door. Of course he’s ending the debate but he’s still not letting himself down—they do need the car. He would have to be on the literal edge of life and death, chased by a fucking gorilla, before he ever hops on the back of a pink fucking bike. He never even- he never even did that shit before. His parents never let him around bikes, saying one fall is all it’ll take to split his head open, so he never really learned. So no. And that’s final.

“MEH. No fucking way.” Ever stubborn, Shidou had the audacity to scoff, full of misplaced self-righteousness—the next words about to be something Sae could never believe: “Nuh-uh, I can’t even open the door. How do you even open the door? Shame, I can’t do it. Now get on my bike and wear this.”

For. Fuck’s. Sake. Sae stomps over, yanks the passenger door open, and all but shoves him inside. “Get in.”

“Okay! Okay, you’re being very touchy today-” 

“Shut up.”

“Okay!”

With the door still hanging open, Sae straps himself into the driver’s seat. Shidou, however, doesn’t move. He just stood there, with the door to the passenger seat hanging open.

Sae peeks out. 

His gaze was enough: What the fuck else does he want?

Shidou just looks back down at his bike, which he was still holding. Then grins ear to ear like a child begging for a large lolly.

“Lashes…”

“What.”

“I wanna bring my bike.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Just-” He shuts him up, gesturing his head to the side. “Put it in the back.”

God, he has to check his blood pressure later when they get back.

In Shidou’s very humble opinion, the Royce’s interior is—out of a lack of better words—obnoxiously luxurious. 

Everything is plush, spacious, comfortable, hand-stitched with leather, and so smooth it feels illegal to touch. The ambient lighting around the car features also glowed soft gold, like the starry-sky effect twinkling overhead. Even the air smells like money.

And not just wealth or an expensive pine tree air freshener hanging on the rearview mirror, it’s old money.

The very air smelled like old money is seeping out of the upholstery and judged Shidou and the 122 ancestors before him. (And they were all being laughed at by Sae’s 122 ancestors before him.)

And instead of a pine tree air freshener—you know, the kind normal people get—only a gold-plated rosary hung on his rearview. 

Holy- So then that means that luxurious smell is simply just the car itself then? 

Shit, now that he thought about it, it simply smells like Sae’s Yves Saint Laurent perfume but everywhere.

Like it’s enveloping him. 

(God, he hopes it sticks on his skin- WHO KEEPS SAYING THAT?)

All that said though, he genuinely can’t believe this is really happening.

“…Woooh.”

He just gasps low as he slides in his seat, his fingers running over the hand-stitched dashboard and his glove box. Then, as Sae rolls his eyes and starts the car, he watches as the literal steering wheel adjusts to Sae’s height and activates. Okay, wow, just-

“Holy shit, Lashes. Your car is, like, orgasmically deluxe.”

Sae pauses at his comment for a quick second as he pulls out the street. That tiny roar of the engine? Not gonna lie, almost made Shidou cum. (Hence, the “orgasmically”.)

Sae says nothing to that.

Or when Shidou is already reaching for the buttons overhead, the one atop the rearview mirror.

“What do these do?”

Only then Sae talks, slapping Shidou’s hand away. “Don’t.”

“Kidding! Jeez.” Shidou leans back, rubbing the back of his hand like Sae broke a bone. He stares out the window for approximately three seconds before snapping his head back toward Sae, eyes gleaming. “But just one button-”

“No.”

“DAMMIT—Fine.” Shidou throws himself dramatically against the seat. “I’ll tell everyone this is kidnapping. You kidnapped me.”

“Then scream for help.” Sae shifts gears before shaking his heaf. “Just tell me where to go.”

“Oh! Right!” The sudden reminder snaps Shidou’s attention away from the buttons (Thank God.) He pulls out his phone, opens Maps, and squints at the screen. “Denenchofu. Just straight ahead. Fly like the wind, Bullseye!”

Sae nods, adjusting his grip on the wheel. Okay, that’s odd—Denenchofu? He knows that town. That’s where he lives. Or at least, that is where his mother’s side of the family lives, just right around where the north Mikage Tower is. They were just there a few days ago.

(…Which, actually, he’d rather drive straight into a wall than think about.)

His fingers press into the leather, grip just a little too tight. The memory creeps in anyway: Shidou leaning into him, loose-limbed and flushed, alcohol sweet on his breath. Half-lidded eyes. Halloween party. Carwash. A lazy, lopsided smile. His voice low. His pulse betraying him. His lips-

Sae exhales, steady, through his nose. 

Eyes on the road. 

Hands at ten and two.

So! Denenchofu.

Denenchofu was one of Tokyo’s quieter havens. The land was purchased by the Japanese Father of Capitalism—Eiichi Shibusawa—in 1907, developed based on a British urban planner’s so-called “garden city movement”, and is very very very near his coastal hometown of Kanagawa. 

Their subdivision, specifically, took up the heart of Denenchofu. It was shaped like a fan, a half-circle, with the middle being the gate and the back being one tall fence away from the North Mikage Tower spire. There’s even an observatory tower deep in the woods not far from the Mikage Tower, a whole lot of tennis courts and parks scattered around, and very very long drives past tree-lined roads. Luxury cars can also be seen parked on sidewalks and secluded garages even to this day on Google Earth.

Perhaps those reasons are exactly why it was where his parents (and his asshole friends) decide to conclave themselves in one of Japan’s most luxurious gated communities. Now, their house is literally next door to the Minister of Defence, a British diplomat to the right, and Don fucking Lorenzo’s house to the front. Aiku’s parents also live a few houses away, Ness’s brother has a house near the gate, and Sendou’s family own the largest property in the back. Only Kaiser and Loki don’t live here, but that’s only because they settled for a Mikage Tower condo unit in some other area of Kanagawa (Tower East) and Saitama (Tower West).

(The Mikage Tower South in Kyoto is still under construction.)

That just reminds him of another fun fact: Sendou’s dad owns the whole entire shit. 

You know, the whole fan-shaped gated community they all freaking live in? Sendou’s dad owns that.

Apparently, they are Eiichi Shibusawa’s distant great great grandkids or something like that. Yes, the same Eiichi Shibusawa in the current ¥10,000 bill. 

Hell, Sae genuinely thinks that if the sea itself was for sale, they’re going to buy that too.

(That was why they’ve always teased Sendou for bitching about his athletic career when he literally has an entire neighbourhood to inherit. The fact that he is technically their fucking landlord? Yes, he forgets that sometimes. In fact, it seemed he didn't even care. Which is, surprisingly, something Sae understands.)

Outside of their gates though, Denenchofu is not that astonishing. There are still normal areas in the rest of the town, just not as glamorous as it gets in Shibuya or as crowded as it gets in Edogawa. Sae begins to wonder which part of Denenchofu they’re about to literally bomb tonight. 

Wouldn’t it be funny if they’re actually going to bomb the Minister of Defence? 

Just like that, Sae’s mind goes clear. 

What was he thinking about again before this? Who knows. Just- Denenchofu.

The car now hums down peacefully the near-empty streets of Tokyo, just silent city lights flickering in the tinted windows. For a moment, it’s just them under the stars—the stars of the Rolls Royce ceiling, and the stars of the building lights twinkling.

Only a moment, because-

“So, Lashes.”

“NO.”

Shidou snickers. “I didn’t even say anything yet!”

“You never have anything good to say.” Yes, he learns his lessons. The peaceful bubble bursts and Shidou decorates the air with his voice again. 

“I’m just thinking we should have a vibe. Like- like a message. That fucker’s gotta know who the fuck he’s dealing with, type shit.”

The light goes red and Sae abruptly puts both the car and his brain on brake. 

One question: Is this shit being for real? He slowly turns his head to Shidou, confusion clear on his furrowed brow. Shidou just reasons next to him, hands wild.

“You know! To make it fun and feel less…illegal. Like a mysterious signature, or an agenda. What if we wear masks?”

Sae sees the green of the light shine down on Shidou’s tan skin and he just expertly turns left and stares at him in realisation: “You want to get caught.”

“No, psh! Of course not.” Shidou waves him off, gaze flicking to the glassy buildings rushing past. He only shuts up for 30 seconds before rambling again: “Just imagine it though. What if we left something? What if we left our names?”

And at the next red light, Sae brakes—sharper than necessary—then slowly turns to face the blond. 

That’s it.

“Say that again but slower.”

“Not our full names,!” Shidou was quick to erase his imaginary whiteboard in front of them. “I just meant our initials! Just a mark, to commemorate. R and S!”

Sae doesn’t respond. Just looks at him. Really looks at him. 

You know what? He’s just…going to pretend he didn’t hear that.

The light turns green again, flooding the car’s interior with a brief flash of viridescence before fading back into the soft gold of the dashboard. Then, as Sae presses the gas, streetlights streak across the windshield, bending with the road as they pick up speed. 

Ha. 

Finally, Denenchofu.

“But Lashes…”

“Shush.” He focuses, practically going off his mental map now that he’s in his territory. (Kind of.) At the very least, these are the streets he and his friends had made lots of memories in. Oh look, speaking of: the corner where Kaiser vomited his guts out after downing a glass of Jägermeister three weeks ago. 

“Come on!” Suddenly, Shidou turns his head toward him, neck exposed as he places his hand over Sae’s hand on the PRNDL. 

His hand.

Over Sae’s.

On the PRNDL. 

“This is probably the only time I get to bomb some asshole’s house so I want to make it memorable-”

Sae stops listening by then, just feeling Shidou’s hand over his on his gear shift. The air suddenly becomes warmer inside the car. Nobody touched the AC though. 

Then, he suddenly notices everything within the vacuum of their space: Shidou’s knee keeps knocking against the console, restless. He talks with his whole body, hands flying as he rants. He’s still talking about something. Sae isn’t really listening anymore, just catching fragments: something about a marker, initials, him causing absolute chaos.

A voice within suddenly wants to reply to Shidou, now that his hand held his. 

(Sae isn’t even sure if he even realised in this dark that it’s his hand he’s holding but-)

A voice inside suddenly wants to tell Shidou that he met his grandma last week. That her miso soup is heavenly and literally changed his life. That of course he knows he likes putting his initials on shit because he just did that on that stupid corduroy jacket from the very first night. That he knew he had a cow named PS5. That he just found out something about himself that it seemed he wasn’t even supposed to know because of a big fat gossipy aunt. That apparently, he-

Sae’s fingers just flex on the wheel. Settle. Flex again. The hum of the engine thrums beneath his palm and the faint scent of leather and something else—Shidou’s cologne, sharp and lingering—overwhelms this moment.

So he can’t. Won’t, actually. What is he to say, anyway, when Shidou is in his car and he’s talking to him and his smell is everywhere? 

It’s just the heat.

It’s just the way the car traps it. That’s all.

“—so for me, initials are just ultra cool. I used to tag shit with my initials all the time. Every single fucking drawing I make, actually, is titled with acronyms…”

Shidou laughs at something, at his own joke, probably, and stretches, tipping his head back. 

(And there, he’s about to ask for the next turn but Shidou is already pointing while talking. Touché.)  

Only when Sae’s ears began to listen again did he return his mental presence to the surroundings and something immediately tugs at the back of his mind.

The street ahead…the slight bend, the way the trees arch over the road, casting long shadows on the pavement. The way the houses sit farther apart, quiet and expensive. His grip on the wheel tightens.

“Are you sure you know where you’re taking us, Demon?” His voice is even, but something in his chest feels off. There’s only one place this road leads to, after all, literally nowhere else. 

“Yeah! You turn riiiight there,” Shidou points again. “And I’m more than fucking sure, Lashes. His mother has their mail address on their security service website.”

Security service website...?

A prickle of unease. The streets feel too clean, too pristine. He suddenly hates how the houses keep getting bigger. How the streetlights glow warmer, like fake candlelight. How the trees lining the road are imported, trimmed into perfect little hedges. How he can literally see Ness’s brother’s fucking house right there…

“And you turn at that gate- oh, shit. A guard.”

Sae watches in slow-motion horror—in autopilot, actually—as they approach and the gate automatically lifts, scanning the car’s chip. Shidou was already crouching then, hiding behind a sleeve pretending to be asleep (ironically exactly like the last time he’d been here), as the guard smiles at Sae and lets them pass. The screen next to them even flashes: Welcome, Mr. Itoshi.

He doesn’t bring it to Shidou’s attention. 

They only had long passed the gate when Shidou peeked, sat back up, and glanced back at the closing gate behind them with a laugh. Meanwhile, Sae just feels his jaw lock tight as the North Mikage Tower comes into view in the distance ahead, shining alone just like the North Star above it, amidst the foresty heights of Denenchofu. It’s not in the neighbourhood itself, skyscrapers are illegal in here, and he doubts Shidou can even recognize it like this, but it’s still here and they’re still here. 

“Whoa-ho, fuuuck, I thought we were gonna have to pull some heist shit this early,” Shidou cackles beside his very horrified self. “I thought this was the most advanced security system on the planet?!”

There, Sae just keeps driving, letting Shidou ramble again about his initials and his sick red marker as his own stomach begins to descend further into hell. All while breaking into sudden directions like an overglorified overly-talkative navigation AI: 

“Turn left. Anyway, so the marker…”

“…and he was so mad! Turn right.”

And it just transforms into a slow, creeping sense of terror when Shidou directs his next turns and they just approach the same fucking turns he takes when he goes home.

“And turn right again, right there.”

Finally, his dread transforms into a literal ball of horror when he turns and there stands at the corner a black marble house where he knows the not only the property value but also the lot area—not because he cared but because his grandfather just put it last last last week in his will for his birthday, October 10th. 

Will, as in last testament and will, where this house is entitled and to be inherited by him.

Him, yes, you know— his house? 

That he left just this morning? In this same car? Before he went back and saw Sendou in the back entrance of the dorms smoking? 

“So where was I? Ah- he ran away, right? Bro, I fucking chased him and hit him in the face-”

It was a corner lot. Tall black landscaped walls for fences, with several different greenery peeking out the top from the tiny glimpses of their perfectly manicured lawn. There his mother’s car was, a silver Benz, parked in the side garage. On the third floor, the light is still on in his brother’s room. Atop the gate, that one Buddhist figure statue which is headless because Rin kicked a ball and hit its head off, like, five years ago.

Sae locks up—fridge hotdog levels of frozen—as they very inconspicuously roll past. 

(He liked to pretend that the CCTV right there at the corner didn’t just catch them.)

Oh, and the gate? Their gate? It just flashed green. It scanned the car chip even at this distance like a doorman tipping its hat. As if it knew him. Because it does. 

He just drives past and ignores the now-unlocked gate. He silently wonders how the fucking hell Shidou did not notice that. 

Sae glances at him. Shidou is just looking at his phone. 

(So that’s why.)

Suddenly, Shidou spoke, voice cutting through his pressure: “You just go straight…then turn one moreee…right there!” 

They turn, and upon reaching the singular house at the end, just shy of a towering white fence this time, the car glides to a slow, deliberate stop. 

“Oookay! We’re here!”

Sae keeps his gaze locked forward, very purposefully ignoring the fact that his own house is sitting right there behind them, glowing in its dark broody facade like a bad fucking joke. (Sure, “next door” is more like a one-minute drive down the street past an entire row of trees but still. That’s his literal- he can literally see his old unused bedroom window from here.)

And the car; Sae doesn’t put it in park yet. He just grips the wheel, eyes fixed ahead, brain buffering at the mansion in front of him now.

Also a very, very familiar mansion. 

“This is the house?”

“Yeah, baby.” Shidou rubs his palms together like a cartoon villain, already unbuckling and gathering his plastic bottles and the drain cleaner. “This is the house.”

It takes two full seconds before Sae finally turns, slow and deliberate, to face the absolute dumbass sitting next to him.

“You didn’t tell me the guy who snitched on you is Barou fucking Shouei.”

Barou fucking Shouei whose father is Japan’s Minister of Defence and whose mother has a security service company. 

Chapter Text

“You didn’t tell me the guy who snitched on you is Barou fucking Shouei.”

“Yuh, I mean—the sophomore asshole. Captain of the swim team, the fuck.” Shidou, for his part, looks completely unbothered, already one foot out the door. (Tragically, all his earlier button-mashing taught him how to open it now.) “Why?”

He looks back at Sae and only then he slows down. 

“...are you looking at me like that?”

Sae stares at him, expression blank, voice flat with the weight of his own impending doom. 

“His family’s on the school board.”

Silence.

Because the Barous weren’t just on the school board, they were the second-largest stakeholders just right behind the President—them, the Itoshis. They even out-donated the Mikages by a margin large enough to fund an entirely new wing. (One could argue they were just deeply invested in Shouei and his little sisters’ education, maybe even more than Reo’s parents were in his. Though to be fair, the Mikages were more into real estate than educational stocks.) 

Still…

Shidou is halfway out of the car when it clicks.

“School board.” 

“Yes.” Big names on big conference chairs, yes—THE school board. With his uncle in the middle, Barou’s mom on his right, Reo’s dad on his left. And down the line: Aiku’s mom, Sendou’s dad, Kaiser’s mom, Lorenzo’s dad, Loki’s mom, Kenyu’s dad-

The whole institutional nepotistic nightmare?

“So that’s why-”

Sae finishes his sentence for him:

“No wonder your scholarship is fucking gone.” 

For a beat, Shidou just stands there, mouth open, eyes blank, buffering like a Windows XP error screen. Then, like a dam breaking—

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—”

Shidou screams.

In mute.

Not just a normal muted yell—it was a full-bodied, from-the-gut, existential crisis-level screech that rattled even the trees and shook nearby birds out of their peaceful sleep. He yanks his hair, paces three steps in one direction, pivots, and then roundhouse kicks the air. His plastic bottles clatter to the pavement. 

Meanwhile, Sae just quietly reaches over to the passenger seat door, slowly closes it, and watches Shidou through a lowered window.

“FUCK!” His voice is raspy, hoarse, whisper-yelling like a man plotting murder in church. “THAT- THAT PIECE OF- THAT NARCISSISTIC SELF-CENTERED GEL-SLICKED GORILLA LOOKING MOTHERFUCK!”

Sae vaguely wonders if the security cameras are catching this.

Then, Shidou freezes.

“Oh my God.” His hands fly to his head, fingers digging into his scalp. His entire body shudders with realisation. “I just saw him in the swim team locker room.”

Then slowly, like he’s about to confess to murder, he steps forward, grips the edge of the car door, and looks Sae dead in the eyes.

“LASHES, I SAW HIS BARE ASS.”

Silence.

“AND I TOLD OTOYA IT’S NICE.” Shidou slaps his hands over his face like the memory is permanently burned onto the backs of his eyelids. “And THAT’S the reason I lost my—?! I can’t live like this. I—No. This—This is my villain origin story. That PIECE OF SHIT!”

Sae exhales. Taps his fingers against the wheel. For once, he just lets Shidou let it all out.

This... This is the better universe, he thinks. The one where Shidou lets it all out. 

“AND YOU’RE TELLING ME HE’S IN THERE, HUH?!” Shidou whirls toward the house, eyes wild. He throws his arms out at the obnoxiously tall stone walls, the perfectly trimmed, soulless lawn, the ridiculous glass panes. “In that pretentious, wealth-hoarding, air-filtered dystopian tax evasion bunker fish tank of a house—”

He then screams again. Gesturing wildly. Unhinged. Ferally possessed by vengeance.

Then suddenly-

Calme.

“You know what, I’m done.”

“You’re done?” If Sae wasn’t concerned before, he sure as hell is now.

“I’m okay,” Shidou says, now standing up straight as he closes his eyes and begins meditating. Then he opens his eyes, practically glowing red: “I just need to destroy his fucking lawn.”

Sae stares, deadpan, at the clear admission of premeditated violence. His gaze drifts past Shidou to the house itself. All jokes aside, the place is beautiful—but in a sterile and pretentious kind of way. The massive black stone walls basically form a box house with two levels and looms in the middle of a flat green field like a Hunger Games cornucopia, sealing off the lawn and its absurdly perfect perfectness with pristine white walls for fences. And the living room? Completely exposed. A wall of floor-to-ceiling glass spills soft, curated dim light onto the grass, putting its minimalist, hyper-modern interior on full display like a high-end showroom. No signs of life. No warmth. Just wealth, calculated and contained. There was a bit of landscaping and lawn statues here and there but otherwise it feels hollow and devoid. What’s the word- 

Ah.

It’s clean. Too clean. 

But it’s Barou Shouei’s house, of course it’s clean. The guy gifted him an entire box of fucking Quickie Wipers for his birthday a few weeks ago. (Thank God they’re not close because if they were, he would’ve catapulted that shit back to his face.)

Sae exhales. Looks back at Shidou. Silent. 

Wonders if he realised that what they’re about to do is about to be something straight out of The Purge.

“HEY.” 

Sae flinches as Shidou suddenly throws himself against the passenger door, grinning like a lunatic. One hand presses against the roof, the other putting one earphone to his ear.

Then he began swaying his head. Slow. Rhythmic. Side to side.

Sae squints. Suspicious. 

What the fuck is he doing.

“Stay,” Shidou says, grinning ear to ear and dancing to some unknown, unheard melody. “Come on. Don’t back out. You’ll love it.”

Now is a very good reminder to himself that he hasn’t put the car in park yet. 

“No.”

Sure, he already agreed to numerous Shidou-brand quasicrimes tonight, but this? No. This is his line. His hypothetical chalk border on the pavement which he is not crossing-

“But you said you’ll help me deliver justice~” The blond just returns his seduction. Shidou leans onto the open passenger window, arms folded, smile widening into something dangerous. “Don’t you want to see how strong your Drano bombs actually get?”

Sae just presses his jaw together and looks back ahead, one hand on the brake and the other on the wheel.

“You thought about it. You told me you’d come. You taught me how.” Then, voice low, sultry, dripping with promise, he downright purrs: “Don’t you wanna see how good I am with my hands?”

“I-” There, Sae’s brain only now finally skips a square in his hypothetical hopscotch, lands wrong, and tumbles out of the game entirely. “You’re a menace.”

“COME ON!” Shidou grins, tapping the doorframe like he’s knocking on fate before biting his lip in suppressing a smile. “You know you wanna see what I can do. Come on.”

Sae exhales. 

Clenches his jaw. 

Glares at the stupid pink bike’s handlebars peeking out from the rearview.

Reminds himself of the gates, security cameras, and the fact that the Barous have a direct line to the police chief.

Then, without a word—

He slams on the gas.

Shidou just stood there. 

Baffled. 

Silenced, actually.

He stood there as the Rolls Royce glided down the dark moonlit street making him stumble forward into the air—only for it to swerve left, right into the treeline, and vanish into the shadows like a badly programmed NPC failing a driving test that glitched away.

…Did Sae just leave him here?

And so there he stood. 

A lone earphone slipped from his ear. Just casually holding a bunch of explosives. The road? Desolate. Cicadas? Judging him. Moon? Round. His leg? Itchy.

A full minute of existential dread passes before movement finally catches his eye: a shadow emerging from the trees. And only then does Sae—oh God — reappear, glancing left and right before casually jogging back toward him. 

Shidou damn near dropped dead on the spot: 

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE LEAVING ME!”

Sae full-on jumps at his sudden meltdown, confused himself as he looks Shidou up and down. His brows knit together as Shidou, in a fit of dramatic despair, actually dropped to his knees and began wailing at him like a widow in a historical drama. 

The most humiliating display of desperation known to mankind.

“Stop it- I was parking?” Sae snapped, yanking his leg free before this turned into a full-on soap opera. “I can’t just leave the car out here in the open?”

“JESUS.” Shidou made a strangled noise, somewhere between a sob and a dying pterodactyl. “THEN YOU COULD HAVE JUST TOLD ME-”

Sae just squinted at him. “You really thought I’d ditch you? Here?” 

Here—of all fucking places, right next to his own house? 

Shidou just threw his arms up, chemicals and all. 

“YES!”

…Actually, fair enough.

“Get up,” Sae spat, eyes twitching at the ridiculous display. “Now. Before someone sees you and files a missing person’s report on your dignity.”

“Fuuuck, okay,” Shidou groaned dramatically, peeling himself off the pavement like a man who had just survived a war. “Okay, okay. Let’s do this.”

Dropping into the night like reckless ghosts, Shidou latched onto the marble fence, scaling the wall with an ease that made it look second nature. His hair was a wild mess, three days unwashed, baptized by wind and midnight air, but his eyes—sharp, electric—burned with something untamed. Feverish. Alive.

Now from atop the pillar, he glanced down at Sae, grinning, all canines and wicked delight. Then, he reached out a hand. Daring. Demanding.

Sae stares at it. Stares at him. Doesn’t think. Just takes it.

And just pulls himself up and jumps. 

“Woah, Lashes.”

For someone who had never trespassed before, even he surprised himself. Grip, pull, swing—his body just knew what to do, muscle memory kicking in before his mind could catch up. All he knew is that he already landed on the other side, Pradas sinking into the dewy grass. 

Yeah. He just did that. He just climbed the wall and jumped straight down. He’s now standing on the Barou family lawn.

(First question: How the hell are there no blaring alarms yet?)

“Woo.” Shidou let out a low whistle, dragging his eyes over him like he was assessing him. “You sure you haven't done this before, Lashes?”

Sae turned to look back up at him. (Inside, his heart slammed against his ribs.) 

“It’s called athleticism.”

“Actually, it’s called breaking and entering, but whatever you say.”

He’s pretty sure they haven’t broken anything though but whatever. Sae ignored him. Instead, he jerked his chin toward the house—an expanse of glass and clean sharp corners.

Now do your thing.

But Shidou didn’t move. 

He stays perched atop his pillar, head backlit by the brightest moon of November—silver-washed, full, round, and untouchable, a halo of the blessed making the sharp pink tips of his blonde hair crystalline. There, Shidou’s eyes drop, locking onto him. 

And not just looking, but puzzling. Eyes dragged over Sae, slow and intent, like he was trying to piece something together—something just beneath the surface out of reach, something that didn’t quite make sense but refused to be ignored. Something neither of them can put a word to right now. 

Sae swallows. His pulse falters, evens out, then falters again. 

“Are you coming down or what?”

“Depends.” Shidou just grins at that, as if satisfied. “Will you catch me?” 

“Just get down already.”

“Woah, chill there, mate.” Shidou feigns a shocked expression. “You want me under you that bad?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“If you don’t get down in five seconds, I’m leaving you here and calling the cops myself.”

A gasp. “You’d betray me?! In this economy?!”

“Five.”

“At least buy me dinner first.”

“Four.”

“Damn! Slow down, I like forep-”

He glares. “Three.”

“…I’ll take my pants off if you need a distraction!”

“TWO.”

Thud! Shidou finally hopped down, landing with effortless ease, all smug satisfaction and restless energy. Sae, arms crossed, didn’t bother acknowledging it. Just turned on his heel, silent, already walking ahead.

That, of course, only made Shidou more insufferable.

“Aww, it’s just a little teasing.”

Sae didn’t react. Didn’t even look at him. Just kept moving—jaw tight, ears burning, hands bunched so tight into fists it looked like he was trying to physically compress himself into nonexistence. 

Shidou, of course, noticed.

“Silent treatment, really?” he feigned a whine. “That’s- oh shit.”

Before Sae could take another step, Shidou’s hand shot out and grabbed him. It all happened in a blur—too fast for him to register quickly—but Shidou was now suddenly pulling him back, his arms tight around his waist, and running. The world around him blurred as they moved, and then they were down behind a hedge, Shidou’s chest pressing against his back, solid and unyielding. Sae barely caught himself, instinct kicking in as he elbows Shidou right at the gut.

“AH!” he gasped, a surprised look flashing across his face.

“What is wrong with you?” Sae hissed, glancing over his shoulder to see what the hell had prompted this ridiculous move.

“There was a person in the living room, dude,” Shidou whispered, his voice low with urgency as he peeked through the hedge, scanning the area with wide eyes. Then, just as quickly, a cocky grin stretched across his face. “Aw, you don’t like being manhandled?”

Sae’s patience snapped. Without thinking, he spun around, facing Shidou head-on. His foot shot out, aiming a sharp kick toward Shidou’s face. The impact was close, but Shidou dodged it, laughing, that damn grin still plastered on his face.

“Ow- Stop it- Stop kicking me!”

“Little shit,” Sae muttered, running a hand through his hair, his breath coming out in a sharp exhale. Then he clenched his jaw, trying to calm himself down. Alright. Enough. Breathe. Don’t kill him. Yet. 

Calme.

He just gave a pointed look at Shidou.

“Just go do it already so we can leave.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re the one kicking me in the face.” Shidou stretched his arms over his head before glancing back at the house, his grin sharpening into something more focused. “Kay! Let’s do this.”

Sae finally breathes and returns to Earth, taking the foil roll- 

“No, no, Lashes. I do, you watch,” Shidou stops him, snickering. 

So Sae scoffs. Just crosses his arms, watching. Letting him have this—for now.

“Ah,” Shidou lets out, as if just remembering something. Without looking up from his pile of foil balls, he reaches across his chest, fingers lazily tugging at the wire and holding out an earphone—the other already snug in his ear. “Here.”

Sae stares at the...artifact.

“You don’t have AirPods?” 

“...Tch. No,” Shidou rolls his eyes, his tired fondness unmistakable as he just lets the offer fall. He just smiles a little to the foil he’s already folding. “Seems like the end of the world.”

Shidou Ryusei, as it turns out, has a freakishly good memory.

He only needed to watch Sae pop the car doors open once before doing it himself. And he only needed to see Sae make a Drano bomb once before getting the hang of it. Sure, both were simple tasks, but still—huh. 

Now, crouched behind the hedge, they had three plastic bottles prepped with foil balls. All that was left was to pour in the drain cleaner and throw. 

At least, after several attempts at making him hurry up because Shidou kept sing-mumbling like it wasn’t already, like, 2am. 

Finally, after several thousand years and ten Katy Perry songs, Shidou glanced at Sae with eyes gleaming with excitement. 

“Man, that  took a while,” he grinned, tilting his head. No shit. “By the way, how did you even learn how to make Dran- Woah, woah, woah!”

Sae only shot him a flat look before pouring the first bottle without warning. It immediately fizzes and he caps it with a glare wishing it was Shidou’s neck instead.

“Oh, you know.” His fingers tightened around the plastic, eyes flickering with something almost imperceptible. Maybe impatience. Insanity. “Basic chemistry.”

Truth is, he just didn’t feel like answering. And also, this was dragging on way too long. At some point (probably around Teenage Dream or Dark Horse) that fire had settled into his veins too.

And now maybe, just maybe, he wants to see if Shidou’s keeping pace.

“Now throw it and get it over with.” There, he shoves it to Shidou’s chest, the bottle fizzing and swelling up immediately—so, basically—a grenade and Sae just took the pin out and handed it to him. 

“Okay. You want to kill me. Got it.” Shidou only smiled as he took it, peeked through the hedge, and just swung randomly. “Fire in the hole!”

In a swift motion, he threw the bottle and Sae followed it with his eyes. It tumbled through the air, hit the lawn, rolled a few feet—then BOOM.

A burst of heat. The night pulsed with the impact, the sound ripping through the quiet. Shidou’s laughter followed, crackling through the air. Wild, electric, like he was riding the adrenaline high.

Sae exhaled slowly.

“WOAH! THAT’S SO COOL.” Shidou flinched, then laughed, eyes gleaming. Sae barely spared him a glance, his focus snapping to the house. Still no reaction. Loud, but not as loud as it had been in the lab. They’re safe…for now. 

They let the moment simmer.

Then Shidou quickly extends a hand toward him. 

“Another one.”

Sae was already handing him the drain cleaner without looking. His mind simply remained locked on the explosive aftermath as he broke the science down into its fundamental truths. Like the speed. The temperature. The pressure. How something so small could break apart in an instant. Could break other things in an instant.

“Gotcha! Round incoming!” Shidou pours the next bottle clumsily, some cleaner dripping down the grass. Before Sae knew it, he had already moved, creeping along the next hedge like some feral creature.

And then—whoosh.

Sae barely caught the flicker of Shidou’s arm launching something before the second bottle was already in the air, cutting through the moonlit sky like a shooting star. It arced high, spinning end over end, before descending—

Right toward a massive stone lion.

“Oh,” Next to him, Shidou whined in horror, already dragging hands of regret across his face. “Oh, no-”

BOOM!

“OH MY FUCKING FUCK!”

Shards of ceramic exploded like shrapnel. The explosion ripped through the quiet, a pulse of heat rolling across the yard. Dust and debris scattered, and when the smoke cleared—oh.

The lion was still standing. Technically. But its once-regal face was now completely obliterated. Half of it had crumbled away, leaving behind a jagged, gaping wound. Where there had once been a powerful, dignified expression, there was now only ruin.

Shidou stared, unmoving. In a hushed, horrified whisper:

“Did I just hakuna matata’d that lion?”

Sae blinked at the absolute carnage. Then at Shidou, who was crumpled onto himself in the ground while gripping his knees and whimpering.

He looked back at the massacre. Then at Shidou.

Then back at the crime scene. Then back at Shidou, just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

“Are you…praying?” 

Shidou, wide-eyed, exhaled like he’d seen the afterlife. “Lashes, I think I just broke a law in the animal kingdom, the universe, and possibly a few world religions.”

Sae stares at him. 

“You just blew up a glorified garden gnome with a mane.”

“What if this is an omen?!”

“For what? That you have terrible aim?”

“What if I just ruined my whole life?!”

“Shidou, it’s a rock.”

If anything, the only thing he destroyed is someone’s very questionable taste.

Which, yeah, maybe it was Barou Shouei’s aesthetic—given the whole alpha male king lion vibe he’s probably got going on with his Instagram gymmaxxing shit—but still. Now Shidou just squinted at the lion. Then at the shattered mess. 

Then he shrugged just as quickly. 

“Yeah, well, okay. Anyway.” 

Before Sae could even process the sudden recovery from what was a literal meltdown, Shidou grinned, kicked the last bottle toward him, and, just to be an asshole:

“Two out of three rockets launched! Your turn, Einstein.”

Instead, Sae looks back at the house. No lights flipping on, no angry homeowner storming out—just the same quiet, undisturbed facade. 

Wait a minute.

His eyes flicked to the open living room, the windows, the front door, the rooftop. Still nothing. Now what the fuck?

“Laaaashes.”

Shidou’s voice broke through his thoughts, laced with that wild, brain-rotted amusement. His gaze flicked over just in time to catch the spark of trouble in Shidou’s eyes.

“Do the honours with the last one, sensei. Come on.” Shidou offers him the last bomb and the drain cleaner, waiting to be poured. 

At the sight, Sae didn’t even move—just stood there, frozen in place, half-camouflaged by the shadows, eyes returning to the house. His mind raced, running over the facts, a bigger problem being mulled:  

This was supposed to be Japan’s Minister of Defense’s residence, isn’t it? And his wife owned a security company?

How the hell are they not even caught yet? 

“Hey. Genius.” 

Only then did Sae finally tear his eyes away from the house.

“…What did you say?” he muttered, just to make sure he heard it right. Shidou nods a little, grin growing wider. It took all of Sae not to curse out those assholes right then and there, for letting Shidou know he’s called that.

“Can you not?” There, his eyes flicker over to Shidou then down at the last bottle. “And stop trying to drag me deeper into your bullshit.” 

Shidou smirks. “You’re just gonna throw it.”

“You’re a bad influence,” Sae whispers to himself as he looked back at the house. 

“And I’m taking you down with me.”

Seriously now, there is 100% something off about this house right now. And the reality suddenly sank in that this is a crime, this is trespassing, this is damage to property, that this is already enough for an entire lifetime-

Yeah, he already did enough. 

“Come on, just throw this and it’ll be the best fucking thing ever!”

“I’m done,” he announces, for real this time. Something in his gut says they’re being watched but not in a good…way. “I’m leaving.”

A pause. For a moment, there was only the sound of his footsteps on the grass. 

Before Shidou breaks it:

“Oh. Okay,” he said. Which would have been okay until he added: “Guess you really don’t like to have too much fun, huh?” 

Sae’s fingers twitched. Behind him, Shidou remained in his distance, his hands holding the bottles but slightly lowering, as he watched Sae trying to gauge a response.

“I mean- you’re just always so serious, methodical, nonchalant and perfect. Don’t get me wrong, you look good doing it!” 

From the corner of Sae’s eyes, he could see his smirk was still there. He just didn’t like it this time.

“Just like back in the lab,” Shidou hisses, smirk on his face even if it didn’t reach the eye. “Always the straight-faced science boy. Playing it safe all the time, always.”

Shidou’s grin was wide, but there was an edge to it now.

“Guess that’s how you do everything when you’re scared,” he hissed, and it strung something within Sae. “Nothing too risky, nothing that could—I dunno—matter too much? Just dip and act like things don’t affect you, perchance because fuck what you actually wanted right?”

“I’m scared?” Sae’s expression barely shifted, but there was a flicker—too fast to catch. “Ever considered that shit just aren’t as deep as much as you think they are?”

“If they aren’t then what’s the matter, dude, seriously? If not scared then what?” Shidou lets out a little laugh now, just waving the bomb around. “You know what I think?”

Sae presses his lips shut.

“I think you’re just afraid of fun. I think you’re afraid that if you let your brain actually explode for once, you’ll actually feel something other than-”

That did it.

Before he could even think, Sae ripped the bottle from Shidou’s hands and yeeted it into the abyss.

No aim. No thought. Just a sharp windup and a throw, like he had a personal vendetta against the stupidass thing. WHOOSH—it soared—spinning through the air before crashing straight into the garden fountain with a perfect, catastrophic PLOP.

For a second, nothing happened. The cherub angel statue in the center kept spitting out water like everything was fine. Shidou even snorted, about to tease him for missing: 

“Now that’s a just fucking dud, isn’t i-”

Before the fountain erupted.

BOOM!

“AH!” 

The explosion cracked through the night like a thunderclap.

For a split second, Sae could only stare, pulse thrumming in his ears as the sky lit up in a mist of chemical-tainted water, shooting straight up like a geyser. A wave of foam splattered across the garden, the bushes, the shattered remains of the lion—before, with a sad little thunk, something heavy hit the grass in front of them.

The cherub’s head.

It just sat there, round and pitiful, staring up at them with its vacant, judgmental baby eyes.

“HOLY SHIT!” Shidou howled, doubling over so hard he nearly ate dirt. He barely managed to grab the severed head before crumpling to the ground, absolutely wheezing. “LASHES, YOU JUST KILLED THE WATER BABY!”

His laughter was manic, half-disbelieving, half like he just saw God, and it was clear he didn’t give a single shit that they were still very much standing at the scene of their crime.

Sae, on the other hand—

He exhaled. Slow, deep. His fingers twitched at his sides.

And then, for the first time in a very long time, his shoulders sagged.

Because goddamn, did that feel good.

The snap of pressure, the weightless second before impact, the rush of sheer force breaking something for once instead of letting it simmer under his skin—he could still feel it, thrumming in his bones. He wasn’t thinking. He wasn’t calculating. He wasn’t restraining himself.

He just did it.

A breathy scoff left him before he could stop it.

But that moment of relief? Gone.

Because then he actually registered what he’d just done. Or rather, who the cherub statue actually is.

Sae was already back up on his feet. Porch lights blazed to life. 

Then he’s already speed walking away, for that wasn’t just a water baby, that was the family’s eldest fucking son. Commissioned in his likeness as a cherub angel. A custom statue. A one-of-a-kind, hand-sculpted, luxury-tier baby fountain.

And Sae knew this because his own goddamn family—his Buddhist great grandma—had once considered getting one made for him. From the same artist.

A Sae Fountain.

A holy, spitting, marble baby Sae. 

“Oi, wait- dude, dude-” Shidou, still breathless from laughter, finally caught up—and Sae turned just in time to see the dumbass still cradling the head like some cursed relic.

He almost blacked out.

“Why the hell are you still holding—” He didn’t even finish before smacking it clean out of Shidou’s hands. “Drop that shit. That’s Barou Shouei’s head.”

Shidou immediately doubled over, wheezing. “WHAT?” His laugh cracked, caught somewhere between hysterical and absolutely losing it. “BAROU SHOU—”

“Demon, I swear-” his voice was a low hiss, barely contained. “Move before I actually kill you.”

Chapter Text

He hadn’t felt this alive—or fucking doomed—since the night Kaiser got alcohol poisoning and they had to shove his half-conscious, mouth-foaming ass into Aiku’s car at 2AM, all of them absolutely hammered, Lorenzo halfway out the window projectile vomiting onto the street like an exorcism. And Ness frantically Googling “how to un-OD someone” on his phone in full brightness. And Sendou who is apologising for some reason. And Loki, who is just shoving a water bottle into everyone’s mouths as if hydration could undo an OD.

And, honestly? He wasn’t even that terrified then.

Because he was high. Blissfully, stupidly high. (Or was he drunk? Who the fuck knows.) His brain had been buffering the whole night like a Sims save file after deleting the wrong household—gone one second then suddenly back where everything had gone into shit, someone was screaming, and some guy is now on fire. 

But now?

Right now?

Stone-cold fucking sober. Adrenaline shot straight to hell. Hands clammy, shaking, sweaty as shit. Way more frantic.

Christ- His heart rate had to be exceeding the legal and physiological limits by now.

“Here, grab my hand,” Shidou calls, vaulting back up and scaling the fence with ridiculous ease. This time, he doesn’t perch like some deranged gargoyle—he straddles the lower wall instead, fully intent on hauling Sae up. So Sae takes his hand, just like before- “SHIT!”

Thud. 

His head connects with the potted orchid, the whole thing now swaying dangerously. A dried petal flutters down, landing on his shoulder.

“Ugh.”

Shidou barely contains his laughter. Actually, he doesn’t even try.

“Holy shit! Ha!” He has to brace himself on the table, wiping at his eyes. “LASHES! Oh my fuck- You good?!”

Sae’s ears were ringing. His vision wavered, shapes and shadows blurring in and out of focus like a bad camera pan. The world felt tilted—too much movement, too little air, his skull vibrating from the inside out.

“Hey…? You good?” Another laugh. “You sure you still remember me?”

“Shut up.” 

For a split second, he thought he’d blacked out because everything had gone silent. But he’s still standing, he just hit his head on a stupid orchid, and he’s still (kind of) standing on his own two feet. And Shidou—

Shidou wasn’t saying anything. That was what really jarred him back.

Sae blinked rapidly, shoving his brain back into place. When he finally registered the world again, the first thing he saw wasn’t Shidou, wasn’t the fence, wasn’t even the house.

It was a car, idling outside on the road. A Jeepney. Now that he’s eye level with the narrow partitions on the modern fence wall, he meets a sleek, black beast of a vehicle, headlights slicing through the night, engine low and rumbling driving past right in front of them. 

And behind the wheel, scowling and frozen as if contemplating vehicular manslaughter, was Barou fucking Shouei.

Shidou meets Barou’s eyes. Oh hell yas. 

Sae sees Barou give Shidou the death glare. Oh hell no.

Then, without a word, Barou just—drives past.

Not fast. Not slow. Just… drives. Like his brain short-circuited from sheer rage, processing the absolute bullshit he just witnessed on a five-second delay. And then— slam. The car screeches to an abrupt stop a few metres away.

And, in those five seconds, Shidou looks down—Sae looks up—and they grabbed each other’s hands again. 

RUN!

The second Sae reaches the top of the wall, Barou’s already stepping out of the car, tall, broad, and ready to kill , his silhouette looming under the moonlight like a horror movie villain.

“YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING DISGRACE- GET THE HELL OVER HERE!”

At that, Sae barely gets one leg over the wall before Shidou yanks him forward, and they hit the ground running. 

He still found time to throw Barou a very mighty middle finger though: “CATCH ME IF YOU CAN, MOTHERFUCKER!”

In a flash, they tear across the road like their lives depend on it. Sae can hear the pounding of Barou’s footsteps behind them, thudding against the earth like a war drum. Even his own heartbeat is rapid-fire, his lungs burn with every breath, and his legs—his legs—haven’t worked this hard since the last time Aiku forced him into practice without warming up.

Meanwhile, Shidou, naturally, is thriving . 

“SUCK MY DICK, ASS BOOGER- Oh, FUCK!” Shidou yelps, ducking instinctively before busting out into more wild laughter. “HE’S THROWING SHIT!” 

A whoosh —something heavy slices through the air before a literal fucking lawn chair crashes into the dirt beside them.

“I can see that,” Sae hisses, just shoving Shidou as they crash into the treeline. “GO.”

“GO WHERE?!”

“THE CAR.”

The car. The car is here, parked neatly between the trees. Salvation within reach. Thank God he knows this fucking forest. Thank God he was such a miserable, sulky kid growing up. His car. They have to get to the car. The car. The car. The car-

“YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?!?” Barou bellows, closing in before walking away.

Wait- away?  

Sae keeps running, but that just set off a fresh wave of dread.

Behind him, Shidou cackles, twisting around mid-sprint just to rub salt in the wound. “YEAH, EAT MY SHIT!” he screams, throwing up both middle fingers and even pausing to do a jig. 

“Stop it!” Sae smacks him at the head before grabbing his arm and launches him forward to keep moving. “The car is right there . GO!” 

They both spot it: the car perfectly camouflaged in the natural shadows of the forest. He practically pushes Shidou forward, both of them nearly barreling down the slope. They just ran, roots and branches whipping at their feet—Sae nearly faceplants, fuck this stupid forest —but then, finally, they skid into the clearing, hands slamming onto the car like it’s home base in a game of tag. 

Sae then fumbles for his keys with shaking fingers. Goddamnit, why can’t he stop shaking?

Suddenly, a roar.

Of a literal fucking car.

In that exact moment, a blinding glare of headlights slashes through the trees above them and shines right at them like a spotlight, illuminating the forest floor in eerie bone-white light.

They freeze.

Like actual, literal deer in headlights.

Sae turns his head. Shidou turns his head. Barou’s car—Barou’s fucking car—is now hurtling toward them like a battering ram, headlights blazing, tires crunching over roots and dirt.

For a split second, nothing. No thoughts. No words. Just pure, unfiltered disbelief. Then-

“NO FUCKING WAY.” Shidou actually laughs, because of course he does. “IS HE-”

“YES.” 

BAROU IS, IN FACT, TRYING TO KILL THEM WITH HIS JEEP.

Only then did Shidou’s voice spike several octaves higher than usual, sheer disbelief overriding his panic but also no. “Wait, no, what the fuck- what the fuck KIND OF PSYCHOPATH-”

Sae, right next to him, is too stunned to even scream. He fumbles with the keys, pressing the fob with the coordination of Michael Kaiser with 5 tequila shots in a row. That’s when he finally— finally —hits the button correctly and the Rolls Royce wakes up with a polite beep-beep .

Except instead of going for the driver’s seat, Sae lunges for the back door and raises it up.

Because there’s no way in hell they’re outrunning a Jeep Wrangler in a goddamn forest with a Rolls Royce. 

“SHIDOU!” he calls. “GET YOUR BIKE.”

Shidou doesn’t even hesitate in his panic. He lunges, practically swandiving into the car as he wrenches his bike free like they’re in some fucked-up Fast & Furious roll out montage. His fingers naturally find the handlebars, riding it-

And then it hits him.

“WAIT, REALLY?” He jerks his head up, wild-eyed. His voice is distressed, but the sheer feral joy on his face is unmistakable. “MY BIKE?”

“No, we take the Royce and die- YES, THE BIKE, NOW GO.”

Behind them, Barou—a six-foot-five, muscle-bound hellbeast with a personal vendetta—slams the gas, spotting them.

Shidou stares at it. Stares at his bike. Stares at Sae. Stares at Satan’s literal Jeep of Doom barreling towards them again. Then smiles at Sae, who’s now climbing on his backseat. 

“I thought you said bikes can’t be a good getaway vehi-”

“I KNOW WHAT I SAID.”

Then, barely containing his sheer hysterical disbelief, “Dude, this is fucking ins- You need to put it in writing that the great Itoshi Sae is, for once, wrong-”

“GO. JUST- FUCKING GO.” Sae is already muttering what is probably his final prayer. “Why are we still not moving?!”

Shidou, dead serious, says:

“You have to hold onto me.”

Sae blinks, utterly petrified. Yup, he’s dying. 

He’s dying tonight.

“What?” Shidou finally leans forward and kicks the bike stand off. “You wanna eat shit the second I gun it?”

As if on cue, Barou shifts gears. The Jeep roars.

Fuck- fuckity- fuck. Sae, very much realizing his mortality, grits his teeth—and grabs onto Shidou for dear fucking life. His arms lock around Shidou’s torso, fingers digging into his ribs, face buried on the base of Shidou’s spine. 

Beaming, the son of a bitch finally puts one foot on a pedal. “That’s what I’m talki-“

“SHUT UP AND GO,” he all but screams to the fabric of Shidou’s shirt. 

Around them, the trees explode with light. 

Then, quieter—

“Shidou, move.”

His voice breaks at ‘move’ and Shidou needn’t be told twice. 

Warping under the Jeep’s high beams, as if yanked by an invisible force, Shidou slams the pedals and the bike finally jerks forward, immediately finding its speed down the slope. 

Which, in Sae’s very humble non-bike-riding ass, actually just falling. 

“WOO-HOO!” Then they slam back to the ground, the bike almost skids, but Shidou straightens and they fucking fly again then they fucking slam down again—all while dodging exposed roots, jagged rocks, and pine cones the size of his fist.

Sae doesn’t think. He just closes his eyes, hopes for the better, and holds on. (And it also turns out that his years of atheism did no shit; he can still remember the Hail Mary in Japanese, English, and Spanish.)

His arms just wrap around Shidou’s chest, tight, desperate, instinctual. His fingers fisting into the fabric of his shirt, gripping it like a lifeline, knuckles pressing into Shidou’s stomach with every bump. He can feel the heat of him, the way his body moves, muscles flexing beneath his grip as Shidou laughs breathlessly and throws them deeper into the chaos.

Sae presses closer. His legs lock around the frame of the bike, his chest flush against Shidou’s back. Every jolt slams them together, breath knocked out of him with every twist, every sharp swerve, every impossible dodge. He feels every heartbeat, every ragged inhale, every reckless pulse of the boy in his arms.

He should be scared shitless.

Instead, the only thing pounding harder than the Jeep behind them is his own goddamn heart.

Probably because they are, in fact, about to die. 

“Go faster!”

“THIS IS FASTER!” Shidou cackles, swerving so hard Sae actually yelps and buries his face into his shoulder. “THIS IS THE BEST NIGHT OF MY LIFE!”

The Jeep roars again. It’s still behind them—blocked by trees but closing the distance fast. The beams keep slashing through the dark, throwing their shadows across the dirt like some horror movie.

“Hoooly moly, it’s dark. Where is he- LOST ME ALREADY, ASSHOLE?!”

This literal son of a bitch, Sae almost cried on Shidou’s back. 

Then, when they reach a stable part with lesser swerving and slamming, Sae somehow manages to raise his head and look over Shidou’s shoulder for the first time. There, by pure adrenaline and instinct, he quickly recalibrates their location to the forest he knew in his head.

“LEFT,” he said before he even realised.

Shidou only laughs, breathless, the tremor of it shaking through Sae’s chest where he’s clamped onto him like a goddamn koala. “That a request or an order?”

“JUST GO LEFT!”

When Shidou took too long, Sae jerks the bike violently to the left himself, nearly tossing them both as the wheels skid, kicking up dust. Shidou was quick to counter and regain their balance. And when he dared to crack them open again, they were both looking to the right turn…

Which, in this angle, reveals to actually plummet into a steep, rock-strewn drop.

Holy hell, how does he still know that? His stomach lurches, before hitting Shidou right at the ribs. 

“Now listen to me when I make directions, understand? RIGHT!”

Shidou actually listens this time—probably because Sae’s nails are digging into his ribs. “That’s one fucked up trail, bro. Who the hell makes these goddamn trails?!”

“LEFT.”

“RIGHT.”

Jesus Christ. If he wanted to play Temple fucking Run he would’ve just freaking installed it in his phone. 

“RIGHT.”

“Are you sure?” Shidou laughs, breathless. “You better not be just making me go in circles—”

“JUST SHUT IT AND TURN!”

Sae’s grip is vise-tight, fingers digging into the fabric of Shidou’s arms as if he can anchor himself through sheer force. He can feel the way Shidou’s muscles shift under his hold—tense, electric, and completely alive. Every reckless movement throws them against each other, every sharp turn pressing him closer until he can barely tell where he ends and Shidou begins.

The bike veers dangerously, skidding over damp leaves.

“Woah!”

But that’s when the wheels catch on something slick, nearly throwing them off balance. Sae sucks in a sharp breath, his chest slamming flush against Shidou’s back as he clings on harder like he’s his lifeline. Wait- slick? 

He doesn’t know this part of the forest.

“THAT WAS INSANE,” Shidou yelps over the noise, exhilaration bleeding into his raspy voice. That’s when this son of a bitch turns his head around again, looking at the Jeep, and giving it middle fingers—while still pedaling. “I HOPE YOU FUCKING DIE, ASSHOLE, YOU PIECE OF CAPITALISTIC-”

But Sae doesn’t register the rest of the insults anymore, or bear to tell Shidou to keep his eyes on the road, because his stomach just twists. 

Because when he peeked over Shidou’s shoulder again, up ahead was just the path completely stopping. No trees ahead. Only sky—black and endless, cut by two moons—

With one hand over his chest and the other holding the oversized helmet steady, up ahead was just a high drop to-

“Shidou-”

A lake. 

“SHIDOU!”

Too late.

The bike caught on a hidden root and they began falling to that path . “WOAH-HO!”

Sae barely has time to think—he just moves. His hands fly up, ripping the stupid Hello Kitty helmet off his own head, fingers gripping the edges so tight they go numb. He slams it onto Shidou’s head, hard enough to make him grunt. 

“Oomph- Sae, what the—”

Then they’re gone.

The bike reaches the end of the path and they fall.  

The world tilts. Sky and ground blur. His stomach lurches into his throat, Shidou’s fingers brush his wrist —

And then, in order: earth, air, the fire of their terror-

Then water.

Chapter Text

Plunge. 

The water shatters around him like glass. 

He didn’t scream, just inevitably bodied the slap that cracked against his ribs, sliced through his skin, and burned like a fall. For one split second, he’s certain something snapped in his chest, but everything then pulls. Down. To the core. To the heart. The world’s harshest cold punches the breath straight out of his lungs, like giant hands around his body keeping him down.

The initial crash then came with an ultimate trip all the way years back but the impact first seeped in every one of his nerves. In floods a thick, thick nothing in the empty space where his lungs now aren’t—just an all-consuming, biting chill of void of water that sunk its claws into his muscles and locked him in place. His ears ring, his body seizes…

He’s sinking. 

Good egg, bad egg…

The words don’t sound like his. They curl in his head like a lullaby gone wrong.

If they sink, they’re good. If they float, they’re bad…

There was a split second where he regains control and begins to fight it, limbs jerking, hands reaching—but it’s useless. The water is stronger, whole and unforgiving. Now his pulse pounds in his skull, quick and hoping, as everything…

…begins to slow. His body, his thoughts…  

Even if the surface is right there.  

Getting farther, warping, blurring. Like a dream… 

His arms are getting weaker against the strain.

By the time he opens his eyes again, he sees his last breath escape as bubbles toward the moonlight that only fractures—cutting ghostlike lines across the rippling waves that enveloped his body, quietly scattering in his eyes like shattered glass. 

Somewhere in the distance, he hears his own heartbeat fade beneath the silence.

Bubbles.

Bubbles, everywhere.

It drowns out his senses, his breath, him.

And then behind his closed eyelids, something cracks. 

Like ice cracking in the dead of winter, a daunting image of a gilded mirror shattering. Silver spoons sinking into a perfect pudding mousse. Cribs, footballs, Catholic saints, tapes. Teal eyes blinking behind thirteen baby teeth. Baby teeth that are unequally split five and eight between two mouths bleeding. Then cereals, milk, dew, the float test, a goalpost in the yard. 

And then it was spring. 

Madrid, Spain. 2008.

An April shower.

He was five. 

Thick, lazy heat. The sky was an overcast, muted gray. Two pairs of teal eyes pressed to the kitchen window, waiting. Waiting. Waiting. They have spent the last eternity playing idly with eggs on a bowl of water and ice. Someone was singing, Good egg, bad egg, one cracks, one doesn’t…

He remembers being bored.

He remembers wanting the drizzle to stop.

Then, finally: light. 

Gold bleeding through glass. 

God bleeding through the glass.

The sun leaks in after a whole morning of rain and it’s the Holy Ghost blessing their kitchen in a white haze. Was it God? Or Mom’s burnt chicken in the oven? He remembers holding his soccer ball and embracing it. Waiting, waiting. Then, their mother nods. Fine. Go. Don’t be far. But go. There was still a crucifix atop the kitchen floor.

Finally, their favourite sound: the backdoor swings open, silent, only a thud and a ring when it slams shut. (None of their doors ever creaks, never makes a sound at all.)

Then, the smell of dew. The smell of grass damp beneath the soft easy sun. The sound of laughter. Maybe he was laughing. Or maybe someone else was.

The air outside was heavy. The smell of something green, freshly cut. The sound of distant church bells marking the hour. A buzz in the distance—cicadas? Electricity? White noise humming at the edges. A dog barking two houses down. A football, black and white, tumbling. Over the lawn. Over the curb. Rolling.

He looks back and just sees their house with a forest for its yard. Neighbours far away, houses roofed with orange terracotta, framed with colourful flowers but all caged within their own fences. They just followed the ball until it crept into the trees, a prayer to Our Lady of Atocha.

Sae jolts, awakens. Instinct wants to claw him upward, but he failed, and the water only drags him down. The cold is bone-deep now, pressing into his ribs, threading sharp fingers through every nerve in his body. His lungs burn. His ears ring. His mind spins-

The trees swallow them whole. Just a simple back and forth, a few failed attempts at trapping the ball that they saw their favourite athletes do on TV. The forest beyond the house is not deep, not yet—just the scraggle of wild half-dead bushes, loose patches of dirt where the grass gives up. The air is different here though, thinner, cooler, laced with stronger concentrations of dew. 

Sae hoped for a rainbow after the drizzle. There is none. 

Just pine trees. A whole lot of it. Mostly dead. It was boring. He hoped his brother grows up quick so they can play real football soon.

Leaves shift, whispering. 

He was talking about a cool new trick he saw on the TV.  

The sun barely cuts through, dappling the ground in light flickering ghosts. 

Someone was listening. 

He kicks the ball and it bumps against a root and wobbles—before another kick sends it further. It hops, skips, rolls down the slope.

It was Rin.  

Rin was there. Rin was listening. Rin runs after the ball when he fails to pass it back.

Rin was three.

Then, a voice, as he follows him into the woods, fingers leisurely exploring every tree. 

“Nii-cha,” a tiny finger pointing between the trees and down the slope below, “Bidge.”

A bridge. 

A river, actually—not that wide but just calm and free flowing, maybe a stream—just with a short low bridge. Made of stone, only recently reinforced with concrete with exposed metal beams rusting, buried again with stray dead piles of leaves.

Two teal eyes peeking, two teal eyes meeting, and two teal sneakers kicking. 

“Give me my ball back, Rin,” his own voice calls out. What irony. Rin tries to kick the ball back but he missed, and it rolls. Rolls. Rolls. Again. Again. Again. Reaches the bridge. Approaches the edge. Drops. A soft bounce.

Plop. 

A ripple breaks across the water surface, stretching in thin silver veins before dissolving into stillness. The river is simply ethereal in its blue and white, but black where the trees throw their shadows. The ball bobs gently one the shallow surface.

“Nii-cha…sorry.”

Sae watches the ball float from up here, Luka Modrić’s signature on its side.

Just a sigh of disappointment. “Stay here.”

Regardless, they both make their way down the little drop before they reach the pebbly bank of the river—white stones, clean, untouched by any human soul. The ball wasn’t floating that far yet so Sae takes off his shoes and runs to the bridge, goes over the ledge, on the outside, a branch in hand. 

He tries to poke it. Push it back to shore. He fails. Actually, he may have only popped it; only brushing against the ball barely and it just pushes it to float further away. 

Rin remains at the side, squatting and poking at his shoes. 

The concrete is still slick from the rain. 

He hoists himself back up.

“Rin,” he calls with a heavy sigh, heavily bothered. “Come, hold this.”

Neither thought twice. Just passed and accepted the branch like it’s nothing. A torch in a lazy ceremony. It’s not meant to matter. It’s just a ball. He remembers thinking about how annoying this is, how cold the water might be, how Mom will yell if they track mud inside again. He rolls his eyes, muttering to himself. Why is it always me? 

Rin, eyes wide and obedient, accepts the stick like it's treasure. His hands are still baby-round. 

A strand of hair clings to his forehead in the breeze, the same gold as the sun bleeding through their kitchen glass. For one odd, quiet moment, Rin is backlit by that light—crowned in it.

But it’s not meant to matter. So he jumps. 

No hesitation. No calculation. Just movement.

His dad did say he was a good swimmer when they went swimming last week in the Playa de la Concha. That is, before their Paris trip to the Louvre and they almost got themselves banned from France.

The moment he hits the water though, regret slams into him like a fist.

The cold is immediate. Icy. Blindsiding. It looked warm from above—the sun glittering gold across the surface—but down here, it’s the opposite. It punches the air from his lungs. Fills his nose, his ears, his skull. A choke. A gasp. And suddenly, the world becomes a blur: green, gray, gold.

He doesn’t know where the surface is at first. 

But he sees the sky. He sees the bridge. He sees a shadow peeking over the bridge—small, unmoving—watching him. Rin.

Like a warped, melting thing.

His hands break the surface first. Then he follows his eyes. He remembers seeing the ball right there. He then follows the bubbles of his own breath—then finally, air again. Air, finally, air.

He surfaces with a singular swear: God, he’s never doing that again. 

He grips the ball, gasps, and coughs as the ball holds him afloat. He coughs even more, blinking the water from his lashes, shivering. And with an annoyed glare, squinting up at the bridge:

“Rin!” he calls, squinting his water-stained lashes up to the sun, pausing to put one hand up to shield his eyes. “Don’t you ever do—”

A hand grabs his wrist. The world tilts, water sloshing, gravity shifting, skin burning—and then warmth. Arms lock around him, unyielding, dragging him up, out, away.

Air, finally, air. 

“Gotcha.” 

A voice. 

“Come on, Lashes.”

His lungs heave, choking, on the sudden weight of oxygen pressing back in. Heat bleeds through soaked fabric, the crush of a body against his own. A heartbeat—not his, but still here. Steady, never wavering, and real.

Before he knew it, the rush of water dulls to a distant roar, replaced by something louder.

A voice?

Laughter?

Either way, Sae doesn’t fight it. His fingers, numb with cold, weakly fist into a shirt—soft, stretched from wear, familiar in a way that startles him. The warmth just tightens around his waist and over his arms and he lets himself be folded into it, into something safe, into something unshakable.

Then laughter. Light, breathless, and stupid. A chin bumping against his temple, and fingers weave absently into the damp hair at the nape of his neck, curling there, grounding him.

It’s Shidou Ryusei.

He’s in Shidou Ryusei’s arms. 

“Come on, Lashes. Here we go- I gotcha,” Shidou breathes to his hair, nuzzling it, maybe. He just shifts, dragging them both toward the shore, half-hauling, half-carrying Sae to the shallows. Water clings to them, heavy and unrelenting, but Shidou is stronger. 

Then—land. Not dry, still on the shore of ankle-deep water, white pebbles biting against their skin. The moment they hit it, Shidou all but slams the both of them down with zero grace out of exhaustion, collapsing straight into the riverbed like a sack of bricks.

Sae just collapses onto his knees beside him slower than he did, drawing his first real breath back to Earth.

Only a moment of silence. 

Before-

“WE LIVED!” A scream of true life. “WE LIVED, UNIVERSE! WE LIIIIVED!”

Then, like an awakening jolt that confirms Sae is back to life, Shidou just punches a triumphant fist to the sky, middle finger raised to the heavens: “WOOOHOOOO!”

Sae stares at this and sees nothing but Shidou laughing as if he just conquered the world. Because in a way, he, in fact, did. They did. Sae heaves another breath and just looks up at the moon—ever round. 

Then he breathes, chest still heaving. 

The lake water laps at his legs still. 

The world is no longer too sharp but every breath is still too loud. 

And his hands still feel light, his limbs untethered, his pulse roaring in his ears.

Shidou’s right. 

They just did all that. 

Looking back in his palms: just pale, cold, wet, clean (he checks once, looks up, checks again—still clean), he heaves in a shaky breath and gives in:

“I’ve never felt a thing since I was a kid.”

Before he even knew he’s speaking.

There, Shidou, mid-celebration, stops.

He’d been wringing water from his shirt and dancing, arms flung wide like a man about to belt another victory cry. But at Sae’s voice, his movements stall. His grin fades—not entirely gone, just dimmed. Like firebanked embers. Still popping. 

Slowly, he sits down beside Sae, plopping down on the very shallow shore. 

He doesn’t talk, at first. He was just letting his hair drip, looking around, catching his breath. The helmet is still on his head, crooked, still very Hello Kitty, but it did its job. 

Shidou Ryusei then speaks the slowest and quietest he had ever had his entire life: 

“What happened?” 

Sae doesn’t look at him. Just stares at the moon, then at himself on the distorted rippling water. He’s not even sure if he meant to speak, if the words left him or if they’re just echoing in his own head. If he even said anything at all. 

He just lifts a hand, splashes his face—cold, sharp, grounding.

He almost says it. 

But he catches himself.

“Something.”

And for the first time in hours, maybe ever, Shidou doesn’t say anything. He just sat with him, still, relishing in the aftereffects of adrenaline and life, and waiting. And next to him, the weight of it all just now settles in Sae’s bones, deeper than the cold of the water, heavier than the exhaustion in his muscles. His head tips forward slightly, breath fogging over the lake surface. 

Ah… Oh.

“Shidou, we just bombed Barou Shouei’s house.” 

There, he feels Shidou stare at him, unblinking. Processing. 

Then an audible smile slowly extending ear to ear.

“We did,” Then—sudden, relaxed, accepting, and happy—Shidou nods. It starts as a sharp inhale, a stunned second where he just gapes, and then he chuckles. Not loud this time, just victorious. Sae watches him let entire body collapse backward into the shallow shore, splashing on the inches of water, with hands on his heating face. “Ahhh, we did, Lashes, we just did.”

And for a moment, they just sat there in a lawless daze, drenched and breathless, the lake water lapping at their ankles. The world is still spinning but out of sheer disbelief, the echoes of rushing water still ringing in Sae’s ears. 

And Shidou Ryusei eventually began laughing next to him. 

He began by recalling their memory. How they exploded, how they ran, how they flew. And his laugh was all that decorated Sae’s head, a light, breathless thing, barely there at first, just an exhale—before it breaks loose into screams the longer he spoke and retold everything. As if Sae will even forget. And as they reach the end of the story, Sae feels Shidou’s threads unravel somewhere within. 

Laughter. 

Shidou’s voice.

Just pure, raw, animalistic noise. It echoes across the water, bounces off the trees, probably sends some poor bird into cardiac arrest, and rings until it reaches Sae’s heart. 

“AAAAAA! JUST- The fence, the lion, the bomb—I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!” He finally backs up, gripping Sae’s shoulders with both hands, dripping and wild-eyed, grinning right in his face: “AND WHEN YOU TOLD ME TO GET MY BIKE-”

It cuts off instantly.

Shidou freezes. Like something just clicked in his skull.

“...Hold that thought.”

And then he’s gone. Bolting upright like he got struck by lightning, skidding on the pebbles on his slippery Converses and unholy panic. He stumbles, curses—“nononono”—nearly faceplants, then scrambles full-speed toward…

“NATALIE!”

Shidou drops to his knees beside the busted-up pink bike, like a man arriving at a war zone and seeing a comrade down. Hands trembling, he hovers over the frame like he’s about to whisper last rites. Water drips steadily off his bangs. He touches the handlebars once. Then again. A quiet pause.

“...not broken?”

Another beat. Then:

“NOT BROKEN!” He lets out a huge whoop of relief, throwing his head back. “ANOTHER VICTORY! FOR SCIENCE!”

Sae just exhales, staring at this all, beyond exhausted. 

Of course the bike has a stupid name too. 

That’s all it takes. Everything—fatigue, adrenaline, disbelief—bundles up inside him like some stupid little pressure cooker and he lets go. He tips straight back into the lake, arms flopping out like a starfish, landing with a muted splash.

A starfish. A very shell-shocked starfish.

A surrender to the universe to just do as it wishes against his fightless body. He never had a choice anyway.

It was just cold, but at least tonight, it is a very soothing cold. The lake is just lapping lazily against his scalp in a smooth massage.

“Ahhh, Lashes…” Shidou wades over, dragging the bike half-heartedly behind him. “I thought I lost her. She’s the only one I’ve got, you know?”

He laughs breathlessly, crouching beside Sae again.

“One wheel’s jacked though… What are we even gonna do?”

Sae just hums. Breathes in. Breathes out. 

Shidou murmurs to the sky, swaying a little in place. Slowly, “Seriously though- What are we gonna do?”

Silence. The stars just blink overhead. The wind nudges the lake. And in that space—now that the adrenaline’s ebbing, the cold is settling, and the shock is wearing off, something sinks in the silence. A pause, a squint-

“...wait.”

There it is. Sae hears the panic in Shidou’s voice:

“WAIT.”

Shidou starts slapping his chest like he’s checking for stab wounds, then his thighs, back pocket—full chaos mode engaged.

“MY PHONE.” It hits him like a truck. The joy evaporates. Sae watches from the ground, motionless, as Shidou pats himself down and stopped on his pocket. “OH NO NO NO-”

Sae watches him, seeing exhilaration drain purely from his face. Then, with the slow, dawning horror of a man witnessing his own downfall, he pulls it out: his phone. 

Cracked screen. Water in the ports. It makes a little static glurp sound as it comes free.

Shidou stares at it. Expression blank. Face slowly morphing into The Scream. 

“MISTY…?!” he mutters. Great, the phone has a name too. “No, no, no- Misty baby, stay with me.”

Sae doesn’t look at him. Doesn’t react. Barely even acknowledges his existence. Because he couldn’t. He’s operating on 1% battery himself. But he’s listening.

“We’re gotta get help- now.” Shidou mutters like a war survivor. “We gotta call for backup- Rice! I need RICE!”

“Here.” 

Without a word, Sae just pulls out his own phone from his pocket and chucks it at him. Shidou catches it with the wide-eyed reverence of a man receiving the Holy Grail. He blinks at it. Then at Sae. Then back at it.

He clicks it open and Sae sees in his peripheral how his phone blinded Shidou with its light. 

“Ah!” Shidou squints against the bright screen, like a vampire seeing the sun. “How on Earth is yours not dead and mine is?!”

Sae, still sprawled out like a dead starfish, voice flat as a defibrillator beep: “It's waterproof.”

“It's an iPhone.” Shidou squints. “We both have iPhones.”

Nevermind that Sae has the latest 16 Pro Max while Shidou got a spermcell-cased, very battered, iPhone 13 that had been through hell, several mosh pits, and at least one active war zone.

The starfish does not move. “Did a favour for a friend. His sister modded it for me.”

Shidou stares. He does not trust a single word of that sentence. But he decides this is not his battle to fight. Then—a click. Then he sits back down. 

“Alright, fine. Name the soul to summon, necromancer. Who’re we calling?”

Sae just stares at the sky. Intensely, indescribably, purely just tired.

Then, without sitting up, he drags a hand through the water, then over his face, fingers pressing into his eyeballs like he's rebooting his entire existence. Then a long deep breath. Because when it comes to emergencies, there’s only one person on Earth—or in his phonebook—who might actually pick up, come, and help. 

“Lorenzo.” 

“Lorenzo?” Shidou stares, Sae just focused on regaining his head and closing his eyes. For a moment, that was all there was. “Okay.”

And Sae almost sleeps right there at the shore.

“But, uh, as cinematic as it is with you being all cool and stuff, I genuinely don’t know what number-”

They lingered for a while—laughed for a while. Not as loud, but in the way people laugh when they almost ended their lives. Here—where the humor is softer, the confessions stranger and oddly more vulnerable. Shidou asked him if he’s hurt from falling. Sae tells him it was just an orchid. 

They quickly realise they were speaking about two different things. 

So Shidou laughs, and Sae lets him. 

Even in those moments when the silence thickens—when the stillness presses down like an unspoken weight—Shidou never lets it last long. He fills it with humming, or the occasional half-joke, or confessions that don’t quite make sense but somehow fit into the mess of the night. The kind of confessions that make even Sae feel like he’s saying too much.

And eventually, the cradling patience of the night returns: They both stop talking.

Eventually, it’s just cicadas, moths, and stray leaves witnessing how they shake, how their shoulders touch, how they didn’t ask each other for more. The water just pulls at them, weighing down their bones, dragging their eyelids, milliseconds from dipping into sleep. 

Still, they’re right there—next to each other. That counts. More invisible balloons come and clutch back to their wrists. That one doesn’t. 

Bottom of the ninth, nobody talks. 

The one phenomenon in human lives science won’t be able to explain: why nobody just ever talks. 

And just like the prophecy—he doesn’t know about Shidou—but he ended up deciding against talking. It wasn’t deliberate. There was no clear intent for Shidou to know (or not know). It just… saying it didn’t seem to matter anymore. His mind is too fogged, his body too heavy. It only proved the point further. He should just zip it. So he just stays quiet, letting the revelation seep into the water, like the way it washes all sins away. 

And he just lets his hand rest there, letting the water carry the unspoken away—the same way he had let himself into Shidou’s life, taken drinks from his fridge, eaten his grandma’s soup, seen the chickens he cared for. All of it, he gently lets float away because Shidou is right here beside him.

A part of him wants to believe that, since they’re here together—same water, same space—Shidou would understand. Maybe not right now, but eventually. Someday. He’ll get it. Maybe. But, eventually, at least he’ll know.

About it.

Because truths always come out. They don’t need to be spoken to come out. This should be the right choice: say less and suffer the consequences…

…or say more he could never take back and regret it. 

Or whatever. His head hurts today. What is he even thinking? His thoughts feel muddled, distant. His body is hot, feverish. 

Maybe he should stop thinking altogether.

In an instant, the thread of his thoughts slips away again. The only thing that lingers is this: If he spoke, if he told Shidou, it wouldn’t change anything. The future isn’t waiting for them. For him. It never has been. 

So for now, he chooses silence. 

Even if he doesn’t want to, even if had no voice to speak of or to speak with. 

Because with all the love and respect he has for God and Earth—what, really, would a confession even change? 

Nothing. 

Based on common sense of a track record, an acolyte against historical revisionism: Nothing. Revelations change nothing. The ending remains the same whether he speaks up or not. Whether Shidou knew or not.

In fact, it’d be easier if they just stopped trying to know. Ignorance is bliss. That’s why they’re called revelations. It only ever reveals. It’s not asking anyone to change. It’s not asking the world to change either. 

It just reveals to you what’s going to happen and you’re free to do with that information as you will. 

A cruel, cruel torture for man. 

(And sometimes, Sae wished he just doesn’t know.)

Alas, they only finally left the lake when they felt it—the familiar ache in their bodies of when it’s time to go. 

“Let’s go, Natalie,” Shidou says, walking away first. Sae lets him, except a hand returns. “Let’s go, Lashes.”

He doesn’t take the hand. Shidou doesn’t seem mad. He ends up taking it later when at some point, he trips hard on some slick root and he braces against a tree.

“Y’alright?” came the hand, immediately taking his. He takes it this time.

“Yeah.”